Vaid Empire: Conquest
Chapter 110
2nd of Silla, 20 AVE.
Kingdom of Narok, Fask.
“What have I done?” Vixin muttered as they walked through the streets. A single night in Fask and already they stood upon the edge of a catastrophe, one she could have prevented. “If I had only talked to him sooner, perhaps…”
“Perhaps nothing. What’s done is done,” Yisi cut her off. As they walked, they heard the whispers among the legionaries going about their duties. The town simmered with rumors, too many for the Truthseekers to silence.
Most fell silent when they noticed their princess passing by, though others believed their whispers were beyond her superior hearing. “Exile? Komax was on guard duty. He heard The High Peacekeeper shout at The God Emperor. Surely, he is dead for such insolence,” an armored woman whispered. One of her companions shook his head. “No, Komax was fucking Commander Isza last night. He speaks lies. The High Peacekeeper must be on an assignment too confidential for us to know about.” Another waved his hand dismissively. “If you believe that, you’re a bigger fool than I thought. The man abandoned us in this accursed place.”
Uncertainty was poison to an already weary legion. Vixin could sense their doubts, their resentments, their bubbling discontent. Hurrying through the streets, she cursed her father for driving them relentlessly through the mountains. She cursed Clin for abandoning them with little discretion. And above all, she cursed herself.
A good man was gone.
There was no chance they’d be permitted to sneak outside the walls now. The morning had erupted into chaos the moment Salduin and Lalian had explained to The God Emperor all that had occurred. Now, by midday, she felt her father’s grip tighten around her neck as a snug circle of guards surrounded her. They only eased when they reached the temple steps.
“No one is permitted inside, by the order of Princess Cendra of House Vaid,” a Knight guarding the doors of the throne room greeted them, bowing low.
“Then I suppose you’ll all have to stay out here,” Vixin replied, gesturing for her guards to wait. Even as the Knight muttered a warning, stopping himself, she marched past him. She too was a Vaid.
She and Yisi were met by the sounds of metal smacking against stone as they entered the throne room, sealed inside as the doors were closed at their backs. The fury of a princess stood before them, for they watched as Cendra stood upon the dais while hacking at the throne with a sword as if it was a training post.
No doubt The God Emperor cared little for a throne he intended to leave the next day. Remaining absent from public since morning, he must have left Cendra to her whims, though Vixin was far more concerned about the rage she saw than the fate of the stone seat.
A messy pile of ordinary blades sat beside the throne. Even in her rage, Cendra didn’t dare harm the white blade hanging from her hip, no matter how durable, and thus she hacked at the stone with crude and rusty metal. Chipped and wounded, the throne was mauled by her fury.
Bringing her current blade down hard, it snapped from the hilt. She tossed it aside with disdain, retrieving a replacement without pause. As she swiftly bent down, she glimpsed the intruders, though offered nothing but her back as she continued her hateful ‘training’.
“Cendra?” Vixin dared to call out softly.
“Go away,” Cendra warned. A brutal thrust sent shards of chipped stone flying.
“Please talk to me,” Vixin tried again.
Her sister didn’t reply. The circular chamber echoed with every furious strike.
“I’m sorry about Clin.” Vixin stepped closer. Yisi grabbed her arm to stop her.
Cendra’s strikes seemed only to quicken, hacking at the throne.
“Cendra, please, let me-”
In an instant, Cendra whirled around, turning the full strength of her rage against the sister that wouldn’t leave her alone. With glowing silver eyes, maddened with hate and grief, she lifted her empty hand as a storm of fiery power gathered in her grasp.
Everything occurred at once, a single second. Vixin flinched, closing her eyes, though she offered no defense against her coming punishment. On instinct, Yisi leapt between them to shield her lover with her own body, as if she could stand against a Vaid’s power.
Before the burst of flame could explode from her grasp, the glow of Cendra’s eyes vanished in a blink, her expression falling to horror as she stopped herself. Regaining control, she snuffed out the flames in her palm and turned away. “Forgive me…Vixin.”
Bracing herself as she stood firmly, Yisi couldn’t conceal her relief. Vixin sighed.
“He’s gone.” Cendra adjusted her grip upon the hilt of the battered sword as she muttered quietly. “He didn’t bother to say goodbye.”
Guilt stirred anew, and Vixin dared to step even closer. “Speak to me. Let me help.”
Cendra shook her head and slashed at the throne. “There’s nothing to say.” She waved her away without turning back. “Leave me.”
Vixin stood quietly, finding herself helpless. When Yisi finally pulled at her arm, silently urging her to go before they risked another outburst, she sighed once more. “When you’re ready, I hope you’ll find a place at my side.” Reluctant steps retreated. “You’re never alone.”
“So fate would prove otherwise,” Cendra whispered as the doors opened and shut once more, leaving her in solitude. A wetness touched her cheek, and she struck the throne with her full strength.
Outside, Vixin walked in a daze, lost in thought as Yisi led her towards the nearest annex entrance. Navigating the halls of black stone and hanging silks, they found their shared quarters.
Expecting a solitude of their own, they were caught off guard when they pulled the curtain in the doorway aside. There, sitting upon their bed, waited Nafalya.
“What do you want?” Yisi asked cautiously. “We’re in no mood for your games.”
