NONE SO VILE

24: The Royal Tanner

Sanlóna, Yaravania, 1809.

“My name is Pascal Alessandro d'Ferraro, and it is my pleasure to serve as Captain of Her Majesty's Imperial Guard." The fox rode straight-backed in his saddle, head held high, clearly proud of his title.

He and Leon followed the road up towards Sanlóna Palace, Gaspar trotting a few feet behind them on his borrowed horse. The path snaked back and forth as it followed the natural curves of the hill, the lights of Sanlóna harbour shining in the darkness below them.

“Truly it is a beautiful home for our monarchs, do you not think so?" Pascal said, gesturing to the red sandstone palace ahead. Leon had to agree, though the lack of strong walls would have made him defensive.

Sanlóna Palace was a wide, sprawling thing. It sat proudly atop the hill, like an old father watching his children. Even in the darkness of night, Leon saw the assorted flags of the Yaravanian provinces billowing proudly over the spires, beautiful stained glass triptychs accenting the polished red walls. Defensible or not, it was stunning.

“When Old King Istoben first began its construction, he knew he would not live to see its completion," said Pascal, his accent making it sound almost as if he were reading poetry. “In fact, King Istoben knew that even his ten-year-old heir, Prince Tomasso, would be lucky to see it done. Such is the nature of great works, but Istoben was wise in this thing."

“You think so?" Leon asked, unable to help himself. “How can you be sure something will be done right, if you don't see it through to the end?"

Pascal chuckled, as if it was a naive thing to say. “Good times come when men plant trees they will not live to see the shade of."

“And they end when stronger men cut those trees down," said Gaspar from behind, huffing.

As Pascal continued to wax lyrically about the construction process of the palace, Leon let his horse drift back alongside Gaspar's. “My friend, you must keep a cool head. So much rides on this meeting, and I will not be able to bring an end to our war if your temper insults them."

“I don't like it, your majesty," Gaspar grumbled. “It's my job not to like it. But I shall mind my place, you have my word."

“What would you have me do instead, Gaspar? To deny this invitation would be a grave insult, you think they will let us march through their beautiful lands after I spit in their face like that?" Leon had no doubt Queen Benicia knew what she was doing – she'd want a concession from him in exchange for allowing his army's crossing of Yaravanian land. Far easier to wring that concession out if Leon began their talks on the back foot.

“We could leave," said Gaspar. “Find another way into Felise."

“What other way? Ships that Kiber can sink? Or shall we go around through Gerlachia and Audanne instead, turning a twenty-week march into a sixty-week one?"

“It isn't respectful!" Gaspar snapped, his anger aimed straight ahead at the looming palace. “It's not right to treat an Emperor this way, your majesty. At best this is degrading to your auspiciousness, at worst it is a trap."

Leon inhaled slowly, watching the crocodile carefully in the dark. The light of the city shone orange in the reflection of his grey eyes, glimmering along the slick scales.

“I sense you are holding something back from me, Gaspar," Leon said softly, yet firmly. “I would have your honest opinion."

“I…" Gaspar shook his head. “You have it already. I have nothing else to say."

“It is poor wisdom to lie to an emperor," Leon replied, leaning across to whisper. “Speak your mind, that is an order."

The crocodile hesitated, as if uncertain if he was being tested. Leon wanted to laugh. Gaspar was one of his Ishim – an Angel killer, blessed periodically by Alabaster's rituals. He was one of the few individuals who Leon had total faith in.

The closest thing I have to a friend anymore, now that Jacques is gone.

“Spit it out, soldier."

Gaspar sighed, blurting the words like they were burning his tongue. “I am worried that your fixation with bringing Felise in line is clouding your judgement. Respectfully… you are putting yourself at incredible risk, your majesty, without any certainty we will walk away with what we need."

Leon did not say anything at first. The crocodile only stared ahead, bouncing in his saddle. He knew he had gone too far.

You did demand it. Leon shook his head. First Alabaster, and now Gaspar, both men asking him to simply back down. Would they prefer I play the coward, is that it?

“Are you worried I am a warmonger?" Leon asked, his voice very low. “That I am invading Felise for my own pride, or worse, that I seek bloodshed simply for its own sake?"

“No, your majesty, I… I spoke out of turn."

“I will invade Felise to prevent more death," Leon hissed. “You would do well to keep your focus on the matters you are an expert in Gaspar, instead of meddling in matters you don't fully comprehend. If this was about my pride and I were truly so callous, I would send ship after ship to smash apart on the Kiber coasts until eventually one of them made a beachhead! If I were a coward I would accept their terms and give up control of our northern colonies, is that what you'd prefer? To accept their pathetic treaties would be death by another name, and a far slower one at that! Perhaps I could let them rip out my teeth while they're at it, declaw and spay me as well, is that what you imagine would bring peace to Rennaire? "

“No… I apologise."

“I will not hold it against you," Leon said, sniffing as he straightened. “You are entitled to be wrong."

I am the Emperor, he thought, his will like iron within him. I brought us to this point because I know what must be done, and I am willing to do it. There is no one else who can.

“Why are you slowing down?" Pascal asked, glancing over his shoulder as his horse slowed to match pace with Leon's.

They had reached the front of Sanlóna Palace, and Leon glanced up at it, the great portcullis standing open before him. The courtyard within practically invited him inside.

“Have we… not arrived?"

Pascal chuckled. “As beautiful as she is… I am afraid not, your imperial majesty. Please, only a little farther."

