The Vaid Empire

Vaid Empire: Conquest

Chapter 130

45th of Fonic, 22 AVE. 

Kingdom of Wonakaros, Holy City of Arkos-Tul. 

“Go on. It is yours.” The God Emperor gestured to the throne of Arkos-Tul. Today, the legion would march at last. “It shall remain so for over a decade, or mere days. That choice too is yours.” 

Naram stood before all she had failed. Had her mission succeeded, her father would be sitting before her. Instead, she was forced to step forward. As she looked over at where Karak stood beside him, she seized his offer and sat down. 

Surrounded by the members of House Vaid, Dominax’s gaze offered no sympathy as the small Arkos girl quietly whimpered, eyeing his final gift to her sister. Karak beheld her father’s skull where it had been permanently fastened to the top of the stone throne. Light gleamed off The Kromak’s polished gold horns. “May the false champion watch over your rule. Should you succeed, may he watch over our mutual descendants,” The God Emperor said coldly. 

Naram silently shivered, though she didn’t let her ruler see. “I shall, your majesty.” Her tone held conviction, her words flowing smoothly in the imperial tongue. She had learned much. “You have my word.” 

He watched her gaze fall to Karak. He put his hand upon the girl’s shoulder with a knowing nod. “Then we shall meet again, little Naram.” His grip tightened. “Among others.” 

The threat hung in the air. Karak wanted to rush to her sister. Naram wanted to reach out and snatched her into the safety of her arms, though The God Emperor’s mind could not be swayed. The girl would accompany House Vaid into the jungle. 

Cendra hardly noticed the silent exchange between sisters. Peering down at the floor, she remembered spilling The Kromak’s violet blood in the very place she stood. Her own blood should have decorated the polished tiles. 

After the coming war, she’d have to return to the desert to place her son upon a throne that had yet to be built, the same desert Clin had walked out into, and the desert that had nearly claimed her golden prince. 

Perhaps she wouldn’t survive the jungle again. Perhaps she’d fall. Perhaps she would finally be permitted to rest. 

At her side, Cliax saw the emotion in Naram’s gaze through the fragile mask of her false dignity. Their eyes met, and he no longer felt an instinct to look away. Offering her an expression of silent sympathy, he was finally forced to turn away as his grandfather led his family from the throne room. 

Leaving the new Queen Regent behind, they marched to join the waiting legion. 

Cliax heard Karak beginning to sob as they departed The Great Temple. He dared to maneuver closer to her, ignoring a curious glance from Arinax. The girl appeared terrified through her tears. 

She was an Arkos, a complete stranger, a mere pawn of his grandfather, yet her whimpering stirred a knot in his young stomach. He wanted to say much, yet he possessed very little. In the end, he could offer only what his mother had once told him. 

“Be strong.” 

*** 

Peering out from a high window, Salik watched the legion march. They poured forth from the ancient city, flowing across the dunes like a river of white. When the last human stepped out onto the sands, the river of warriors continued to flow in an endless stream of eastern Arkos. 

Crimson eyes peered down at his enemies. A silent shadow in the distance, he folded his arms. 

The hot sunlight trickled through the window of the otherwise dark room. High atop the tallest structure of one of the many Wonak villages roaming the dunes outside the city, he had long waited. 

They had stayed out of sight, ever following their enemies. He and his companions had beheld the fall of Arkos-Tul from afar, saved from the monstrosities of the slaughter only by the great distance between them and the battle. 

Outside, the flow of warriors continued to pour across the dunes. Salik looked down at the back of his hand, seeing the ugly scar where Lord Hesin’s blade had cut him deeply. He flexed the hand, feeling only the faintest of pain. Month after month, he had healed. Month after month, he had trained. 

To dwell within the city itself would have been extremely difficult with so many eyes. Like any other city outside of The Domain, the mere sight of his companions’ Dril features would draw no shortage of attention. After Lord Hesin’s death, however, a single lucky glimpse from any of the population could lead to their undoing. 

The humans, the legion, the Truthseekers, all were on high alert for any sign of his kind. They could not get close. To even consider sneaking into The Great Temple and making another attempt against The God Emperor’s family in such a place was unthinkable. Hiding away beyond the outskirts of the city, however? Moving from one Wonak to another while concealing their presence from weary guards performing their mundane duties of inspecting supposedly empty villages? That was a simple matter. 

Salik heard the faint echoes of shouts coming from below. He didn’t touch his sheathed blades, for he knew the source. They had argued all day, and their disagreements had been simmering for far longer. 

Pulling his attention from the march of his distant enemies at last, he descended through the structure. Emerging into a large chamber that had once been the sleeping chamber of the Wonak’s Chief, an Arkos that was either trapped in Arkos-Tul with his tribe or among the dead scattered upon the dunes, Salik found the others. 

A cluster of Agents of Shai faced what remained of the Tolkarik assassins among them. Ally against ally, Dril against Arkos, their shouts filled the room. 

Salik strolled behind his companions, prowling, listening. Their shouts offered little danger, for lookouts positioned upon rooftops throughout the moving village would alert them to any approaching guards long before they could be heard. Almost all of the legionaries had departed with The God Emperor, and the tiny group of Arkos elders who had been permitted to remain aboard the Wonak to keep it under control dwelled far at the front of the village. 

The supplies of both groups were neatly organized nearby and ready for departure. 

“Utter cowards! You would abandon our cause now?” a Dril shouted, standing proudly with a hand upon his sheathed hilt. “You would have us face the humans alone? Is that the Arkos courage I’ve been forced to endure hearing about all these months?” 