“Truly? A shame, though that’s not the purpose of my visit. I came only to grant my dear sister an unpleasant gift.” Nafalya removed her mask. Gone was her smirk as she pulled a message cylinder from her belt. “A choice.”
Vixin cautiously approached to take the cylinder. “What is this?”
Nafalya leaned back atop the sheets, supporting herself on her elbows as she attempted to appear casual, though a grim duty flavored her deadly features. “Read it.”
Unsealing the cylinder, Vixin reluctantly pulled the wooden stick from inside. Upon it she silently read the etched letter with Yisi at her side.
“Cendra, my love, I have proven myself unworthy to stand at your side. I lay my sins at your feet, for I can bear my guilt no longer. I have broken your only request of me. I have sired a child with another woman, and in doing so I have cast your trust, our love, and our family into the mud. Cilith is her name, a daughter forever beyond my reach, yet I carry her memory with every crumbling step. Hate me. Curse my name and know it’s deserved. These truths I had hoped to tell you, though in my cowardice I find that I cannot face you. I once believed I could be the good man you deserved, though I see now that I am only a fool. The years we’ve spent together were, and shall always remain, the greatest of my life, yet I can no longer stay where blood shall continue to stain my hands. Do not blame yourself, nor permit Cliax to ever believe I loved him any less than I do. You are both of this world, of The Empire, of House Vaid, while I no longer can be. To take you with me would only have destroyed you both, for I venture nowhere. The mere ghost of a man shall walk out into the desert to face his sins, and I must leave you in the only place where you belong, among your family. Trust them. Trust Vixin to aid you, and grant her the mercy and forgiveness I know you are capable of. There has been enough hatred and death within your family. Don’t let my misdeeds create more. Forgive me, Cendra, though if you cannot, know that I have always loved you. Until my final breath, I shall continue to love you.”
Silver eyes widening with every word, Vixin felt her hands begin to tremble. The world swayed beneath the weight of her deed, and Yisi grabbed her arm to support her. “Where, in all of Ayphieal, did you find…this?”
“Precisely where it would do the most harm.” Nafalya watched her seal the cylinder, as if it could contain the words forever. “Lord Clin was loud in his departure, though the words he left unsaid were far more dangerous. They’d bring Cendra’s wrath upon you.”
Vixin grimaced, knowing she deserved it.
“As amusing as that would be, it cannot be allowed. Father seems to hold some affection for you.” Nafalya sat up with a shrug. “As do I.”
The cylinder felt warm in her hands, as if it could spark a fire that would burn her to ash. She squeezed it tightly. “What would you have me do with this?”
“Choose. Burn it, or carry it as a burden,” Nafalya replied. “The truth is a dangerous thing. The words you carry will tear House Vaid in two.”
Yisi scowled. “You should have burned it yourself.”
“Yes,” she agreed as she stood from the bed. “Yet I didn’t, and now the three of us share a secret.” She made her way towards the doorway, pausing to regard Vixin. “Clin was a fool to risk such words. I leave them in your hands out of trust.” Once more she shrugged. “It shall be amusing to see what you do with them.”
Donning her mask, she was gone in an instant.
Vixin sank down to sit upon the bed’s edge. She had known her deed had played a part in Clin’s departure. Now, she held absolute proof. Replaying the words of the confession in her mind, remembering the pain they held, she felt a tear trickle down her cheek. Another followed, and another, enduring the damage she had caused.
As the princess began to weep, Yisi hurried to her side.
“This is all my fault,” Vixin muttered.
Yisi held her with tight lips. “You heard the rumors. He dragged a dead Arkos before the throne. There’s more to his madness than that girl you birthed.”
“Cilith,” Vixin muttered. “Her name is Cilith. His child, a daughter I denied him of.” She could taste her guilt. “He wanted to meet her. In the wake of the betrayal I forced upon him, I denied him even that.”
“The mistakes of youth,” Yisi replied.
“The mistakes of a grown woman.” She would permit no deflection nor excuse. The deed was hers to bear in full. “What shall become of us now? If Cendra reads this…if she so much as senses Cilith’s existence…”
Yisi hushed her, guiding the cylinder from her hand. “I’ll destroy it.”
“NO,” she replied, surprising even herself as she snatched it back. “Forgive me. I…cannot.” In her grasp were the final words Clin wished to say to the woman he loved. Could she destroy them too? “Not yet.”
Though she raised a worried brow, Yisi didn’t argue. Instead she held her lover tightly, letting her weep.
***
Lanthian steps echoed through the corridor as Lalian and Anthara descended beneath the ground. With a torch burning in her grasp, she held the fire to illuminate the locked doors at the end of the tunnel as Lalian fumbled with the key. A speck of purple blood still stained it as it met the lock.
With a push, the heavy doors opened to reveal the dark vault beneath the temple. The light gleamed off what they had hoped to discover, for in a large chamber as large and circular as the throne room directly above, gold lay in organized collections throughout the entire room.
“Behold the source of countless Lanthian deaths,” Anthara said bitterly as they entered. “They should have purchased braver men.”
Lalian clasped his hands behind his back, wondering where to begin as his love went about lighting the extinguished torches hanging upon the dark walls. The shadows retreated, and the Arkos hoard glittered in the flickering light.