Ignoring the frustration radiating off Gaspar, Leon gave his horse a kick and continued to follow the fox past the palace. The path speared off away from the gate, leading them over the hilltop and towards the valley beyond. The biting ocean air left them here, and the everpresent glow of the city dimmed as the hillside smothered it away, leaving only the moonlight to guide their path.

In Rennaire, national power was centralised in the city of Albedo. It was urban, densely packed, and so the rich and powerful played a game amongst themselves of who could live closest to the Emperor's Palace. The nearer you were, the more status it implied.

Leon saw they played the same game in Yaravania. However there was land here instead of urban sprawl, and so the rich filled the space with their vineyards and estates, nestled safely into the lush valley hills. Grand mansions were lit like beacons in the dark, their orchards and fields filled with luxury grapes and silks instead of stooping to grow anything useful.

Farming was for peasants, as they said.

The roads here were wide and spacious, smooth dirt trails that were well-maintained for the expensive carriages and horses that used them. In the dead of night there was little traffic, and Pascal led them confidently forwards, winding around several smaller estates as they made their way to yet another great, sprawling vineyard estate.

Leon found it amusing. The rich tried to one-up one another with their expressions of size and grandeur, but the more they tried to change the more things became the same. It was a sickening display of wealthy convergence.

“His Imperial Majesty Emperor Valoisier has expressed a desire for privacy," Pascal explained, as the trio rode through two silver gates, swinging in on silent hinges. “Yet my Lady Queen Benicia and the Great King Aurelio did not wish you miss out on the famous Yaravan hospitality."

“Is that a party?" Gaspar growled from behind, incredulous.

The mansion at the end of the road was wide and low, filled with glass and lit at every corner with oversized bronze braziers. Sleek black carriages lined the front gardens, servants standing dutifully by as they awaited the return of their masters.

“A damn ball is hardly private, Captain…" Leon added, already beginning to slow his horse.

Is Benicia trying to insult me? What is her game? His visit had to remain secret. If word got out that the Emperor of Rennaire was away, and for all purposes alone… Kiberland would move heaven and earth to see I never return home.

He swallowed, suddenly unsure if he was right to ignore Gaspar's concerns.

“Oh, of course you are not familiar with our parties," Pascal added, as he pulled his horse across Leon's front, bowing in the saddle. “My most humble apologies, your majesty."

Before Leon could protest further, Pascal proforred two porcelain masks from his saddle bag. One was clearly designed for a feline muzzle, the other suited for a crocodile. They were a creamish white, with embossed jewels around the eyes and whisker-spots, colourful blue and purple fins jutting from the brow like a crown.

“Masquerade," Pascal said with delight, passing the two masks across.

“You cannot be serious," Gaspar said, testing the strap on his mask. “Fancy dress? God in Heaven we're here to talk about beginning an invasion! This is a military negotiation, not a pleasure cruise."

“In Yaravania," Pascal teased. “Business is pleasure."

No wonder you lost the last war, Leon thought, but kept it to himself. Instead he shrugged, affixing his own mask around his ears.

“As they say, when in Thorn…" He mumbled, as the porcelain pulled tight. It was incredibly well-crafted, resting snugly along the top of his muzzle and exposing only his eyes and teeth when he spoke.

“Like being someone else, don't you think?" Pascal suggested, winking. “Your majesty."

“Let's just get it over with," Leon said, flicking his reins and making for the manor.

Gaspar kept close as the three of them approached, stopping by the front steps and dismounting from their horses. A servant came hurrying out from a small door to take the mounts, his own face hidden beneath a plain bronze plate.

Total anonymity, even for servants, Leon thought, watching him lead the horses away. Makes you wonder what they get up to in there. Say one thing for how King Phillipe had ruled Rennaire, he was never ashamed of his gluttony.

What sort of degeneracy could shame a King?

“There is one other matter, before you go inside," Pascal said, his gaze sliding off Leon and settling on Gaspar. He extended a paw. “Your weapons, if you please."

“Like shit," the crocodile said, squaring his shoulders up. Leon raised his own paw, calming the man.

“Gaspar."

“Your majesty," Gaspar said, shocked. “You cannot expect me to give up our only arms!"

“And you cannot expect to meet my Lady Queen armed with pistols," Pascal retorted. His voice was playful, but Leon saw the steel in his eyes.

Make no mistake, for all his acting, you don't become captain of the imperial guard for nothing.

“Give them over," Leon told Gaspar. “We have Queen Benicia's word we won't be harmed. And besides, Yaravania knows what Rennaire would do if they misplaced the fatherland's Emperor." He found Pascal's eyes as he finished the sentence, waiting while Gaspar gave over a short sword, two knives, and the four wheellock pistols from his coat.

“They better come back clean," the crocodile said.

“As a whistle, signor," the fox replied, smiling amicably. He bowed once more, waving a paw up the steps towards the mansion's front door. “Consider yourself no longer the Emperor of Rennaire, your imperial majesty. Consider yourself a stranger, and may you enjoy."

Leon found he was amused by the Captain's brazenness, and grinned beneath his mask.

“I will be awaiting your return," Pascal said, stepping back.

Leon exchanged a glance with Gaspar, then the two of them climbed the steps and pushed through the front doors.

It was as if they entered another world. The doors led immediately into a narrow hall, layer upon layer of curtain walls creating a slow, silken breach into the masquerade. They brushed through warily, the thick scents of smoke, sweat, and spice already heavy in the air.

