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By the morning, Yedezh had only one thing to which he looked forward in the entire universe; one thing that he absolutely, obsessively needed.

Getting his poor trapped cock and balls unlocked from their nasty metallic jail.

His hope for control of his kingdom had died along with his dignity and pride, but Nyman still required him to maintain control over his half of Berogh. As pitiable as this prospect was, playing pretend royalty for three weeks out of four between sessions of being made to walk in step for the Massidians would still be an almost comfortable existence if the cursed chastity cage could simply come off. If he had to be Nyman's well-trained show horse to attain this, then he would just have to pony up and perform the embarrassing tricks, regardless of how disheartening it was.

Thus, Yedezh the stallion, rightful warrior king of Berogh, got up from the bed. It creaked under his muscular shape as he moved to sit up and rub his eyes. He felt pent up like never before after spending the night huddled closely against Lorris' alluring body. The antelope was already up and moving around the room, humming happily and seemingly invigorated by those many hours spent resting safe and warm in Yedezh's arms. The horse went with the high servant's lead, and reluctantly prepared for the most formal of events: a diplomatic meeting between royal families. This was protocol stuff. Naturally, Yedezh was well-versed in that.

The stallion chewed a very light breakfast of bread and tea, and ended up alone in the castle's splendid bathing room. He washed himself thoroughly, still inhabited by the mystical calm of mornings. He used unscented soap, but did put on a dash of discreet wood-scented perfume that he found among what was undoubtedly Nyman's personal collection. He had to admit that his irritating zebra master had refined tastes. Yedezh stood bare before a high-quality body-sized mirror, and attentively brushed his own mane and tail while he finished drying. He struggled not to stare at his captive cock and balls, degradingly stuffed into the frustrating steel. It made him feel revoltingly owned every time he laid eyes on it.

Yedezh returned to the room wearing light, airy underclothes. Meanwhile, Lorris had his chainmail prepared, and when Yedezh walked in, it had been unboxed and displayed on a stand. Two other castle servants were polishing it ring by ring, one on his knees and the other standing, and they were about to meet in the middle of the mail. Lorris took care of Yedezh's steel circlet as well as the trimmed tabard that would cover the armor. He ironed it expertly to remove the folds caused by the trip, using a warm iron that had cooled enough not to damage the precious dyes. At last, they also did his greaves. Lorris helped Yedezh don his majestic armor, and then he swiftly took care of his own preparations. Of course, the high servant's preparations were much simpler. He put on a fresh set of his usual flowing white clothes after he washed his chest, neck and face with a wet cloth, cleaned his horns, and instantly was refreshed and ready.

Meanwhile, Yedezh adroitly placed the battle circlet on his head as a final touch. He felt impressive once more, almost like the real king he used to be. Turning around, he suddenly realized that the trio of servants was gazing at him with dim smiles and adoring eyes.

-- Aaaww! He's so handsome! said the servant that had been on his knees.

-- I know, conceded Lorris. He's perfect, but he's not for us to gawk at. Shoo! Get back to work, you two! We have a big day, and you know it.

Lorris snapped his fingers and flicked his hand. The castle servants grudgingly departed with final longing looks at the now unmistakably magnificent stallion. Despite what he'd said, Lorris gawked just as keenly, squeezing his hands.

"Damn, stud. Damn. You have no equal."

He breathed deep for courage, shaking out of his daze.

"Alright, you should go. They're in the reception room. You know where that is? Right behind the throne room. The next large door on the right. There will be guards and servants at the door, wait until they introduce y-"

-- Lorris, sir. I know these things.

The antelope giggled and waved his hand.

-- Of course! Heh, sorry. You're making me a little nervous. Just go already, you epic treat. Impress them.

-- I can do that.

-- I'll see you in there, soon. Be good, horsie.

Yedezh rolled his eyes and left. Lorris had been right about the castle being busy; corridors brimmed with panicked messengers from the kitchens and hurried whispers between the numerous servants. Guards appeared at every turn, armed and vigilant, to protect the noble-blooded guests. Lesser aristocrats ambushed their superiors in the hallways, trying their best to toady their way into the reception room, hoping that being seen among those most powerful of figures would increase their standing, but the Massidian great lords showed no flexibility. Neither did the castle servants and guards, warned that they were only to allow those invited inside. All cleared Yedezh's path before him with respect, even those lowborn workers that had seen him before under... less flattering circumstances. Though he had no illusions about the truth of the matter, to the face of the world, in this moment, Yedezh_was_ the horse king of Berogh. None had heavier steps, even amidst those revered halls. This was precisely why Nyman wanted him there, and Yedezh would play the part.

He'd almost reached the entrance to the venue when he met Lord Donuem heading his way. The zebra lord distractedly looked up, and he brutally came to a stop when he recognized at whom he was staring. Yedezh thought the ambitious Massidian vassal looked down on his luck, wearing plainer clothes and a gloomier expression than he used to a year before. His eyes widened.

-- King Yedezh!

The lord's attention lingered onto Yedezh's long mane for a brief moment, which was the only out-of-place detail in his martial appearance. A male ruler should've had a warrior's brush mane, like most every noble, but the disgraced noble certainly found himself in no position to mock anyone. The two equines stood uncomfortably, both flawlessly aware of each other's troubles. Donuem was one of the great lords that had supported Yedezh's coup attempt in Massidia a year before, and he'd suffered severe consequences as well, though nothing comparable to Yedezh. The stallion nodded toward the guarded door.

-- Are you going in?

Donuem dropped his striped snout in shame.

-- I'm... no. They won't let me in. Could you take me along with you? Maybe they'll let me enter if...

Yedezh frowned and abandoned the declining noble without bothering to listen or respond. He understood what was going on. Donuem desperately wanted Yedezh to carry him back to relevance, but Yedezh would attempt no such thing. They were beaten, and their old association meaningless. The stallion sincerely felt sorry for the lord that had taken his side before, but he could do nothing for him. Bringing one of his conspirators to this feast against King Nyman's will would accomplish nothing but put them both into further trouble. As much as it would thrill Yedezh to embarrass the Massidian ruler, it was something that would clearly go over the line of what he was allowed to do. He'd get punished. No. There was nothing Yedezh could do but to maintain appearances, and play along with Nyman's little game. He could beg for his reward after that. Ugh. What had his life become?

Yedezh showed up before the tall door, straight and serious, and a buffalo high servant dressed like Lorris immediately bowed while the guards stepped aside.

-- Welcome, your majesty. It'll just be a moment.

Yedezh sighed inwardly and nodded with patience, letting them announce him. It was unspeakably weird to know that this servant bowing to him had undoubtedly seen him before being walked naked and blindfolded through the castle. Same for the guards, really...

After a few seconds, distinctly enunciated words were proclaimed as the door opened.

-- His grand honor Lord Yedezh, lawful heir to the throne and ruler of Berogh, and protector of its vassal states!

That was his cue. Time to get this farce over with.

The party was its own little world, distinct from the drab, ordinary reality of castle life. Outside of this room, the feast was a chore; a serious event to set up and carry on that represented a colossal amount of work for the servants. Inside, however, it was an opulent and merry meeting between the respectable guests. Nyman had spared no expense, clearly intent on showing off Massidia's prosperity while setting a relaxed, festive mood for his important visitors. A large chandelier burned oil in the middle of the day, casting warm hues on the rich paintings that had been selected around the unsubtle theme of 'Massidia through history', and which decorated every single wall. The place was divided in two areas, one with a room-length banquet table, already set for about twenty people, and the other was a welcoming chaos of luxurious seating, more-or-less arranged into circles by diverse socializing groups. Endlessly, agile servants of the greatest skill and decorum navigated this wild sea of the highborn and wealthy, carrying plates of fragrant hors d'oeuvres and cups of fancy Beroghan ale, sliding between seats or around clusters of standing guests, making sure that every single one of the nearly fifty people -- kings, lords and their families -- received more exquisite food and drink than they could possibly desire. Indeed, the room had been primed. Laughter rose loud and regular, and indistinguishable conversations rumbled cheerily.

The ambiance changed irrevocably when Yedezh entered, but he pretended not to notice the effect his presence had. Yedezh was aware that walking in there alone would create curious optics for a young monarch, but it couldn't be helped. The only thing to do was to assume it. It might possibly be turned into an intimidating factor; only the untouchable heir to the throne of Berogh could be arrogant enough to waltz into such a place with no entourage... and a lengthy flowing white mane. Yedezh marched in with his practiced cold, superior attitude, and thankfully none of the surrounding lesser nobles dared try to talk to him. He searched the room for a shiny platinum band sitting around a black-and-white neck, and quickly spotted Nyman throning at the end of the banquet table. Yedezh made a beeline for the Massidian king, who'd been discussing music with his peers from the nations of Vewich and Corpioc, as well as their families and subjects.

On Nyman's left, near the end of the table, sat a large old bear with a black muzzle and a somewhat displeased face -- which was the best anyone could hope to get out of him. Next to King Borstov, the equally stout Vewichi queen waited with one appeasing hand on her husband's shoulder, looking as if she was the only thing preventing him from getting up and leaving without a word. Their eldest son and heir stood by his father's seat; he was a surprisingly slim and elegant fellow, even while wearing a breastplate, and the young bear paid careful attention to everything that was going on, clearly way more interested to be there than his parents. On the opposite side of the table, Borstov's reindeer prime minister chatted enthusiastically with a tall, flamboyant scarf-wearing red deer. Piel III, ruler of Corpioc, gestured dramatically, and seemed incapable to prevent himself from drawing the full attention of the group while he made a surprisingly insightful critique of a certain composer popular in Vewich. He alone had refused the exotic ale in favor of Massidian wine -- which was by no means particularly known for its quality -- and as a result, he was already well on his way to the land of careless merriment. His wife wasn't even at the table. Known for her polite but severe disinterest with courtly matters, she'd strayed away from the kingly group, and had decided to grace a larger, more varied bunch of lesser nobles and their wives with her presence, where she appeared utterly at ease due to her almost mythical ability to make friends with every single soul. It was a poorly concealed secret that the charismatic doe often was the one tasked with ending her husband's impulsive wars thanks to her innumerable contacts in every rival court. As for Nyman, he was by himself. He'd never married, and everyone knew that his adopted son, the Massidian prince, was away leading the military campaign against the rebels in Berogh. Yedezh wondered what Lorris was doing. It was odd to see Nyman without his high servant and informal right hand, but the antelope had mentioned working on some kind of project. Yedezh didn't doubt that he'd learn about it shortly.

As was appropriate, they interrupted their talk when Yedezh arrived. Calmly, Nyman stood and reassured everyone by welcoming the horse as if it was perfectly natural for the head of one of the greatest powers in the world to be among small-time monarchs such as themselves.

-- King Yedezh, I'm overjoyed that you could make the journey from Berogh, and proud to have you at my court once more. Please, have a seat.