There was much to do if The God Emperor still intended to depart for Arkos-Nu tomorrow. Sent by his ruler, Lalian was tasked with cataloging whatever wealth rested in the vault below, so that it may be removed in an organized fashion. Now, however, he realized the full depth of his duty. “Truly astonishing. Oh, this will be quite the singular task.”
Anthara wandered the paths that cut through the gold, tracing a finger over decorative blades on display that had never seen battle. Her own gilded loincloth shimmered all the same, yet she shook her head distastefully. Gold from Lanthian mines were used in the spears of honored warriors. It was shared equally among the population, not hoarded in the vaults of greedy Lords.
“I’ll summon my assistants,” Lalian said as he made for the tunnel. “Oh, The God Emperor will be quite pleased with my report.”
“My love,” Anthara’s voice stopped him. Glancing back, he saw her standing before a set of Lanthian armor on display. She touched the fabric of the gilded loincloth somberly, a copy of her own.
“Ah.” Lalian found his way to her. Avoiding her wings, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. “T…trade carries the prizes of raids far from the south.”
Beside the armor, she picked up a small statue of a naked and pregnant Lanthian woman, her golden wings and arms outstretched. A Lanthian fertility idol, it was nothing more than a forgotten trinket here. She noticed treasures plundered from Lanthian cities littering the vault as she glanced around, seeing hints of her culture buried beneath piles of gold and various gems. Even the white coins of The Vaid Empire could be found in organized collections. “I almost respect the Arkos of The West more. They take what they need. Nothing more,” she said, a half-truth. She tossed the statue into the nearest pile, hearing falling coins as they spilled over the edge of a chest. “It’s a shame Lord Clin chose to exile himself in this vile land. He was a worthy warrior. He deserved better.”
“He didn’t quite choose, my love,” Lalian corrected, though let the matter drop after a glance.
Anthara placed her hands atop his, their bondmate tattoos identical. “You knew the man for many years. Weren’t you unhappy to see him go?”
“Of course.” Lalian tightened his hold upon her. Years of memories were at his fingertips, recorded perfectly in his mind. “I…I was lost once. Clin showed me that my purpose was not yet finished.” His lips tightened somberly. “W…whatever he seeks out there, away from all we’ve built, I hope it brings him peace.”
“This is a savage land. What he’ll find out there is death,” Anthara replied bluntly. When she felt Lalian shift uncomfortably, she turned around in his arms to meet his sorrow. “Ah, but he is strong. If he is half the warrior I saw in his royal mate, he’ll survive these terrible dunes.” She reassured him with a kiss, only to sigh. “I’m eager to be rid of this awful place.”
“Tend to Lalian The Younger. You don’t have to stay for this,” he offered.
She shook her head with a chuckle. “I speak of the desert, foolish Lalian. Every dune, every greedy Arkos. I’ve seen enough. I shall fight to tame these lands so they may never again threaten our people, though when the war is done, take me home. Promise me we’ll fly through the treetops of the jungle together.”
Lalian blushed. “I…I cannot fly.”
Anthara escaped his hold, taking his arm and positioning it out at his side. “You’re nearly light enough to carry on my own. With assistance, we’ll soar.”
“Lalian The Younger?” Imagining their grown son holding his other arm as mother and child carried him together, he felt his chest tighten. Perhaps a wingless slave could fly. “My love…”
“Promise me,” she demanded.
He nodded. “I promise.”
“Good boy.” She patted his cheek lovingly. “Though if we ever hope to return and finish what we started in the jungle, your master must conquer the desert. Before the legion can march, you need to catalog all we’ve found. Quickly, little Lalian.”
“Of…of course.” He sent her away with a grin, eager to begin his task. As she departed to tend to their child, he settled into his duty as his quick mind made preparations for the hours of work ahead. His assistants, slaves, and legionaries would all be required to count and remove every coin and treasure. Under his supervision, he’d see it done.
***
The sun set upon a world that no longer felt the same as Hesin watched the sky darken outside his window. Without glass, the night breeze trickled into the room, making the silk decorations sway as they hung from the walls.
“You’re…ahh…elsewhere,” Nafalya stated, tilting her head as she glanced down. Straddling his lap upon their bed, she continued to rock her hips. Feeling him grow soft, she bit her lip in disappointment as she let his flaccid manhood slip from her tight warmth. “Return to me, master.”
He looked away from the window to see the beauty riding him. It seemed impossible for any man to fall limp beneath such a goddess. “I need only a moment, Nafalya. Keep going.”
Obeying, she began to rub her pretty lower lips against his shaft, wetting him in her sweet juices. “This is your victory. Clin departs, and still you find no joy.” Beautiful features grew serious. “Curious.”
“Oh, what a victory it is,” he replied bitterly. Touching her soft thighs, he fought to grow hard once more. His efforts caused his manhood to twitch, though little else.
“Are you not pleased?”
He dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. Clin had confessed. Hesin possessed the justice he had craved for so long. Any man would be pleased with the fall of his rival, yet still he scowled.
With a royal twat eagerly awaiting the return of his cock, he fought to concentrate. Thighs that had driven men to madness with desire straddled his waist. He watched her ample, perky breasts jiggle with every movement of her childbearing hips. An artwork of seduction looked down at him expectantly, and still his cock withered beneath his thoughts.
