Vaid Empire: Conquest
Chapter 111
3rd of Silla, 20 AVE.
Kingdom of Narok, Fask.
Shouting, fighting, the streets of Fask were consumed by a cacophony of chaos. When the temple doors hurled open, however, all fell to silence at the sight of The God Emperor.
Emerging to meet the legion’s discontent, Dominax loomed over them from atop the temple steps to behold what had become of those under his command. An army divided in two, the new recruits were a sea of bitter anger prepared to turn their voices against their holy ruler, while the loyal and outnumbered veterans stood ready to slaughter their new comrades to defend the man they had served for so long.
Already Salduin, Cendra, and Anthara held their weapons ready at the foot of the temple steps, flanked by Privictis Knights, while Hesin and Nafalya studied the crowd from either side of the entrance.
Folding his arms, Dominax scowled. “Who speaks for you all?”
The God Emperor’s booming voice echoed through the early desert morning. The mutinous legionaries looked to a select few, and Dominax made note of the ringleaders. Finally, one man pushed through the crowd to face their ruler.
“I speak for them, your majesty!” The man faced his fate without fear, backed by an army that stood together against the wrath of a god. “I am Commander Hanix, and WE are returning home!”
“Commander.” Dominax regarded the man with contempt. “You must know that such words are treason.”
“Yet such is our demand!” Hanix replied, earning a thundering shout of approval from the legion. The older veterans offered disgusted curses at their treacherous companions. “You have pushed us without restraint! We bled atop the mountains! We froze, we fell, leaving thousands of our brothers and sisters behind! We emerged from our suffering, and in our exhaustion, we fought upon the first sands we touched! We conquered Fask with the hope of receiving rest, yet now you’d force us to march towards another battle? No more!”
The heat of the day was already beginning to rise like their rage as black sand swept softly through the dusty market. Packed together, their voices echoed through the town of dark stone.
The God Emperor’s silver eyes offered no mercy, yet still Hanix lived. From atop the stairs Dominax studied the mutiny with an icy expression, far from amused. “No more,” he repeated, tasting the words. “A shame. Arkos-Nu stands within reach.”
Hanix stood with the legion’s fury at his back. To either side of the mutinous army, the experienced veterans threatened to erupt into a riot of righteous fury in defense of their holy ruler. Outnumbered by those beneath Hanix’s sway, their losses would be devastating if the crowds erupted into violence. Truthseekers watched from rooftops with their expressionless masks, as if they were statues of death standing ready to leap forth. The Privictis Knights guarding the temple steps held their position, ready to die fighting against mutinous men. With a single word, The God Emperor could turn the entirety of Fask into a slaughter. The legion would all die. Hanix held no delusions of being able to slay his ruler, nor did he desire to, yet a man without an army could be no conqueror. As he stood beneath the piercing gaze of The God Emperor and bravely stated their demands, he simply had to trust that such facts would restrain his ruler’s wrath. “We shall not march towards Arkos-Nu, nor in any direction other than home!”
Cendra held her burning blade ready. With the faintest hint of dried tears upon her cheeks none could see, she required little provocation to spit her hate. “Treasonous scum! You’d risk the mountains once more? You’d freeze with fewer supplies than we started with!”
“We’ll remain in Fask until we are rested! Our march towards home will be measured and merciful, rather than the march of death we were forced to endure! Better to return at our own pace than to be driven against desert blades until none of us remain!” Hanix shouted as he stood before the blazing blade of the princess. They would follow a tyrant no longer.
Dominax watched as the vast crowds shouted their support of the commander’s words. The furious cacophony quickly fell away when he held up a hand to silence them. “This man speaks for each of you, then? You wish to return home?”
Angry shout erupted anew. The majority of the legion had endured enough.
The morning sun gleamed off The God Emperor’s pristine armor as he loomed over the resentful masses. He watched them shout in silence, his silver eyes glowing.
When he stepped towards them, the shouting died swiftly. The less disciplined among those at the front grabbed the hilt of their blades. Dominax gestured for Cendra and her Knights to remove themselves from his way. Salduin, Anthara, all those loyal around him offered uncertain glances. A silent war played across Cendra’s features, though she quickly relented to her father’s command and stepped aside to leave him undefended.