Immediately to Nyman's right, a vacant chair was clearly meant for him, and after perfunctorily addressing each of the foreign royals and the minister to salute them, Yedezh sat his divine-looking presence down like a trained animal doing what he was told, barely hiding his foul mood. Nyman's guests couldn't believe what they were witnessing, and it took a little while for their conversation to resume. The meaning was unambiguous; Yedezh was now part of Nyman's regular entourage, and thus, Massidia's status as a new player on the world scene was informally recognized even by Berogh. The humiliating mise-en-scène wasn't even subtle. In fact, it was arguable that the real point was that Nyman could organize such a display of power, and that he could get the stallion king to play along.

Yedezh was soon presented with large cups of fresh ale. He seized one and downed it, trying to extinguish his burning shame for being turned into a veritable trophy for Nyman to show off. At least, the zebra wouldn't push things too far, for fear of undermining his own interests. He needed Yedezh and himself to look like allies. Yedezh couldn't help but wonder how much of this Nyman had planned in advance. Could it be possible that he'd gifted his obedient horse such an impressive suit of mail a whole year in advance, just so that his prize would appear as imposing as possible whenever he'd need to flaunt him around? Yedezh somberly frowned. This was Nyman. Of course, it was possible.

To be fair, Yedezh wasn't the only one in armor. Because this was a preplanned, official event, all of the males at this end of the table wore ceremonial armors, save for Nyman and Piel III. Nyman was draped in black silk with orange highlights because he was the host and it would be improper for him to welcome his peers in armor. Piel wore delicate beige party clothes with a showy red scarf, because he'd come for the feast, and getting drunk was more difficult to do in armor; decorum be damned. The Vewichi prime minister wore a fancy mail, and all of Bortov's family, including his wife, bore engraved breastplates and shoulder pads, making the bears seem even bulkier. None of these could remotely compare with the flawless superiority of Yedezh's suit of mail.

The event went on without anything unexpected, at first. Yedezh passively remained by his zebra master's side. The splendid feast was served, and the lower nobles were respectfully invited out to the throne room, where other tables had been set for them. The Corpiocan queen returned, half-heartedly chiding her husband for how inebriated he already was. Piel generously accepted the fair criticism, but failed to reduce his alcoholic intake, and no big deal was made of it. As far as Yedezh could tell, the rumors that he'd heard about the deer couple being at odds were unfounded. If anything, the Corpiocan royals behaved like close personal friends, joking and whispering together ceaselessly as they ate and drank. If there was any truth to the talks of their numerous extramarital affairs behind each other's backs, at least it certainly seemed like neither was bitter about it in any way. In fact, Yedezh began to seriously doubt that it was 'behind each other's backs' at all. Not that it was any of his business. As for the bears, Nyman might as well have invited statues. Well, the prince moved his head around a bit between bites and slowly chewing, as he followed the conversations. He seemed particularly interested in everything Nyman did as a host. Perhaps the young heir to Vewich was attempting to prepare for his duty as a leader by learning from what he viewed as an extremely successful example. Massidia's status as a fast growing power was increasingly recognized, after all, and immigration was strong as families with dreams of peace and prosperity moved from the surrounding countries in hopes to be the first to settle the new mostly empty lands granted by Berogh.

The feast went on and light cakes were served as dessert. Nyman continued to watch over the proceedings with Yedezh sitting quietly at his side. The stallion only spoke when he was addressed directly, and avoided being too friendly, as he was in no mood to entertain Nyman's guests. The zebra didn't seek to push him -- thankfully -- and appeared content with that. At one point, the Massidian ruler inclined his head and whispered:

-- You're doing fine. Would you like another drink?

He really did. Yedezh quickly finished his cup and gave it to his host, who soon had it refilled. The only good part of this was that the royals of Vewich and Corpioc had genuinely no idea that Yedezh had been reduced into a submissive stud by his 'allies'. It was enormously soothing not to sense any hidden disdain from them.

Another half hour later, at last, the feast finished lingering on when the Vewichi prime minister made a worried comment about Massidian border fluctuation. The tone around the table suddenly turned serious, and King Borstov jumped at this opportunity to make his first complete sentence since Yedezh had arrived. The bear turned to Nyman.

-- Since we're done with the pleasantries, tell us about this proposal you mentioned.

The table went silent. Piel approved, citing that he was curious about that as well, but his wife got up from her chair.

-- If political talks are in, it's time for me to move out.

Multiple wives and family members, not directly involved with crown-level business, laughed and followed the example of the doe queen. Most servants departed with them to continue to attend the guests in the throne room. Dirty dishes were taken away, and servants hurriedly cleaned the surface of the table. The atmosphere quieted down severely, and Yedezh understood why Nyman had deployed so much effort creating as friendly a contact as he could to break the ice. Everyone seemed guarded, save maybe for Piel, who kept drinking happily. Yedezh observed with some detachment, though he was also rather curious about what Nyman had been preparing.

The zebra king opened the talks with a smile.

-- Let us begin, then. I know that many of you would've preferred to stay home, and accepted my invitation only in good faith that I wouldn't waste your precious time. I want to thank you for your trust, and assure you that I'm fully confident that by the time you leave this room, you will be more than satisfied that you came.

Yedezh grumbled discreetly. For some reason, this choice of words irritated him. Borstov and his wife, however, nodded weakly, pleased that their annoyance was acknowledged.

"I'll get right to it. Today, I have a bold offer that I want to present to you. Hopefully, if you agree with me on the principle, we can hash out the details tomorrow. My objective is to tighten our relationships, and to share some of the benefits of Massidian prosperity with my friends."

In his mind, Yedezh snickered bitterly. Nyman could be accurately be described as many things; he was smart, perhaps even wise, but he certainly wasn't generous for the sake of it. Seeing how the bears frowned, they didn't seem to buy that either.

-- Bullshit, grumbled Borstov.

The Vewichi prince slipped in.

-- What my father means is that, while we don't doubt your good will, and that we are deeply flattered by your friendly gestures, cold facts demonstrate that in diplomatic situations such as these, all parties generally seek to maximize their own benefits. You must forgive us if we approach your declaration with a healthy dose of skepticism.

The older bears both nodded slowly, clearly content to let their son articulate their views for them. Yedezh turned to Nyman, but the smiling zebra appeared unbothered.

-- Naturally. Allow me to present my offer, and then you shall be able to make up your own minds as to whether or not it is to your advantage.

The drunken red deer raised his cup and a servant showed up to fill it once more.

-- Lord Nyman, pal, we've known you for a while. You're a wily one. Don't think we don't know what to expect with you.

Nyman leaned toward Piel.

-- Very good! Tell me, then. Do you expect dishonesty?

The deer king waved his index left and right dramatically.

-- I didn't say that. Just that there is often more to your little deals than what, uuh...

Awkwardly, Piel III seemed to lose track of what he was saying. In the middle of searching, the Corpiocan monarch appeared to give up and instead drank some wine. Yedezh placed his elbow on the table, and rested his chin onto his open palm.

-- Than what appears to the surface? he somberly proposed.

Piel quickly swallowed and nearly choked.

-- Yes, what he said!

Nyman gave an immediate anxious look to the stallion at his side, but Yedezh had no intention to add anything else. It was amusing to let the zebra believe that he might start saying too much about their alliance, though. One way or the other, being Nyman's bitch for a year had taught the horse king many important lessons about the nature of political power and how to use it. If Nyman wanted his relationship with Yedezh to appear cordial in order to help him establish deals with other rulers, it could ruin whatever plans he had if Yedezh insinuated that Nyman couldn't be trusted, or if Yedezh appeared too hostile. Of course, it would ruin Yedezh as well. He would be severely punished for the transgression, so he wouldn't do that, but clearly Nyman worried the horse might be stupid or vengeful enough to do it. Yedezh wasn't responsible for what Nyman _imagined_he might do. Suddenly, this meeting appeared much more fun to Yedezh, as he realized that he could toy with the zebra's blood pressure, without even actually doing anything forbidden. He could stay safely behind the line, and make the zebra anxious by simply hinting that he might cross it and do something stupid. Nyman had to maintain the appearance of being Yedezh's friend, so he was kind of stuck, and couldn't really order the stallion to change his attitude. For once, Nyman would know what it felt like to be messed with in front of others! For the first time since he signed the treaty, Yedezh tasted just a hint of sweet, sweet revenge. Better yet, by displaying to Nyman that he was fully aware of how he could screw him over, but not actually going as far as to do it, he might actually prove his loyalty in a twisted way. This was quickly becoming a very awesome day for the horse.

Nevertheless, this was a risky game, and Yedezh decided it would unwise to push Nyman too far, too fast. He made sure to keep his pouty look, but he leaned against the back of his chair exhibiting a calm demeanor. Nyman looked almost thankful as he relaxed. Reassured that his Beroghan puppet wasn't about to talk too much, the zebra ceased staring and returned to his business at hand. The Massidian king gestured. A servant opened a side door, and Lorris suddenly walked in holding a large map, which he flattened on the table for everyone to see. The antelope stood straight and gave quick but deep bows to every monarch, making brief eye contact and beaming happily when it was Yedezh's turn. It seemed that he'd finished preparing whatever he'd been working on.

-- Your great honors, if you would allow me to expose our point of view...

The high servant opened his hands, presenting the map. In a blink and out of nowhere, one hand dropped a heavy metallic ingot on the table, crushing the drawn version of Massidia, and startling Piel out of a vague stupor. The loud noise sure succeeded in drawing the attention of everyone. Lorris poked the grey object.

"This is pure iron bought here at the Onent docks. The merchant that sold it to us bought it from Sassam traders at Port Tiwhe, and moved it along White Moss River. We were assured that this was the best price he could offer us, based on what he paid to get it. It cost us thirty-five copper pennies."

A second identical ingot was slammed over the nation of Corpioc, causing small shocks around the table once more.

"This one was bought for us by an envoy in Disel. The seller guaranteed that the price was standard not only in the capital, but all over Corpioc, which we verified and estimated to be true. The seller went through Sassam traders to obtain it. Sixty pennies."

The third time, the kings were on their guard, and Yedezh saw how Lorris' agile hand reached behind his back in a cloth bag, and placed the last ingot over Vewich with a loud thump. No one was startled.

"This one was bought by an ambassador we sent in Volkburg, where iron is both extracted and smelted. He traveled on a Sassam ship. They were delighted to show off how they do their legendarily good business. He bought it at the same price Sassams are paying to stock up in Vewich."

Lorris marked a pause for emphasis.

"Four pennies."

With his little exposé completed, the high servant straightened his back and stood loyally in the spot between Nyman and Yedezh. He leaned discreetly and brushed against each of his two favorite royal bucks, one after the other, with a fulfilled grin. He discreetly enjoyed the reward for his good work. Yedezh wondered if that was the project the antelope had mentioned, but probably not. Preparing this couldn't have taken months and months.

Nyman casually concluded the presentation with a rhetorical question.

