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The 16th day of the month of the Prideful Regent, in the year of his majesty King Alderach II, 569

I have received word that Roswick and Marcus both have recovered from the events that took place nearly a month ago. In that time, my lord the king has confided in me once again his desire for one of my brews, proclaiming that he feels ready to take the next step with his queen.

With this, Rufus and I have also been given explicit permission to experiment with the eunuchs tomorrow; the very day my lord wishes to conceive.

"Do you think they'll be able to come at all?" the tiger asked from above me, "If they do, I wonder if their seed will look watery and weak?"

The cheap wood of his bed creaked. I ran my hand down his cheek and told him that no matter what, the two men will never compare to him for the rest of their lives. He growled in pleasure and I felt his muscles tense as he embraced me tightly.

"Then again..." he said between heavy breaths, his pleasure dying, "I suppose they are not 'men' anymore, are they?"

I chuckled, running my hands up and down the thick fur on his back. The moon illuminated his quarters through a small window. It was a small, dingy room carved out of the northern wall of the citadel, furnished with only a bed and a wooden crate for what little belongings he owned. I have come to realize tonight that Rufus must genuinely enjoy his work, for no man in his right mind would agree to such detestable living conditions otherwise. "Then it shall be your job to remind them what true masculinity is, my fiery star," I told him.

The 20th day of the month of the Prideful Regent, 569

This record is now my own. Due to events that transpired days ago, Alderach shall never again behold my writings. Roswick, Marcus and I are all on a covered wagon drawn by slaves a few days out from the Capital. Let the remainder of this diary, for whomever reads it, be a stark lesson in how something as seemingly frail as a flower can topple an empire.

It began months ago, with Marcus at the very brothel where we first met.

"Whatever you need my help with, I don't want any involvement," he said behind a mug of ale.

"Brave words from someone who has such precious secrets," I replied, adjusting my hood.

"Threats won't help you make friends," he said, taking a swig.

"Which is why I won't resort to that." I climbed up onto the stool next to him, resting my elbows on the counter and lowering my voice. "Yesterday, one of your comrades was hanged in the King's garden... By his orders."

The large hound was quiet for a while. "Was there any pretense?"

"Petty theft," I replied simply, "Though the dog was loyal to his king to the very end."

Marcus's voice dropped to a low, careful whisper. "You mean for me to join you in some plot against Alderach?"

"I mean for you to consider how many more veterans of his war must suffer by his hands, that is all." I hopped down from my stool and, having successfully sewn my seeds of doubt, took my leave.

On that evening, months later, two guards brought the eunuchs to my lab in that southern tower. They stood without clothes before Rufus and I. Roswick looked stunned at the two of us standing together. He seemed accustomed to his new status, as he made no effort to hide it. What was once the most eye-catching feature between his legs was now gone, replaced by a scar on a section of patchy fur below his flaccid penis. Marcus simply hung his head low in silence, using both of his hands to shield his disgraced nethers from view.

"Hands at your sides, soldier." Rufus commanded with a smirk. The rottweiler remained as he was, a bulwark of rebellion. I tried my best not to smile, knowing the seeds of doubt I had planted in his mind months ago were ready to be reaped.

Rufus repeated the command, his voice tinged with frustration now. "Unless you'd wish for me to rip that useless cock out of its sheath."

"Marcus... Please... I can't take it anymore." Roswick came to his side, tears welling up in his eyes and he stroked the dog's arm. "Let me help you, it's okay."

His small pink hands slid down over the dog's covered crotch. Marcus sighed and relented to the smaller male's efforts to pull his hands away. His penis too, was flaccid, tucked away in that large brown pocket of flesh. I recalled with some pleasure feeling the boney member that hid beneath it with my fingers. Even with a passing glance at his form, anyone could tell that he was a model male citizen, save for the matching scar that he shared with his chosen mate that rendered him inert. I wonder now if the ex-soldier that is driving our carriage still has Marcus's testicles tucked away somewhere.