“The Holy Kromak is dead. The Tolkarik Order is dead. Our fight is over, snow dweller,” an Arkos assassin replied through gritted teeth. So too did her hand rest upon her own blade. “If Naram truly lives, if she has truly been placed upon her divine father’s throne, we shall not abandon her to suffer in the grasp of the humans. There is our courage! Our honor!” 

Both spoke in their native tongues. Both understood the other. The chamber echoed with Dril and Arkos words, two cultures from opposite sides of the continent mingling in the air. 

Another Dril offered his anger. “You speak of honor, yet you spit upon the fate of the world! We had an agreement, one that ends only with the death of The God Emperor!” 

“It is an easy thing to march into the jungle while you still have a home to return to! Ours has fallen, yet you expect us to leave behind the only chance we have for restoration?” Another Arkos assassin stepped forward from her group. “Yes, run to the defense of the winged vermin. Here, offer them our regards!” 

The woman spat at the Dril. His blade flashed into his hand. 

Salik had seen enough. Swiftly forcing his way through his companions, he grabbed the man and spun, roughly shoving him back to fall into the grasp of the others. Already had the Arkos assassins readied their blades to fight back, though the sight of his familiar black helmet killed their anger in an instant. Everyone in the room lowered their weapons. 

“Traitors! There shall be blood to pay when we-” another Dril shouted, only to be cut off by Salik’s raised hand. 

Their leader studied both groups in silence. The Dril agents awaited his command to strike down the treacherous Tolkarik assassins. 

The Arkos awaited his wrath. Their misgivings had been clear since the fall of Arkos-Tul, for all they sought to prevent had occurred. Now The Empire was departing, and their diverging aims could no longer be ignored. 

To the surprise of all, Salik did not draw his curved blades. Instead, facing the Arkos group, he leaned forward in a bow. His quiet words came forth in their native tongue, offering a tone of genuine respect. “Go, then. Return to your city. Do what you must.” 

Utterly baffled, the others in the room eyed him in disbelief. 

He straightened, his deadly gaze awaiting the response of the assassins. There would be no convincing them, he knew, and a fight would only weaken them both. Their purpose had ended, yet his remained. 

The assassins expected a trick. When none came, they all mirrored his bow. Despite the tension lingering in the chamber, the Arkos offered their mutual respect to the leader of the Dril group. 

One of the agents at his back opened his mouth to argue. When Salik turned his head, his powerful form looming before the man, the agent remained silent. 

“We wish you success in Arkos-Tul,” Salik said, his voice a quiet rumble behind his helmet. He watched as the assassins backed away to begin collecting their supplies. 

Their de facto leader, an Arkos named Ranos who had claimed the mantle after Naram’s fall, spoke out. “As do we wish you luck in all your future conflicts.” She left the others to their preparations as she stepped forward. “I’ve witnessed too much from these humans to believe your struggle shall be short.” 

At his back, his companions accepted his decision with bitter silence. They gradually spread out, guarding their fair share of the supplies. 

“It would be a lie to say I wouldn’t want to witness The God Emperor’s death myself. Perhaps you truly will put an end to all of this, though until then our obligations are clear,” Ranos said with regret. 

“The God Emperor shall fall,” Salik promised. “With or without your assistance.” 

Her serious features showed her doubt, though there was no point in giving voice to it. Instead, she briefly retreated to her group to retrieve a small vase from among their supplies before returning. “If that remains your path, take this. There is little more we can offer.” 

He studied the vase in silence. Carved from black stone, its smooth surface was small enough to fit comfortably in his palm. His question was obvious. 

“Wrolik poison. May it be a familiar sensation to the human.” Her tone was deadly and bitter. 

Salik recalled the name of the substance from one of Naram’s tales as the poison Tolkarik assassins coated the claws of their gauntlets with in the past. He had learned of it during their time together, for they had briefly discussed the failed attempt her predecessors had made upon The God Emperor’s life using such poison long ago, yet such tales had been of very little use. Even Naram could not say for certain how the failed assassination had truly played out, for all four assassins had perished in the attempt, and whispers from the east had offered little insight beyond human propaganda. “If The God Emperor has experienced its effects before, it is useless to me.” No doubt his enemy would use his power to purge the poison from his veins the moment he recognized its effects. 

Ranos shook her head. “He has not experienced what you hold in your hand. The assassins The Holy Kromak sent against the human twenty years ago greatly shamed our Order with their failure. What remained of our predecessors scorned Wrolik poison, believing its use would bring them misfortune and sour luck. Though its use was banned among us, we experimented, for it was a tragedy to lose such a valuable weapon outright. What you hold is a variant, a poison that inflicts similar effects, yet over a much longer period.” 

“You withheld this resource until now.” It wasn’t a question, but an accusation. 

“Naram was aware I carried it, yet it was of no use to our mission. The effects require days to take hold,” Ranos explained. “In any case, you shall find no self-respecting assassin among us willing to take part in any plan utilizing the cursed substance. Yet a Dril?” 

Salik had long grown weary of their superstitions. “It remained in your possession, yet you claim you would not use it.” 

Her expression grew grim. “As a last resort, I would have attempted anything.” 

He looked at the tiny vase. “Tell me its effects.” 

“Original Wrolik poison increasingly paralyzes the victim’s body over the course of mere minutes until even their lungs refuse to move. What you hold inflicts similar effects,” she explained. “It offers no sensation. There is nothing for The God Emperor to recognize. Should you somehow poison him without his knowledge, he shall not feel that anything has occurred. It will gradually weaken him over the course of many days. The process is slow enough that by the time he notices something is wrong, it shall be too late for him to use his powers to save himself.” Her lips tightened. “Possibly.” 