-- Vewich is producing too much iron, and Corpioc never has enough, so why are Sassams the only ones who gain from this situation?

The Vewichi prime minister rose. The reindeer looked somewhat insulted.

-- While I wasn't aware that the disparity of iron prices had reached such insane peaks, this is hardly news for any of us. Sassams have controlled trade ever since they... ahem, I mean, they've controlled trade for a long time.

Yedezh remained stone-faced when the reindeer sat down and glanced nervously in his direction, but he had to fight not to smirk. Even the bears looked concerned. Sassam was a tiny nation, but it had a disproportionally powerful navy, dominating the coasts of the entire region and therefore controlling trade. By becoming a Beroghan vassal state, they'd gained protection from land invasions, which allowed them to impose their naval presence more aggressively than ever. In exchange, they paid a heavy yearly tribute to the Beroghan crown. The minister didn't quite dare criticize Berogh to Yedezh's face, and he was right not to do so. Without the cursed civil war, Berogh would be able to invade Vewich and fully subjugate it in a matter of weeks. This respectable minister might then end up chained with his kin in a Sassam slave ship, and sold at some random market along the coast. This was the sort of influence that Berogh exerted on their neighbors. Yedezh couldn't deny that he liked this forced respect.

Calmly, Nyman clumped his hands together to dissipate the tension.

-- We're all friends, here, and reasonable people. I, for one, will gladly admit that Sassams have long been respectable trade partners to Massidia, and a peace-loving people, but I doubt that anyone will contest that they can get a bit greedy, at times, when they feel they can get away with it. It is by no means an uncommon trait. You're all perfectly welcome to express your opinions.

Nyman turned to Yedezh directly.

"Wouldn't you agree, my lord?"

Nyman waited, his resolute stare growing more and more intense as Yedezh kept his peace. Clearly, he wanted the stallion to reassure the table, but Yedezh let him simmer embarrassingly for several painful seconds, pretending not to have been paying attention. The supposedly unbeatable political mastermind squirmed for Yedezh's exquisite, vengeful entertainment, with the zebra becoming sweaty as moments crawled by agonizingly. The horse finally threw an offhanded response.

-- Sure.

At last, Nyman breathed and turned back to face the others, who seemed clearly unconvinced. By Yedezh's side, Lorris tensed up as well due to the stallion's unexpected behavior. Nyman heroically managed to smile and pretend that nothing weird had happened, but he had to wipe his forehead, pretending to merely scratch his head.

-- So, um, what I'm saying is that Sassams don't have any inherent right to a monopoly on trade. Have you ever considered establishing a direct trade route between Vewich and Corpioc?

-- Ha! mocked the Vewichi queen.

The bear prince stepped in once more.

-- We have tried to send our own crown-funded trade expeditions, yes, but Corpioc is landlocked, and Sassams can deny passage on their rivers. Moreover, our ships tend to disappear, attacked by so-called 'pirates'. We have no proof that Sassams are funding these attacks, but let's not kid ourselves; their ships travel along these coasts and rivers constantly, but only ours get captured or destroyed. Bad luck can only explain so much. Are you suggesting that we should build a collective navy capable of opposing Sassam's domination of the coast?

Nyman shook his snout.

-- No, not at all. This could understandably be viewed as provocation, and would certainly lead to conflict. War with Sassam isn't the solution. Massidia wants peace.

-- What, then? grunted an exasperated Borstov.

At last, the zebra leaned far over the table, and stared at his guests as he prepared to deliver the crucial blow. With his hoofed finger, he traced a path along the map going from Vewich to Corpioc.

-- A land trade route through Massidia.

There was no comment, no response, only perfect incredulity. Piel III took a break with the drinking, placing his cup down. The deer squinted and crossed his hands, in deep reflection.

-- Uh, unless I'm considerably drunker than I thought I was, there's a huge mountain range in the way. Remember?

-- We'll dig a passage, said Nyman.

This time, they laughed outright. It gave even Yedezh a chortle.

-- Oh, we'll dig a passage through the God Hills? said Piel with deep irony. Of course! Forget I said anything.

The deer resumed drinking. It was the very first time that Yedezh ever saw Nyman appear unsure. The striped equine anxiously fiddled with the platinum band around his neck, but he held on.

-- We have skilled miners, stonecutters, a massive workforce, and we can split the costs three ways. What is there to lose?

Piel slammed his cup down in a sudden burst of anger. He spoke clearly despite the alcohol.

-- Who do you take us for? We should take the risk of emptying our coffers to build a trade route that will allow Massidia to replace Sassam as the intermediary making all of the profits?

-- I'm afraid lord Piel is correct, added the bear prince in his usual diplomatic tone. Land caravans are also much less efficient than ships as transports. Sassams will consistently be able to beat the rates that your merchants will offer us as an alternative third party, until your new trade route is quickly abandoned, and Sassam dominion is restored. This monstrous investment will weaken Vewich and Corpioc significantly, and it won't yield anything for us.

Both sides showed that they were clearly opposed to Nyman's idea, but Yedezh held his breath. He knew Nyman, by then, and he was absolutely convinced that the devilish zebra had something left up his sleeve. As a matter of fact, his confident air had returned during the last two declarations. Nyman shrugged and adopted a stunned expression.

-- Even if there _is_no intermediary?

At last, the laughter came to a dead stop. Piel struggled to wrap his head around what had just been said, and he wasn't the only one, but now Borstov was interested, which was quite an event in and of itself.

-- What do you mean, exactly? cautiously asked the bear king, as if he believed that this discussion was a deadly trap that might chop his head off at any moment.

-- We will in no way force your caravans to sell to or buy from Massidians, explained Nyman. The road will allow Vewich and Corpioc to link directly in exchange for a nominal fee charged at the borders. Say, five percent of the iron and coin. It will pay for maintenance of the passage and road.

Piel blinked a few times while his anger faded.

-- Now, that's an attractive deal. Almost too attractive.

Many around the table approved. Once more, eyes converged toward Yedezh, who still exhibited disinterested superiority. It wasn't merely a façade either; Yedezh genuinely didn't care much about the iron trade. Sure, Sassam would pay a lesser tribute if they were cut out of such a lucrative business, but on the larger scale, this wouldn't be a significant loss for Berogh. Besides, the treasury of the Beroghan crown was under Nyman's control, so Yedezh himself had nothing left to lose. The other kings ignored that fact, however, and Yedezh began to realize that they were considerably more afraid of his reaction than he'd assumed. Nyman appeared to underestimate this factor as well. His guests might be curious about his offer, but they probably wouldn't take it in the end. Yedezh felt strong and alive again, and the blond horse made a renewed effort to appear intimidating, enchanted by the power over Nyman's deal that his mere attitude provided him. Nyman couldn't blame him just for looking annoyed anyway, so he still stood safely behind the line.

The insightful Vewichi bear prince spoke.

-- Lord Nyman, you've been a most graceful host, but I must admit that this offer confuses me. Forgive me, but I can't bring myself to believe that you have nothing to gain from creating this trade route aside from the miserable stated fee. What is it that I'm failing to see?

Then and there, Nyman flashed his cocky triumphant grin, with his self-assurance fully restored. He thought that he had already won. God, what Yedezh wouldn't give to see him crumble in failure!

-- You're right, said Nyman. I'll get something extremely valuable out of this. Picture it: for the foreseeable future, Greater Massidia would be traversed from North to South by numerous caravans from Vewich and Corpioc, the safety of which would be paramount to my neighbors due to them being immeasurably profitable. How would this affect the relationship between our nations?

The young prince reflected as he responded, and his face gradually lit up with enthused understanding.

-- I imagine we might want a positive rapport in order to retain the right to trade over Massidian lands for free... No. More than that! We'd have a major economic incentive in keeping the entirety of Massidia safe and at peace, in order to protect our own caravans!

-- Indeed! exulted the zebra. Not to mention the diplomatic precedent. My new friends would leave my court, and return to their homes with the knowledge that I don't view them as rivals to be overcome; that I'm truly willing to consider that their interests and my interests are the same. You mocked me when I spoke of tightening our bonds, but I didn't lie. By proving that I'll do what I can to make my neighbors strong and prosperous, I open the door to the possibility that they'll do the same for me. Goodwill has immense strategic value. I hope to build a bright future on this.

The guests smiled, impressed as they saw the bigger picture. This offer was undeniably crafty and generous in equal parts. There was no doubt that it would benefit Vewich and Corpioc, but that it would also augment their dependence on Massidia, specifically due to how favorable it was to them. Even the older bears were amused by this potent mix of respect and ambition displayed by King Nyman. Truly, he wasn't to be underestimated. The ambiance had changed, and Yedezh saw only people prepared to recognize that this was an honorable offer. Yet, still, occasional anxious glances wandered upon Yedezh. In the end, they looked sorry, and this confirmed Yedezh's suspicions. In a state of childlike anticipation, the stallion greedily stared at his unsuspecting zebra master in order to bask in the glorious fantasy that was about to come true.

Piel III placed his cup down, at long last, and stretched shamelessly on his seat.

-- These are excellent terms. That's a good deal.

The red deer sighed before he concluded:

"I must refuse."

Borstov nodded with grave definitiveness. It offered no room for discussion.

-- Same.

Nyman was petrified. He was lost, sucked into a vortex of dreadful, cold reality.

-- What? Why?

The flawless monarch of Massidia fell into severe doubt, hurt that his ambitious plan wasn't working as he expected. The cool, impervious zebra lost some of his shine as he gazed powerlessly into Piel's foggy but decided eyes, and then at the old bear. Nyman was vulnerable, mortified that his colossal efforts and expenses might yield nothing. Yedezh ate it up like he was a starved horse on a desert island, stumbling on a freshly-prepared vegetable sauté, liberally sprinkled with the delicious spice of revenge. The enslaved stallion king knew exactly why his so-called master was stuck, and only he had the power to dig him out of this hole. Nyman had underestimated the threat that Berogh represented for Vewich and Corpioc because Massidia had been strong for a long time. Nyman had forgotten what immediate peril felt like. Berogh loomed large over this table. With every option they considered, the minor royals of Vewich and Corpioc had to evaluate what might be their gargantuan neighbor's reaction. Their everyday survival depended on this fear. It was part of them. This was why Nyman needed him there; he thought that Yedezh's presence as an ally would suffice to reassure the other kings that Berogh was friendly now, and that Yedezh wouldn't declare war upon their asses as soon as the civil conflict was over. Nyman was wrong. It was especially dangerous for them to spend the massive amounts of money required to cut a path through the God Hills, because a penniless kingdom was a kingdom that couldn't field troops. They couldn't risk it.

-- It's because they're smart, finally intervened Yedezh with victorious callousness. They're afraid of what I'll do in retaliation.

This drove the usually collected Massidian ruler on the edge of freaking out. He got up and paced behind his chair.

-- But you're here!