With each silk membrane they clawed through, the sounds of harpsichord playing and laughter grew louder. The music was constant, echoing, a floor of noise designed to help smother private conversations, and round out awkward edges. The masquerade might be anonymous, but it was clear the aristocracy used it to have their more secretive conversations behind closed doors.

“Pleasureweed," Gaspar grunted, coughing slightly as the spiced smoke grew thicker in the air. “I should have known."

“This is not a time for judgement, my friend," Leon whispered back, his voice already growing hoarse. “Do as they do, do not attract attention to ourselves, and find the Queen."

The crocodile was displeased, but he made no more bones about it. Leon breathed a sigh of relief as they reached the end of the layered hall, pushing out into a wide, sumptuous lobby.

Masked patrons drifted about like leaves on the wind, sour with drink or high with pleasureweed. A checkerboard floor of polished marble and onyx reflected the scene back up at them, the shimmering mirror effect making the lobby seem even larger than it already was. As Emperor of Rennaire, Leon was accustomed to opulence, but even he was stunned by the almost vulgar display of wealth. Golden door handles, bejewelled chandeliers, and masterwork oil paintings adorning the walls. Pillars of chiselled marble, a bronze statue of a nude otter surrounded by glistening water, and a wide butterfly staircase at the back, with thick purple rugs trailing up to a mezzanine floor.

It was expensive, but not tasteful. In Rennaire they called those sorts of people bohemians – individuals that sought eclectic tastes often for their own sake, shirking off the typical trappings and expectations of society. Leon had never time for them.

“Where do we start?" Gaspar asked, his gaze never stopping in one place. Leon could feel the crocodile's disdain for the intoxicated guests dribbling by, and wished he would ease off. “Shall we ask the locals?"

“Gaspar, I mean it when I say come without judgement," Leon said, sniffing sharply. “Or at least keep it to yourself. We must present the face they wish to see, and they wish to see us indulge. Their defences will be down, if they think we are dazzled by their wealth and drink."

“You'd have me get drunk?"

“Only if you can't fake it. But if the Queen offers you a drink, you take it."

Gaspar grunted his reply. Leon wished again he had brought Alabaster with him instead, but unfortunately the dragon was needed in Albedo. Gaspar was an excellent soldier, and a fantastic man, but he was too morally rigid. He had a set of principles and stuck to them, outwardly sneering at anyone who did not subscribe to his treatise of honour and loyalty.

Alabaster had no such qualms. Now there is a man who understands the idea of doing what needs to be done.

Leon waded through the lobby, trying to be nonchalant as he surreptitiously watched the other guests.

He saw a woman practically falling into a man's arms, both foxes, both drunk. The man laughed, swishing her back to her feet in a mock-dance move. Coming down the steps he noticed a group of four, all immersed in an intense but hushed discussion, each one with a drink in their paw. They giggled and gagged as much as they quietly insisted, a perfect blend of party and politics. In the corner, Leon saw a vixen pushed into a small alcove, two lust-sick men pawing all over her as they kissed and suckled at her nape and collar, tails wagging like pups.

“How will we know which is Queen Benicia?" Gaspar whispered, side-eyeing the harpsichord player in the corner of the room. “Everyone is in a mask."

“Benicia is a bear of some figure, a mask won't hide that," Leon explained. “But I have a suspicion she won't be as incognito as the others. Besides, she'll no doubt be curious about what I have to say… if all else fails, she'll find me."

They ascended the staircase, crossing the mezzanine into yet another, even larger room. This one featured a sunken lounge ringed by more gaudy pillars. Plush chaise lounges swarmed with pillows filled the space, crowded by lounging aristocrats in all states of undress smoking their waterpipes and knocking back drinks.

Here, a woman ate berries off a man's thighs. There, a puddle of five writhed in a pleasureweed coma. Several times the drunken nobles reached out, fingers trailing across Leon's thighs, loosely grabbing at his tail, or even pinching his buttocks. He tried his best not to flinch away from them, sneering behind the safety of his porcelain mask.

He was thankful for it, and a part of him understood how the other guests could allow themselves to be so vulnerable. The mask was a shield, a protective layer of plausible deniability. It was like wearing somebody else's face, and he knew how seductive that kind of thinking could become.

But I have no need to hide, he thought, narrowing his eyes. I know who I am.

He turned out to be right about the Queen. She was in the back garden, practically holding court amongst the rose gardens while various individuals orbited around her. Leon imagined they were mostly middling gentry, excited at the chance to be so close to true royalty.

Benicia was a brown bear, built stocky but carrying it well. She wore a flowing cream and bronze dress, with a puffed collar ringing her neck. Her mask was overly decorated, painted in the vibrant crimson of the Yaravanian coat and accented with the nation's iconic silver tree. She waved a paw out, and another bear took it delicately, kissing along her fingers.

King Aurelio. It must be. He trailed behind the Queen like a puppy, ignored for the most part by the rest of her procession. Benicia spoke, and the crowd laughed as one. Sycophants and leeches.

I have to get her alone, without an audience to perform for. Leon couldn't deny it, a part of him was excited at the idea of speaking to another monarch face-to-face. Of course, he had met with King Deuxmoise of Losaile many times, but Leon had been the one to crown Deuxmoise, it was hardly the same. And he, like myself, was made into a monarch, not born as one. Look at how she carries herself, how the others watch her. That is the true power of royalty.

Benicia knew he was coming. She'd agreed to this meeting, and decided to have it during this masquerade. It was an obvious game, Leon only had to figure out the rules.

