by Philip Read
“Will I see you again?” I ask facing him now.
“I will stay maybe another month then leave with whoever the tribes allow to leave as per our agreement. I will leave you a map so you can visit, bring your friend, he has potential.” He says gesturing towards Om, who seemed unperturbed about being talked about.
“I will also be leaving with some ore, a little not much. And yea, hopefully we will see each other again as time goes.” He says almost sheepishly.
Something else I’ve noticed about Asriel. I think Mira and I are his first true friends. Not colleagues, acquaintances, brothers of the order, co-conspirators or anything else. Though it may have started as a teacher student relationship, we are now definitely friends.
“Well after killing a few southerners I’m gonna need a cold drink. You will take me to one of those quiet inns around the city and buy me a drink.” I say with a grin.
“Yes, killing is tiring work. I can definitely do that.” He says and we clasp forearms and he walks away.
“Interesting friend.” Om says hefting his war hammer.
“Shut up.” I say playfully and get ready for war.
Chapter 21
Corvus
I wake as I do every morning to the half human half elven slave waiting on her knees on the rug at the foot of my bed. Her beauty breath taking even after all these years. The best purchase I have ever made.
I brush her head pleasantly as I pass her by to use the chamber pot. After relieving myself I sit on my luxurious hardwood and satin couch, signaling for my slave. She gets up and comes to kneel at my feet as I spread my knees wider.
I’m already starting to swell just gazing on at her beautiful face, golden hair, her short pointy ears and green eyes. I have never seen eyes so green. She licks my cock diligently for a while, taking her time as she has been trained to as I fondle her breasts.
After a while she then takes my head between her rich pink lips and suckles gently. I groan, my anus clenching and releases. Opening and closing at the tempo of her work. When the head of my cock has swollen purple and I’m at edge of my seat twitching almost uncontrollably. Hands gripping the arm rests hard she takes me into her mouth fully.
I moan as the pleasure and relief wash over me. My mouth failing open, but I quickly close it and swallow the saliva that nearly escaped as drool. Her throat massages my cock expertly before she bobs her head up and down my shaft.
My hand goes to the back of her head, caressing her beautiful hair as I grunt and moan. Pistoning my hips forward to her tempo, fucking her mouth as I cannot wait today for my morning release. She is just too good. And today is an important day for me.
She feels me getting close, almost at the edge and swallows me deep. I hold her head tightly and deposit my gift copiously directly into her stomach. Once done I pull out my deflating cock and watch her clean me with her tongue. Her facial expressions hardly ever change anymore. Stoic bitch.
“Thank you master for your gift this day.” She says and I grunt getting up and heading to the baths. Its time to face the day. Being the Minister of the Interior is hard work after all.
* *
My guards escort me through the busy city streets. I live in the most prestigious part of the city outside the inner courtyard. Consisting of government buildings, the manors of the most wealthy and influential people in the empire and a few royals that disdain the inner city or otherwise qualify to leave it.
My guards, as all the guards of the appointed officials, are part of the Hezbollah. Trained from childhood in mystic arts, infiltration, sabotage, espionage, politics, magics, philosophy, alchemy, fighting and gods know what else.
Some becoming soldiers, others mercenaries, town governors, councillors, judges, anything. Loyal to the emperor first and fore most. Rumours say they are soul marked somehow as children into that loyalty.
Each division of them going into different wings of their chosen field. The paramilitary wing of Hezbollah being the Jihad Council, and that’s who allocates ministers and administrators their guards.
The Jihad council is known for it’s ruthlessness and absolute power. Sent to war zones when the army divisions fail. Army divisions so potent themselves they are separated by Awakened levels of power in some cases.
From novice to master levels of power. The Dragon division said to be made of duel Awakened. Men and women that focus on both magic and body tempering. The Saints, all said to be master levels of a particular fighting style or masters of a particular weapon. The Mist Division, said to be the seer division of the army, and many more.
Yet the Jihad is who they call when the shit gets intense and they need to retreat.
We reach one of the entrances to the inner city. The west pentagram gate and are allowed in without a word by the guards. No one is questioned at the gate as it stands open. You either have the balls to walk into the inner city without invite or you were invited.
Nothing else, and those that walk in just from the sheer pleasure of it have yet to return.
My two guards immediately step into the left path. Going into hostels setup for guests of anyone who walks in. Guests that stay there are treated well and eventually leave if their companion returns.
Since I was only invited to come alone, I could only be alone. That includes no visitors, that includes no guards, that includes guards as well vetted as the Jihad. I’ve never been questioned as I’ve walked through the inner city streets.
Heading to the magic carts that carry people around the inner city to the palace, so I’m not sure how they ever know who doesn’t belong here. Who wasn’t officially invited.
I reach the carts and step on. Immediately enticing it somehow to send me off towards the palace. The entire inner city is the font of the royalty. All the royal spawn, the wives, concubines, the eunoch slaves the soul marked servants and some other creature we don’t know, but speculate about as citizens of Orion.