He descended the temple steps to meet the hostile sea of bitter men. Those at the front pulled their blades free when he unsheathed his own, only to watch in confusion as Dominax handed The Sword of Order to Cendra. She accepted it with the care of a sacred relic, her silver eyes wide with concern. A silent question lingered in her expression, though he offered no answer as he faced the commander.
The white and gold crown of The God Emperor loomed over Hanix as his ruler stood before him. The man he had defied stared him down, silver meeting ordinary green eyes. He held his glowing gaze as The God Emperor seemed to peer into his soul. At last, green surrendered and Hanix looked down.
Dominax marched through the crowd as the commander stepped aside. Mutinous men and women cleared the way, not daring to lay a hand upon him.
Cendra squeezed the hilt of her father’s blade as he grew further from the protection of her knights with every step. Unarmed, he was surrounded. “This is madness…” she muttered quietly to Anthara as they shared a look.
The God Emperor reached one of the market stalls that lay scattered and vandalized near the market’s center, little more than a heavily damaged countertop carved from a smooth charom stem. He stepped atop it to ensure the entire crowd could see him.
“Home. That is what you seek? So be it. You are all dismissed!” Dominax announced. His booming voice echoed harshly through the market while thousands of legionaries surrounded him. Granting them a long moment to absorb his words, he drank in the sight of their reactions with a glare. “Return to the safety of your homes! Reunite with your families!”
Receiving all they had demanded without bloodshed, their collective anger fell away to surprise, then suspicion. Whispers spread among them like a mist of doubt.
At last, Dominax pointed an accusing finger at the sea of people at his feet. “Yet before you go, gaze upon all that I have made you! Many of you are too young to remember a time before I took your shattered populations into my hand and forged them into one within my fist! From Omrin, to Zilrin, to Valia, I seized settlements made of mud and rubble and rebuilt them as cities of grandeur! From savages to citizens that may play a part in this world, I made you rise!”
Hanix shoved his way through the crowd to get closer.
“All of this I have done at the side of worthy beings!” Dominax swept his hand towards the veteran legionaries. “Some among their number have stood at my side since before the formation of my empire! Together we have avenged the suffering of our foolish ancestors, stomping out countless blood feuds between rival settlements! Together we rose from dirty huts to grand estates! Together we forged a kingdom, then a second, then a third! Together we forged the first empire humanity has ever known, a worthy realm that forever sealed the rift between the North and South! Together we did what was necessary, permanently carving our names and deeds into history!”
Hanix looked up at The God Emperor as he forced his way to the front.
Dominax gestured to the mutinous recruits with a sneer. “Yet what have we forged together but the mere crossing of mountains? What have we conquered together but a minor Arkos town? I would see the world kneel before your swords, yet you’d lay them down instead!” He pulled his cloak around him, folding his arms. Simmering rage was masked behind a facade of disappointment, turning his head in disgust. “A shame. May you weep for what could have been!”
Those around Hanix whispered. He could hear their wounded pride in muttered words.
The God Emperor shook his head. “Go. Return to your homes! Return to the comfort I have wrought! Return to your mates and children that rest now in the safety I have forged and tell them how you spat in your God Emperor’s eye! Enjoy your hearths, your plentiful food, your homes without dirt for floors, and your peaceful neighbors! Enjoy your pleasant lives under the protection of my watchful gaze, and when your grandchildren ask for tales of your triumphs at my side, speak of how the mountains broke you! Tell them how your faith in me died the moment your legs grew weak!” Dominax looked down coldly upon the crowd. “See them gaze at you as I do now!”
Muttered words echoed among the masses. The anger of the crowd was a forgotten memory, its heart pierced by the booming words of a man they called their god. Pride wounded, many of the shamed men peered down with gritted teeth, though others held to all they had suffered. A female legionary called out from nearby. “We merely sought to rest!”
“And rest you would have received in Arko-Nu, along with the glory of conquering all of Narok, yet you withered on the brink of our victory! A single battle was all I required, a final push, and I would have forged you all into beings of worth! You would have carved your names into history beside my own, yet instead you choose to drop your legacy into the sand!” Dominax shouted for all to hear.