He swiped a goblet of wine from a passing servant, swirling it as he approached the crowd head-on. As if they could sense his importance, they parted like the sea, breaking before him. Benicia had spun about so Aurelio could rub at her shoulders while she continued to make jokes with her entourage. Their tittered laughter sounded like birds, and Leon wondered if Benicia thought she was actually funny.

“What a beautiful gathering," Leon interjected, spiking his Rennairan accent to make it clear he wasn't a local. Benicia's eyes flickered up and he caught them, dipping his head forward.

“Oh, isn't it just?" She said, words slurred with the signs of smoke. Her hazel eyes were bloodshot and far-sighted, as if she were looking right through him. “Ezio has the most lovely estate! Have you seen the palazzo? You must, gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous, I'm going to have one built near the palace!"

“Ah, I'll try," Leon replied. He guessed that Ezio must be the otter that the lobby statue was based on.

“What a beautiful voice you have," Benicia said, drifting forward like a wisp. Her paw reached up, gently cupping Leon's chin. “So… exotic."

“I'm from Rennaire," Leon said, stressing the word to make his point.

“From the land of the self-made Emperor! I've heard things about that Leon fellow, he really is quite the character, don't you think?"

“I…" Leon hesitated, glancing about. Too many people stood close.

“My darling," said Aurelio from behind. His voice was husky and weak, but he leaned forward, whispering softly into her ear.

Benicia's smoke-addled eyes went wide. “Ohhh, I see," she exclaimed, giggling behind her mask. “Those nasty trade embargos make it so difficult to get the spices my cook uses, oh… I feel I've had a decade of peasant food. Surely we'll be able to deal with the Kiber again before long?"

She almost sounded as if she were begging, and Leon was glad for the mask hiding his disgust. Benicia seemed almost surprised he was here, when she was the one who accepted his invitation in the first place. He'd heard the rumours, and had expected nothing from Aurelio, but if this was the better half… who is even running this country?

“Felise flaunts their disobedience," Leon said, trying to keep his cool. The sheer display of incompetence was mind-boggling. Surely Benicia realised how pathetic she sounded? “They must be brought to heel," he continued. “That is why I have come to speak with you, it is in regards to their sheer arrogance putting all of the continent at risk."

“I never liked Felise," Benicia said, an almost childlike whine in her voice. She leaned through the crowd, and someone passed her the end whistle of a waterpipe. For a moment Leon waited as the bear puffed on her smoke, sighing as she breathed back at him. “Always think they… are so much… better than everyone."

“Imagine that," Leon said.

“You've made a new friend, my love." The new voice was melodic, male, and firm where Benicia's was weak. Leon turned as an otter in a mask brushed through the crowd with ease, his light brown fur short, his upper body shirtless.

You must be Ezio, the host.

The otter slipped between them like a knife, expertly removing Aurelio's paws from his wife's shoulders. Leon was aghast as the King stepped back, apparently content to watch as this newcomer leaned in to lock lips with the Queen – Aurelio's own wife – as he kissed her deeply. His paws squeezed at her sides, one cupping a breast as she seemed to groan into him.

Leon would expect outrage, even fury from Aurelio. Instead, the august cuckold merely watched as his wife, the Queen of Yaravania, lost herself to the clutches of this other man. It could have been his imagination, but Leon even thought he saw a deep hunger in Aurelio's eyes.

Pathetic. So embarrassed and ashamed by this blatant disrespect, you see no other option but to revel in it like a pig in mud. Leon considered how he would react, if Alabaster publicly embraced another so… physically in public.

Tears perhaps, at first. But then would come wrath.

The otter finally broke apart from the Queen, glancing over his shoulder at Leon. He had shining amber eyes, and licked his lips as if savouring her aftertaste.

“I am afraid you might be speaking with the wrong individual, monsieur," said the otter.

Leon snorted. Their languages were similar but not the same, and only Rennaire used monsieur, while Yaravania typically preferred signor.

He knows who I am.

Leon stepped closer, lowering his voice. “What I have come to say should be heard by royal ears only."

“My love," the otter said, glancing back at Benicia. He almost pouted. “Our new friend here has important business to discuss with you, what do you think?"

She looked almost frightened, practically recoiling. “Oh… no… I think it's better if Ezio handles that sort of thing… you can tell me about it later, darling."

“Of course," said the otter. He abandoned the Queen like she was a toy he was done playing with, whirling on Leon. “It is a great pleasure to welcome you into my home, monsieur." He bowed, before raising himself and swiftly capturing Leon's paw, pressing it to his lips and kissing it. “Would you prefer we speak somewhere a little more… private?"

Leon hesitated. He had come all this way to argue his case to the Queen, but now he found out the Yaravan monarchy had been cuckolded not only sexually, but politically as well. He didn't like this – the rug suddenly being pulled out from beneath him.

You did it on purpose, you bastard.

“Ezio deals with all my important affairs," Queen Benicia added, nipping at the otter's ear. “Ezio truly knows best."

“That's right dear," said Ezio, smiling with his eyes. “A beautiful Queen should be beautiful and live in pleasure. Let others do the dirty work."

The incompetence, the neglect. It sent Leon right back to Rennaire. Back to the King's throne room where Phillipe had humiliated him for killing an Angel and winning the war. Leon had transformed his home, he had warred with Yaravania twice, and each time he had imposed more of his own vision onto their codes of law.

