The Legions United in the Loss 5
What despicable plans the Dominion has for Tyria?
Final part of the commission for Remy
The Legions United in the Loss 5
What despicable plans the Dominion has for Tyria?
Lion’s Arch looked different.
With the influx of Charrs and the council investing their own incomes in building a new Charr district, the city was… bustling with workers.
More than ever, as the Pardon was closing near. It was the moment when most Charrs were to be pardoned and integrated into the Dominion, absolving them of their wartime loyalty.
A promise made by the new Khan-Ur himself.
Yet, there was a tension in the air around the new Asura Gate Hub.
It had been paid for by the Black Lion Trading Company and the Dominion, a collaborative effort to establish a new Nexus of Gates joining all the Keeps from the Dominion. One would say it was dangerous; others commented that it was political suicide for Bangar to open the gates to his precious Dominion.
As for Gate Technician Vexus? He cared little about the rumors.
He’d never been a Charr to listen to them, or one to state any opinion during the War. In those days, people thought it’d be ill-advised to have him assigned to the Black Citadel Gate. But the old three-fingered Charr wasn’t bothered about it.
His duty remained the same: to keep the Gates working. That was his exact job, shoulder-deep into a split-open console, trying to fix the cabling when something glimmered.
No, something pressed against his neck, and he stopped his movements.
The metal could easily cut the artery feeding his brain, so he stopped, waited, while the one wielding the blade waited. Then, there was a hand on his neck. Not soft like the Humans or Asuras. Rigid like bark. It pulled him out of the console, but he was forced to look away.
“What is it you want?”
“Why are you working for the Dominion?” asked a voice, feminine. He frowned.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about-“
“You are a gate operator. You have access to the gates, their activation, their logs, and the nature of the transit. You are the perfect…”
“Perfect?”
Vexus raised an eyebrow as the blade retracted. He stepped away from the console and turned, now facing a Sylvari. Not the right color, though. She was all blue tones while he was all dark tones. He frowned and looked at her. He swore he’d seen her.
She and the Norn behind her, carrying a paper.
“Are you sure that’s him?” asked the Sylvari, turning to the head-shaved Norn.
“That’s him. Marjory could confirm the tip.”
The Sylvari turned back to Vexus, who sat down, scratching his shoulder. Then she went back to the Norn. “That doesn’t seem right.”
“Whatever you want, lady. If you want to kill me, do it quickly, or don’t. I have a schedule,” said Vexus, his voice low. “And a few gates to fix up.”
He pointed to the wide metal circles, unlit and unused. Yet, all the consoles around were lit and probably recording. However, the surprise was that the Sylvari sheathed her blade.
“That can’t be him. I’ve seen him around. He is clean.”
“O… kay,” said the Charr, standing up despite his articulation hurting. “I shouldn’t bother asking the lass who’d been about to slit my throat before. But I get the idea you’ll try another Charr after me. What is your issue?”
“Caithe. If that’s not him, it has to be someone else working on the Gates. Only they can access it.”
“Caithe, your name?” asked Vexus, raising his hand towards the Sylvari.
She shot a glance at the Norn behind her, then turned to Vexus.
“Yes, this is me. And you are an Asura Gate Technician.”
“The only one with a free contract for this project, sure,” said Vexus, rolling his shoulder. “Vexus, gladium, and former Iron Legion. You’re looking for a Charr working on gates?”
“Can you help us?”
“Sure. But I am the only one working on the Gates,” replied Vexus, turning his back to check if the console would light up. All the buttons were purple or red. He didn’t have a good way to distinguish the colors. But it was enough as he turned back to the two. “The Black Lion recruited all the others.”
“They… Do you know any of them? Someone who could have worked on the gates recently? We need to know if someone went to the Black Citadel.”
“We should ask Marjory. Or Anise. He’s a tech. He could be with them.”
“Hmm… There is no Charr. But the closest? It has to be Ratag. He’s not a Technician. But he used to come and inspect the controls when others worked. He… Hum. He should be doing meets and greets there,” said Vexus, leaning against the console once he’d checked it was stable.
“Do you know him personally?”