“Shall I find…assistance?” she offered with a teasing smirk that didn’t reach her silver eyes. He knew her well enough to hear her masked concern.
“No. Stay. I’m almost ready,” he lied. In truth, he didn’t want her to leave, even for a moment.
Reaching up, Hesin caressed her midriff. Though she wouldn’t begin to swell for some time, she had assured him of the child taking form inside her womb. Already she could sense it. A boy, a little Arkos hybrid, grew inside his love.
With a groan, he focused upon her new pregnancy. His cock twitched, knowing the cock of an Arkos had spilled its seed deep inside her fertile tightness. “You deserve this,” he thought to himself, trying to savor the fact that another man had impregnated his lover. She carried the child of a nonhuman, a thought that made his manhood stiffen as he explored her toned midriff.
When it fell limp again before she could even slide it inside her royal wetness, she dismounted with a subtle sigh. “You’re not here.”
He sat up with a sneer of frustration, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Go, then. Find your satisfaction elsewhere. No doubt your father would be more than willing to make his precious flower cum.”
Kneeling upon the sheets, she hesitated. “Is that your wish, master?”
Hesin rubbed his weary brow. “You have my permission, as always. Stay or go.”
She maneuvered gracefully to join him on the edge. “Then I’ll stay.”
He saw her reach out, then subtly pulled her hand away. Instead of an embrace, she simply placed her hand atop his, a simple touch. Anything more was too sickening for them both.
Together they sat. In the silence, he thought of Clin’s final words.
“Goodbye, Hesin.”
Never would he miss the man. Clin’s insistence upon mercy had been a constant pain in his side from the beginning, always standing in the way of what truly needed to be done. The Empire itself was better off with him wandering the desert.
Still, he had known Clin longer than any other living man. The blond bastard had been the last person beside himself to have witnessed his tribe, his family, and his brother. They had perished by his hand, his deed, of course, yet now Hesin carried the memory of that night alone.
The old world seemed to fade further, his life before The Empire slipping away day by day, year by year. Nitri was now a dream, an old tale. The days of his tribe were further beyond his reach, mere echoes of fragile memories.
“This feud of yours is over. Look to the fruits of your work instead.” Nafalya gestured to their masks laying together upon the sheets. “Grand Master Hesin, founder of The Hesian Order.” She leaned closer, brushing her pretty lips against his ear. He felt her warm breath. “Father of Prince Atrix of House Vaid.”
A boy stood in the rainforest of his memory. As Hesin remained at her side, he reached up to touch the scars carved across his face. Closing his remaining eye, he felt the weight of the past upon his shoulders, decades bleeding away.
The boy was a faded silhouette in the dark. Hardly could he remember what he used to look like. Now the only other man that might remember was gone.
Thinking of Clin out upon the dunes as the desert night grew colder, he nodded. “Father of Prince Atrix,” he repeated. “That I am.”
Clin had pulled him through the trees to safety. He had vouched for Hesin to be accepted into Nitri. It hadn’t been a lie when he said he hadn’t forgotten. Still he lived. Still he survived. An empire rose, and his dagger protected it from the shadows. His Order, his purpose, all had come after a blond boy had guided him from a slaughter that would have surely claimed him. The love of an imperial princess, his son, all had fallen into his grasp because he had survived.
Always would he blame Clin for that night. Never would he forget. Now, with a lifetime at his back, perhaps it was possible to forgive. Perhaps it was possible to move on, truly.
Sitting in the darkening chamber, the warmth of Nafalya’s hand was a greater comfort than he deserved. With a quiet sigh, he finally offered a reply the blond man would never hear, a silent whisper.
“Goodbye, Clin.”
***
Darkness fell upon the conquered town, a reminder of the last night Hanix had seen. Many claimed to have witnessed High Peacekeeper Clin march to meet his fate before The God Emperor. Many were liars. He had actually seen the blond Lord flee through the gates of Fask, alive, the best of them abandoning The God Emperor’s war.
A commander, Hanix rose and donned his white armor. He looked down at the Arkos cushion, finding two of his subordinates still asleep. In his absence, they instinctively moved closer to each other for warmth, bare bodies coming together. He reached down, gently parting the legs of the girl on the left and taking a moment to remember the sight, seeing the aftermath of their night of passion.
Satisfied, he left his sleeping lovers behind. His white cloak billowed as he stepped out into the night.
Most of his fellow recruits had to endure the night in tents littering the market and spilling through the streets and outside the walls of Fask. He, like most commanders, however new, was fortunate enough to enjoy the warmth of a vacant Arkos dwelling.
He moved with purpose, passing patrolling legionaries as he made his way towards the nearby tavern. Inside he found a sea of white cloaks crammed into the small building.
A few spoke loudly. Fewer still enjoyed the warmth of a lover, for he saw a man thrusting between a female legionary’s legs atop a table, and another passionate pair against the far wall. A fellow commander held the head of another woman between her thighs as she drank, trying to stomach whatever the former Arkos owners of the tavern had kept in stock, no doubt dead now in the streets or back at the mouth of the mountain pass.
The rest, however, drank wearily, trying to make it through the night.