Nothing has changed. Leon had a vision for the future. Not just for Rennaire, but all of Midland. But mine is a dream that cannot come to pass with people like this at the helm of each nation; useless lumps of fat that are good for nothing other than birthing more of themselves.

“Yes," he said softly. “Let's go somewhere quieter." Internally, he promised himself that when he was done with Felise, Yaravania would be next. This scum doesn't deserve to wear a crown. What have they fought for? They gave away their own power! At least Phillipe tried to hoard it for himself, at least he wanted to rule.

Leon pictured his armies streaming into the city. It would be easy to take. The Yaravania creed of beauty and aesthetic would be simple to break, and their palace had no walls strong enough to keep him out.

“Please lead the way, signor," he said to Ezio.

Silently, he made one last promise to Benicia.

The next time you come to me, it will be as a begging prisoner, and not an undeserving Queen. I will rain onto you all the ruin you are entitled to, and my face will be the last thing you see before the guillotine brings my justice to this nation.

The otter winked, gesturing for Leon to follow him. Gaspar filed in behind them, and Leon allowed himself to be led through the crowds, who marvelled and whispered as the shirtless otter passed them by, sometimes pointing or even giggling at the sight of Leon trailing after him.

Ezio led them upstairs, away from the part and into a quieter wing on the top floor of the mansion. Servants opened two great doors into a massive bedchamber, locking out the sounds of the masquerade as the doors shut behind them.

“A drink?" Ezio asked, pouring two cups of whisky. “Or perhaps you'd prefer the pipe?"

“I've little taste for smoke," Leon said.

“Oh, please." Ezio brought the glasses, not bothering to offer one to Gaspar. “When in Thorn, do as the Thornish do, no?"

“I didn't come here for pleasure."

“And yet pleasure comes for you," Ezio replied, sipping his own drink. The smugness radiated off him like a foul stench. “I am so pleased to share the same air as the newest Emperor in Midland. Not often do we get an entirely new monarch in Midland."

“You're one to talk," Leon said.

“I am not a monarch," Ezio bowed in mock-graciousness. “I'm merely a good friend of the crown… amongst other things."

“A friend?" Leon glanced around the over-decorated room, scoffing. “Handsome dwellings for a simple tradesman. I'm not mistaken, am I? You are the one they call the Royal Tanner, yes?"

Ezio had gone still, his expression turning dour behind the edges of his mask. A few moments passed before he spoke. “As a self-made man yourself, Leon Valoisier, I expected some more respect. My father was a tanner, and my origins have no bearing on the tremendous work I've done here. It's nothing more than an ugly nickname, coined by jealous pissants to try and tear down the great things I have accomplished."

“You mean cuckolding the King and usurping the Queen?" Leon couldn't help it, the words slipped out.

Get a grip. Don't let him under your hide.

Ezio laughed, retrieving a scroll from his dresser. He gave it to Gaspar. “Can your servant read? All my servants can, I take only the best these days."

“I read fine," said Gaspar, snatching the scroll.

“What is this?" Leon asked.

“My official title, so you might refer to me with some decorum, your imperial majesty." The otter sniffed. “Some say I have the grandest title in the world. Monsieur Crocodile, if you would…?"

“I… oh, shit." Gaspar sighed, unfurling the parchment and sucking in a deep breath. “Presenting, for the grace and honour of all who bear witness. The Yaravanian Prince of Justice, the Prime Minister of Sanlóna, Supreme Chancellor of Delia and Huther Provinces, the Esteemed Duke of Yveria, Lord of Titren Estate, and Royal Consort to her August Majesty Queen Benicia Ignacious de Yarav; Ezio De La Cruze il Conciatore."

“Quite the mouthful," Leon said, unimpressed. They were just words, and this otter collected them like baubles to hang off his wall.

“So I've been told." Ezio had busied himself with a scrimshaw pipe, stuffing it with orange-greed tufts of pleasureweed. He lit it, raising it for Leon to see. “You seem so tense, Emperor, care for something to help your mind wander?" He brought the smoking pipe over, raising it towards Leon.

Leon eyed the pipe, frowning.

“After all," Ezio added softly. “We'll get nothing done here with you so… worked up, now would we?" As if to prove it was harmless, the otter took a puff of his own, blowing out smoke from pursed lips.

Is a small puff of some weed pulled from their garden likely to impair you so much? He could refuse of course. He would prefer to refuse, but the look in Ezio's eyes told him this was a prerequisite.

Leon took the pipe, inhaling briefly as the spiced smoke tickled his lungs. He coughed out the last of it, shaking his head.

“I make it a case never to trust anyone that isn't capable of having a good time," Ezio said, taking the pipe back and sampling another puff. He placed it aside, circling around Leon, his paws finding the jaguar's waist. “I brought you here because I wanted you to see how similar our situations are. We both understand the chaffing of limitation, we both understand indulging in desire."

“I don't indulge," Leon growled, stiffening. He could feel the smoke starting to hit him now, a slight dizziness soaking his mind, a looseness taking hold of his muscles.

“Hush." Ezio was so close to him, he could smell the otter now, his bare arms curling around Leon's front, fingers working at his buttons. No, I should stop this… this isn't why I came here.

“Don't you?" Ezio crooned into his ear. “I heard you keep a male concubine, that's the gossip anyway, everyone talks about it, everyone knows… a little joke, perhaps, between monarchs?"

“Alabaster is not my concubine…" He's so much more than that… isn't he?