And every once in a while a conquered King is hosted here. Let in for a week or more and comes out the better, stronger. If they come out at all. Shown secrets only the royals are aware of.
The cart brings me to a smooth stop as it hovers in the air like a burg in water. I step onto the platform then walk down the stairs to be met by a loyal messenger. Which is probably one of the youngest new children of the emperor. The boy is probably 12 years old but not to be underestimated.
It is said the royal children are trained harder than anyone else in the world and allowed the greatest of pleasures. Let out into the world only after they have been an Awakened for several years. A feat I’m sure some only reach in their 50’s with even the worst of talent at their caliber of training.
The royal ladies, princesses, queens, formerly married women whom the emperor took a fancy to and asks to join his bed. Some never leaving, only the ones taken as wives and made into royal Queens can leave. And of course other men’s wives taken only for a night may leave.
Even some of the married women opting to stay. Hoping to be chosen for training as a Queen. For every single one of the 400 official wives have to undergo training.
A training said to be difficult itself but worth it for any woman. Though the emperor is also known to mount men, none have ever been taken in the palace after. Considered a momentary deliance at best by the people of the empire. But one I hope is the reason I’m here.
My anus clenches as I think of that and what my slave did to me this morning. A purchase worth ever crystal. Her and her mother both.
I smile amused, thinking about the men the emperor is said to have mounted throughout the centuries. Even married men taken by the emperor, some while their wives watched.
It isn’t as if any man in Celestia will ever say ‘no’ to the emperor. Or woman not boast that even the emperor fucks her man. I still imagine the shock of the request has most men twitching to grab their blades and gut the man who has the audacity to ask such.
He fucked me as well when I was younger, an event I’m not sure h
e recalls. I was 16 and playing in the fields when he called me and expressed his desires. I was nervous and slightly worried, yet excited for he was the emperor.
When he took me it was a religious experience. One that seemed to gain me great understanding of my great potential. I think I’ve achieved all I have today because his seed somehow empowered me.
It is said some men’s seed is potent with ether and spiritual energy. Maybe that’s what happened to me, I got a boost. And though I never suddenly became attracted to men after that, I like it when some of my sex slaves insert things there.
My slaves are fortunate to be owned by me as well. For though I make them do deprived things, I also give them pleasure. Fucking them to climax every time I penetrate them. I used some of my Awakening power to improve myself sexually a little, in case the unlikely event of the emperor fucking me ever happens again.
As I walk into the palace itself standing so high above the city that I could almost see over the bend the city makes as it disappears over the horizon. The guards here are not in armour and are dressed casually, seemingly enjoying their guard shift well enough.
These are the children, of the children of the emperor. So far down the line of succession they may as well be guards. And guards they become, but only the guards of the royal family. For it wouldn’t be too logical for the guard to be worth more than the protectee.
So they become the royal guards, for only other royals are important enough to warrant their skill levels.
I walk in and am immediately patted down as though I had walked into a dingy bar. Such a mundane thing to do in a palace that covers the skies with its splendor that you’d expect magical searching. But everything has a reason and especially that pat down.
“How are you today minister?” Acamar says to me casually, watching attentively as Eridanus searches me. I nod my greeting, Crux nodding back from a stool he’s sitting on casually, seemingly cleaning his teeth.
“You been busy these days hey? I believe this is your third visit in two months here. The must be trouble brewing in the empirer for a man of your caliber to see his Majesty three times.
“Well, you see.. I ahh.. I have this deal that I am to see through for the emperor. A deal that will help one of his projects along and-” and so I began discussing His Majesties personal affairs with the guards.
That’s another thing about the royal guards, all of them can be trusted. Keeping the emperor protected and dotting on him as though he were a loved grandfather. Watching over him lovingly as they have no resentment for their station amongst the royal scion. In fact probably all the royals could be trusted.
The has never even been an attempt at a royal coop in Celestia. Not even rumours of a disgruntled prince lashing out at his father. Something known to happened from other kingdoms.
The gardens and orchards are beautiful up here this time of year. Blooming crimson and gold with shades of green or silver. I notice as I walk in.
The ponds swimming with fish, some herbivorous and others carnivorous, with plants that are omnivorous. Making their own sustainable eco system within the ponds. A perfect loop of life and death.
I’m greeted by the little princes and princesses giggling euphorically and chasing each other among the fountains, under the watchful eyes of their different mothers who themselves are chatting amicably. Walking through this entrance is like watching a fantasy experience from another world taking place.
How could women that share the same man be such good friends? How could they stand each other nor get enough time with him not to be jealous of each other. Of being satisfied often enough to be sated in a line of so many women the emperor has to satisfy first.
The stamina of the man must be godly, yet even if he made fucking his full time job I don’t see how he could fuck all his wives and concubines often enough. He probably just has sex with some of them only once on the wedding night. Like that pair of boots I bought only for that ball still sitting in my chest after their single use.
I reach the horse farms and am led in a cart pulled by a horse down to the Royal chambers, for this was the receiving hall.