He nodded to many as he passed by. They shared knowing looks, each more disgruntled than the last. The word ‘ringleader’ had been tossed around, though he tried to avoid it, for any that shared the title seemed to disappear. At least here he was safe from Truthseeker blades, for nearly everyone here seemed to share his thoughts.
“Hanix,” a slurred voice came from his side. Turning, he saw Lord Drivis approaching, maneuvering through the thick crowd with more grace than he expected. With a drink in his hand and wet strands of long, dark hair clinging to his face, The Lord of Omrin patted his shoulder hard. “You wouldn’t happen to have…ah.”
He pulled a bottle of Zilrinian wine from beneath his cloak and offered it to the drunk Lord. Drivis let his Arkos drink fall and shatter without a single care as he accepted what he sought. “Drink it in your quarters, and for the love of The Creator, get some rest. The God Emperor expects us to march tomorrow.”
Handsome features turned grim, and Drivis squeezed the commander’s shoulder, half to steady himself. For a moment his gaze seemed sober. “Good luck, my friend.” Keen eyes grew dim once more as he started towards the entrance. “Now, there’s a warm body waiting for me.”
Hanix watched the Lord stumble from the tavern before he waded through the weary crowd. They watched him pass, offering nods as bitter as he felt. All were among recruits summoned before their long hike through the horrid mountains, once fresh, though now exhausted and angry. The veterans that had served during previous conquests drank elsewhere, and so be it. So long as they stood aside, they weren’t needed for what was to come.
Long had he stayed silent. No longer. Tomorrow The God Emperor would give the command to march, and they’d stay in place. Broken upon the mountains, forced to fight and march without rest, they’d make their voices heard. Their grievances would be known, and they’d turn back towards home.
There was a risk their holy ruler would simply burn them in an instant. They had to hope he’d be sensible.
Other ringleaders met his gaze, ready all the same. They were but the few that remained of those that continued to disappear, though they wouldn’t be silenced any longer. The God Emperor would hear them. They’d stand bravely and risk the wrath of a god, else he would force them to march until they all fell exhausted into their graves.
A woman smiled at him from the crowd. Her friendliness didn’t reach her piercing eyes. The sight of her made him shiver, for Truthseekers were in every shadow and behind every seemingly friendly face. If they cut him down now, however, the legion would erupt.
He needed only to survive until morning.
3rd of Silla, 20 AVE.
Kingdom of Narok, Fask.
The chamber of the former ruler of Fask was alive with the light of candles, the comforts of cushions strewn about the room, and the scent of whatever its previous owner had smoked before fleeing the town and leaving his people to their fate. He hadn’t escaped, of course. Lixidion riders made certain of that.
Among the comforts and luxury, a single being sat alone. In his quiet solitude, Dominax watched a flame flicker and dance in his palm. Squeezing his hand into a fist, he snuffed it out.
Silver eyes glowed with the ire of a spurned god. Clin had slipped from his grasp, and he had held back. The man had served him since before The Empire, before his rise. If any deserved his mercy, it was Clin, yet still he gritted his teeth as he peered down at his crown and armor resting nearby. If such a worthy being had abandoned his cause…
Dominax thought he glimpsed Irith in the shadows. Turning, Briza’s figure disappeared out of the corner of his eye. Shaking his head to banish horrid memories, he rubbed his weary eyes. There was no room for doubt. His purpose was clear.
Salduin and Hesin remained at his side, as committed as ever. They too had seen the destruction of Nitri, and they too remained loyal to his dream.
Once more, the flame burned in his grasp. He watched electricity tingle between his fingers. His deeds were horrifying, but with purpose.
“May the desert swallow your bones, old friend,” he muttered with an anger he didn’t quite mean.
A knock upon the door intruded upon his solitude. It was a risk to disturb him so deep into the night. Or was it early in the morning? Lost to his thoughts, he had hardly noticed the hours slipping by. A mere glance at the numerous windows lining the circular room told him the sun had yet to rise.
“Enter,” his booming voice commanded.
The guards outside opened the door to reveal one of the few beings that would not irritate him at the moment. As Quinla marched to meet her ruler, he watched her hips sway.
“Your holiness. I had a hunch you’d still be awake,” the hybrid woman said as she bowed before the brooding God Emperor. “This solitude does not suit you.”
“Save your concern for the legion. We march at sunrise, and I expect them to be ready.” Such was his only concern, despite a glance at her hands cradling her pregnancy. She had abandoned the tight confines of her one-suit for the flowing green silks of an almost transparent dress that flowed down her elegant curves and swell.
She nodded dutifully. “So you’ve commanded, and so they shall be.” Still, she didn’t bother to conceal the concern upon her pretty features. “Of course, I should extend my condolences to your family. Lord Clin was an excellent commander, and the lack of his presence when we march against Arkos-Nu shall be deeply felt. In truth, it already has.”
Dominax’s jaw clenched. “The man committed treason. Woe to Clin when I find him.”
“Of course, your majesty.” Once more, she bowed her head. They both knew lixidion riders could have been sent out after Clin’s departure. He could have been caught upon the dunes within hours, yet The God Emperor had stayed his hand a second time. She let the dangerous subject drop and instead gestured towards the door. “I did not come to stir recent grievances. In truth, I came for a favor.”