As The God Emperor watched their reactions with a cold gaze, his white cloak fluttering in the morning breeze, Hanix heard the doubt among his men. “Arkos-Nu? One more battle?” a legionary muttered to those around him.
“No. No!” Hanix grabbed the man’s chestplate, shaking some sense into him before aiming an angry finger towards their ruler. “He drove us like animals across the mountains! How many thousands did we lose?” He whirled around, speaking loudly so that all those around him may hear. “It’s always another mile, another battle, another hundred of us lost! We’ve made our decision! We’ve chosen our fate!”
“Indeed, commander,” Dominax said as he watched the man with glowing eyes. Once more his calculated demeanor shifted, replacing disappointment with disinterest. “You’ve made your choice! Leave future glories to future men and return home, if that is your wish!”
More muttering. More doubt. A nearby man called out through the noise. “Your holiness, we are reasonable men! Perhaps if we were granted-”
Dominax silenced him with a raised hand. “You have shown your worth, and I have no use for a weak legion! I require those willing to do what is necessary!” Every word came carefully, striking at their pride.
Another spoke up. “The journey home is long. Perhaps if we could remain in Fask for a time, we could be convinced to-”
“Convinced?” Dominax raised a brow. “I am God Emperor Dominax of House Vaid, and those who fight at my side beg for the privilege!” he said loudly for all to hear. Maintaining his calculated disinterest, he waved them all away. “Honor, glory, these are things for worthy beings! Rest is what you seek, and thus, I dismiss you all! Return as citizens, legionaries no longer!”
Hanix was shocked to hear gasps and whispers all around. Had this not been precisely what they had sought?
Dominax studied them from his perch. His words had their intended effect. He drank in their doubts and shame.
“Your majesty, let us bargain!” a man called out.
The God Emperor didn’t bother to look at him. He would not bargain.
Hanix could hardly believe his ears. Hearing others beginning to plead, he once more whirled around to address those around him. “Have you all lost your senses? Have you forgotten these past months?”
Demands had turned to pleas, and the veterans and Knights watched as the mutiny gradually collapsed beneath The God Emperor’s disinterested gaze. What was one more battle before receiving the long rest they had demanded? What were a few more losses before a lifetime of glory? A few more miles stood before exhausted men, yet total salvation from their shame beneath their ruler’s disappointment waited at the end.
“We shall march, your majesty!” a female legionary called out, though she too was ignored.
The other ringleaders looked to Hanix, and he shouted once more. “Never again! Your majesty, we-” He was cut off by another shout, an offer to serve.
“Forgive us, your holiness! To Arkos-Nu!”
Finally, Dominax spoke. “Of what use would you be to me against Arkos-Nu? My enemies have gathered a grand army to stand in my way! What threat would a disloyal legion offer?”
“Forgive us!” someone shouted. Another voice came from the crowd. “Forgive us! Let us fight! Let us prove ourselves!”
Hanix felt as if his world was falling. Already had he known his life was likely over. Even if they returned to their homes, he would be marked for death for his open defiance. Still, he had stood up to speak for his fellow legionaries, and in return they abandoned his cause. “Fools! Don’t you understand? He needs us! We can force him to-”
“To Arkos-Nu! To Arkos-Nu!” the legion began to chant.
“Please, let us prove our loyalty!” a woman begged.
Dominax pretended to consider their offers. When he was satisfied, he held up a hand to silence them all with a stern expression. “Perhaps, yet you have disappointed me! You have offended the divine House Vaid!”
Hanix peered at his fellow ringleaders as they all stood helpless among the noisy legion.
Once more The God Emperor held up his hand. “Yet I am not without mercy! Your lapse of faith cannot go unpunished, yet in the name of unity, I shall accept a single man among you to bear the consequences of your collective sins! Choose, and the rest of you shall be forgiven! Together we shall march on Arkos-Nu, and you shall have your glory and rest!”
The sounds of gratitude echoed through the packed market at the false generosity of their holy ruler, yet a man had to be selected. In the beginning, fueled by resentment and desperation, they had all looked to the ringleaders of the mutiny for guidance, who in turn had looked to Hanix. Now they all looked to him once more, though their gazes held only guilt now.
“No,” Hanix muttered as he realized what was happening. The obvious choice, The God Emperor couldn’t conceal a smirk as he beckoned to his prey. “Fools!”