From the horse drawn cart I’m escorted by a chamberlain, I think one of the eunochs, to the huge wooden golden plated door. Where I am to have an audience with His Majesty Andromeda Draconis Orion. The emperor of Celestia, and by default the king of the world.
Chapter 22
Sachi
I deflect a bolt of ice and cut a raging fire in half, leaving everyone to my left and right slightly charred and my arms frosty. We roar onwards though as the southern mages throw magic at us from across the field. Protected by special squads designed to counter the mage killers.
The spiritual shield bearing tribesmen taking the brunt of the attacks. Some being shrugged off, others not. Depending on the power of the caster and the strength of spiritual power in the bound weapons.
We cover the ground towards them slowly from a higher vantage point going down the decline. This to help prevent their horses from charging and disabling many. A horse charge is a very intimidating sight and difficult to counter. Easiest thing is to get out of the way, but then in a melee that isn’t always an option.
We walk the distance of over two miles towards them. Facing down the powers of nature, and the world petted against us by the mages. I don’t even have a wooden shield, it not going well with the style I’ve been using, learnt from the Hito.
My beautiful monster zanpakutō in my hands as I parry light as though it were a physically tangible thing. My nodachi humming silently at different tunes after each power it faces.
We press on slowly, taking our time in an imitation of the shield wall the dwarves have though us. No one wants to be injured enough to receive the full body healing of the fae. Though it is affective it depletes not just body mass but some of the ether that has accumulated in the body through the years.
Becoming a huge setback for anyone that has hopes of becoming an Awakened anytime soon. Our Awakened warriors watch the battle from a vantage point more than a mile away. A few selected to help bolster our lines if we are being overcome. Several waiting for the Sandies to field their own Awakened warriors first.
It takes us over twenty minutes to reach their lines through the deluge of fire-power falling on us. The mist the seers cast not permeating into the Sandie lines, pooling at their feet and being dispersed.
The path of the seers is one that is quickly loosing its prestige in the Tundra but every tribesman is a warrior. Even the seers carry spears and daggers as backups to their spiritual powers.
My fighting group consisting mostly of people from my village by the Dawn Forest. Both youths and veterans, men and women, young and old. We move in, shield bearers forward and wall of shields meets wall of shields.
The pushing and shoving and weapons going overhead to poke at heads and eyes, or underfoot at shins and feet are confusing. Our lines consisting of stronger heavier individuals. Their lines consisting of more individuals and more depth..
It stays like this across many lines. Injuries minor in damage dealt but numerous in quantity. Breathing hot and heaving, I grin as I notice Om shoving forward after another twenty minutes of this.
Huge war hammer held high in one hand above the heads of other tribesman. Om is strong and big and tall. Especially in comparison to when I left him at the Dawn Mountain all those years ago. He stands at about 6 feet 6 inches now, more than 4 inches taller than me yet he’s probably not even finished growing.
He gets to the line before the shield bearers and knocks on a Sandie shield hard with his hammer. The dull ding is audible even over all the screaming and cursing. His second blow bows the Sandie shield bearer only for it to be immediately replaced by another.
He does this three more times, but the Sandie’s have their shield replacement technique down pat. We scuffle this way for a while. Replacing our own shield bearers in hopes of keeping them fresh, but definitely not as smoothly as the Sandies are able to.
Even with all the training and techniques we’ve been learning over the years from the different allies we’ve been able to gather. Barbarians are more individual warriors than soldiers working as a unit.
A Barbarian is a natural warrior with any weapon whether trained or not. Many having favourite or most effective weapons but a weapon is a weapon. At least that’s how the tribes were before the meteorite separated and fell upon our lands.
Resulting in the biggest deposits of celestial ore ever to be discovered on Gaia to be found in the Tundra, in our lands. Now we no longer fight amongst each other but we fight the invaders. The tribes finally united in purpose after a thousand years.
No longer considering any weapon equal, but wielding spiritually bound weapons. Made from celestial ore and scalable to be able to grow in power. What many are now calling artifacts.
And what a sight we make, a force to be reckoned with, even by the mighty Sandersonian Kingdom. A kingdom that has managed to conquer almost every other human kingdom on the continent through force of arms and magic.
The fighting barely seems to be progressing efficiently. But through all this the generals of the Sandies and the war-cheifs try to out maneuver each other. Performing feigns that involve thousands of people. Trying to strike with quick reaction forces where least expected.
But no feign is effective in this war. The Sandies message each other with magic somehow and formations suddenly change, retreat or push forward. We listen for the bellow of the war-horns to signal our next moves.
*
Our division of a thousand eventually clashes with the Sandies after hours of a sort of stalemate. We break through their line at a corner of their shield wall and the gap quickly widens. Bodies flowing in hacking and bashing all around them.
That’s the disadvantage of a shield wall. If it falls as the usually eventually to, all the defenders are caught on the back foot. Ideal for defending but difficult to attack from, and what should be a hard fight feels like a route. And could easily turn into one if the fighters break.