As Quinla commanded the guards to permit her waiting gifts to enter, she ushered in a pair of strangers. Two Arkos girls wearing the golden collars of decorated slaves, they wore gilded skirts as they crept into the room. At a command from The Queen Regent in their native tongue, they knelt obediently at his feet.
When the glowing gaze of The God Emperor fell upon her once more, Quinla offered a coy smile. “I hope you are not averse to company at the moment, your majesty. Tell me, do you recall the Tazik sisters you so graciously left at my court with swollen bellies?”
A thousand humans had come and gone from his bed since, yet always would he remember Quinla’s previous exotic gifts. “Come to the point.”
“Of course, though I can happily report that the children you granted my slaves have grown healthily. In fact, our little Loir hardly lets them leave his side.” She smirked, though saw that his patience was waning. “In any case, it seems I have a talent for letting valuable slaves fall into my possession. These two beauties were found at the ruler of Fask’s side while he attempted to flee. I claimed them as my share of his wealth,” she explained. Though the imperial throne held claim to the vast majority of all they seized after each siege, the royals and any other commander that proved their worth during the battle were granted their fair share.
Dominax studied the girls kneeling before the cushion on which he lounged. Dark hair cut short, grey skin with dark stripes, they were no less than pure-blooded Arkos. Never had their species been known to be overly voluptuous, yet their petite curves and modest breasts drew his attention. Similar in age, sexually ripe, they could have been copies of each other, save for their eyes. A purple pair, and an orange pair, they didn’t dare to match his gaze.
“Considering the health and value of the children you granted my Taziks, it was my hope that you’d send these two to their new home with more half-siblings to entertain Loir and our second child.” Quinla bit her lip, as if savoring the thought. “I’d be evermore in your debt.”
He could sense her concern. He could feel the subtlety of her manipulation, no doubt wishing to distract the father of her beloved son from his solitude. The thought that he must be coddled was an irritant, yet her obvious loyalty calmed him. If she desired to coax him from his brooding with the pretty bodies on offer, he’d oblige. “A difficult request to reject.”
Quinla smiled with satisfaction. She watched him rise and stepped closer when he began to forcefully inspect the arms and skirts of the girls, as if seeking weapons or poisons. “You’ll find no danger from this pair.”
Dominax wasn’t willing to rely solely upon her word. With a thought of his old scars, he heard little protest from either as he roughly searched them. The golden bands decorating their arms, wrists, thighs, and ankles hid nothing. Tearing away their skirts, he watched them blush as the full truth of them was revealed, though they merely straightened dutifully to display their nakedness. Alluring bodies offered no threat but the tight warmth between their thighs. “I put their former master to the sword.”
“I think you’ll see that their true master is whoever provides them with coin. A dead man cannot, and thus you’ll find no resentment for his death here,” Quinla explained. “They know I’m their mistress now. They know they’ll soon live among the luxuries House Stire may offer. They know that pleasing me shall earn them more rewards.” She settled between them, resting her hands upon their hips. “Better still, they know that satisfying your every need shall please me. They’ll gladly leave this chamber with a baby in both of their bellies.”
Already his manhood began to stiffen at the sight of them. “Command them to assist me, then.”
As he began to remove his one-suit, Quinla’s words prompted them to undress their intended breeder. She watched with satisfaction as the cock that had filled her womb twice was revealed to the pair, hearing them mutter in their language. “I’ve assessed them myself. The one with purple eyes is a native of Narok, an eastern Arkos through and through. She claims to have been sold into slavery to settle her father’s debts.”
The sad tale did nothing to stay his hand as he caressed her supple curves. She was no stranger to the nature of wealth, for he saw the simmering ambition in her gaze.
“The other was captured during a failed raid upon a Narok city. She was too young to remember the desert of Wonakaros, or her fallen tribe, yet she too has been raised to obey the needs of-”
He cut her off with a raised hand. “Who she was is of no concern to me. She stands here now. Either she has the ambition to claim the rewards she may earn, or not.” He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up. He drank in the sight of her orange gaze, finding what he sought. “Excellent.” He gestured for her to kneel. Obediently she dared to brush her pretty lips against his hardening shaft, permitted to taste the ruler whose seed she’d have to earn.
“Good girl,” Quinla chuckled. “I shall leave them to perform their duty. Savor them, if it pleases you. Breed them, if you’d be so kind, your majesty.” She caressed her pregnant swell lovingly. “Show them why your seed conquered the bloodline of House Stire, and countless others.”
Permitting her to depart, Dominax focused upon his gifts. Quinla’s intentions were pure, yet still the thought of Clin clung to his awareness. He silenced it by gliding his manhood into the girl’s eager mouth, feeling her tongue as she adjusted to his girth.
The other held no intention of standing idly while her companion claimed his full attention. Caressing his chest, her touch slithered downward to find his manhood, cupping the testicles that had sired thousands of children. She carefully held them with a greedy grin, sinking down to aid the other girl while they took turns sucking.
Exotic mouths submitted to his divine cock. Arkos lips brushed his shaft, their tongues tracing his length. He watched their flexible tails sway back and forth, as if to show their cravings.