Salik offered his deadly stare. He did not like her uncertainty. 

“Do not mistake this gift as your salvation. As I said, what you hold should only be used as a last resort. As you know, the act of poisoning The God Emperor without his knowledge would be exceedingly dangerous. Should you somehow succeed, the poison promises nothing more than what I said, the possibility of his death.” Her tone held a dire warning. “Only a desperate man would make such an attempt. I offer you this gift, this final hope, yet I shall weep for you should you ever need to make such an attempt.” 

He closed his fingers around the vase. Showing he understood, he offered a silent nod. 

“Farewell then, snow dweller. May we meet again in a world free of The God Emperor, or the next.” 

3rd of Fixuin, 22 AVE. 

Kingdom of Wonakaros, Deep Desert. 

The desert had become a familiar place to the legion. Every step took them deeper into the wasteland of black sand and rain. The dark dunes stretched across the land to touch the horizon, and had they not already crossed it before, it’d be a simple thing to believe that the desert continued on forever. 

Day after day, they suffered beneath the hot sun. When it was consumed by clouds, they endured the wind and rain. 

Lalian was a lifeless husk. He had the option to travel in a palanquin once more, of course, yet instead he walked beside the cart that carried the sarcophaguses of Anthara and Hesin. So too did Nafalya walk beside the cart with him, yet where The Goddess of Death strode with grim purpose, he stumbled along as a lifeless shell. 

When the desert hardened into smooth stone, lixidions easily pulled the cart along. When the rocky surface turned to sandy dunes and the wheels proved useless, they were replaced by more than a dozen slaves who lifted the heavy cart and hauled it for mile after mile. When the hands and feet of the slaves grew bloody, several Truthseekers volunteered to replace them, carrying the cart that held their fallen leader. 

The nights were no less forgiving than during their first crossing. Though they traveled south rather than back east, the land was just as eager to consume them. 

Tents were erected each time the sun touched the horizon. When one stood upon a tall dune and looked out across the camp, it was difficult to make out where the human areas of the camp were separated from the Arkos areas, for the borders between them gradually blurred and mixed. 

Though King Torakeom had remained in Arkos-Tul with Quinla to advise, or rather, influence the new Queen Regent, the old king’s commanding sons had been granted strict orders to encourage the warriors beneath their command to integrate with the legion, as per The God Emperor’s wishes. 

As always, Lalian instructed the slaves to construct his tent beside the cart, keeping Anthara close. The sun slipped out of sight, plunging the desert into darkness. The dunes became a black sea, dotted with the distant lights of bioluminescent plants like the lights of faraway vessels. 

A comfortable bed waited for him. The bliss of sleep after a long day of marching beckoned to him with welcoming arms. Instead, Lalian stood beside the cart and beheld the temporary resting place of his fallen love. No longer did he kneel, yet no longer did he live. 

“I’m tired…my love…” Lalian muttered quietly into the night air. He had risen for Dominax, yet he yearned to fall. 

“One should rest, then,” Salduin’s voice came from behind, accompanied by the crunching of sand as he approached. He came to a stop at Lalian’s side, looking down into the cart. Studying Hesin’s sarcophagus for a long moment, he offered a quiet sigh before gazing out across the dark desert with a somber tone. “What a beautiful night.” 

Lalian offered no reply as the large man rested a heavy hand upon his shoulder. 

“Your boy is doing well, my friend,” Salduin said, revealing why he had come. Hoping to ease the green man’s burdens during his grief, he had volunteered to look after Lalian The Younger shortly after Anthara’s death. “He spends much of the day with Jin.” His tone softened. “He’s alright.” 

Lalian finally offered a nod. 

Lingering in silence, Salduin watched his old friend’s misery. The green man’s eyes were lifeless things. He turned back to the sarcophaguses. “They’re alright too, Lalian.” A simple statement, yet the words were nearly heavier than his aging muscles could bear. “They’re at peace.” 

A weary sigh escaped Lalian after a long moment. “May I ask you a question, old friend?” He waited for the large man to nod. “If everything The Sages teach about the afterlife is true, why do you continue to…live?” 

It wasn’t a new question. Many of those they conquered had asked the same, and thus he had a ready answer. “Ah, there are many reasons one should continue living. The dead enjoy an existence of utter peace, absorbed into the fabric of reality, yet their bliss is simple and mindless, like falling into a fading dream. We can experience sensations they never will again. We have an awareness they cannot feel without great effort.” 

Lalian shook his head. “N…no. What I mean to say is…why do you personally continue to live, Salduin?” He met his gaze. “Simple sensations? Awareness? Is…is that what keeps you from the peaceful oblivion of death?” 

“Ah.” That answer did not come as quickly. The large man folded his arms and leaned against the cart, lost in thought. “I suppose it is, to a small degree. Although there are many sorrows and hardships in life, I am privileged to experience such emotions. The dead never shall again.” He continued to ponder. At last, he returned his gaze. “Above all, there is much to do, and I’m not done yet.” 

The green man nodded somberly. “Always much to do. A…always more to suffer.” He rubbed his exhausted eyes. 

Salduin’s lips tightened with concern. 

“Are…are you aware, my friend, that the average Lanthian lifespan is a mere fifty years?” Lalian asked quietly. 

“So it is.” Salduin unfolded his arms and gestured to the rest of the camp. “Arkos live for six decades on average, yet old Torakeom is enjoying his ninth. The time we are promised is far from certain.” 

“Yet I…feel it, Salduin.” Lalian inhaled an unsteady breath. “Every year I feel it getting closer. I feel…old.” 