The commander was forced to kneel before Dominax. The God Emperor stepped down from the stall countertop, presenting the facade of a benevolent deity.
On his knees, however, Hanix saw the truth of him. As The God Emperor grabbed his head, he saw the hatred simmering behind his glowing silver eyes. An entity of malice stared down at him, no longer human. The rage Dominax had concealed at being defied by the mutinous legion was turned against a single commander, and as his thumbs pressed into Hanix’s eyes, the full power of The God Emperor came forth as he squeezed. A scream was swiftly silenced as electricity tore through Hanix’s head, reducing his flesh to crackling ash in mere moments.
The charred skull crumbled in Dominax’s powerful grip. He let the ashes fall through his fingers. Never would he stop until his purpose was done.
A silence lingered in the aftermath as those closest contained their shock and horror. One man had endured the punishment of thousands, and what remained of Hanix’s corpse fell limply at Dominax’s feet.
The God Emperor gestured to his firstborn, and Cendra came quickly. All in her path parted to grant their princess space. She offered the hilt of The Sword of Order, and her father gripped it tightly.
“Take note of these men,” Dominax whispered into her ear as he took the sword. He would place the remaining ringleaders in the most dangerous areas during the coming battle. Those who survived would disappear during the following nights.
The legion watched as the sword was raised high into the air as blazing fire ignited to run up the white blade.
“We shall not delay for another moment! I shall not stop until Narok kneels beneath my throne! You want to prove yourselves? You want to carve your names into history?” The God Emperor asked, receiving thundering shouts of approval. He pointed his burning blade in the direction of the Arkos Capital. “Bring me Arkos-Nu!”
The market erupted into cheers. Surrounded by fervent commotion, Cendra looked down at the dead commander. They had narrowly avoided a complete catastrophe.
***
The near disastrous morning was followed by a day of frantic preparation. Delayed by the mutiny, The God Emperor forced the legion to make up for lost time by preparing to march.
In the organized chaos as thousands prepared to abandon their conquered town, Vixin found that she had little purpose. With the children long ready to move, she had nothing to do but wait, and waiting offered no distraction from Clin’s message cylinder.
She held the carved wood in her hands as she read and reread the words, listening to the water of the river. Though longing for solitude, a ring of Truthseekers formed a perimeter around where she sat on the shore. Still she could hear the noise of the town, not permitted by her father to go any further.
“Until my final breath, I shall continue to love you.”
Vixin read Clin’s words, feeling the dark sand beneath her rump where her leotard did not cover. She slid the message back into the cylinder and sealed it, placing it beside her before burying her face in her hands. With a long sigh, she cursed herself.
When she finally looked up, she watched the passing water for what seemed to be an eternity until she sensed an approaching presence. Turning, she noticed a ring of guards escorting Cendra across the dunes. The sight of her sister stirred an instant panic as she grabbed the cylinder, only to calm herself. She placed it gently at her side, brushing the sand to bury Clin’s seal. It appeared as nothing more than an ordinary message cylinder, hardly suspicious. As Cendra approached, Vixin swallowed her guilt.
The guards bowed and departed when Cendra was within the safety of the wide ring of Truthseekers. Obviously intending to stay, she stood quietly before Vixin gestured to sit at her side.
“Are you ready to talk now?” Vixin asked as her sister reluctantly joined her upon the sandy shore.
“No.” Cendra sat quietly, offering nothing more than a simple word.
Together they sat and watched the water gently flow by. Finally, Vixin felt Cendra reach over to take her hand. In silence, she squeezed it.
No words, no tears, Cendra held her hand as they sat together. A thousand things were ready to burst free of Vixin’s pretty lips. A thousand apologies, a thousand explanations, a thousand words of comfort, yet none would help her sister. She merely required her presence, and thus they sat together.
Siting, waiting, Vixin didn’t dare to make a noise. Instead she merely savored the warmth of her sister’s hand. Still her guilt remained, tempted to reach over and offer the final words of Clin, a message Cendra had every right to read.