Rufus's tail flicked behind him as it did when he was pleased. "You taught him well, Nestertia. Perhaps I can treat him with a few strokes from my paw." He stepped forward towards Marcus. "This one though? I hope you wouldn't mind if I fucked the stuff out of him."

I began to hear some commotion outside. I knew the guards at my door could hear it too by the way they shifted awkwardly in their places. I needed just a little more time. I dug in my pouch and handed Rufus two glass vials.

"In my months of research I have found only one way that the method of semen extraction affects flora." I gave Roswick a passing glance. He avoided my eyes at first out of principle, he was of course spiteful for the way I betrayed him, but the realization of what I had done compelled him to look back at me in awe.

"Do you hear that, veteran?" Rufus growled in Marcus's face. "That means I can do anything and everything to you." The big cat wasted no time, unbuckling his belt and loosening his pants in the same swift gesture he had used by the oak tree. Before he could claim Marcus's backside however, a royal Vizier burst into the room.

"Guards!" He shouted. "The queen requests your aid! Move swiftly! The king is not well!" He paid no mind to the three nude males standing in the middle of the room, and as swiftly as he barged in, so too did he leave, taking the ironclad guards with him.

I dared not breathe. For a moment, silence had dethroned all other things and ruled over us with an iron fist. Rufus turned to me, his member quite literally bobbing with the quick rhythm of his heart. He was now excited for an entirely different reason.

"Nestertia, what is this?" He spoke carefully, as if treading on ice.

My life was in the hands of Lady fate, and if she had chosen for me to die there, I knew that I could at least die with a clear conscience. I replied to the tiger with glee in my heart.

"You once asked me to consider what I could gain from my ruthlessness. I have no doubt you thought I'd eventually say something like 'knowledge' or 'insight'. But my friend, what I stand to gain by doing as the dogs do is far more valuable than either of those things... What I stand to gain is revenge. Revenge for the cats and especially revenge for my brothers and sisters of clan Neledi."

“You foolish woman. The dead are dead, no amount of revenge will change that. You had your life, wealth, and the freedom to quench almost any desire, and you ruined it! Not just for you but for me as well!”

As he spoke the striped cat nimbly kicked his pants away to free his legs. He did not take his eyes off me, and Marcus, for a second. He was wise to do so, for the dog was tensing his still-considerable muscles and growling, as if getting ready to pounce on the object of his hatred.

“Our philosophies differ, Rufus, but I have no quarrel with you. I will leave now, and if you won't join me then I ask that you do not interfere,” I said.

My lover's lips curled mockingly. “The dogs will want blood for this, and I will make sure it isn't mine!”

He sprang. Had I been alone this would have been the end of my story, but Marcus jumped forward at the same time. The two males met like charging bulls and fell wrestling to the floor.

“Marcus, no!” Roswick shrieked in fright. The Rottweiler paid him no heed, he was trying with all his might to close his jaws around the tiger’s white-furred neck while Rufus snarled, kicked and slashed at the former soldier.

I was of a mind to escape at once, and to leave the tiger and the hound to devour each other, but something prevented me. Perhaps I had unwittingly grown attached to Roswick, in a motherly way, or perhaps it was belated guilt at my role in his and his lover’s demise. Whatever may be the case, I ran towards the rack on the wall where I kept my alchemical ingredients. My eyes glanced over the collection, looking for something, anything, that would help. In a flash I made my choice and picked a greenish fluid and a tube of powder which I hastily mixed in a vial.

It already looked as though I was too late. While Marcus lacked not for strength and bravery, he was but a wounded dog facing the full might of an intact tiger. Blood ran from deep gashes on his black-and-tan body and his hands were now raised more in self-defence than in attack. With a roar the crouching Rufus grasped the rottweiler's arm, threw him over his shoulder and jumped on him, pinning him to the floor. Half-blinded with blood, Marcus threw a punch that connected with the feline’s jaw. Rufus took it with a snarl and clamped his right hand around the soldier's throat.

“I would have loved to keep you as a pet,” he hissed, clawed fingers digging into the muscular neck, “To fuck you and beat you until you were nothing but a broken cur whimpering at my feet.”