Salduin listened closely. Lanthians were notorious for aging extremely well. Hardly did they begin to show the effects of their true age until they were near the end. 

Illuminated by the flickering light of torches placed throughout the camp, he could see the faint wrinkles that had begun to form upon Lalian’s features. 

“I’m…so…tired.” Lalian looked down at her sarcophagus once more. “I don’t think I’ll be without her for long. I…I’m tired of struggling.” 

Salduin nodded. His hand returned to his companion’s shoulder, for few understood such sensations better. “We have spent these decades fighting. We’ve spent them building the world. We’ve spent them struggling.” He thought of the two graves waiting atop a hill back home. He remembered the peaceful white sand of Vixin’s vision long ago. He remembered holding his family one last time. He remembered opening his eyes to find they were gone, yet Vixin was beside him. He remembered her kiss. “One day, perhaps even soon, we shall reunite with those we lost. We’ll join them in the peaceful oblivion Hesin and Anthara now enjoy, though not yet.” 

Lalian turned to face him, hearing his tone grow firm. 

“Forgive me, my friend, though you deserve a better answer to your previous question. You want to know why I still live?” Salduin aimed a meaty finger towards his own grand tent nearby. “I live because I know that when I step inside that tent, there will be a little girl waiting for me who calls me ‘father’.” 

Lalian felt a faint hint of guilt prodding at his stomach, knowing who else was inside the tent. 

“I too feel old. I’ve felt old, my friend. I feel weak. I feel tired. I feel the call of the peace death offers, yet as I said, I’m not done. So long as my daughter needs me, I shall remain.” He would never lose his family again. “I think our era is coming to an end, Lalian. I think the world is moving on, and I think their era is beginning.” He continued to face his tent. “We’ve done all we can to build a better world for them, though it’s far from done. I’m going to stay. I’m going to fight for my daughter until my last breath.” At last, he turned his head towards Lalian. “I hope you’ll remain too.” 

A wetness began to gather in Lalian’s weary gaze. He glanced at the cart, then at the tent. Hesitating, he finally nodded. “If…if I can.” 

“Good.” Salduin remained at his side for a long moment. Despite his concern, despite his relief, he dared to smack the green man on the back with a light chuckle. “Damn Vaids. They’ll never age. They’ll never have to endure the exhaustion of old men.” He watched Lalian’s lips flicker, seeing what might have been a tiny, brief smile through his sorrow. Finally, Salduin’s expression grew firm once more. “I think it’s time, Lalian. It’s been long enough, wouldn’t you say?” 

“Time?” Lalian watched the large man gesture to the tent ahead. His swift mind understood quickly. “What if…what if I am not…capable.” He had always imagined Anthara at his side while their son grew up. 

“Nonsense.” The large man shook his head. “I’ll keep him as long as you need, yet the truth is…” Choosing his words carefully, his tone softened. “You are not the only one who grieves. The boy requires the one thing he hasn’t lost.” 

Lalian’s guilt flared anew, mingling with his fear. Finally, with an unsteady sigh, he nodded. 

Salduin offered a calm nod. “Good choice, my friend.” Beginning to walk towards his tent, he saw that Lalian didn’t follow. Stopping, he offered a faint smile, for he understood. “I’ll bring him to you, then.” 

Lalian didn’t reply. He merely watched him go, fearing what he’d bring. After taking a final glance at the cart, he sought refuge inside his own tent. Inside, he found all the luxurious furnishings that a man of his title could expect, yet it was no home. 

He stood in the center of the tent, waiting. He felt his heart quickening. When Salduin returned, it stopped, for Lalian peered down at the hybrid boy holding the large man’s hand. 

Lalian didn’t say a word. He was a cold statue, a withered corpse. 

“Go on.” Salduin released the boy’s hand, urging him to step forward. The boy approached, then stopped. The large man peered at his companion. “I shall not disturb you two further.” 

As Salduin made his departure to give them privacy, the boy was hardly able to look at Lalian. He merely stared at the floor. 

Lalian saw the echoes of Anthara’s features in the winged boy. He remained still, as if a step would see him unravel. His memories, his hopes, all he had thought their life and family would be threatened to crush him. The boy he hadn’t been able to face since her death now stood mere steps away, yet they seemed to be on opposite sides of a great chasm. 

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t believe a single string of words existed that could comfort the boy. His mother was dead. Anthara was gone forever. 

Finding the strength to step closer, Lalian saw the faint quiver of the boy’s lips. The sight was enough. He shattered. 

Rushing forward, he wrapped his arms around his son, squeezing him with every ounce of his strength. 

Alone in the tent, a father and son wept together for all they had lost. 

22nd of Senin, 22 AVE. 

Kingdom of Wonakaros, Near Southern Border. 

Once more, they had crossed the desert. Once more, they approached the jungle. 

More than two months of struggling beneath the desert sun and suffering the wrath of sandstorms and weeping rainfalls brought them no further than the edge of Wonakaros. All but their Arkos companions were eager to leave the black dunes behind, only to be reminded of the harsh landscape that waited beyond. 

Standing at the edge of the desert where the dunes gave way to the great river that formed Wonakaros’s southern border, Vixin felt the sand beneath her feet a final time before boarding the waiting ship, hand in hand with Yisi. A small Arkos fleet had been sent down from Narok along the river to assist their crossing. 

She saw Cendra glance back at the desert, a silent war behind her eyes as the rest of House Vaid boarded. One by one, the ships crossed the vast width of the river. Hardly was it a long journey, though to build a bridge across the massive river in a timely manner, or perhaps at all, would have been impossible. 