Vixin opened her mouth, though stopped herself. Hesitating, she waited too long. Their peace was finally interrupted when Cendra glanced to their side and noticed a group wearing white cloaks swiftly marching towards them from the town. Vixin missed her touch the moment Cendra rose, feeling her fingers slip from her grasp.
They watched the group of Privictis Knights approach, led by Knight Kunir. Cendra stepped forward to meet them, and Vixin watched from behind as they all lowered themselves to one knee before her sister.
“Princess Cendra of House Vaid, The Goddess of War, we pledge ourselves to you,” the sandy-haired Knight said. He unsheathed his sword, driving it into the sand before him.
“What is this?” Cendra squinted in confusion. Already were they pledged to serve her.
Kunir lifted his head to regard her. “A vow. Our brothers and sisters all agree. Each of us here would be proud to call you our new High Peacekeeper.”
Silver eyes widened, though her surprise didn’t reach her stern lips. “That position is occupied, and further, it’s not yours to give away.”
It was a rare thing to see Kunir so serious, yet he offered nothing but the hard expression of a man that was certain. “I’m confident your father will agree with our decision. You may be his daughter, though you’re one of us, and I’d gladly follow the woman that High Peacekeeper Clin loved dearly.”
Cendra was a statue before them, though inside she felt her emotions swell. Every face among them was known to her. Each of them had trained beneath her and fought at her side. Kunir, Nomax, Izria, she could name each of them, proudly calling them her brothers and sisters. “Yet Lord Clin holds the title of-”
“He’s not coming back, Cendra,” Vixin softly cut her off.
Kunir rose to his feet and reached beneath his cloak, pulling out a piece of folded fabric. “No, he’s not,” he added with a pained grimace that matched the reaction of the others. Unfolding the fabric, he revealed a symbol of a sword atop the crescent moon of House Vaid drawn in ink. “Before he left, he accepted this as the official symbol of our Order.”
Cendra accepted the fabric and studied the lines, watching her vision grow subtly blurry by a dampness gathering in her gaze.
“Clin was a good man. He’s gone, though his work continues.” Kunir yanked his sword from the sand, sheathing it before offering his hand. “You knew him best. We would be proud to follow your guidance in his place.”
She blinked to clear her eyes. Squeezing the fabric in one hand, she clasped his forearm with the other. With mutual respect, they shook.
The other Knights rose as Kunir nodded. “Well then, we won’t disturb you further. There is much to be done, High Peacekeeper.”
She permitted them to depart, hardly able to speak as her throat felt tight.
When at last they were alone, save for the Truthseekers, Vixin watched Cendra turn back towards her. Realizing that tears had begun to stream down her sister’s cheeks, she rushed forward to embrace her.
“He’s not coming back,” Cendra echoed Vixin’s words, no longer able to contain herself. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Vixin held her tightly, gritting her teeth. “You are never alone.”
Cendra sobbed in her arms until at last she could regain her strength, uttering a shaky sigh. She straightened up and forced herself from Vixin’s hold, looking away in embarrassment. “Apologies.”
“No, no, don’t apologize.” Vixin took her hand, guiding her to sit down once more. “Come. Remain with me a while longer. You don’t have to talk. Let us just…sit.”
Reluctantly, Cendra gave in. They sat together once more, though after a long while, she peered over at the message cylinder half-submerged in the sand.
Vixin caught her gaze. The moment had arrived. As she felt the warmth of her hand in hers, however, she bit back the truth. “A message for Yisi when she returns. Something…sentimental. She’s preparing her lixidion, Kixsi, for today’s march.”
Cendra merely nodded, returning her attention to the water.
A silent sigh escaped Vixin’s pretty lips. She couldn’t tell her. She couldn’t lose her again.
Seeing Cendra wipe the remnants of her tears away, never wanting to cause more to flow, Vixin made her decision. She wasn’t ready to reveal the truth. Instead they sat in silence as the water flowed near their feet.
10th of Silla, 20 AVE.
Kingdom of Wonakaros, Holy City of Arkos-Tul.
“Blessed Kromak, Holy Kromak, she is ready.”
The words of the elderly Arkos coaxed a sigh from Naram, though she knew better than to let her father hear it. She played the part of the obedient daughter of a living deity, rising to follow the procession. As the group made its way through the dark halls of The Great Temple, she took her ceremonial place just behind her father, paired with her sister Saros.