His eyes flared with cruel delight as he spoke. Blood - his own and Marcus’s - stained the snow-white fur of his chest and belly, making him look less like the suave lover I knew and more like a wild beast of the jungle. He was also fully hard, although he did not seem to realise it. His erection protruded from his bulging sheath and began to spurt in triumph as the defeated male struggled helplessly beneath him. I looked for an opening to throw my vial but could not do so without hitting Marcus too.

I was about to toss the mixture and pray for the best when Roswick jumped on Rufus's back and buried his sharp incisors into his shoulder. The tiger roared in pain and staggered backwards. This was my chance. I threw the vial just as Rufus grabbed the diminutive male and sent him rolling through the room. The glass shattered at the big cat's feet and immediately a thick cloud of acrid smoke sizzled up from the flagstones and hid him from view. I heard a raspy cough, then the patter of feet retreating in haste.

“Marcus…”

Roswick tottered to his companion, who was still lying bloodied on the ground. I helped him up to his feet, all the while keeping an eye on where Rufus had stood just a moment before. The corrosive smoke was like a solid wall between the two halves of the room, and thankfully a draught from the open door was pushing it away from us.

“I'll kill him, I'll fucking kill him for what he's done…” the rottweiler muttered, only half-conscious.

“We must run, or you'll die,” Roswick pleaded.

We half-led, half-dragged the wounded dog out of the room, only grabbing the two slaves’ discarded clothing on our way out. Our escape from the castle was a close thing. The alarm was spreading from wing to wing but by travelling through service corridors reserved for maids and servants we miraculously escaped the attention of the guards and managed to disappear into the streets where the evening soon wrapped us in its gloom.

–

Lady Luck smiled on us a second time when we stumbled into a thankfully empty and unlocked shed by the marketplace. The building normally served to house the horses, rams and bulls that would be offered for sale and was musky with cattle sweat, but it was dry and full of straw that made for decent if rustic bedding.

“Marcus, my poor Marcus…” Roswick began to sob as we laid his lover on a makeshift couch in one of the stalls and removed his clothing to inspect his wounds and bathe them with a pail of water and a torn shirt.

“I'm not dying yet,” the hound reassured him with a grumbling voice, “I won't die until I've skinned this filthy cat and turned his pelt into a rug.”

I sighed and examined the gashes. “You will have a few more scars to boast of in old age... that is, if your wounds don't become infected. If only I had my healing salves…”

“We shall find an apothecary’s shop at first dawn,” Roswick said with a hopeful look.

My thoughts immediately turned to my own state of pecuniary depletion, and again I debated the wisdom of giving my two companions the slip. Escaping the city alive and reaching friendlier shores was already a daunting prospect, surely it would be madness to burden myself with a wounded man! But again a voice at the back of my mind stopped me. Was it guilt for what I had brought upon those two? Or perhaps a feeling that they may yet prove useful? I cannot tell, but when I got up I commanded Roswick to go fetch more water from the nearby fountain. The rodent complied without demurring, seemingly relieved to be given something useful to do, and I was left alone with Marcus.

“You two form a most curious couple,” I mused.

“I wish I could say the same about you and that bastard, but you seem to go hand in glove,” he growled.

“I sought vengeance for my kin, and associated myself with whoever could help me achieve that goal. No more, no less,” I replied coldly.

Marcus exhaled and sagged back against his bed of straw, as if too weary to dispute my half-truths.

“Alderach… what did you do to him?” he said, eyes staring at the countless tiny specks of dust that danced above us in the moonlight.

“The king desired an heir, a strong one, and I was permitted to live because of my alchemical talents. Our clan has long known that the vigour of a male imbues his seed, and that this vigour can in turn be transmitted to plants watered with the emanation of his testes.”

“So his highness was filling his gullet with the juice of stallions, bulls and fellow dogs? A most embarrassing secret,” Marcus snickered, “I doubt he would have allowed you to live to tell it.”

“What I found through my association with Rufus is that semen harvested from a man near the moment of death is imbued with… poisonous qualities, and that the more unjust and agonizing the death the more potent the venom, as if the spirit of the dead male was filling his last ejaculate with his wish for revenge.”