Vexus shrugged, shaking his head.
The Norn huffed. The Sylvari tiptoed. Only then did he open his mouth.
“He should be at the Black Citadel. But getting there? Good luck. Plus, now, every worker has been reassigned to the Coriolis place gates. They dumped all the work on me.”
“They… Dumped the work on you?”
“Yeah. I’m good at this and I know the exact coordinates. Plus, they are huge Gates. You could easily have an army going through it and invade Lion’s Arch,” said Vexus, chuckling while shaking his head. “They’re more efficient and secure, though. Easier to lock down.”
He crossed his arms as he smiled a little.
He wasn’t the engineer. But those Gates were marvels of engineering, and he was glad to be the one doing the link-up as well as the setup. It was hard work, but that was rewarding.
“We’re going nowhere,” said the Norn, shaking his head.
“No. We’re going somewhere. Malice’s message included a second part. About the new doors. Maybe that was a red herring…”
“What’s a red herring?” asked Vexus, receiving a side glance.
“Nothing,” said Caithe, shaking her head. “We need… It would be easier with her around.”
“We can try Anise and her veil?”
“No. We need Malice. Lead me where you found her.”
Vexus watched as the two were already turning heels and stomping away without even saluting him.
Instead, the old Charr scratched his neck and returned to his work. Well, at least until he had to lock the console and step away from the hub. To anyone, it looked like a routine as the old Charr grabbed his toolbox and strutted away from the massive place that was to house a stage for the Khan-Ur Pardon.
He looked at it. A circular plaza with a wooden stage that would have seats on it. Then he looked at the houses recently built around before he strutted back to the city. A long walk, following the inner bay and the chaotic district on the seaside until he felt a chill.
Until passing by a dark alleyway, the Charr stopped and turned. He still looked behind, but nobody followed as he stepped into the dark.
His breathing was ragged, his movements were methodical as he dropped the toolbox on a barrel. Then, with a hand, he lowered his pants enough to uncover his posterior.
His movements were calculated as he pressed his hands against the wall, in an exposed position. One that was lustful and perverse.
Well, right before a massive cock pressed against his entrance and penetrated him.
It was pleasant. It was warm. It was a pleasure for the Charr, who felt all the voices in his head soothing and even his migraine vanishing.
He’d always had one, a nasty headache ever since he’d taken an explosion right to the face. But… He was at rest as the Charr behind him pummeled his ass… And his eyes drifted on the face, on the other Charr with black and white fur.
That one looked like… Well. It looked like Evon Gnashblade.
However, the posture was not assured, and the clothes were not a good fit. Nevertheless, the Charr lookalike was definitely a stud as he fucked Vexus’ ass well, and that humongous purple cock was just… Perfect.
Perfect as it hit Vexus’ little spot, squeezed it, made him cum once… Twice… Thrice. Three cumshots, all blue, all glowing before they formed a little icy spot.
“Are they gone, Soldier?”
“Gone. Just like you said, Sir,” groaned Veux, his voice low while he came again, mewling.
“What did they say?”
“Something… About red herrings. About… Fuck… About finding Malice. They’re still searching her. Going back somewhere,” said Vexus as his fingers clawed the wall.
That felt good, so good. His ass was always on fire even though he never showed it… And as he came again… His body relaxed, and the tension that had been slowing his movements was gone. And the Charr purred, his tail wrapping against the lookalike’s legs.
“Good. The Khan-Ur will be satisfied with your work. The gates?” asked the ‘Evon’, smacking Vexus’ posterior with a firm slap, one that sent the Charr shuddering and almost falling.
“Almost ready. They’re linked to the grid like the others. As requested.”
“Good,” said ‘Evon’ as he pulled something from his clothes… A shard and presented it to Vexus’s cock. “The Dominion has a gift for you. You only need it more, and you’ll never be a gladium ever again, Vexus.”
“Yes,” moaned the Charr, watching that shard descending his genitals… Watching and feeling the icy touch going down his urethra, soon to infect his balls… Like every other tech. “One… Charr.”
-
“Should we stall for time?” asked Jennah, her voice stern.