Deep into the night, chanting echoed off the dark stone walls as torches flickered. The elders that made up the rear of the procession said their prayers as they walked. Naram’s Tolkarik assassins outlined the group with their dark wrappings and metal gauntlets.
Saros glanced over at her, coyly covering her mouth with a teasing chuckle. Naram blushed, though did nothing to cover herself. This day each month was the only time she was forced to dress in the long ceremonial loincloth her elder sister always wore proudly. Made of transparent shimmering silk that concealed little, it brushed against her thighs. She moved like a prowling warrior despite her revealing outfit while Saros openly flaunted her own exposed body, reveling in the attention her swaying hips received from the elders and concubines behind.
At the front, The Holy Kromak pushed open the temple doors. He cared nothing for the silent bickering of his daughters, keeping his attention forward as the procession ventured out into the festival city of Arkos-Tul.
The black buildings of the first Arkos city were ancient monuments looming beneath the night sky. With a population of only a handful of elderly caretakers, the vast city was dark and dead, an empty metropolis with no light save for the torches decorating the city’s center.
Krom knew his religious duties well. The sight before him was one he had seen countless times before. They followed the street leading from The Great Temple to the city’s center, a circular plaza surrounded by buildings that were packed tightly together, FAR older than even the oldest of the elders. There, in the center of the plaza, sat the ancient fertility altar.
Guards surrounded the circular plaza, holding blazing torches that stretched into the night air. The flickering light danced across the paving stones, illuminating his prize as she waited atop the altar.
Leading the group to a stop, Krom saw her. An Arkos female resting upon her back atop the fertility altar, the latest offering hugged her legs to her chest. The procession dissolved as they began to spread out, surrounding the altar.
As was her duty tonight, Naram assisted Saros in removing their father’s skirt. The metal rings jingled as they unfastened the dark fabric and pulled it away, folding it neatly. Their father stood naked beneath the night sky, a giant of a man standing proud.
Surrounded by his concubines and elderly men as they formed two wide rings around the altar, The Kromak’s attention fell only to the beauty waiting for him. Stepping closer, he watched as she spread her legs, revealing her naked form to him while her tail remained curled between her legs to conceal her sex.
Ancient prayers echoed all around as the elders chanted. Krom caressed her soft thighs with two of his four arms. The light of torches bled across the dark plaza to dance across his gold-plated horns. Ready to serve his duty, his manhood grew stiff at the feeling of her soft body.
Which Wonak village had she been sent from? Krom had been told, though now he couldn’t recall. It was always a great honor for one of the many moving villages of Wonakaros to send one of their own as an offering, an honor that was rotated each month to ensure they all remained content. Thoroughly inspected, only the most fertile girl was chosen to travel to Arkos-Tul. On the tenth day of every month, a chosen offering presented herself, ovulating and eager to be impregnated.
The timing had to be precise, else the ritual would be useless. When the girl’s tail peeled away to reveal her wet sex, he knew it was indeed her most fertile day, seeing her viscous vaginal juices clinging to her tail and forming a clear string from her labia. It snapped when it stretched too far, though he had seen enough. After decades of conducting the same ritual each month, he knew the signs of an ovulating female all too well.
Her loins were level with his manhood as she rested atop the altar, its ancient surface carved from black stone. The Holy Kromak brushed the tip of his cock against her soaking lower lips, his manhood as large as the rest of him. Eager eyes urged him to slide inside. She held her legs wide apart to accept a living deity into the warmth of her offered sex.
With a push, he glided his cock inside her fertile cunny to the sound of frantic chanting. She moaned in the very place where generations of women had moaned before.
Two of his hands held her legs, savoring her soft grey skin, while the other two explored her body. A thumb brushed her dark nipple, making her quiver. Her breasts were tender, yet another sign of ovulation.
His hips rocked back and forth, pushing his cock in and out of her tight warmth beneath the night sky for all to see. He savored every thrust, yet the ritual was intended to serve all. Across the entire Wandering Desert, he knew that countless Arkos men and women were making raw, passionate love with their chosen mates at this very moment.