“You keep him around, to play with when you feel bored…" Ezio circled around to Leon's front. The otter licked at his lips, fingers gently plucking at the jaguar's collar. “He gives you pleasure, no?"

“Well…" Leon blushed, and Ezio smirked.

“If you actually loved him, surely you'd give him an official title, no?"

“It isn't that simple!"

“But it is." Ezio's fingers trailer down to the front of Leon's shirt, undoing the top two buttons. Leon blinked down at him, watching from a distance, as if it were all happening to someone else. He could smell the otter's closeness, see the definition of his slim, athletic form wrapped in the warm lantern-light. He was an attractive man, there was no denying it.

“People like us should live deliciously," Ezio whispered, one paw pressing inside Leon's shirt and rubbing across the fur of his collar. “Be denied nothing, from others, or from ourselves."

Leon swayed in place as Ezio undid the rest of his buttons, slipping his shirt off and dropping it down behind him. Without pause, the otter pushed up, his lips finding Leon's and holding him a tight, passionate kiss. When he pulled away, he took Leon's masquerade mask with him, exposing the Emperor's face.

“Is that why you keep this one around?" Ezio took a step back, reaching out a paw and gently stroking the side of Gaspar's face, before reaching around and slipping free his mask as well. “Another pet reptile to remind you of home?"

N-No… Leon tried to say the words but his muscles weren't responding. He watched, silently trapped in his own body as the Royal Tanner held up that scrimshaw pipe to Gaspar's mouth, bidding him to take a puff of his own. This isn't why I'm here, damn it.

It almost felt like being hypnotised but not… not the same.

“Ah…" Gaspar said, exhaling a mouthful of spiced smoke.

“A handsome man indeed," Ezio said, stroking Gaspar's muscles. “Firm and strong… surely you've laid together?"

“N-never," the crocodile stammered, recoiling slightly. Ezio embraced him, laying a kiss on the side of his face, one paw trailing down his belly.

“But maybe you'd like to?" Ezio's question was directed at them both. Leon couldn't deny he was aroused, his cock was straining inside his pants, and it was all he could do to resist reaching down and rubbing himself through the fabric.

“I… I…" Gaspar faltered, grunting as the otter's paw slipped inside his pants, visibly squeezing.

“Who wouldn't want to serve an Emperor, isn't that right?"

Gaspar nodded, panting as Ezio worked his cock. Leon was enjoying the show, and found his own paw squeezing himself through his trouser front.

Slowly, as if in a dream, Ezio sank to his knees before the crocodile. He undid the last buttons on his trousers, dropping them as he began to unlace the cotton underwear beneath.

“There is so much that holds us back, so many things we refuse ourselves," the otter whispered, gently leading Gaspar's cock out of his underwear. It was long, thick, quivering with excitement. Leon had seen it before during the nudity of their Ishim rituals, but never at such a state of arousal.

The yellow scales of his belly followed up the smooth shaft, leading to a hood of thin reptilian flesh, which was slowly peeling back to reveal the wet pink head beneath.

Ezio breathed onto Gaspar's cock, and the crocodile trembled, staring down at him.

“Say it," the otter said, glancing up. “Say it now, what you want. Who do you want to serve?"

“My…" Gaspar shook his head, eyes struggling to focus due to the smoke. “I want to serve my Emperor… in… in all ways."

“Don't we all… and you, Leon, would you like to watch? Or should I stop?"

“Don't stop," Leon croaked.

Ezio grinned. He angled Gaspar to face him, opening his mouth and taking his thick cock between those full, otter lips. Ezio still wore his pants, but there was no missing the firm outline of his own erection inside the fabric. Gaspar shuddered, grunting as he slowly thrust into the otter's muzzle. Ezio suckled and lapped, expertly twisting and moving, drawing out all kinds of new sounds of pleasure from the crocodile.

Leon wasn't sure when, but eventually he moved closer in, if only to see. Ezio pulled off the crocodile's dick for a moment, moving to swiftly undo Leon's own trousers. The pants came down and his dick was exposed, pink and ribbed with the pleasurable feline barbs. A thin line of shining, clear precum dripped from the tip.

Ezio took it in his mouth, sucking at it like Leon had never been sucked before. He sighed, groaned, growled, bucking into the otter's face, the ecstasy of lust shooting through him and spurring him onward.

The otter alternated between Leon and Gaspar, sucking them both, stroking whoever wasn't being attended to by that slim mouth.

“Here, come…" Ezio took them both by the balls, pulling them in even closer. He stood between them, the three men pushed together in a tight huddle. The otter's paws pushed Leon and Gaspar's cock along one another, stroking across it, the mixture of saliva and pre lubricating them perfectly.

“Unff, fuck," Leon gasped.

“Yes… Please, sire…" Gaspar grunted.

Distant, in the back of Leon's mind and hidden by layers of smoke, lust, and drink, was the reminder of why he'd come. Access to Felise. That was why he was here.

But could he stop now? He looked down, and saw that Ezio had removed his own pants, and was now rubbing at his own cock as he watched Leon and Gaspar frotting. Would it insult the tanner if he did so?

This is what he did to the Queen. The voice was small, and very far away. He drowned her in pleasure, kept her satiated, and took what he wanted. Be careful.

“Tell a secret," Ezio whispered into Gaspar's ear. He had circled around the crocodile now, and embraced him from behind, looking down over a shoulder. “Tell him."