Nyman realized that he should be addressing the other kings. Flowing silk flew around him as he abruptly turned to them, gesturing emphatically. He unconsciously grabbed fistfuls of his brush-like mane.

"But he's here! He's been sitting right there with us all along, it's not like he's going to learn of it later and throw a fit! If he had a problem with this, he'd say so!"

Nyman spun to Yedezh.

"Do you have a problem with this? Tell us!"

...

-- No.

-- See?

No one was swayed. Yedezh had answered slowly, oddly, in a way that made his intentions difficult to interpret. He merely had to remain unconvincing and to keep scaring the others in order to nullify Nyman's desperate efforts. The stallion kept his conqueror squirming helplessly. The zebra's obvious lack of control over the situation grew more and more humiliating. Lorris looked on at the scene in complete disbelief. This was the best, most savagely joyful moment of Yedezh's life. Nyman panicked some more as he witnessed his guests' sorry, unchanging expressions, starting to understand that he utterly needed the stallion's help to reassure them. He stared at Yedezh in urgent silence. The horse stared back with his hard blue eyes, and let the honored zebra practically beg him with his body language. Amazingly, Nyman even stooped as low as to plead out loud, his superior image indubitably shattered.

"Yedezh, please, say something!"

Defiantly, the blond horse smirked and delayed his response, creating yet another awkward sliver of eternity while Nyman's eyes widened. His traits began to contort with furious exasperation, as it grew increasingly clear that Yedezh was hindering his efforts on purpose. At last, the stallion spoke:

-- Alright. It's true, what Lord Nyman says. I don't care about the iron trade.

Curiously, Piel was the first to react, though a normal person would've been comatose after absorbing the amount of wine that he had. His hands wobbled around a tad while he spoke.

-- King Yedezh, esteemed peer. I believe you when you say that, but you're saying that now, considering the context. We worry about later, when your war is over, and you don't really need Massidian support any longer. I think it's possible that, in these different circumstances, you could be tempted to invade us while we're using most of our money to dig through rocks. What do you have to say to that?

Yedezh took his time. He looked at the guests. He looked at Nyman's imploring face. He couldn't resist.

-- I don't blame you.

Nyman threw his arms up.

-- Oh, fucking hell.

The zebra king sat back down in his throne after uttering these final words, giving up, his invincible will overcome. He covered his face with one hand. When he emerged a moment later, there was a flash of vicious satisfaction in his dark eyes, which was swiftly hidden under a veil of pleased neutrality. That was when Yedezh figured that, in his vengeful glee, he'd stepped over the line for sure. Still, he couldn't fully bring himself to regret what he'd done, even if he knew there'd be hell to pay. Five seconds later, he remembered his chastity cage.

Instant regret.

It would be okay, though. Nyman couldn't do anything in this moment, to preserve appearances. If Yedezh hurried and fixed the damage he'd done, the zebra wouldn't be too cross. He just wanted his deal to go through, and if Yedezh changed attitude and genuinely began to help Nyman out, it would prove that he did it because he chose to, and not out of mere submissiveness. He opened his blond muzzle to say something, but a striped hand instantly slapped it and held it closed.

"Shut the fuck up."

The guests gaped, suddenly horrified that whatever folly was possessing Nyman might bring Yedezh's wrath upon them as well. As a consequence, they were dumbstruck when the stallion not only failed to show outrage, but kept silent and gave the Massidian host very sorry glances. They were about to learn some shocking truths.

"I broke it," simply declared Nyman to his confused audience. "I admit it. I broke Berogh. It's mine, now. I control their treasury, I control their army. I can do whatever I want with it."

It was Yedezh's turn to stare urgently. It was already fairly bad, but maybe if they got their act together, Yedezh hoped it might still pass for some kind of bad joke... Sadly for him, it was too late. Nyman had already launched headfirst along a new trajectory, some backup plan that his devious mind had cooked up in case Yedezh ceased to collaborate, and about which the horse knew nothing. Oh, how he regretted, then.

Nyman waved his hoofed thumb at the stallion trying to appease him.

"Same goes for him. I broke his ass too. I can do whatever I want with him. Walk him, work him, strip him, tie him up, fuck him deep in the rear, lock his balls, anything at all. I let him pretend to still be a king, sometimes, to keep Beroghan lords quiet, but he's not. Annoyingly, he's quite stupid, and if I let him play pretend for too long, like today, he begins to forget his real place. He's a slave, a male slut that does admittedly provide some quality entertainment. I mean, look at him. He's good for that, though he has to be trained, kept on a short leash and regularly disciplined. He may be handful, but there's absolutely nothing to fear. Don't take my word for it. Here, let me demonstrate."

Yedezh panicked. What was Nyman doing? Was he that mad? He was jeopardizing everything! He couldn't just say those things! The horse had to put a stop to this insanity. He inclined his head toward the zebra and whispered through his teeth as energetically as he could.

-- No, no, no! Master, wait! I was just messing around!

Nyman wasn't listening. He gestured for Lorris to approach and the two briefly whispered. Lorris stepped away and began throwing orders around. Servants brought a ladder and unhooked the large chandelier. A guard ran out and returned with Sylar and armed reinforcements, carrying chains and rope. The visiting kings and the nobles that had remained to observe the diplomatic talks watched the storm around them in stupor. Yedezh overcame his daze and tried to rise up before it was too late.

"Lord Nyman, you can't! We have to-"

A strong fuzzy hand with sharp claws pushed on his shoulder and kept him sitting. The leopard breathed in and out wearily from above as two more soldiers boxed Yedezh from the sides.

-- My apologies sire, said Sylar, but I have orders.

Two buffalo troopers brutally grabbed Yedezh's arms. The stallion fought back, causing his chair to fall noisily when the guards pulled him backward. As he struggled, keeping both of his brawny captors busy all by himself, Yedezh saw the humiliating bit gag being passed around his head. He shook his muzzle chaotically to the sides.

-- No! he yelled wildly. Don't do this!

Sylar aimed true and pulled sharply, lodging the large metal cylinder deep inside Yedezh's mouth, and tying it up tightly behind his head to silence the horse as the trio of Massidian soldiers managed to force him down to the floor on his back.

"Nngh!"

Yedezh couldn't speak, but he fought back as the Massidians pinned his arms down and began to undo his glorious armor under everyone's sights. Above him, the servants were passing the chain through the hook that had held the chandelier. The powerful horse struggled harder, but it was for naught with the buffaloes' full weight against him. The zebra king had gone insane! He couldn't do something like this in the middle of a diplomatic encounter! The entire continent would know everything! This notion alone sufficed to horrify the horse, but he would additionally become too disgraced to impose his rule over the discontent lords of Berogh! He would lose his place as a king, and Nyman would lose his control! Yedezh's stupid, evil, despicable cousin would get the throne on a silver platter! The muted stallion pushed harder through the gag and shook his head hysterically.

"Nnnnnnghhhh!"

The soldiers snickered. Sylar patted the tip of his snout as Nyman walked casually between the table and the king being undressed and tied. The zebra waved one hand in an arc, designating the action and commenting it.

-- You'll now get to witness a truly unique display, explained Nyman. Before your very eyes, the rightful heir to Berogh will be stripped naked, bound and thoroughly paddled. After he has been sufficiently disciplined, and once he'll have adopted a better attitude, we'll give the servants a break, and he'll humbly stand by and provide the service by himself while we finish our negotiations. This should prove his... goodwill.

Piel stared at Yedezh, barely breathing, but unable to look away from the mighty horse king being sat on and roped like cattle. When he was brought up to his hooves, Yedezh only had his light pants left covering him. The hanging chain was looped around his bound wrists, locked, and subsequently tightened by the guards who pulled heavily at the other end of the chain. They fully stretched the well-built blond stallion to immobilize him, facing away from the table, but also to give a perfectly unimpeded view of his bare royal flesh wherever it would be struck.

-- Nyman, my friend, whispered the quickly sobering red deer, I fear you've completely lost your mind...

The bears, however, said nothing. They squinted, already hard at work analyzing what they were seeing, and what it could mean for them. Their reindeer minister seemed more than happy to let them handle these terrifying unforeseen events by themselves without getting personally involved. Nyman scratched his chin, patiently studying his guests' reactions.

-- Have I? I can see that you're still not quite grasping the situation. This seems out of nowhere for you, but I assure you it isn't. Lorris, would you please have this disobedient slave turned around, that our associates might take a good look at his genitals.

Yedezh heard as the antelope gestured sharply, and rough gauntleted hands seized his exposed chest and underarms to turn him around. Suddenly, he faced the table, and saw all the eyes on him, as he stood bound and gagged. He looked to Nyman and then Lorris with muffled pleading sounds, but his pants and underwear were pulled down and unceremoniously removed. He hung there, nude, sensing the steel imprisoning his cock and balls more than ever. Multiple gasps conveyed the surprise of the attendees as they realized that the proud stallion had been under lock and key for a while. Lorris marched to the captive and flashed a luminous grin at the guests, throwing his arm around the neck of the restrained and helplessly humiliated stallion.

-- As you can appreciate, said the antelope, this cute stud has been under strict Massidian control for about a year, ever since he attempted and failed to convince some of our great lords to seize power under his guidance. Now, he has to do whatever he's told, no matter how vulgar or degrading, and yes; this means exactly what you think it means.

Lorris' soft arm released Yedezh, and the guards spun him around so that he'd face away once more as Lorris shamelessly patted his firm butt.

"In short, you may consider yourselves free at last of horse domination. King Nyman controls Berogh. There won't be any retaliation for the trade route."

Yedezh, sweating and breathing heavily through his nostrils, twisted his neck to glance over his shoulder. To his incredible dismay, as he did his best not to drool uncontrollably because of the gag, the faces around the table had switched to being intrigued. There was little mercy to be found among such calculating characters, especially since the chastity device had convinced them that this was neither a jest nor an act of folly on the zebra's part. Yedezh moaned loudly in outrage, to remind them of the massively unfair dishonor that was being imposed to him, who was a legitimate ruler just like they were, but none of them defended him. In fact, the only response he got was a colossal thwack right across both of his buttocks from a large wooden paddle that he hadn't seen coming at all.

-- Hrrrrmf!

The shock moved throughout his restrained body as his skin seared under the impact. The beefy buffalo guard holding the paddle appeared pleased in a profound manner with the loud satisfying sound that took over the room. Sylar waited next to him, raising his fingers as he prepared to order another strike, but he paused.

-- Silence, commanded the leopard.

Eyes watering with a potent mix of throbbing pain and blistering shame, Yedezh obeyed and went silent, his diminished pride quickly bested by his apprehension of the next dreadful swing. Sylar finished preparing him for the punishment, pulling his milky white tail and tying it up and out of the way with a final loop of rope that was placed around his neck. That way, the hits would land better, and the fast increasing redness of his blond cheeks would be more evident for the audience. From the force of the first strike, Yedezh didn't doubt that there was already a distinctly pinkish paddle shape printed over his buttocks. It sure as hell didn't stop stinging.