Standing on the deck, Vixin heard the water lapping against the hull of their vessel. At their back, familiar black dunes stretched to the horizon. Far ahead on the opposite shore of the river, massive trees leaned over the water, for the jungle consumed every available inch of the beach in vegetation. The river seemed like a gateway between two entirely separate worlds. The utter juxtaposition of the lands on either side seemed utterly unnatural, water separating lifeless black dunes and a vibrant green jungle. The sight was another reminder of The Creator’s hand, echoes of how their world had been forged by Dorian. 

As they gradually crossed the river, Vixin saw Cendra’s pale fear. Every gentle wave seemed to torment her sister as the ship lightly swayed. She appeared as white as a ghost as the color drained from her face. 

Even shallow water coaxed the memory of Cendra’s destroyed fleet, yet here the river was deep. All the many rivers of Narok far upstream converged into one, leading out into the open ocean. Much closer to the end of the river than its source, there was no telling what monstrosities swam beneath them. 

The ship swayed. Cendra winced. As she remembered the agony of nearly drowning, she was saved only by Vixin’s touch. Daring to take her hand, Vixin squeezed it tightly to offer support. 

When they reached the other side, it was Vixin’s turn to be flooded with harsh memories. She grimaced at the feeling of the mud beneath her feet as her family disembarked. Stepping once more into the horrid jungle she utterly despised, she couldn’t help but think of Irith, remembering all they had lost in the jungle. 

She saw her father staring ahead into the towering trees. The God Emperor’s face held a grim expression, no doubt filled with similar memories. 

Looking back brought her no comfort, for the desert was a reminder that Anthara was no longer among them. 

Both ahead and behind, they were surrounded by death. 

*** 

The legion and the warriors of Narok were gradually brought across the water. Ship after ship, hundreds of humans and Arkos flooded the jungle, then thousands, gathering just beyond the shoreline. Thousands still waited across the river as the fleet went back and forth. 

When the sun began to descend towards the horizon, The God Emperor gave the command to settle their camp for the coming night. While the last of their army was ferried across the river, men and women went about clearing the foliage and setting up their tents. 

Strolling through the camp when the sky began to darken, Vixin wiped the perspiration from her smooth skin. She certainly hadn’t missed the humidity. 

“If your father intends to pierce the jungle swiftly, why not sail south and strike directly at The Capital of The Lanthian Empire itself?” Yisi asked as they navigated the maze of trees and tents to find where the slaves had set up a cluster of grand tents for the royals. 

It wasn’t an unreasonable question. The Lanthian Jungle was shaped like a massive, horribly misshapen human liver, bulky to the north and tapering to the south. The Kingdoms of Lian, Centhian, and Waith were to the north, while the oldest and most sacred Kingdom of Lanth claimed the gargantuan and thick peninsula jutting from the bottom of Magnius like a dull horn. The Capital of the entire Lanthian Empire sat nearly as far south as anyone could travel upon the continent, an ancient metropolis waiting near the bottom of the peninsula. 

“The southern jungle is the most populated area of The Lanthian Empire by far. They would spot an approaching fleet quickly, and they would be ready to defend their shores. At least, that’s what Cendra claims.” Vixin wouldn’t dare to believe she understood war and battle strategies half as well as her sister, and thus she had offered similar questions. Looking around the camp, she couldn’t imagine the horror of unloading so many men and women while under attack by their winged enemies. “Father intends to march across their empire by land. Nenian is the closest city in this area, though it’s many miles away. They’ll notice us soon, though we’ll have time to prepare.” 

As if to prove her words, the legionaries around them flinched at the sound of something flying through the branches far above. Spears and arrows stood ready, though no attack came. 

Had it been a Lanthian, or one of the countless species of other winged creatures native to the jungle? 

Their tent waited ahead. As they approached, Yisi slowed to a stop and tugged at Vixin’s hand. “Before we enter, there is something you should know,” she confessed. Her solemn cheeks lightly darkened. “There is someone waiting for you inside.” 

“Oh?” Vixin raised an eyebrow. “Who?” 

Yisi hesitated. When she spoke, her words came in a whisper. “Do you trust me?” 

The princess nodded. Her question remained, yet she felt Yisi squeeze her hand. Together, they walked closer. As Vixin focused, she sensed the familiar presence inside. A tiny smile touched her lips as she reached the entrance. 

*** 

Kunir sat upon the edge of the princess’s bed, staring down at the white helmet in his grasp. Alone in her tent, waiting, his mind was a storm of clashing thoughts. His hair dangled to conceal his grim features as he remained hunched over, pondering. 

He understood what Yisi had asked of him. He knew the consequences tonight would bring. It was a burden of responsibility he was willing to bear to repay a great debt, yet such concerns were overshadowed by his other worries. 

Only his one-suit concealed his form, for he had removed his armor. His cloak was folded and placed with great care upon a nearby desk. He was ready to perform his duty, yet others rested upon the horizon. They prodded at his soul. 

New orders had come directly from The God Emperor himself. 

As he pondered what he had been told, his ruminations were interrupted when the entrance flap to the tent opened. As Princess Vixin stepped inside with her lover, Kunir put aside his worries and focused on the task at hand. “Hello again, princess.” 

His tone didn’t offer his typical distaste for her title. Vixin heard the soft sympathy in his voice, a sound that coaxed her concern. “Knight Kunir? Forgive me. What is this?” 

The question was aimed at them both, yet Yisi answered first. “He came here at my request. Don’t be angry.” 

Kunir stood. “She told me about your problem.” He moved to place his helmet beside his armor. 

Vixin’s eyes narrowed defensively. “My problem? What might that be?” 