Though she wore the royal attire befitting a Queen like her, a white robe and crown, she bore an aggressive scowl that betrayed deep-seated anger.
For the occasion, the Queen as well as the Representative had been given housing within the Guild Initiative Headquarters.
Though the place bustled with people, it wasn’t difficult for Jennah to have a meeting with Anise and Logan. However, as she asked the question, she could feel a shuffling from Logan. His armor clicked with his movements while his eyes avoided Jennah’s. As for Anise, she had her hands before her, joined as if she pondered the right words.
“You are not telling me the truth,” said the Queen, checking her collar for one last time in a nearby mirror. The bright yellow might not fit the fashion in the high spheres of Divinity’s Reach.
“We lost contact with Malice and Caithe,” said Anise, making Jennah freeze for a second.
“Or we are not sure it was Malice at all,” added Logan, correcting Anise.
“You told me you had contact with Malice, and she had been pushing against the Dominion. But now, it wasn’t her?” asked Jennah, glancing over her shoulder before she turned.
“It was definitely her,” interjected Anise. “Caithe could confirm it was her because she helped us root out the spy ring in Divinity’s Reach.”
Jennah didn’t reply. But as he waved her hand, the air shimmered with a faint purple aura. Only then did she nod, ushering them to follow while Anise spoke clearly.
“But after a meeting with Braham, it seems her information became inaccurate. Then we lost contact. I suppose she was captured.”
“And had someone take her role for a moment?” asked Jennah.
She received the answer in the form of a nod as she and her suite exited the Headquarters. The security protocols were already in place, with Guards flanking either side of the paved road leading south toward the new Gates hub.
“Do you have any idea of who could have done this?” asked Jennah.
To anyone outside, the trio was mainly walking together with stoic expressions. Not a word, not a peep, could be heard from the conversation, so long as Jennah maintained the glamour surrounding them.
“The Tribune Shadowstealer. She looked similar to Malice and was an excellent spy. However…”
“However?”
“We had reports from the United Legion that she died.”
“Or it was a false report…” commented Jennah, contemplating the sunny weather above. It was eerie how calm the sky was compared to the chaos below. “It is troubling that we cannot trust our allies in those circumstances.”
“I think they are thinking the same thing. Everyone keeps their distance,” added Logan.
“So now… The question remains. Should I stall?”
The question remained as Jennah observed the Plaza and the Hub.
It was a marvel of engineering, meddling Asura and Charr engineering, it seemed. If the Dominion had mastered that technology, it would be worrisome.
However, Jennah did not come alone. Anise’s agents had been seeded in the crowd surrounding the Plaza, ready to act should Bangar decide to do something rash.
The same crowd, in the meantime, waited for Bangar’s arrival, for the moment he’d soothe their worries. A majority of Charrs were in the assembly, their ears perking up and their tails sweeping the ground while Jennah saluted them.
Boos and cries followed, however.
“Take down the tyrant!” “Traitors!” “Where is the Alliance?!”
Jennah frowned, tilting her head. “I did not expect them to be so angry.”
“Refugees are forced to stay outside Lion’s Arch without lodging. Their situation is dire.”
“Do they know we are doing our best?”
“Evon and other merchants have been pushing to refuse any support so long as they had guaranteed the war won’t affect their bottom line,” commented Anise.
Jennah nodded as she approached the stage built near the portals.
Already, the councilor Jehro was sitting on his elevated seat, busy checking ledgers and documents he’d brought along. Similarly, Aife stood by her seat, bothered to be given such a role.
Knut wasn’t there, but his other son, Sigfast, represented him.
Finally, it was Jennah’s turn to sit on Jehro’s right… And on the left of the empty seat where Bangar was to sit.
The cries continued, though Jennah ignored them. Same as the fanfare, the music, the cries, as it was typical for people to wait.
She saw Aife finally sitting, unsure. She observed Sigfast cross and uncross his arms so many times that she lost count.
Finally, she heard distant shouts indicating Bangar's arrival. He was preceded by a cohort of Charrs wearing the blue of the Legion, their faces hidden behind helmets. Their breath condensed before them, and their weapons had frost on them.