The girl moaned as she rocked atop the altar. Ancient, even older than The Great Temple itself, the fertility altar had been carved by the first Arkos population of Ayphieal. Breeding fertile women atop its crudely carved surface, as Krom did now, their ancestors used to pray to the gods to grant the struggling population fertility. The ritual had changed over the generations, of course, and now every true Arkos of Wonakaros knew that on the tenth night of every month they would be blessed by fertility, for their beloved Kromak offered his seed to the gods. Anyone who truly wanted to conceive a child waited to breed until the night of the ritual.
Krom took his pleasure with every thrust despite his distaste for the ritual itself. Did they truly believe his sperm and this girl’s womb had any effect upon their own, hundreds of miles away? Yes, they believed, and more. His entire life had been spent holding his tongue and playing his part, though Krom knew the truth.
The girl atop the altar savored his cock. She touched her belly, as if worshiping him inside her with every thrust. She believed a true, living deity pushed his manhood inside her tight vagina, preparing to spew his holy seed inside her ovulating womb. Her body trembled with the pleasure of religious fervor. Once more, Krom knew the truth.
An elder stepped from the rings of watchers surrounding them to stand near her head. Offering his arm, he readied a blade and cut a large gash near his wrist. Purple Arkos blood gushed forth to rain over her face and breasts, dark in the night. She opened her mouth and closed her eyes, letting the blood of the elderly bless the conception of the new life she hoped to conceive.
The Kromak eyed the man’s arm, seeing countless scars from previous months. The man harmed himself needlessly, though didn’t know it.
Watching, Naram did her best to avoid looking away. On the side of the altar opposite Saros, she blessed the ritual with her presence, as was customary for any acknowledged daughter of The Holy Kromak. Little Karak, of course, was too young to witness such things, and thus she was forgotten even in this.
She glanced at her sister, seeing the raw arousal clear upon her face. Though Naram was forced to watch strictly as her religious duty, Saros eagerly drank in the sight of every thrust. She watched their father breed the fertile offering, running a hand down her own soft form until her fingers found her groin. Squinting with disapproval, Naram watched her sister caress her soaking loins through her loincloth, wetting the thin silk thoroughly as it clung to her sex.
Naram stood like a still statue, her body svelte and slender, while her sister’s thick thighs rubbed together with lust. She looked around to see her father’s concubines displaying the same lacking restraint as Saros, caressing and kissing each other as they enjoyed the offering’s moans.
She returned her attention to where it was required, blushing as she watched her father bucking his hips powerfully. No doubt the girl’s belly would swell with her sibling, yet another unacknowledged offspring of their living deity to be sent away with its mother to live in her native village. No doubt Naram would have endured the same fate had the mother of Saros not convinced The Kromak to keep her and Karak as his official daughters. Now that she was gone, he offered no such affection to any further children he sired.
A thousand thoughts ran through Naram’s head. The Dril assassins, the coming war with the humans, her past, Karak, all swirled inside her mind. Saros held no thought but for the sight before her, rubbing herself as she watched their father breed.
Naram thought of the future, her duty, their family, yet Krom looked to Saros. Meeting his daughter’s gaze, watching her tease herself at the sight of his thrusts, he offered a loving grin. He would grant her a show.
Pushing his cock as deep inside as the girl could take it, he forced her to scream as she felt his warm seed spewing deep inside her fertile sex. Her back arched atop the altar as she received his gift.
The girl’s pleasure was a cry of deep spirituality, an orgasm she hoped would bless the entire population with fertility of their own. The Kromak’s pleasure was raw and physical, holding her thighs as he savored the feeling of her soft flesh, a body that was here beneath his touch, warm and real.
Old men chanted. Concubines prayed. The people across The Wandering Desert mated and hoped for children of their own.
As his seed leaked from the girl’s loins and dripped onto the altar, Krom eyed the purple blood painting her grey skin. In the wake of his pleasure, with his mind momentarily cleared of arousal, the reality of the scene before him was as bizarre to him as any outsider would consider it. Even after all these months, decade after decade, he couldn’t delude himself.
He wasn’t spared from the irony. After all, what would his worshipers do if they learned their religion was nothing more than a Dril scheme? How would they react upon learning that their Holy Kromak believed in nothing he preached?
When his pleasure had long faded, Krom sighed. He would play his part until his last breath.
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