“And how many victims did you and your lover torture and kill for their seed?”

I could not help but look away for a second. “There was that veteran, and a few more on the same day. Then I sought further samples to confirm my observations, and Rufus offered to harvest from the males that went through his hands. All had already been sentenced to hang, all I did was make their deaths useful.”

This wasn't entirely true. I had told my companion that I wanted samples of the highest grade in terms of potency and quantity, and he was happy to oblige. When we made love he recounted how he had taken his pleasure with each of the hated canines and ensured that their agonies were as drawn out and humiliating as possible before he harvested their semen. I would be lying if I said the unspeakable tales he told didn't inflame wicked passions in me.

“And so you poisoned the king…”

“I bred and selected the deadliest, most excruciating flower for my brew,” I added and patted his bare thigh.

The demise of the king under whose law he had been so cruelly punished failed to draw any cheer from Marcus. He stared at the dusty cobwebs that were woven between the beams of the ceiling. His legs were sprawled wide, and this time he made no effort to hide the shame of his castrated state. I looked at his muscular limbs, broad chest, well-toned stomach, and then at the missing sack, and the heavy sheath that lay close to his belly. Once a decorated soldier, he had been gelded like only the lowest slaves were.

The door creaked as Roswick came back, struggling valiantly under the weight of the heavy bucket in his arms. We tended to the dog's wounds as best we could and settled for the night. Roswick took off his own clothes without paying me any heed and nestled himself against the warm body of his lover. Marcus looked at the smaller male and without a word wrapped his muscular arm around him.

“I know someone who will help us,” the rottweiler finally said to Roswick. “I cannot go anywhere near the barracks, and neither can she, but you might be able to deliver a message to him.”

Roswick nodded and kissed the other man’s pectoral before caressing his navel. The room was getting dark, even for a feline, but I thought I saw some life stir in Marcus’s manhood. I left my companions to their privacy and retired to a different stall to spend the night in thoughtful solitude.

The next morning, I was awoken by the sound of shuffling and whispering outside of our shed. I tensed and looked around, electing to bury myself in the straw bed I slept in, until I was soothed by the gentle sound of Roswick's voice.

"You may pick your choice of the lot, my master has more than enough stallions to spare." He said aloud before opening the door.

A dim light flooded the stands. I caught the scent of wet earth outside. It had been raining. Roswick waddled in, struggling with the weight of a basket in his arms. Behind him, the young wolf from his de-manning followed with careful footsteps. He scanned the area and removed his hood. As his blue eyes met mine, I noticed they did not regard me with the same disdain as most others in the empire had. His gaze was merely curious. Words formed in his maw before he was interrupted by the sound of harsh coughing in the other stall. I composed myself and followed him to where Marcus lay.

"Aelius... Loyal to the end..." He placed his hand on the young wolf's shoulder.

"Don't talk like that." Roswick said, anxiously opening the basket. "Look love, he brought us food and wine." He reached in and broke a piece of bread. "You must regain your strength, Nestertia will have you healed in no time."

"Captain..." Aelius whispered solemnly, looking up and down Marcus's nude body. "Look at what they have done to you..."

"Worry not, boy..." Marcus shifted to sit up. "I've had my time in the sun, seeing you here, breathing, is confirmation that it was all worth it... That there is some light in your generation."

They locked eyes for a long moment, drawing their maws instinctively closer together until a fit of coughing overcame the former captain once more.

"Shh, shh, no more speaking, just eat." As Roswick handed him his allotment of bread, Aelius stood and turned to me.

"You are Nestertia, I assume?" He asked.

"I am, I remember you from the gelding." I replied.

Roswick flinched.

"So you were there... So you saw..."

I held my hand up to stop him. "I am not here to pass judgement. Your King is dead, those archaic laws don't apply anymore... At least for now."

He nodded. "Your assistant told me all about what happened. I am thankful to you for saving his life." He gestured to the former males behind him.

"...So Roswick has told you about Alderach?" I asked.