A moment of contemplation lingered, as Yedezh despondently waited for the entertaining show made of his public spanking to commence. He heard the bear prince's voice.

-- Not all of Berogh, though.

-- I'm sorry? said Nyman.

-- Your servant Lorris said that you controlled Berogh, pointed out the young bear, but that's not true. You only control half.

Yedezh thought that this couldn't be real, as he was taken by wave after wave of cold sweat. They wouldn't go ahead and discuss the political ramifications of him being reduced to a whipped slave stud as if he wasn't standing right there, naked and about to have his ass paddled like some sort of kinky ornament!

-- That's true, conceded Nyman. It's a legitimate concern that must be addressed, if I'm to offer you any solid guarantees about respecting the sovereignty of your nations.

The Massidian ruler glanced at his high servant.

"Lorris, my dear, I believe the time has come. Bring in our final guest."

The antelope winked at the assembly.

-- I'll be right back.

Lorris swiftly hoofed his way to a side door, further in front of Yedezh, and disappeared. The stallion feared that the Massidians would decide to break the awkward moment by paddling him some more, but Sylar still patiently waited, his fuzzy fingers raised, so the buffalo guard made no move. Given the chaos of this meeting thus far, none of the guests knew what to expect next. They looked to each other and to their host, but always inevitably returned to the bare blond butt of the conquered king that had intimidated them for so long. To his despair, Yedezh found little empathy in their eyes, but quite a lot of the deep satisfaction of seeing a superior threat removed. Clearly, they resented Berogh for its dominating position and the respect it forced them to display. There was no doubt that they viewed Nyman's takeover favorably. Yedezh's twisted neck began to hurt, so he ceased looking back over his shoulder and allowed his long snout to drop in beaten shame as he hung for their amusement. He couldn't get over the dishonor of having all of these people seeing his butt. He truly wasn't a king anymore.

Lorris returned. The same door opened and the antelope hurried in front of someone else. With both arms, he designated the new arrival as he passed through the doorframe. Yedezh's heart stopped. He became livid as blood vanished from his upper body. He gasped so hard that he almost swallowed the gag silencing him.

Without waiting to be introduced, Lord Geor, claimant to the Beroghan throne and Yedezh's hated older cousin, strutted in the room with an irritated version of his usual self-important air. Two bodyguards followed him. Instant displeasure flooded the legitimate heir. The white horse wore no armor, but a huge golden crown set with rubies rested on top of his head. He also wore a gaudy tunic and a cape, all in pretentious shades of red and purple, that tasteless hack! Yedezh couldn't believe how obviously he was overcompensating for his lack of rightful claim to royalty. What a stupid git!

-- Lord Nyman, screeched Geor, I'll have you know that I don't appreciate being made to wait around for hours... while...

After taking multiple steps, Geor slowed down and was shocked as he took in the sights.

"What in the world is going on, here?"

Geor examined the elegant paintings, the guards with the paddle, the banquet table with the highborn guests, and the nude stallion bound and displayed in the center of the room. Nyman left the table and went to meet the new arrival.

-- Welcome, welcome! I'm grateful that you accepted my invitation. We were merely discussing some business that might concern you.

The zebra shook the horse's arm and turned to the others.

"This is Lord Geor, leader of the rebels in northern Berogh. I invited him to join us today in these talks as an equal, and as my honored guest."

Nyman turned to Yedezh. The blond stallion's guts twisted.

"As for this, surely you recognize your own cousin and rival, Lord Yedezh."

Geor squinted, but walked closer to the vulgar exhibit, taking a better look at the exposed figure, the degrading chastity cage, and the gagged slobbering muzzle.

-- Nnnngh! Nnnnnnnghh!

Yedezh pulled hard on the chain keeping his roped wrists up and helpless when Geor's traits rapidly changed from puzzlement to recognition, and then to cruel delight. No! No way! He wouldn't be silenced and disciplined in utter humiliation before this cockroach! This was a nightmare! What was he even doing there? Why had Nyman invited this vile insect?

Naturally, neither the ropes nor the chains gave out, and the only thing Yedezh accomplished was to make himself waggle before the paddle descended to heavily chastise his offered rear while his cousin watched. The sonorous strike got a muffled scream out of him. His entire abdomen recoiled in thick, insistent pain.

-- Silence! ordered Sylar as before.

The sensitive flesh of Yedezh's cheeks stung violently in worsening pulsations. Yet, even as he moaned complainingly, dangling in plain view, his wretched outrage kept him struggling. He was even about to try and kick to keep Geor away, until another disciplinary whack landing powerfully under his raised tail finally overwhelmed his resolve. The agony in his red beaten bum built up too much, and the chain kept his body taut and perfectly vulnerable to the harsh paddle. The maniac paddle-wielding buffalo scoffed discreetly when the blond stallion's spirit broke. Yedezh ceased resisting and stood immobile, wracked with devastating shame and an unimaginably sore behind, when he allowed his worthless, soulless cousin to move closer and even to touch him. The gross, flashy white hand palmed his presented chest. Geor gazed with undiluted spite, groping his bound, subjugated rival as if he was rubbing his hand against filthy trash. The white horse soon stopped, wiping his hand against his fancy pants with a grimace.

-- Don't get me wrong, said Geor, I enjoy what you did with him, but I demand to know what the meaning of this is.

Nyman blinked and smiled thinly.

-- It wasn't my original plan, but I figured it would suit your tastes. View it as a physical manifestation of the true state of my alliance with southern Berogh. Your cousin has been beaten, tamed and...

Nyman firmly grabbed the chastity cage, getting an imploring grunt out of Yedezh when his balls were pulled and squeezed.

"... Neutered. It's been the case for a while, now. I've invited you here to negotiate with the real powers in this region."

Nyman gently released his grip, and placed his striped hand over the base of Yedezh's neck, expressing possession. He pressed and forced the previously noble head to bend in humble acceptance, dribbling on the floor through the bit gag. Geor snickered as he darted a condescending look to the table.

-- Power? Pfft. Massidia, maybe. These clowns aren't worth my time. They'll show respect or they'll disappear. Besides, I didn't come here to negotiate anything. I came because you promised to recognize my claim.

Borstov and the rest of his bear family frowned unhappily, but they prudently said nothing. Piel III waited passively, observing Nyman.

-- You're right, said the Massidian. I'll even do it right away, in front of these kings and nobles. You are Lord Geor, son of Lord Mettezh, brother of old King Holrif of Berogh. I recognize your lineage and your claim to the throne of Berogh as valid. I must add, however, that it is also unambiguously lesser than your cousin's claim, who is a direct descendant and the named heir of King Holrif. You'd need an extremely persuasive argument to reject Yedezh's position as the first in line for the crown.

Geor stepped in aggressively, closing the gap between himself and the pair of equines.

-- My cousin is a weak, mindless fool, who wouldn't deserve to rule over a field of turnips. I_am fit for the crown. _I have the will to impose my rule.

Yedezh burned with hatred when the white cockroach dared to poke his naked hip with the tip of his index, and contemptuously tapped his spanked rear. To his unbearable indignity, Yedezh was kept bowed and docile by Nyman's controlling grip and threatening glare, thus being made to endure his cousin's playful strokes like some prideless slave. Even worse! These obscene touches managed to create pressure in his fucking... cock prison! His face reddened as much as his cheeks as Yedezh cursed this unspeakable arousal. The white hand brazenly cupped his dishonored bottom, owning it.

"This is a place that suits him," continued Geor. "When his forces inevitably lose, and he is lawfully returned to me, I will arrange for his fate to be... appropriate."

Yedezh sweated massive pearls. This couldn't be! He glanced pitifully up to his Massidian master for a reaction. The zebra looked empty for a second or two. Then Nyman burst. It wasn't his usual controlled laughter, meant to intimidate or cajole, it was real, genuine, surprised giggling like a nasty little street foal watching someone slip up. Nyman got himself under control, and immediately resumed laughing. Heck, even he seemed positively astonished by his own unseemly amusement. He stepped away and folded over, holding his sides. The guests at the table looked bewildered. Geor was unarguably annoyed.

"What?"

-- I'm sorry, I'm sorry! managed the zebra as he breathed deep and rose. It's just... you sounded so confident, there.

Geor lashed out and flung his arm toward Yedezh.

-- So what? Am I expected to lose to this moron because our progress has slowed down lately?

-- Please, countered Nyman, this moron isn't in control of anything anymore. Don't you get it? Your progress will never resume. You're fighting Greater Massidia, now. You're fighting me.

Nyman towered smugly, letting that sink in. Yedezh turned away. It was painfully aggravating how impressive the Massidian ruler could be when he wanted to. Perhaps the only reason why it was so efficient was because he spent the vast majority of his time playing it polite and amenable. The contrast when he got serious never failed to fluster his opponents. Suddenly, Nyman moved forward and swept Geor's hand away from the captive's handsome bum, much to the blond stallion's appreciation. Nyman replaced him, casually playing in Yedezh's soft mane. As crushing as it was to admit it, Yedezh preferred that.

"Hands off my piece of Berogh. I'll come for the rest soon."

Geor adopted a defensive pose, crossing his arms defiantly.

-- You don't know that. Don't act like you're winning the war; you're just hiding like cowards in your castles. You won't win if you don't attack.

-- I'm not in a hurry. After today, rumors will spread, and people will soon know who's actually holding the reins in southern Berogh. Massidia didn't spend the last hundreds of years making bitter enemies by terrifying and forcing tributes out of half the countries on this continent. I have exactly no problem with keeping Berogh paralyzed and weak, split in the middle for as long as I need to. No one will pick on me. I'm the good guy, who bothers to go to everyone's feasts to offer good wishes. I make a point of honor to return the respect shown by my neighbors, and never to threaten their sovereignty. You, you're a part of Berogh. Everyone hates that. Others will realize that this civil war is serious, and that it won't be wrapped up anytime soon. You'll be invaded from every border. I know many nations that might be willing to chip in while you're weak and helpless. It might take years, because I'm patient and I don't like to take risks, but opportunities will show up. You will lose, and you'll get nothing. I have the military upper hand, I have time, and I have his superior claim.

Nyman mockingly rubbed the side of Yedezh's snout. Yedezh moved his head away from the hand, but not too fast so that he wouldn't be punished for it. Nyman didn't insist, and concluded his speech.

"If you seriously think you'll win this, you're equally as mistaken as he was when he tried to bully me into compliance, a year ago. My position is stable. Yours isn't. You should abandon your claim."

Geor looked unhappy for sure, but not shaken.

-- If I fight, he said darkly, I risk losing. If I surrender, I definitely lose.

Nyman made his move, confidently taking the center of the room as if it was a stage. At last, Yedezh was left alone, but it wasn't a massive relief, since he remained bound and stripped in wait of further public discipline.

Nyman turned his palms up with mockery.

-- Wait, do you think we met here merely to get drunk together?