Yisi moved between them. She brought Vixin’s hand to her chest, holding it tightly. Her serious features silently screamed her concern. “As I said, don’t be angry. I could think of no one else to seek out.” Months had passed since their incident had occurred while Vixin was in bondage. Yisi still remembered her tears. “You haven’t permitted a single male to touch you since your…” The word was too painful. “Something is very wrong, Vixin. This isn’t like you.” 

Vixin appeared like she had been cornered. Kunir stepped closer, his tone low and soft. “Princess, she told me enough. I know you fear getting pregnant again.” 

“Fear?” Vixin’s heart quickened. “You are overstepping.” 

“So I am. Still, I recall a day when you showed mercy to a young thief and set him upon a better path. I remember when you showed him mercy once more when you helped him become a Knight.” Kunir’s handsome features hardened. “I would not be here without you. I’ll never deny that I owe you everything.” Once more, he stepped closer, an arm’s length away. “I want to help you.” 

Vixin stood straight and tall, yet she felt she’d crumble. The truth of their words made her want to flee from the tent. Instead, she swallowed, offering a single shaky word. “How?” 

Yisi stepped aside as she glanced at the Knight. “He has agreed to…try, if you’ll let him.” 

The words brought a redness to Kunir’s cheeks, though he nodded. “She’s right, princess. We’ve already had our moment together. If another will ease your worries, you’ll find me willing.” 

A thousand emotions were coaxed to the surface upon hearing their explanations. “I’m not…certain if I can.” 

“Vixin,” Yisi muttered. Her expression said everything she couldn’t. “Please.” 

Kunir reached out, though he stopped. Every instinct warned against the consequences of touching a royal without permission. As he remembered the night they had spent together all those years ago, the night she had saved him from departing The Privictis Order, he dared to gently touch her arm. “I can sense your fear. Not as keenly as you Sages can, yet I can sense it. You think it makes you weak.” The Knight shook his head slowly. “I feared every day that I wouldn’t be able to steal enough to eat when I lived in Omrin. I feared every night that I would be robbed, or beaten, or taken against my will while I slept in the streets. When I was captured by the city guards, I feared execution, or worse.” His lips tightened. “You rescued me from that fear. I’d assist you with yours.” 

Vixin’s heart fluttered at his words, hating that any of her illegitimate brothers had to suffer such things. She didn’t pull away. She saw Yisi’s hope. As her fear twisted in her stomach, the sight of his firm gaze gave her strength. “None can ever know that their Goddess of Fertility…fears.” 

“None ever shall,” he vowed. “Let me help. Maybe it’ll be enough. Maybe not. At least let me try.” 

She considered his offer. The familiar instinctual draw of their shared blood made her tingle, yet the thought of getting pregnant coaxed the memory of her miscarriage. She would not weep in his presence. She wanted to turn away and refuse outright, yet Yisi’s hope kept her in his grasp. Finally, dreading her own answer, she nodded faintly. 

Both of her companions appeared relieved. Yisi began to lead her towards the bed. “Thank you, Vixin,” she whispered so the Knight would not hear. Salduin certainly would’ve helped her had she asked, yet he was forbidden to get her pregnant without permission. The God Emperor would never hesitate to put a baby in his daughter’s belly again, yet the thought of approaching him made Yisi’s heart flutter in ways she utterly despised. Kunir was the best choice. Vixin trusted the Knight. 

Standing near the bed, Vixin touched her leotard. She discovered that she was unable to remove it herself, for her fingers would not obey. Yisi assisted her, taking ample time while undressing her, ensuring she did not rush. 

Kunir did not intrude. Merely watching, his cheeks darkened as her beautiful body was gradually revealed. He knew what they were. Never could he forget their shared blood, yet never could he ignore what they had done. They had made a child together. The forbidden feelings rushing through him at the sight of his naked half-sister were no longer enough to restrain him. They had already committed the deepest taboo possible. 

Shame and modesty were emotions Vixin had utterly forgotten. Thousands had witnessed her naked body, and she had been delighted by their desire. Now, however, she felt vulnerable before the eyes of the man who sought to impregnate her. With her grief lingering as a dull pain, she was surprised when a feeling of reluctance urged her to cover her breasts with her hands. 

“There is nothing to fear,” Yisi said firmly. She gently guided her hands away from her chest. “You are The Goddess of Fertility. You are Vixin of House Vaid.” Such things held little meaning to her personally, yet she knew her lover well. Her eyes were soft despite her serious expression. 

Kunir joined them when the princess was ready. He cleared his throat awkwardly, reaching to remove his one-suit. Driven by his duty to assist her, he joined her naked state, revealing himself completely. 

Vixin studied his bare form. Despite her emotions, her natural cravings were far from dead. She felt a warmth inside her at the sight, daring to reach out and gently caress his chest. His attractive body was solid, his musculature firm beneath his skin. “You are doing me a great kindness, Kunir. However tonight ends, I won’t forget this.” 

Her soft voice stirred his desire. In truth, he hadn’t been able to forget the woman that had claimed his virginity. Vixin had made him a man in more ways than one. Sister or not, royal or not, she was ever in his thoughts. “Of course, princess.” 

Sensing his lust and feeling her own tingling between her thighs, she dared to press closer. Her soft lips brushed against his, offering her appreciation. It was merely a taste. Shared blood yearning for each other, he didn’t pull back. 

The memory of their first night lingered as he gradually took charge. He tasted the sweet lips of a royal, one of the few he could stomach. Kissing her, he felt her bare body against his. 

When they separated, he saw that her cheeks were flushed with arousal. “Are you ready?” He gestured to the bed. 