“I… ah…" Gaspar tried to talk in between the tiny grunts of excitement. “Always… hoped for this… mmff…"

Leon pushed closer, angling their cocks upwards and trapping them between their bellies. He felt the cool slickness of the crocodile's scales.

What would Alabaster say if he knew about this?

“Really?" Leon asked, and the crocodile nodded.

“I know you… mmff… I know you like reptiles, your majesty."

“I never knew you cared for… ha… men, Gaspar."

“Not… usually…" He growled, a deep ancient sound rumbling in his throat. “But after the Ishim ritual something… changed… not about men, but about you. I live to… unff… serve you."

Ezio grinned around his head. “This is the true way of royalty… live deliciously, indulge in yourself and take what you want. This is what it means to own the world!"

I do, Leon thought, his mind suddenly wired. I own the world. It's only a matter of clearing out the last vestiges holding onto it.

“Come now, come," said Ezio, gently prying the two men apart and leading Gaspar to the bed. He bid the crocodile to kneel at the foot, bending forwards onto the mattress and exposing his ass. “I know you want him, Leon. Come have him."

Leon drifted over, as if his feet were on wheels. He stopped behind Gaspar, playing with his cock and watching the crocodile's firm, well-sculpted ass. His thick tail was held aside, curling down the side of one thick leg.

“I know you want him," Ezio whispered into Leon's ear. The otter was pressed up behind him, his thin, bright pink cock pushing between Leon's ass cheeks. Ezio reached around the front, one paw rubbing at Leon's belly, the other toying with his large balls. “You should take him, Emperor."

“I'm…" Leon shook his head. Gaspar was calling to him, his own body urging him to breed the man. “I'm here to talk about Felise…"

“Oh, yes, that matter…" Ezio sighed as if he were bored. “We can get into the details later, I'm sure." He guided Leon forward, angling the jaguar's cock for him as it pushed towards Gaspar's hole.

“The embargo…"

“I know why you came here, Leon, I am not stupid."

“My armies must pass through Yaravanian land," Leon said the words in one rush, trying to force them out. This was why he had come.

“Hush." Pleasure exploded through him as the head of his cock pushed between Gaspar's cheeks, his tip pressing up against the crocodile's tense hole. It felt so achingly good, and Leon's hips begged him to thrust deeper. “You'll get your access, Emperor, but I'll get what I want too, understood?"

Conditions. Leon nodded slowly, allowing the head of his cock to push into Gaspar, grunting with excitement. The crocodile huffed in front of him, his balls hanging low between those thick legs, swinging. Ezio was whispering something to him, but the details were lost between Leon and Gaspar's groans of pleasure, the waves of lust washing over him, drowning everything else.

“Yes, ha, yes," Leon gasped, sliding his cock back and slamming it back into Gaspar, picking up the pace as he thrust into him. The crocodile was tight inside, squeezing and moving all around Leon's dick. He wanted it bad, and was mewling out whimpering little sounds that Leon had never imagined could come from the big man.

“Aurelio likes to watch," Ezio said, circling around their little scene. “But I knew a self-made man like yourself would rather be more… active."

“Fuck, ah, fuck, yes," Leon grunted, his hips slapping against Gaspar as he fucked.

Ezio climbed onto the bed, crawling around to the front. “Now you, my little servant…" He gently scooped up the crocodile's chin, raising his head. Obediently, lost in the moment, Gaspar opened his maw, allowing Ezio's cock to slip inside. “Oh… yessss…. Watch the teeth please…"

Leon lost himself. He was spinning, immersed in the near-orgasm pleasure of sex, unsure of time or anything outside of that room.

Felise… Felise… He swatted the worry aside. All in good time. He was the Emperor, and after they were done here then the Royal Tanner would give him what he wanted.

Leon picked up the pace, fucking hard into Gaspar's ass, while ahead of him Ezio fucked into the crocodile's maw. Gaspar scoffed and gagged, but otherwise only grunted along, bouncing between the two men as he was used.

“This is what it means to be royalty!" Ezio cried, leaning back as he drew nearer to climax. “To see what you want and to take it!"

Leon agreed. He did not bother warning them his orgasm was near. He felt the pressure building inside his shaft, balls tightening beneath his body. Both of his paws found Gaspar's hips, claws digging in sharp as he grabbed hold. His thrusts slowed, picking up power. In. Out. In. Out. Each one with a loud snarl, the pressure building and building right behind the tip of his cock, ready to burst at any moment.

“Do it," Ezio gasped, realising how close Leon was to orgasm. “Breed him, your majesty."

Leon didn't need to be told. He pulled almost completely out of the croc, pausing for half a second before sliding his cock in deep. Gaspar squeezed his hole as Leon went, wringing the moans out of him as he hilted inside the man, buckling and doubling over his back. Leon ground his hips against Gaspar's rear, shuddering, panting, gasping as that pressure finally burst. Like a ruptured dam, he felt the shooting ropes of cum speed up his cock, spraying forth from his tip and immediately filling Gaspar's innards. Quivering with each little spurt, Leon reached around the front, squeezing the crocodile's cock and jerking it viciously. Gaspar moaned and writhed beneath him, and eventually cried out a loud, wordless growl. Leon felt the hot seed spray onto his paw, soaking his fur and dribbling down onto the silk sheets beneath them.

“Live…" Ezio grunted, pulling his cock free and flopping it on top of Gaspar's snout. “Deliciously… in… ahh… all things." He stroked himself, and reached his own climax, thin white jets of cum bubbling up from his thin mustelid dick, painting the front of Gaspar's face with his load.