-- Yeah!!!

From the table, with his cup raised high, Piel realized that his joyous proclamation was out of place, and that he'd better shut up. So, he did that. After a discreet sigh, Nyman resumed.

-- I mean that we're here to negotiate terms. We're reasonable adults, so let's be straight with each other. We know how the world works. See, your situation might suck, but luckily for you, I hate war. Hate it. What's the point of conquering if you only get devastated lands, dead bodies and bitter resentment from the survivors? No. What we're going to do is that we'll strike a deal that'll make everyone happy.

This worried Yedezh a lot. A whole fucking lot. Nyman couldn't possibly deal with such a revolting, despicable maggot, could he? More importantly, what would he trade? Because Yedezh knew of at least one thing that Geor might really, really like to bring home as a trophy. The stallion got nervous and began twitching and grunting meekly. The chain tying him to the ceiling began to lightly clink. His soft objection, however, was efficiently tamed by Sylar before it grew more significant. The leopard lowered his arm to order another gigantic hit correcting the anxious stallion's behavior by pummeling his buttocks now as deeply red as two sweet, round apples. Yedezh absorbed the shock in his defeated and humbled body, releasing soft muffled whinnies of agonized compliance as he acknowledged his wordless place as a slave stud and watched his fate unfold.

Nyman stopped in front of Geor. The Beroghan bodyguards tensed up, but let it happen.

"Tell me frankly," said Nyman. "What do you want?"

-- My throne.

The black-and-white king shook his head, disappointed.

-- It was never yours, and I don't even believe that you actually want it. Maybe you think you do. I did some research about you, Lord Geor. I know exactly what kind of a ruler you are. You think a crown is a reward. You may be a cunning tactician, but you're not interested in the duties of managing Berogh. You're resentful because your family was pushed away from power, for the benefit of your cousin that you always despised and deemed inferior. I'm not even blaming you. I understand. Still, you'd make a dreadful king. What you want is to restore your image, to display your superior strength, and to live with the luxury and wealth that you think you deserve. You can have these things. You managed to take over half of Berogh. Even if I don't like you, I must flatly recognize that accomplishment. A military leader like you would be an asset on my side. We can compromise. If you refuse, you'll get nothing but war and death. I think you're smart enough to know that.

Geor frowned, considering what had been said.

-- You are one greedy bastard, Nyman, you know that? You want Berogh without a fight. I will never renounce my claim!

It sounded like a categorical refusal. Yedezh hoped that was the end of the negotiations with that devil horse, but Nyman ignored his rejection.

-- You'll be given the newly created honorary title of governor of the northern provinces. With this title, you'll get to keep everything you conquered, in a way. All your living expenses will be covered by the rents and taxes of these lands. It won't look like a defeat, and you'll be free of any obligation, because I'll be dealing with the tedious daily affairs of managing the country. You'll have power, wealth, and freedom to do anything you want for the rest of your life. I'll only be calling for your assistance in case of a conflict with an outer power, as I might want to use your military leadership. You'll be sparing Berogh from a devastating war. The people will see you as a gracious, honorable hero. You'll live in opulence and glory while your cousin...

Nyman darted a look to Sylar. Yedezh stiffened in panic and shut his eyes. The cruel paddle punished his burning ass without reason. He trembled from the strike, but the tight chain kept him perfectly in place while the heavy smack resounded. It brought a smirk out of Geor.

"... Your cousin will learn discipline and total submission. He'll be worked hard and he'll serve Greater Massidia in chains and without pride. I won't hide him anymore. My people will be quite pleased to see such a prize well under Massidian control. It'll be a testament to our accomplishments in this region. The rumors about King Yedezh will spread fast. With the war over, history will know exactly who won and who lost between the two of you. Don't worry about that."

Despite the unimaginable depth of his humiliation, Yedezh made sure to stay immobile in a superb display of his surrender while, weirdly, when he carefully glanced toward Geor, he realized that he was about to be restored as the undisputed monarch of Berogh. The white horse was starting to cave. It even seemed to be happening a bit too fast.

-- He will technically be king, though, complained the rebel lord. In the end, the crown will be his.

Nyman shrugged.

-- King of what?

Gently, the zebra extended his arm and took the huge crown from Geor's head. He swiveled and Yedezh watched him approach. The stallion understood, for it wasn't the first time Nyman made him wear his royal symbols in less-than-dignified settings. He bent his neck in shameful obedience, and felt the gaudy golden object being placed on top of his head while he drooled helplessly. Suddenly, Geor lost his defensive posture. It seemed like it was almost over.

-- Fine. I will accept your terms under one condition.

Yedezh held his breath, expecting the worst.

-- What do you want? asked Nyman.

Geor pointed his finger toward the bound slave king.

-- Him.

Yedezh knew it! Stricken by abysmal anxiety, he spent every ounce of his mental energy to prevent himself from squealing in abject supplication, knowing that it would merely result in him being taught his station once more. He had to watch in silence while he was negotiated over, but he prayed for Nyman not to be swayed. Lorris, who'd faded in background for a while, gasped in shock and observed his liege, who didn't move.

"After today," argued Geor, "his value to you as a prisoner will decrease dramatically. You won't be able to use him anymore when word of his disgrace reaches his lords, and it becomes harder and harder to ignore. However, I want his traitor ass. Call it sentimentality. Wrap him up in a gift box for me, and I'll have the authority to help you legally assume direct control over Berogh. No more playing around with puppets. I will be governor of the North, as you proposed, and you will rule Berogh."

Nyman raised an eyebrow.

-- You want _my_Yedezh?

-- Yes. He will be carted in irons through the streets of every major city in Berogh. The victor of this war will be unambiguous. Then, he will be brought to my court, and he will be my property to further display, or do with as I wish.

Yedezh detailed Nyman as he thought for an endless, stressful second. The zebra serenely shook his head.

-- I don't think so.

Yedezh felt intense, unexpected feelings for his master. Geor got violently angry.

-- Then, there will be no deal!

Nyman ran out of patience as well.

-- As you wish, you'll receive war and death. The matter is settled. You may leave my castle.

Geor did nothing.

-- What?

-- Leave!

The white horse repressed a startled backward movement, his eyes wide with uncertainty. His bodyguards rested their hands on the pommels of their swords. So did Sylar and the Massidian guards. In a flash, everyone drew their blades. The room appeared about to explode.

-- What are you doing? asked Geor. I can't believe that you will sacrifice peace for... this!

He gestured toward Yedezh.

-- I won't, responded Nyman. Because I know for a damn fact that my reasonable desire to avoid decades of war will never be as convincing as your instinct to avoid your own ruin. You're smart enough to understand what I'm saying. Yedezh is my property.

Geor took a moment. He paced toward the door, and then back. At last, he had his soldiers sheath their weapons. He sighed and gave up. The tension dropped when all other troops stood down.

-- What a cold monster. No wonder my idiot cousin couldn't measure up. Fine, we'll do it your way. Keep him. However, I demand to see him mounted.

Geor seemed rather adamant. Nyman appeared a bit puzzled.

-- Mounted? You mean-

-- Yes.

Geor scanned the room, and chose the burly and nasty-looking buffalo that had held the paddle. He designated the guard.

"By this guy. You've made me lose face in front of my enemy, and you're asking me to grant him the throne. I really hate that, so if I have to be reasonable about this whole situation, I think at least he should be made to take rough anal in front of me. That way, when a lowly, dirty soldier pounds and seeds his rump, the hierarchy between the two of us will be abundantly clear to him, and I can have peace of mind."

-- That sounds sensible, opined Lorris without the slightest prompt.

It didn't sound_that_ sensible to Yedezh, but it wasn't his decision.

-- I'm not dirty, mumbled the buffalo in halfhearted protest.

Nyman rubbed his fingers around his own neck as he thought.

-- I don't see why not. You may proceed.

In an absurd, trancelike haze, Yedezh was brutally grabbed by the arms and the sides. The crown fell off and rolled noisily on the stone floor. The chain was detached and his bound arms were brought down and folded behind his head. He heard a brief chuckle from somewhere in the room when the gauntleted Massidian guards manhandled him toward the banquet table. Chairs were kicked out of the way, and they slammed his naked torso onto the cold table as guests moved to make room. Sylar shamelessly bounced on top of the table and held him down, while the buffalo took a firm hold of Yedezh's thighs and forced his legs into a wide, unimaginably unbecoming spread. Yedezh heard a belt being unbuckled. When his sore cheeks were mercilessly clutched and stretched open for easier access to his anus, he gave dull glances to these other honorable kings and their companions. They didn't look bothered. If anything, they seemed moderately pleased that the greatest son of Berogh was about to get his terminally degrading comeuppance; a climactic expression of years of worry, and of their buried desires for retribution against a country that prospered by oppressing them with its mere existence. As a warm, rigid, fleshy erection pressed against his vulnerable entrance, preparing to publically sodomize him, Yedezh reflected. In the years during which he was prince, maybe he should've spent a little more time making 'useless' diplomatic visits to their weaker neighboring countries. Maybe 'soft' power wasn't necessarily as contemptible as his father had taught him. Clearly, it could get quite hard.

Piel, who sat right next to where Yedezh was about to be reamed, wore a slightly guilty expression. The red deer squinted in embarrassment and finally offered his cup of wine away with obvious reluctance.

-- Um, here you go, I guess.

The buffalo took it.

-- Oh, thanks, your majesty.

Thick wine splashed into the crack of Yedezh's bum. The cool liquid surprised him and ran over his buttocks, soon seeping into his chastity cage and dripping from his balls. In terms of lubrication, it was a pitiful effort, but it got a laugh out of Geor.

-- Wait! said the white horse. I want to hold his tail up while he gets ass-fucked.

Geor's painful fist pulled Yedezh's white tail high and held it. His other hand took over Yedezh's lower back, and fondled it greedily, increasing the pressure of his belly against the table. The blond stallion had never felt so completely vanquished, particularly not by this cockroach! How could this be more aggravating?

"Let that be an ultimate lesson to you," Geor whispered. "I am a winner. You are a bitch. I hope the Massidians will treat you as is appropriate."

The rebel horse turned to the buffalo.

"Alright, go ahead. Make it messy."

The buffalo shrugged and pushed his mean cock against Yedezh's tight hole, using his thumbs on both sides to widen it. Controlled and shoved in his place, the Beroghan slave king experienced once more this intimate indecency as the bulging head of another male's dick forced its way up his glorious ass. Geor became more intense when he watched Yedezh begin to stretch for the wet organ. His hand against the blond back clenched, and he yanked the tail harder in his victorious enthusiasm, basking in the sheer dishonor of his defeated rival. Yedezh fervently wished he could hide his shame and his very naked helplessness, but the truth was impossible to withhold. The devastating awareness of how much his hated cousin enjoyed witnessing his ignominy crashed violently into him, wave after wave, when the soldier riding his butt began to thump it rhythmically with his waist. Yedezh was prodded roughly and repeatedly, deep in his rear, but the severe discomfort also caused his own long-frustrated needs to flare up and spread throughout his body like wildfire. Every part of him became oversensitive, and the skin of his face flushed hot with embarrassing arousal. Sylar's fluffy leopard arms suddenly seemed teasing and hot as they pinned down his upper back with flawlessly measured strength. The tough buffalo ramming him dominated his sore buttocks with his unyielding grip, and this sense of appalling submission caused even Geor's touches -- Geor's touches! -- to create living, crawling currents in his sweaty flesh that were both intolerable and ecstatic. As usual, his trapped penis frenzied pointlessly into its cage, but at least, no one else could know that, and his own judgment was the only one he had to suffer for it.