But they had the same disciplines as the Charrs while they hauled a cart behind them. A cart covered with a tarp, a typical square. Like a cage.
“What is this?” asked Jennah, tilting towards Anise at her side.
“I think it is Smodur.”
“It has to be a spectacle. But if he brought Smodur, it is unlikely he plans to attack us.”
“Agreed,” confirmed Anise.
Still, the cohort advanced, and so followed the cart.
The Charrs continued to cry and roar while the cart was pushed onto the Plaza, at the center of the Hub. A bit further from the leaders’ seats, but right in front of them for Bangar’s spectacle.
The smell, though… It smelled wrong, like antiseptic and Charr sweat.
“I hope this is not what I think,” commented Jennah, waving her hand while a sigh came from the seated members of the Alliance. Another glamour, but one that replaced the scent with something more floral. More tame to the nose.
“Thank you, Jennah,” said Aife, in a breach of protocol.
To which Jennah answered with a silent nod. The cries announcing the new ‘Khan-Ur’ were getting nearer.
Bangar looked regal in his new armor, made of black steel and adorned with icy-blue jewels set into it. He waved, an icy-white pelt over his shoulders.
Sure enough, he had a blade at his hip, but his entire armor was made to be ostentatious. Not to be used in combat. Similarly, for the blade he had under his palm.
No, if blows came to be exchanged, the danger was from the Charr flanking Bangar.
He looked similar to Rytlock, as told. However, that Charr was taller and bigger than his Sire. His eyes were deep blue, and there was a tension in his mere presence.
“You should keep an eye on Ryland,” said Anise to Logan, as if reading Jennah’s mind.
“Rytlock’s… Yes,” confirmed Logan, while Bangar stepped onto the stage, taking his time while he kept his chin up.
Finally, the fanfare went silent.
The crowd’s cries continued, but they slowed and then died.
Even a squeak from a rodent could be heard when Bangar took one step and nodded to each representative. He knew their names, each. Even Knut’s replacement.
Then, with a purpose, Bangar finished the nods with… “Queen Jennah.”
“Khan-Ur Bangar,” she replied, forcing a smile. “Thank you for joining us.”
“It is my pleasure.”
The voice was suave, but those eyes betrayed a purpose as Bangar let Ryland detach his pelt before he sat like the others, ignoring the eyes focused on him.
“What is under the tarp?” asked Aife, her voice cutting through the awkward silence.
“This is something I will reveal when we confirm the terms of our treaty,” said Bangar, his hands on the armrest, while, on cue, an Asura clerk came along, carrying documents that each leader was to read.
Usually, those would be exchanged in a more discreet environment, confirmed through exchanges, or even discussed in a defined location far from any unwanted public.
Instead, they were in the middle of the city, with a thousand eyes pressing on them. Bangar… Had been planning to use that against them. He knew of their plans.
Not that Jennah minded, as she waved her hand and a purple shimmer surrounded the ‘council’, covering the stage while the sounds outside were dulled.
“Queen Jennah. Do you refuse to have ears prying on this discussion?” asked Bangar.
He even tilted his head, feigning consternation.
“Khan-Ur. I will not accept having you exploit the refugees' worries,” sternly replied Jennah as she received the stack of papers. “Please. Continue with the terms. And the Pardon.”
“Is this your shared sentiment?” asked Bangar to the others.
“I concur. Meetings must be conducted in a proper environment,” stated Jehro.
“I… Think we should not hide ourselves,” said Aife, her voice low.
Then, the eyes remained on Sigfast, who eyed the papers.
“I prefer silence.”
“Good,” said Jennah, her voice forcefully cheery. “We will represent the refugees and the Tyrian Alliance’s interests. Khan-Ur, if you may.”
Bangar scoffed, but he surely stood up, took three steps, and turned, facing the seats.
“The Dominion demands the removal of any forces near its frontier and the removal of any foreign intervention on our territory. In return, we shall ensure that no attack will come from our side of the border,” said Bangar.
“Currently, only the Norns are in proximity, following the fall of Ebonhawke. Does the condition solely apply to the Norn territories?” asked Jehro.