He regarded them with curiosity. In another life, they would have been enemies by blood. Instead they served him together, the lips of Wonakaros and Narok tasting him with a shared purpose. As they worshiped his cock, he held every intention of breaking their opposing homelands beneath his blade, forging them anew beneath his throne. With little hatred between them, they gave themselves over to lust at each other’s side, the embodiment of his Eternal Peace.
Yet Clin had forsaken such aims.
Gritting his teeth, he banished the thought with annoyance. When he required more than their skilled tongues, he pulled away and eased back to lounge upon one of the luxurious cushions. They wasted no time settling against his sides. With eager eyes, they swayed their rumps as they looked up at their breeder expectantly.
“First?” the orange-eyed girl begged. It was a single word carrying a heavy accent, apparently one of the few human words she knew. The other girl was utterly oblivious to his tongue as she attempted to use her body to sway his attention instead. Rubbing against his bare skin, her purple eyes begged to be bred.
“Patience,” he warned, though knew neither could understand. Instead, he guided them both into his lap.
Eager and wet for their master, they parted their legs as they pressed their loins together, trapping his cock between them. Their bodies had existed for a single purpose before the fall of Fask. Trained and conditioned to pleasure their owner and his guests, their heightened libidos never went long without being satisfied. As they rubbed against him, he could feel the need of their wet twats.
Soft gasps echoed off the walls decorated by hanging silk as they moved their hips. Dominax savored the bliss of two young twats rubbing against his shaft at once, drinking in the scent of their juices coating his manhood. He could sense their fertility, fresh wombs aching for his sperm. Their former master had been a fool to ever spill his seed anywhere outside their tight cunnies, for it seemed that a single spurt of ordinary sperm would easily take hold within such fruitful fields.
He allowed the fecund beauties to ache for his cock as they continued to rub together. His hands explored their svelte curves, gliding over grey Arkos skin. The girl with orange eyes trembled as he wrapped his fingers around her tail, gliding down the length of the appendage.
At a glance it was clear that their eye color wasn’t the only difference to distinguish the pair from each other. Vaginas rubbing up and down his shaft together, he noted their unique labia. Petite and pretty, the orange-eyed girl’s vaginal lips reminded him of his daughters, while those of the other Arkos were more noticeable and fuller. Beautiful yet different, they were both eager to mate.
Every exotic inch called to him. He longed to see what they’d make with his seed as he studied their curved horns in the gentle candlelight. Such was the purpose of creation, to enjoy the pleasures of life and conceive new beings that may experience such pleasures in turn. Every birth beneath his throne was a new being that would be permitted to experience the world beneath the safety of his Eternal Peace. The sons of citizens were born each day who would one day feel the joy of sliding into tight vaginas. New daughters were birthed so they’d one day hold the opportunity to feel the satisfaction of being bred by a lover.
The Empire provided structure, peace, prosperity, so that all may find lives of pleasure, safe from the blades and tragedies of needless bloodshed. Clin knew the horrible price of peace from the beginning, and still he spurned of all they had built.
Once more Dominax gritted his teeth. To banish the thought, he let them glide up and down his cock together a final time before guiding the orange-eyed girl to straddle his lap. Visibly disappointed, the other’s wordless protest fell to ash as he pulled her against his side, sliding a hand between her warm thighs.
Fingers toyed with the girl in waiting as the lucky first brushed her soaking lower lips against the tip of his cock. Needy and eager, she was permitted to sink down.
“Master…” she moaned, taking his cock inch by inch.
With glowing eyes, he savored a new twat squeezing his length. Young and tight, she purred in pleasure as he easily met her limit.
The exquisite difference of an Arkos vagina compared to that of a human’s made him twitch inside her, his cock delighting in the knowledge that it was about to breed a female of another species. Subtly firmer inside, the exotic feeling made him chuckle with pleasure.
It was only right to reward the girl for learning pieces of the imperial tongue, however limited. The other, of course, did not go neglected. Even as every gentle rise and fall of the Arkos in his lap sent pleasure pulsating through his loins, he teased the girl at his side.
Toying with his waiting prize, his touch found her clit. Much larger than that of her companions, he exploited her sensitive bud until she trembled against him, moaning in her foreign tongue.
As his hips rocked to match the rhythm of the girl in his lap, she supported herself with hands upon his chest. It was clear she possessed ample skill of her own. Adjusting to his intimidating size, she began to bounce eagerly in his lap.
A hand reached back to find her petite though round rump while the other pleasured her companion. Purple eyes fluttered at his side as his fingers worked between her thighs, knowing every inch of a stranger through ample experience.
They knew they’d be highly rewarded if they returned to their new mistress bred. Bouncing in his lap, the girl with orange eyes did all she could to milk his seed, craving to get pregnant. When his pounding length made her body seize up, the tension in her squeezing loins burst into a trembling orgasm.
The second girl watched with envy as her companion cried out when her climax permitted her to, though Dominax rewarded her patience. Minutes later, she found herself gasping with an orgasm of her own, squeezing her thighs around his hand as she shook.
“Preg…nant…” his current lover managed to say as she continued to bounce. She ran a hand over her form, as if to show that her body was more than worthy. “Preg…ahh…nant…”
The ambition dripped from her orange gaze. If only she could say more than a few accented words. Ambitions, desires, dreams, he’d pull wonders from her pretty lips, a worthy being in the making.