Behind, Leon quivered, squeezing himself inside to help wring the last drips of semen out of himself. Out of breath, he sighed against Gaspar, slowly pulling himself back out.

His head began to clear quickly, and he shook it, slightly embarrassed to have let it go that far.

It's a masquerade, no one knows I am here, he told himself quickly, stepping away from the bed and retrieving a towel to wipe his front down. He watched Ezio, the otter planting a swift kiss atop Gaspar's head, before climbing off the bed and stretching. He will keep it to himself.

Could it be used as blackmail? Anxiety spiked within Leon. But who would believe it?

He shook his head. The smoke had mostly cleared from his system now. It had been foolish to let himself get so aroused, so lost in the moment, but what was done was done. Time to move on.

“I will have my clerks draw up the land agreements," Leon said, pulling his trousers back on.

“Back to business so soon?" Ezio asked, sounding disappointed. He was still naked, and now lounging across a soft yellow chaise lounge beside his bed. Leon had never met anyone quite so comfortable with being naked before, he seemed to wear it like armour. “What a shame. Make sure your clerks don't forget my conditions."

Conditions. Leon frowned, glancing at the bed, where Gaspar was only now beginning to dress himself.

“I believe we met your conditions already."

Ezio cocked his head. “Oh? And what about when you agreed to give me Felise?"

“I…" Leon blanched. “I never agreed to that!"

“But you did, your majesty." Ezio grinned slowly, one paw trailing around his belly. “I whispered it to you as you began to breed that servant, and you said, yes. Surely won't renege on me now?"

Leon was suddenly filled with rage. “Don't push me, Ezio."

“Don't try to threaten me, Leon."

Leon marched across, his shirt not even buttoned, pointing down at the relaxed otter, and then gesturing back to the bed. “You fucking listen to me. That was your condition, and that's all you're going to get."

Ezio shrugged. “In that case, it's all you'll get either. You can tell your generals they'll need to find another way around to invade Felise, because you won't be allowed through my country."

“You scum," Leon snarled. He was embarrassed with himself. Ashamed that he'd allowed the situation to get away from him like that. All the warnings he'd given Gaspar about keeping a cool head and he'd fallen right into Ezio's ploy.

Just like the Queen had. This is what he did to her. Leon felt stupid, and that pushed him deeper into rage.

“Listen to me you conniving whore," he snarled, pinning the otter with his glare, looming over him. “I have come here, at great difficulty, as a matter of convenience. Nothing more. You are a fucking tanner, and I am the most powerful man in the world! If you defy me I will fucking crush Yaravania like the roach-infested hive of degeneracy that it is! I have beaten you before, I will do so again!" Ezio's impassive expression only enraged him further. “When your Queen last surrendered to me, I allowed her to keep that cheap crown. Don't think that I can't take it, or that I won't. Try and push me now, and I will destroy you."

Ezio actually yawned. Leon became so incandescent he did not know how to react. He wanted to throttle the man then and there.

“I apologise," the otter said after a pause. “But your famous temper tantrums won't work so easily on me, Emperor. I don't respond to threats."

“This is not a threat, I am telling you what will happen."

“Please," Ezio rolled his eyes. “Yaravania is not the same nation today that you bullied years ago. I welcome your invasion, Leon, because it would be a fool's errand. You took crowns as you said, but in doing so you have demonised yourself. Gerlachia, Audanne, Felise, even Tar, they all fear that you will do to them as you did to Losaile, or worse, as you did to Cielwen and Thorn. They are right to fear you, but if you invade Yaravania without just cause, every nation in the west will rally behind us to stop you. I will ally with Kiberland, and the Church will send me Angels to smash your armies apart."

“I kill Angels, Tanner."

“Maybe one, possibly two… but three? Four? Don't make me laugh, Leon."

“Stop calling me Leon."

“I'll call you whatever the fuck I want!" Ezio snapped suddenly. “I am the ruler of this country in every way but name! You will respect me if you want to march through my lands!"

“This is a serious mistake you're making," Leon said icily. “Remember that when you face my armies."

“Slow down." Ezio raised a paw. “I told you, if you'd get yourself under control enough to actually listen. We already made our deal whilst we were occupied."

“You cannot expect me to hold to that."

“In Yaravania, pleasure and politics are one and the same." Ezio sighed, slipping off the chaise and brushing past Leon as if he had no care in the world. He went to the dresser, pouring himself another drink and swirling it, glancing back. “My position here is unquestioned by the royalty. The Queen loves me, the King loves her, it is a perfect system. But the peasants are used to a certain kind of ruler, I expect you've faced the same hardships."

“We are not the same," Leon growled. “Tell me what you want."

“I need legitimacy," Ezio explained. “More titles, more land, I must bring something to the people. I saw what happened when your former King failed to do so, and I have no intention of losing my head to a peasant guillotine."

“Ezio…"

“Hackles down, sweet thing." The otter smirked, sipping his drink. “I will allow your armies to march through Yaravania as you wish. You will invade Felise, and dismantle their government, I'll even give you soldiers of our own to help aid the effort."

“What I do to Felise is my business." Leon had already had plans for them. A western vassal would have been a valuable foothold for Rennaire, and he had a Marshall ear-marked for their crown.

“That is where you're wrong," Ezio said, eyes narrowing. “Remember, you already agreed to this deal. Once you are done with Felise, you'll carve up their country…"

He downed the last of his drink, lowering the glass to reveal a hungry grin.

“And give the rest to me."