A superior sounding, weirdly pleased grunt came from King Borstov.

-- He takes to this, commented the old bear with overt spite.

-- Sure, said Nyman. It's not his first time, and it's the only way he's allowed to be unlocked. He's a good boy.

Geor quickly intervened.

-- I want to see.

Nyman nodded and Lorris agilely moved and ducked under the broken stallion and his rider. The antelope took a minuscule shiny key out of a key ring, and dexterously removed the cage, but left the humiliating metal ring around Yedezh's privates that gave them a tamed vibe. Yedezh moaned with monstrous embarrassment. His sex immediately inflated heavily and grew into a massive erection for everyone to view and draw amusement from, while he got pounded faster.

"How scandalous," mocked Geor. "I should not be surprised. He was always weak."

For a brief and subtle moment, the Massidian king and his high servant locked eyes, both greatly exasperated by Geor's comment, but no one other than Yedezh seemed to notice. Besides, Yedezh too switched his attention to something else.

He was hard! The feisty young stallion could barely believe it! His dick was free and deliciously erect. The sole reminder that his privates belonged to the Massidian throne was the steel ring digging into his engorged shaft and constricting his balls. Of course, his entire package now waggled between his legs in plain sight. It was vulgar as hell, and the obnoxious cock pushing in and out of him, filling his rear and chafing his sensitive hole felt beyond degrading. Still, he was hard! Ejaculating while stripped and tied up, after a solid paddling, and while getting anally speared in public by a thick Massidian soldier in front of Geor was just about the last thing Yedezh wanted in the world. Then again, it did include reaching orgasm, which was also the first thing he wanted in the world. In fact, even with Geor present, it wasn't long before he knew that his primal urges would win over his whipped and shackled pride a hundred times over. He could achieve orgasm from anal alone; he knew it because he'd managed it one single time, months before, during a 'training session' as a nice slave stud while Nyman lengthily worked him at the end of a solid leash. He'd been good and had mightily spurted on the floor, wrung by a volcanic climax. Yedezh was made to clean his mess, but the rules were clear: any pleasure he derived directly from his submission and obedience was allowed. It was difficult, but he remembered how he'd done it. Paradoxically, he had to relax and shove aside his harsh judgments about what he had become, while focusing on how dominated and sexually compliant he was. It seemed easier with Nyman alone than with Lorris around, for some reason, and Yedezh didn't doubt that it would be near impossible in public with Geor pulling his tail, but he had to try. He needed to try!

Yedezh concentrated on how vulnerable he felt, and how unfair it was that he had to entertain his vicious, pompous cousin in such a crudely humiliating manner. His disgraceful pleasure grew. He sensed the rough overwhelming texture of the strokes on his lower back as Geor showed him who was in control by tracing his rough fingers, and he could do nothing in response. Soon Massidia -- and then the entire world -- would know about his total defeat, and how servile he'd become. Invincible hands firmly held his sore bottom in place as the huge buffalo's frenzy increased, and their bodies collided more fiercely. Each deep shove of the heavy male poked something in him, and his dreadful arousal rose again and again. Yedezh's dick began to twitch in cadence. He was a hot prize to be paraded around, used and trained by the victors into whatever would satisfy them most. He pushed pointlessly with his tongue against the metal bit between his teeth, reminding himself that he would no longer have any say over his hopeless fate. His cravings kept dramatically augmenting! They would do whatever they wanted with him. He was so close; his pleasure was barely tolerable anymore! He didn't even have enough influence over his own body to prevent himself from drooling over the table onto which he was getting banged. Yedezh started to moan uncontrollably, revealing the dutiful stud that he'd been taught to be. He couldn't even hear the snickering around him, at this point.

The buffalo huffed and puffed, tensed up, and passed the point of no return with a loud yell.

-- Yeah!

The soldier pounded away as he finished, ejaculating deep into the obedient stallion, and extracting himself to splatter the blond butt most visibly with his thick semen. Yedezh was already so close to the edge that he didn't need much anymore. His entire body burned like a metal smelter. He shoved himself against the table once. His iron-like erection struck the wood, and it was enough. It worked! The divine and hellish sensation filled him slowly, unbelievably more intense than any normal orgasm. He shivered and tried to brace himself for the release that he'd been awaiting for months.

-- No, you don't.

Geor shoved the soldier aside and slapped Yedezh's balls. The sour, immediate pain reached his guts and stomach.

-- Hrmmmmmmph!

Splendid in his towering cruelty, the white horse slapped again the defenseless kingly orbs. The horrendous agony mixed in with the pleasure, fighting it, neutralizing it. Confusion overcame Yedezh. Impossible! Where did that come from? How could something so unimaginably sadistic happen? He struggled in horror, desperately attempting to finish, but Geor slapped a third and final time, harder, and all pleasure disappeared. A few sad little drops dribbled from the slave king's disciplined dick, but no more. Everything was lost! Everything was ruined! No! He wailed in wordless frustration and grief. Geor laughed and released the tail. He stepped away from the used rump.

-- That is what it feels like not to get what you want. Keep the crown.

Yedezh's erection deflated fast. When Lorris approached with the chastity cage, Yedezh tried to move but Sylar still pinned him down to the table.

-- Hey! warned the leopard. The paddle isn't far.

The threat worked despite Yedezh's heartbreak, and he ceased resisting. The world seemed empty and blank. He sensed as familiar steel was locked around his genitals. Then, he was propped up by the guards, and made to stand before the room, his desires revealed and denied, his body beaten, his butt splattered, and his spirit broken. The attention didn't remain on him for too long, however. Since he'd served his purpose, he reverted to being unimportant furniture in this room. Nyman faced Geor with a severe air.

-- Are you prepared to honor our deal and withdraw your claim, Lord Geor?

-- I will be governor? asked the white horse.

-- You'll be governor.

-- For the rest of my life?

-- Yes.

The rebel leader still seemed unsure.

-- Which will not be shortened by an assassin at some point, right?

The zebra king clumped his hands together, and opened them in a peaceful gesture.

-- If I did that kind of thing, I'd lose my reputation and my ability to negotiate and convince others to get on board with my plans. Without trust, I'd cease to be me. I'd become powerless, like him.

Nyman pointed his thumb to Yedezh.

"I'll _never_do that."

Geor exhaled. Suddenly his shoulders rose a little, as if part of the weight of the world was lifted from them.

-- Alright, then. I withdraw. I shall make it official as soon as I reach home. The war is over.

A solemn moment. Nyman closed his eyes. He appeared genuinely moved.

-- My dream. Durable peace in the region. I can sense how close it is.

Geor nodded weakly.

-- Perhaps. I would have never expected the war in my country to be resolved so soon. I anticipated it to last for at least five more years, probably ten. It feels odd.

-- These are feelings of safety and serenity. You'll get used to them. You did something great today. The only thing left for us to do is to drink to peace. We can work out the details later.

Nyman returned to his larger chair at the end of the table, and pointed to a vacant seat while servants swiftly cleaned the mess created by Yedezh's pounding.

-- Please, Lord Geor, join us. We were about to finish discussing the creation of a new trade route through Greater Massidia. Yedezh will serve the refreshments.

Geor chuckled and sat down.

-- I do not give a damn about your trade route, but I will drink with you.

-- Well spoken! praised Piel III.

Yedezh saw himself being unbound, and a platter was shoved into his arms. Jugs of ale and wine were placed onto it. Sylar gave him a push.

-- Go ahead, serve.

Still naked and his bum soiled with sticky come, Yedezh was made to fill every cup as best he could, feeling absurdly debased as he went around the table, bowing and pouring while struggling to avoid spills. This was way harder that it looked when the servants did it.

Nyman raised his cup to propose a toast.

-- To durable peace!

He stared at Yedezh.

"And to the brainless stud that made it possible."

Laughs. The others joined their host and drank.

Yedezh did his best to keep the cups filled, but he was awkward and unskilled, and didn't know how to hold the platter while bowing toward the guests and pouring drinks. The kings and lords quickly agreed on their business at hand, and abandoned politics to discuss lighter subjects. Even the bears had quite a lot of fun making Yedezh run from one side of the table to the other, and chastising him verbally for his frequent mistakes. Geor proposed that he should receive one additional strike of the paddle for every drop wasted, and every unacceptable delay in the service. Luckily, Lorris took pity on him before this was applied, and the antelope grabbed a platter of his own and served one side of the table and his king, leaving only the Vewichi minister, Piel III, Geor, and a few nobles Yedezh didn't know for him to serve. Naturally, his cousin called him in the most unpleasant ways possible, whistling him like a dog or a trained pony, and Yedezh quickly learned to keep the states of everyone's cups in mind, so that he could refill them silently and efficiently before they could demand his attention in 'amusing' ways. This went on for some time, and the king of Berogh had ample opportunities to demonstrate that the Massidians had well-trained him, and that he did everything he was told to do. He showed that he could provide quality service, whether on his hooves or on his back...

Shadows filled the reception room. The kings and other invited lords had finally left for the evening, after having their fun with Yedezh. Most guards had gone as well, though a pair of servants helped Lorris pick up the cups and clean up the table one last time for the day. They whispered together gently about the memorable parts of this event, decorum temporarily set aside. Nyman was still there, though, sitting and compulsively studying the language of the new document they'd prepared concerning the trade route, and that Piel and Borstov had sworn to sign come the next morning. Yedezh was on his knees on the floor, away from the table. He'd been given a towel and a bucket of water, and he mindlessly finished cleaning himself, still taking in the recoil. The gag had been removed, but not the chastity cage. The damn, eternal cage. He was still somewhat aroused. Hours later, he still felt the deep, world-bending sexual frustration like a searing betrayal. It wasn't fair.

Lorris passed behind his king, and placed a soft hand on his shoulder, lowering his cute muzzle toward the zebra's ear.

-- The words won't change, no matter how much you stare.

-- I know, I know. I'm merely trying to make sure.

-- If there was a problem, you'd have found it already.

The high servant moved his head toward the pitiful stallion.

"Talk to him."

Nyman stretched against the back of his chair.

-- You're right. I'll do that. Meanwhile, go do the thing.

-- Sure. And don't be meaner than you need to be.