Vixin realized the opposite of their first night was occurring. Where she had once been the instigator, using her body to convince him to breed her, she was now the one to reluctantly submit. She eased onto her back atop her bed. Where he had been reluctant to sire a child or touch his half-sister, he now mounted the bed with firm determination, ready to repay his debt. 

“You’re staying?” Kunir asked as Yisi joined them. Her glare as she settled against her lover’s side told him he wouldn’t be able to convince her otherwise. Though the thought of performing while she watched made him uneasy, he merely cleared his throat and readied himself. “So be it.” 

The tension between them remained, Vixin’s reluctance dueling against her desire. Her feminine legs remained shut. 

“Relax,” Yisi commanded. Her hand brushed her lover’s thigh. Slowly, she guided her legs apart. “He will stop if you tell him.” She aimed a serious gaze at the Knight. “If you are not ready, Vixin, he will pull out.” 

Hardly could he argue. Never would he harm her. 

Vixin’s lips parted as Yisi’s fingers brushed over her waiting labia. Caressing her sex, her nimble digits prepared her lover for her potential breeder. 

Kunir endured the sight. Before him was a display of utter perfection, the vagina that had made him a man. Petite, pink, her lower lips grew wet from her lover’s touch. As if to match her readiness, his heavy manhood slowly rose. 

He was no fool. Nearly everyone knew Yisi was the bastard daughter of The God Emperor. He could easily sense their bond himself. Yet another of his illegitimate kin was on her side before him, rubbing the sensitive twat of their mutual half-sister. The taboo sight stirred something within him, a feeling he hadn’t been able to escape since planting his seed inside the princess. He should have been disgusted by the incestuous sight. He should have been ashamed of his own deeds. He wasn’t. 

Still dressed in her one-suit, Yisi held one of Vixin’s legs between her own. The tight material hugged her slim curves, concealing little from Kunir’s sight. He couldn’t help but glance at her alluring rear. Her presence served only to tease him further. 

“I see why you were so eager to take his seed the first time,” Yisi admitted, studying the Knight’s cock as it lightly twitched. She heard the soft sound of her lover’s moan in response. “I think you’re ready.” 

Seeing the cautious approval in Vixin’s gaze, Kunir claimed his place between her legs. He touched her thighs, feeling how utterly soft her smooth skin was. He appeared calm, a man ready to perform his duty, yet inside he was burning. 

The tip of his cock met her entrance for the first time in years. He saw the worry in her gaze, holding back. 

Vixin felt the sting of her grief. Her fear lingered, more than reluctant to experience such a thing again. She wanted to recoil, yet Yisi took her hand and squeezed it tightly. Trusting her lover, she finally granted Kunir a meek nod. 

Their loins had created life together. As he gently pushed forward, the same pleasure they had felt long ago erupted through them both. 

Inch by inch, he carefully eased his cock inside her, enduring her excruciating tightness. Once more, a mere Knight savored the body of a princess. Once more, he burned with the knowledge that he was entering his sister. 

Their groans filled the spacious tent. For the first time in far too long, Vixin felt the deep, stretching pleasure of a cock pushing inside her. Though he did all he could to be gentle, her back arched from the sensation. 

Her body had been created to breed. Her mind, however, was flooded with thousands of dueling emotions. She wanted him to cum deep inside her and get her pregnant. She wanted to push him off and curl into a ball, accepting her failure. Pleasure crashed against fear, yearning for what had brought her great sorrow. 

She had fallen. Yisi would help her back up. Remaining at her side, she caressed her lover’s body. Her fingers dragged over Vixin’s breasts, feeling her perky mounds. Her own hips began to rock, lightly humping her lover’s thigh. 

Kunir’s strong body quivered with pleasure as he endured. No greater sensation in all of reality existed than the squeezing warmth of a Vaid. His hips moved with a steady rhythm, repaying her mercy with every thrust. 

Vixin moaned, looking up at the sandy-haired Knight in surprise. “K…Kunir?” 

It was clear she was impressed by his skill. He could only chuckle. Though she had been his first, she was hardly his last. Gone was the virgin recruit. 

He felt the perspiration wetting her smooth skin and his own. The humidity was a reminder of the night they had shared, yet the jungle was far more suffocating than the rainforest of their homeland. It coaxed the memory of a sensation he had never been able to match, until now. 

Yisi watched him perform. Her serious features couldn’t hide her approval. Her thumb slowly circled Vixin’s hard nipple as she watched, feeling her own needs gathering. When she was no longer content to merely watch, she ran a hand down her own body, feeling the silky texture of her tight one-suit as it hugged her curves. Her fingers found her groin slit and slipped inside to meet her arousal. 

He glanced over at her self-pleasure. The sight of his illegitimate sibling masturbating forced a deep groan from his lips against his will. Uncertain what she expected of him, he risked her wrath by reaching over. He felt Yisi’s firm rump, only to wince in pain when she smacked his hand away. Her scowl clarified the situation. He offered an apologetic expression before focusing fully on his duty. 

Every thrust tested Vixin. Every thrust brought Kunir closer to cumming inside her. She could stop him at any time, feeling her fear rising alongside her cravings. 

He saw the war in her gaze. Hoping to distract her, Kunir gave voice to his curiosity. “Tell me…ahh…about our son…” 

Vixin was caught off guard. “You know…ahh…I cannot…” 

The ceremony that had made him a Privictis Knight had been clear. Never would he be permitted to see the child they had conceived that night. “Is he…ahh…healthy? Happy?” So long as he didn’t seek knowledge that could identify him, there would be no issue in at least asking. 