“They apply to any territory in proximity. As indicated on the fourteenth page.”
Something was wrong. Jennah’s eyes focused on Bangar, then on the workers working on the Asura Gates. They had to be activated at the end of the exchanges… But Jennah was sure one of Anise’s people would stop any ‘attempt’ to open them early on. Still, they hummed with energy. A worry Jennah kept in mind as she looked at the indicated page: a map of Tyria.
However, the Dominion’s presence was spread all over the north, inching on Kryta, and the south… Enough to tiptoe on Elona.
“This is absurd,” blurted Logan, reading over Jennah’s shoulder.
“Queen Jennah? Is your retinue’s words your opinion?”
For a moment, the Human Queen stopped. She eyed Logan, who stepped back, then she joined her hands over the page.
“As a matter of fact, yes. You are cornering our Norn allies and occupying their ancestral territories that were, until lately, under the occupation of an Elder Dragon. Then, this map puts you directly at Kryta’s doorstep. Sigfast?”
“Bjora’s March and Drizzlewood were our land,” confirmed the Norn. “We granted the United Legions access to Drizzlewood because we were pushing against Jormag. But now.”
“The accords were unilaterally established with Smodur and not the Legion. But maybe the Norns are going back on a treaty? Because I now represent the Charrs?”
“What about the presence of locals? How would they be treated?”
The eyes turned to Aife, though she seemed to shrink until Jehro butted in.
“Will they be re-assigned? What about Jormag’s influence? Have you provided any security that those lands are safe for Charr occupation?”
Definitely, the discussion wasn’t going in Bangar’s direction as he tensed. Still, he raised his hands in a sign of peace.
“The lands we claim are safe for the Charrs. I can testify to it. As for Bjora’s March and Drizzlewood, they are currently within our territory and would be enclaved if the Norns wanted them back… However. I am open to a private discussion with Knut about it. One on one. Is this enough of a promise?”
“I do not like this,” said Sigfast.
“What are the guarantees?” asked Jennah.
“The guarantees are the same as those in this treaty. If you do not believe my words, then the treaty is pointless, the same as the Pardon.”
Jennah would have grimaced, as if she’d bitten into a sour fruit.
But she saw the nods, uneasy and unsure. She had to follow the cadence because refusing Bangar would mean admitting this meeting went nowhere. And then, the Refugees’ situation would get worse.
“I believe you,” said Jennah, changing the topic. “The matter of Drizzlewood and Bjora’s March will be addressed later. As for the encroaching of Kryta-“
“I can then promise to leave a buffer zone, under the control of the Tyrian Alliance.”
Jennah wanted to stop it all. Bangar offered that so easily that it was worrying.
But the eyes were on her, and she nodded, while her gaze drifted onto the cart and then the Asura Gates all around. However, she was bound to return to Bangar and offer her answer.
“Agreed. I propose to extend that rule to the border of the Dominion. As such, a neutral party would ensure peace between our sides. Does that seem fair?”
“It is adequate, if costly,” confirmed Jehro. “But the Dominion can agree to support the decision economically?”
Oh, that was cruel.
Jennah didn’t want to admit it, but Jehro directly aimed at Bangar. Bangar? He was tense. His jaws clenched for a moment, his eyes darting around as the ball was on his side now. He could refuse or pick it up.
“It is… Adequate,” he said, his voice tense. “Is this enough for the matter of security?”
“Perhaps we should discuss the Ruinbringers and their dangers?” continued Jehro.
Jennah joined her hands in her lap.
Somehow, she wasn’t the most antagonistic to Bangar in this discussion. Sigfast was too passive, and Aife too gentle. Maybe Jehro was too aggressive, but his idea seemed obvious as he picked at the Ruinbringer’s design and the danger they represented for Tyria.
Then it was time to explore the new technologies developed by the Dominion, mainly those focused on weaponry.
It seemed the matter was mainly that the Charrs had taken wild inspiration from the Asuras' advancements without requiring the acquisition or loaning of the patents. A matter Jehro was inclined to defend as much as Rata Sum’s budget.