Nyman frowned in disbelief. The irony of being asked not to be too mean by Lorris wasn't lost on him. The antelope meeped happily, and he fled with the servants before the Massidian king could criticize this strange accusation. Nyman hoofed his way to Yedezh, and stood tall over him, oppressively. The poor horse hardly dared look up to his black-and-white master, now that they were alone. He feared the severe consequences of his earlier defiance. To his surprise, even if Nyman did appear unhappy with him, the Massidian caressed his head and small pointy ears. The repetitive petting was firm, but unmistakably meant to be soothing. It worked. Maybe the zebra wasn't so angry with him after all?

-- I'm extremely angry with you, said Nyman.

That was that. The reassuring touches continued, though. Yedezh figured it was possible that he wouldn't be punished further for his transgressions.

"You'll definitely be punished."

Damnit! Yedezh stopped trying to have thoughts before his case got even worse, and waited apologetically before his master.

"Can you imagine how much smoother everything would have gone if not for this nonsense you tried to pull? You would've been friendly and reassuring to my guests, our apparent unity would've forced your cousin to accept my terms, and your image would've suffered no further damage. Now, when your cousin goes home, I expect that he'll attempt to sway the Beroghan lords of the South to his side, arguing that you've become a dishonored Massidian puppet to disqualify your claim. As the rumors quickly get confirmed, his argument will become very convincing. He'll only really proceed to surrender if that fails. Because you forced my hand today, I'll have to maneuver quickly and delicately, because you won't be useful to me for much longer. Why did you turn on me?"

-- I didn't! I swear, master! I just wanted to mess with you... Get some payback. I would've fixed everything! I'm not suicidal. I was about to do it when you stopped me.

Nyman facepalmed. He interrupted the petting, but waved his hand toward a nearby chair, and brought another one for himself. Yedezh sat down with the zebra, intimidated by the eerie sensation of his naked flesh directly on the fresh wooden seat.

-- I don't believe even you are this stupid. You tried to mess up my deal for a joke?

Yedezh twisted pathetically on his chair, assaulted by the sharp glare.

-- It wasn't just a joke. Lorris said that you wouldn't ever trust me again, so I wanted credit. I wanted to prove that I could screw up your efforts, so that you'd know when I willingly decided to help. I just wanted some more wiggle room.

Nyman looked unimpressed with Yedezh's plan.

-- First off, I'd never enter a situation where I depended on you without a backup strategy. Second, threatening me in order to gain my trust is a deeply absurd idea. Give up the power plays once and for all. You suck at them.

Yedezh lowered his head.

-- Yes, master.

Still, powerless frustration built up in the young stallion. He timidly protested.

"But if I hadn't done that, you'd have believed that I was merely submissive, not loyal. You'd have never given me another chance."

Nyman crossed his arms.

-- Why do you think that?

-- Lorris said-

-- Does Lorris rule this kingdom?

Yedezh almost said something impertinent about Nyman's relationship with his favorite servant, but he caught himself in time, thereby dodging much sorrow.

-- No, master.

-- Anyway, now the truth is out. There won't be much of a point in trying to hide anything in the future. For the moment, we have to do some damage control before your lords in Berogh renounce you, and to ensure your dear cousin will do exactly what he's supposed to do.

At least that was something with which Yedezh agreed.

-- What can we do?

Nyman grinned.

-- We'll fix your heir problem.

Yedezh couldn't believe this. This meant the chastity cage had to come off.

-- Really? I thought you wouldn't after what I did.

-- No, no. All things considered, you played one of the roles that I'd prepared for you, and my trade deal will go through as planned. Besides, I don't really have a choice. Nothing good will happen if Geor convinces your lords to renounce you.

-- It'll please them if I finally select a bride. I do have a specific idea about that. Do you think it'll be enough to rally them, though?

-- Not a chance.

Yedezh was confused. Before he could ask for clarifications, he heard three light knocks against the side door.

"Ah, perfect timing," announced Nyman. "It must be Lorris with our solution to your problem. He's been working on it hard for many, many months. Dress up, and try to make a good impression."

Solution? The solution was clear: removing the cursed chastity device so that Yedezh could find a queen! The horse was fully confounded, but he did as he was told and hurriedly put on the simple clothes that he'd worn under his suit of mail.

"Come in!"

The door opened. Lorris entered first, followed shyly by someone else that Yedezh had never seen. A teenage grey colt with a black mane, obviously Beroghan, and dressed like Lorris in high servant clothes. He couldn't possibly be older than fifteen. The young male seemed rather intimidated, but he also had bright, quick, curious eyes that jumped from point of interest to point of interest with restrained glee. He seemed particularly interested in Yedezh for some reason. The horse king had no idea what was going on, but he instinctively tried to look his best for the young stranger. Lorris handled the introductions.

-- Saikhem, this is Yedezh. Yedezh, Saikhem.

-- I'm beyond honored to finally meet you, my lord.

The whelp had thrown this with unexpected and flawless observance of etiquette. His slightly sideways bow of his head and upper body had been exactly deep enough to show respect, but also too brief to be humbling. The odd inclination added a playful element that seemed to fit the energetic little lad. Yedezh instantly found him sympathetic, and nodded to acknowledge him.

-- I'm glad to meet you as well, but I don't understand.

-- Saikhem is the descendant of an honored Beroghan commander defeated and captured during your father's invasion, explained Nyman. Offspring of slaves born on Massidian soil are considered full citizens, according to our laws, but I offered the boy an important job, and he accepted. He was selected among many candidates, and placed under Lorris' care for almost a year, studying courtly matters and learning under many mentors everything that he'll need to know about his father's country of origin to fulfill his task.

Yedezh shivered.

-- W-wait. What task?

-- To be your heir, of course. Congratulations in advance. You'll adopt, like I did. Problem solved.

The shock. Many thoughts collided inside Yedezh's mind. The surprise. The insanity of it all. The impossibility of getting his lords to accept a teenage son of a slave out of nowhere to eventually become their lawful ruler. The shattering disappointment of knowing that his balls would remain locked forever. This couldn't be.

-- But, but, but-

-- No buts. You'll be good, for once, and write a nice letter that we'll send back to Berogh along with Saikhem, detailing the situation. I originally imagined we'd take our time introducing him to your court, but we have to hurry things along because of your foolishness, so we'll skip straight to the juicy parts.

-- This is crazy! exploded Yedezh. It'll never work!

-- Quite the opposite, calmly observed Nyman, it's the only thing that'll work. I can picture it from here. Your lords have been doubting you for quite some time, and just as a new scandal breaks out and you're revealed to be a Massidian plaything, your replacement arrives, as if from the heavens. They'll have doubts, of course, but the letter will be genuine and the lad is charismatic. What will you do, Saikhem?

Saikhem got into character, and almost magically lost some of his shyness, becoming a modest but poised prince. The little swindler moved and talked with well-meaning honesty.

-- I'll first reassure my lords that I'm keenly aware of my inexperience. As the well-educated son of an honored Beroghan general, King Yedezh met me during his visits in Massidia, and saw something in me that convinced him I was the right heir. The unexpected honor was a surprise, but I accepted it with humility, knowing that I would have much to learn, and that I'd have to rely on the wisdom and counsel of my lords, which I will, of course, consult about everything. In private, I'll make sure to let each of them feel that I value their input most particularly. When the scandalous news breaks about my adoptive father, I'll sadly admit that I felt something was wrong, and that there might be some truth to the rumors about him having fallen prey to his unspoken desires.

-- M-my what? stuttered Yedezh.

-- I'll express doubt that he'll ever return from his last trip, content in his docile self-indulgence to let our Massidian allies dictate the policies that he'll send from abroad. Of course, I'll pledge to protect Beroghan independence while maintaining positive relationships with our new friends. In everything, I'll push slightly against Massidian demands, in order to defend Beroghan interests, and I'll even take a firm stance when necessary.

Nyman patted Yedezh's shoulder.

-- Excellent, isn't he? For instance, when the loan will become too insane to manage, and will threaten to bankrupt northern Berogh as well as the South, he'll boldly refuse to pay it any longer. I'll throw a bit of a fuss about not respecting deals, but we'll agree on a smaller sum. In short, you'll still be king, but you won't rule. He'll rule, but he won't make all the policies. I'll be advising him closely through the Massidian ambassador in Berogh. Everyone will be happy. We'll have stability and prosperity. It'll be grand!

-- What about me? asked Yedezh.

-- You? You're getting replaced. The only reason why your lords will technically accept you as their official ruler will be because they'll have your rightful heir, enabling them to oust you instantly and crown him if you ever tried to make them do something they didn't like. You won't do that, though. In fact, you won't do much of anything. When things settle down, you'll retire altogether. You'll live here and practice your obedience. If anything, today proved that it's still lacking.

Nyman turned to Saikhem.

"Thank you, son, you can go and continue to prepare for your journey."

Lorris and his protégé left. Since all hope had now disappeared, Yedezh felt weirdly grounded. He sat down. Finally, he could contemplate his fate. After a moment, he realized that the zebra gazed at him.

"What, no complaint? No begging?"

-- No, master.

Nyman approved. He got up and stood next to the sitting stallion.

-- That's good. You'll be added to my personal stable here at the castle, and you'll be officially registered as property of the throne of Greater Massidia. There, you'll be treated just like any other slave. You'll be trained to wear a harness; you'll learn the drivers' commands, and strict discipline will be enforced day after day. If you behave, you'll do fine. I'm sure it's not that complicated to pull carts. They may braid your mane and tail though, so they won't get stuck in the harness or anything, and I'll probably ask them to do without the branding, because it's true that your butt is very handsome. It would pain me to scar it with the Black Wave. Although... Eh, I'll think about it. Anyway, the point is, I'll soon make a country-wide trip to inspect multiple areas along the planned trajectory of the new trade route. It'll last several days, and I've decided that you'll accompany the convoy as one of the two pullers at the front of my carriage as punishment for today, and also so that I can show you off -- let's be honest. You'll be naked, the weather will be hot, the load will be heavy, but you'll pull it silently and obediently along the dusty roads to every single place that we need to check out. If I'm pleased with your loyal, sweaty efforts, maybe I'll have you ungagged and unharnessed during breaks, and I'll let you sit with me in some grassy hill or whatever while the experts do their thing. You can use this trip to explain in fantastic detail exactly how sorry you are for what you did, and how grateful you feel that I didn't sell you off to your cousin. You can even try to convince me with impactful and heartfelt arguments why you deserve to be more than a common stable slave in my service. Maybe you can get me to see things your way, and I might give you some responsibility in my kingdom, like a small plot of land to manage, or maybe a trade route to supervise. You know, something close by that I could survey easily. We might see how things go from there. Still no complaints?

As if it might change anything for the better if he did.

-- No, master.

Yedezh hopelessly contemplated what it would be like to become one more nameless stable slave. Nyman pensively brushed the milky mane with his fingers.

-- Good stud. We'll make something useful out of you yet.