"He has..." The wolf replied. "And I was loyal to his crown, but now my loyalty is undivided." He smiled and embraced me, his tail swinging to and fro behind him with glee. I simply stood my ground in an awkward stupor, until he released me and explained that he was going to get us out of the city. Evidently, he had inherited a small patch of farming land on the outskirts of the empire, though the journey there would be a long one, it was our best chance of survival. As thunder boomed in the distance. Aelius left us to fetch a couple of slaves and a wagon.

When the time came, the wolf returned to us once more and helped Marcus put on a cloak. The rain came down heavy on our backs as we were led through the city. We took as many inconspicuous routes as possible to avoid attention, until we reached a large clearing of buildings where an audience had gathered. As we made our way through, I looked up when I heard a low groan above me. There, cuffed by his ankles and wrists on two planks of crossed wood, was Rufus.

He was suspended in the air atop a long pole, stripped, and completely exposed to the elements. The audience that had once fed into his dark desires now screamed at him, wishing for him to die; for his impurity to be banished from the city. Of course, his death would come in time, but he would not feel its sweet release until the dogs had their fill of his deterioration in both mind and body. His voice sounded shot, I could tell he had already screamed his lungs out. From so high up, the rain must have been coming down on him like a shower of needles. His soaked fur helped define his taught musculature. His maw was still stained in blood, and his barbed member could be seen poking out of its protective sheath, as if in frustration that it had not been given the climax it was promised.

I mentally said my goodbyes to the big cat. Though we were once bedfellows, I found that I couldn't gather much pity for him. Marcus began to laugh uncontrollably. I was worried for a moment that he would draw attention to our party, but the rain and screams that surrounded us drowned out the sound of his bliss. From that moment on, the former captain was more determined than ever to live.

By the blessings of the ancestors, we reached the city gates. An old beagle helped us into our covered carriage. I avoided his gaze as he advertised the fitness of the two bull slaves that were to pull us along, as if Aelius hadn't already rented them. One was a creamy white color, and the other, a deep brown. The two looked forward blankly as the dog explained to us that they didn't speak the canid language, but that they could be motivated by food and drink, along with occasional rest. The two males stood impressively tall, with proud horns above their heads. I found myself trying to catch a glimpse of what was hidden underneath their loincloths before taking my seat. Aside from those coverings and the straps that ran across their chests, harnessing them to the carriage, they were essentially exposed. The rain didn't seem to bother them, however, it simply ran down their backs and faces like gentle streams.

Aelius bid the beagle a farewell and took the reins from him, guiding our slaves to one of the capital's massive gates. I looked over to Marcus and Roswick who sat across from me, watching as my former assistant curled up under the rottweiler's thick arm. Emotion overcame me and tears flooded my eyes. As we passed beyond Alderach's Great Wall, the weight of everything I had endured came crashing down upon me. I leaned back and shut my watery eyes, feeling whole for the first time since my sisters were slain, and let the carriage rock me to sleep.

The 10th day of the Month of the Searing Star, in the Year of the Vacant Throne, 569

How time flies! Barely a few months ago I was a resident in Alderach’s castle, with the king’s ear and a vast laboratory at my disposal. Today I write these lines by the light of a tallow candle in a modest house on the outskirts of the village where our little group has settled. When I once perused tomes of forgotten lore and mixed the rarest ingredients I now grind wild leeks and toadstools in a mortar to treat the belly-aches of my neighbours.

But I do not miss my gilded cage. I have no doubts that Alderach would eventually have had me put to death, I was simply the quicker in delivering my blow. There is also much to be said for the quiet and anonymity that I have enjoyed in my exile. But I get ahead of myself, and must now recount how we fled from the empire and found safety among the barbarous wolf-folk.

Our journey to Aelius’s ancestral land was an arduous one. Reports of the king's death were traveling ahead of us, and his generals fell at each other’s throats as soon as the news reached them. We passed first through crowds of common folks who gathered to discuss the rumours with excitement and worry in equal measures, then we saw ominous columns of troops which we prudently gave a wide berth to, and finally came the torched fields, the razed villages, the corpse-strewn battlefields and the long lines of naked men and women led into slavery by marauding bands who once wore the king's colors.