Vixin regularly received word regarding most of her children. Kunir’s son was no different. “I hear…ahh…he is a strong boy…” she confessed. The mere thought of one of her children brought a smile to her lips despite her fear. “They say he…ahh…is quite a little charmer.” 

A deep longing flared within Kunir, yet he endured. The mention of the son forever beyond his reach had its intended effect as he saw her tensions ease. Though Vixin’s womb had failed her last child, she had many successes. 

Yisi sensed her lover’s fear subtly fade. She understood what the Knight was doing. “Oh, yes.” She moved her lips to Vixin’s perfect breasts, kissing her nipple. “Domir, Jin, Cilith, Quilith.” She flicked the petite bud with her tongue, licking her while she named a few of her lover’s previous babies. “What a fertile goddess you are.” 

Her words made Vixin moan. Her fear remained, yet her desires flared anew. Every instinct demanded her to get pregnant once more. Her empty womb yearned to be filled, regardless of all that had occurred. 

The mention of Cilith was the only name that replaced her fear with a hint of guilt. He looked into Kunir’s eyes with the memory of Clin, knowing the Knight had been close to him. He was yet another person who her deeds had unintentionally harmed. Clin was gone, yet he didn’t know it was her fault. She put aside such thought for the moment, for the war inside her was already nearly too much to bear. 

While her lover pleasured herself at her side, she felt her tongue lapping at her firm nipple, making her squirm in bliss. She beckoned for Kunir to lower himself. She had aided him and harmed him. Now, she sought to hold him close to thank him for his kindness while they moaned together. He moved to hold himself above her with his arms, and she ran her fingers affectionately through his sandy strands. She wanted to feel him atop her, keeping her legs wide apart as her loins begged for his seed. 

She sensed his soul, feeling their shared father and their shared son connected to them both. A realization struck her. “You’ve sired…ahh…no other children?” 

Despite his pleasure, Kunir scorned the idea with a shake of his head. He had no trouble finding willing lovers, yet he was always careful with his seed. As he had explained to her during their first meeting, he would not permit his bastards to be traded and used like pawns. “I trust…ahh…only you.” 

She pulled him into a kiss, savoring every thrust. His movements remained gentle, yet skilled. 

Of all his lovers, she alone shared his blood. The pleasure ordinary women could offer was nothing compared to a Vaid, and thus his body burned with utter euphoria. Every minute brought him closer to the finish she would have to accept or reject. 

Yisi’s fingers worked furiously inside her own neglected twat as she suckled at Vixin’s breast. Her lover was being bred by another, yet she drank in the pleasure of the princess as if it was her own. The tattoo upon her left palm pressed against its twin as she held Vixin’s hand, taking ample satisfaction in watching her bondmate groan. 

The two flawless forms before Kunir were nearly more than he could endure. Two sisters, his sisters, moaned in pleasure together while one worshiped the other’s perfect breast. His loins ached. “Princess…” 

She heard his warning. She knew it was her last chance to retreat. Her fear urged her to flee, her grief threatening to drag her down. Meeting Yisi’s eyes, she quietly clung to the strength she offered. “Kunir…” Vixin gently wrapped her legs around his waist, accepting her fate. “Breed me.” 

Her soft voice offered the only two words he required. No living man could resist such a command. Trusting the princess with his seed, he drove himself deep with a roar of bliss, serving his duty. 

The feeling of his warmth nearly broke her. She cried out, both in terror and absolute ecstasy. There was no undoing their deed, for the extremely potent sperm of a Vaidspawn flooded the utterly fertile womb of a true Vaid. In an instant, her pregnancy was certain. 

Yisi watched her body tremble. Savoring the sight of the love of her life being impregnated, her fingers moved frantically. She lost herself, falling into her self-pleasure as she furiously masturbated, matching her lover’s quivering movements when she finally reached her orgasm. 

The humid air of the tent was filled with the sweet aroma of their sex when at last their pleasure ended. Filled with the Knight’s seed, Vixin held him as he rested atop her, running her fingers through his hair as she dared to think of their future child. 

He had saved her. The fear remained, yet it was a quiet thing. 

“You…may leave,” Yisi muttered as she regained her breath. She dismissed Kunir with a weak wave. “Your purpose here…is done.” 

“Yisi…” Vixin scolded her with a glance. She then met his gaze. “Stay the night. Rest…” 

He made no move to leave. He only rolled off her, remaining at her side as they basked in the aftermath. 

Nestled between her breeder and her lover, Vixin felt the warmth of his seed oozing between her soft thighs. She didn’t retreat from the sensation, resting a gentle hand upon her belly. Her womb would carry another baby. The possibility of another failure remained, yet her fear withered. 

Her grief remained, yet she would live. 

Kunir stared up at the fabric ceiling above them. Vixin mirrored him, thinking of Anthara as she felt the humidity around them. She would endure the horrid jungle. She would do what she could to create a better future for the homeland Anthara had loved. 

As she gently guided both Yisi and Kunir’s hands upon her belly, she saw that the Knight hardly noticed. She could sense his turmoil. “Kunir? Is something on your mind?” 

He snapped from his thoughts, hearing her concern. “No, princess.” He offered his handsome smile, caressing her, yet his thoughts remained. 

His duty was done. His pleasure had ended. There was nothing more to distract him from his worries, for The God Emperor’s new commands returned to the front of his attention. 

The women enjoyed the peaceful aftermath as they gradually fell asleep. Kunir remained awake, pondering. 

His new orders were clear. He and his fellow Knights would join The God Emperor’s side in the coming battle. When they reached Nenian, the entire city would burn by their hands.

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