A single language would unify them. A single culture would seal every species and every land as one beneath his throne. Clin would see them forever divided to spare a few, damning the many.
Guiding her hips with his hand, he forced her to slam down hard, driving his cock forcefully against her cervix. Rising, she slammed down again, and again, nudging him closer towards his finish.
As perspiration clung to her smooth grey skin, enduring the size of his cock for minute after minute, he finally granted her the mercy of his seed. Pulling her hard into his lap, he unleashed all she craved deep into her fertile tightness.
Unlike her former master, he intended fully to get her pregnant.
As her petite body trembled in his lap, he granted her ample time to recover. Every passing minute only allowed time for his own swift recovery.
When at last she found the strength to slide his cock from her depths, his seed oozed from her pretty lower lips. The other girl watched with envy, her purple eyes wide at the absurd quantity of sperm that poured from her companion.
The aroma of sex mixed with the scent of the chamber, washing away the memory of the former ruler of Fask further. New life would be sired before the sun rose, and he was far from done.
Minute after minute, he recovered from his climax. The slaves did not sit idly, however, for he guided them to lick at his shaft once more. Flaccid at first, it took little time before his erection rose again, his loins aching to spill his seed a second time.
Still his sperm leaked from the girl as she enjoyed the taste of her own twat upon his shaft. The other savored the juices of her companion that coated his cock, mixing with his seed. When it was finally her turn, she was eager to feel his warmth inside her.
The ghosts always at his back, the disloyalty of a trusted advisor, the discontent of a weary legion, all fell away for a brief instant as Dominax roughly forced the purple-eyed girl onto her back. Prying her thighs wide apart, he focused upon his primal need to impregnate the fertile beauty beneath him, ramming his cock deep into her tightness.
A cry called from her lips, a screaming moan as he pushed deep, making her toes curl. Hips driven by instinct, he wasted little time before beginning to rock between her legs.
Dominated, she could do little but squirm in ecstasy beneath him. Every thrust forced an accented squeak, making her purple gaze flutter.
The other girl cupped her leaking loins as she settled at their side. She took her companion’s hand, offering support as The God Emperor made the cushion rock with his movements. Unable to endure the sight for long, she met the moaning girl’s lips with her own, sensually kissing her while they were made into mothers by the same cock.
Outside the windows, the first hints of morning began to bleed through the dark sky. The day of their march had arrived, a journey that would end with all of Narok kneeling beneath his sword. For the moment, however, he sought only to conquer the Arkos girl’s womb.
He could sense those outside beginning to wake, faint flickers of distant minds. With them rose their usual ire. It mattered little. He could not stop now. They’d all march despite his weary legion.
Reaching up, Dominax grabbed one of the girl’s horns. He felt the smooth texture of its surface, thinking of the hybrid he’d leave in her exotic womb. His craving to breed her only grew with each passing minute, eager to see the petite bellies of the Arkos girls swell with his children.
Her legs wrapped around his waist, his arms around his chest, clinging to her new master. Every thrust came with the intention to get her pregnant, and she sought nothing less than to receive his life-giving cum deep inside her fertile twat.
With the powerful roar of a God Emperor, he spilled his seed inside her, claiming his eager prize.
Heavily leaking when he finally pulled his cock from her loins, her petite body twitched in the aftermath of her own consuming finish. He held her legs apart to savor the sight of his victory, certain to receive two new children to add to his bloodline.
Utterly satisfied, and spared from his thoughts for the moment, he settled into the cushion on his back. Like obedient pets, the girls found their way to his sides when they were both able.
Arkos thighs parted as he held them, two future mothers of his offspring. His hand crept between their spread legs, fingers toying with their leaking loins. He traced their soaking labia, savoring the differences.
Basking in the aftermath of their pleasure, the sound of their breaths was interrupted only by the muttered words of the purple-eyed Arkos. The other reached over to squeeze her hand, as if warning her to stay silent.
He needed only to force the girl’s orange gaze to meet his glowing eyes to break her, demanding a translation. “You shall wake…desert,” she repeated softly.
“I shall.” His words were a promise, though hers held the tone of a dire warning, rather than a boast.
They could hear the sounds of the city waking beyond the open windows. As they rested together, their peace was tainted by another visitor knocking upon the door. Dominax gave the command to enter.
Prince Fonax was permitted to enter, marching proudly into the room, only to pause at the sight of the display before him. The God Emperor did nothing to conceal the remnants of their passion, even spreading their filled lower lips with his fingers to let his not-so-secret bastard son watch as the seed that had made him leaked from two Arkos beauties.
Doing his best to conceal an amused grin behind his prideful expression, the prince cleared his throat. “Your holiness,” he greeted his ruler with a bow. “I don’t wish to interrupt your enjoyment, though I must.” He straightened as his handsome features grew serious. “The legion is gathering outside. They demand an audience.”
“Do they now?” Dominax asked coldly, unamused. “What is the purpose of this demand?”
Fonax endured the ire of his ruler’s glowing gaze with bravery, even as it seemed to pierce his soul. “None shall say without your presence, your majesty.”
In no mood for anything but a swift march towards their enemy, The God Emperor lingered in a dark silence. When at last he rose, he gestured for his lovers to dress him.
“Very well.” He donned his helmet. “Let us talk.”
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