We ourselves had more than a few close calls with death along the way. One particularly memorable incident saw our cart stopped by three hyena mercenaries that wine had made even more brutish and smelly than their kind usually was. They drunkenly assailed us with voracious demands for our valuables and for our slaves, which they apparently intended to eat, but luckily I was able to lure them one by one inside the cart with the promise of a more feminine kind of payment. There Marcus killed them without a sound. We stripped their bodies of clothes, armour and swords as compensation for our troubles and disposed of the corpses by dumping them by the roadside, but not before the gruff dog had emasculated them and shoved their manly attributes inside their mouths as a warning to any who might be tempted by banditry. We soon after reached the territory of Aelius's tribe and from that point on had a more peaceful, if still bumpy, journey to our final destination.

Aelius's folk are a wild race, barely touched by the influence of the empire, and they understandably viewed me, Roswick and Marcus with a suspicion that would quickly have turned murderous had our lupine friend not interceded in our favour. We were introduced to the elders of his clan who, after much talking and exchange of gifts, agreed that we were no threat and could stay among them. We thanked them profusely and began the necessary preparations for our settlement. One of our faithful bulls we gave to the local priest to sacrifice to the gods of the village, and the other we sold on the next market-day alongside the cart and the spoils we took from the hyena bandits. We used the proceeds to furnish and supply the farm in which we all lived together for some time, Roswick, Aelius and Marcus all sharing the same bed.

Aelius has since taken a wife, but Marcus and Roswick still live nearby, in a little dwelling which they acquired with his help. Marcus lends a hand on the farm when needed and makes some coin teaching the local youth how to properly wield a sword. Roswick has put his education to good use as a scribe, although his literary output is sadly limited to inventories of produce bought and sold and the occasional love letter written on behalf of a red-faced boy to his sweetheart. I have cautiously prodded my ex-assistant as to the state of his love life and have happily been told that despite his castrated state Marcus is still virile enough to honour his murine lover. I have floated the idea of examining him and possibly collecting a sample of his gelded essence but Roswick made me understand that he had had enough of alchemy.

As for me I have found that, despite the natural enmity that exists between canines and felines, the talents of a herbalist are seldom allowed to go to waste. My potions and poultices are in high demand and I am sought every day to treat everything from colics and fevers to flagging manhoods. True, I am often paid in eggs, butter and homespun cloth instead of coin but I do not lack for anything, except perhaps for the thrill of experimentation.

There is a certain charm in going back to basics, but my days at the court of Alderach have lit a fire inside me that the fulfillment of my vengeance hasn't smothered. Sadly, my dreams require ingredients such as cannot simply be plucked from the fields, as well as plentiful willing and unwilling test subjects. Not so long ago I managed to enlist the help of a local lad who agreed to meet “the witch” in the forest for a donation of his youthful seed. The quantity and quality of his contribution were all that could be desired, but already I crave more forbidden materials. Lady Luck smiled on me last week when she drove two more hyena-bandits into the lands of the wolves. They were soon caught and, despite their shrill cries for mercy, were dragged to a tall oak tree near the crossroads and hung by their necks until dead. I waited for the evening, when all was quiet save for the creaking of the ropes and the gentle swaying of the hyena bodies, and then carefully collected the semen that the wretches had spilled on the ground in their death throes. Already the plants I have watered with their issue are turning crimson and thorny.

It is a fine line I have to tread. The people fear me even as they seek my help, and behind my back they whisper that I am more than a simple healer. Perhaps it would be wise to form an alliance with the village chief. After all, in these times of troubles, who is better placed to offer me protection and a steady supply of criminals to experiment on?

Someone reading these lines might get the impression that I have learned nothing from my misadventures. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I have learned about the darker side of my curiosity, and I know it is pointless to deny it its due. I shall soon resume my experiments, though their results will be consigned to my memory alone. And if fate turns against me in this place, well, it is a vast world out there where the secret arts of the Neledi will be appreciated.