In that, Jennah was almost relaxed, though she kept watching the chaos on the Hub. Seeing the technicians huddled together and seemingly fighting. Anise’s people?
“Is this also Queen Jennah’s position?”
Jennah’s eyes snapped back to Bangar, to the angry Charr who barely contained his rage. They were picking at him, clipping his claws, especially the recent weapons employing Jormag’s magic. The ability to freeze an entire army with a single bomb was a worrisome prospect.
“I agree. If peace there is, we must disarm both sides.”
“Yet, you are currently asking us to remove our ability to protect ourselves from the rebels.”
“Are there any rebels?”
The question came from Aife, and Bangar’s eyes were on her as she fiddled with her fingers.
“I have not heard of the presence of any rebels within the Charrs territories. And… The Refugees are afraid of what awaits them.”
“Ah. Yes. The refugees,” said Bangar, his voice tense. “That is how you call them.”
“Many are civilians.”
“No Charr is a civilian,” retorted Bangar. “We are trained from the cradle to the battlefield.”
“But those who left-“
“Abandoned their sides yet remain rebels,” said Bangar, his voice low and almost like a hiss. But he stopped, taking a deep breath to recover his composure. “This is the subject you want all to discuss.”
There was an uneasy exchange of glances.
Surely, the topic of economic exchanges and the restoration of trade was important. Similar to the rebuilding of infrastructure impacted by the refugees’ movements. Or merely how Bangar planned to integrate them.
But so was the legal matter at hand, and the question that would remain hanging around until it was answered.
Hence, Jennah uncrossed her hands to put them on the armrests while she turned her eyes to the crowd.
To the shouting Charrs that could not hear the exchange and were shouting, roaring, trying to call out the leaders, though the sound was muffled. Then, she stood up.
“I would prefer to discuss the topic of how you plan to reign in an Elder Dragon. But for this. We need to know what your plans are for the refugees.”
“My plan?” said Bangar, shaking his head. “I guess I have to reveal the cards. I have waited enough.”
Jennah froze. She heard the clicking of Anise’s heels on the wood and Logan’s armor click. They heard it. He had been stalling, but for what?
The same uneasiness spread along as Bangar turned and nodded to Ryland.
“Your majesty. If you could remove the glamour so we can access the cage.”
“Bangar. Answer this question,” replied Jennah, her voice tense.
“Fine. Ryland.”
Jennah watched as the hulking Charr pulled out his blade. It was like watching a giant threatening them. But as he turned away from them with his blade, Jennah’s heart eased.
Well, it eased before Ryland raised his blade and hit the edge of the glamour. He tore through the magic while Jennah felt an icy pang hit his heart, her body trembling.
Her fingers twitched from the cold, and her limbs felt numb as she collapsed.
“Jennah!” cried Anise and Logan in unison.
His Captain of the Seraph ran to protect her with his body, his shield raised, while Anise was at her side, examining her.
“What is this? Bangar, what did you do?” asked Sigfast, getting to his feet.
“Me? I did nothing. But you should take a seat.”
Jennah’s head felt like she was about to implode, but she saw the other three sitting down. She saw Logan tottering and Anise trembling while Ryland approached the tarp-covered cage and unveiled it.
It wasn’t a cage. Or rather, there were no bars left. It might have been one, but the wagon had been repurposed to offer a clear display.
“Rytlock,” mumbled Logan.
Jennah turned her head, craned her neck enough to see that there was Rytlock, just as Logan muttered. But not only. Efram Greetsglory. Smodur the Unflinching. And then the Commander.
All four Charrs were attached and bound to contraptions. Naked, exposed.
It was a deviant display with all four Charrs squatting over an icy icon of a phallus, their testicles swollen beyond measure despite their… Small organs.
Organs that might have been invisible under their swollen guts, seemingly stuffed with a blue liquid that was dripping from their half-plugged orifices.
Moreover, it didn’t end there.
The humiliation continued in the form of tattoos on their chests, with Smodur starting at 1 and ending with the Commander at 78.
Their manes had been shaved, their claws clipped, their bodies covered with Charr brands where the fur was thinner. And their horns? They all had their horns cut, filled, and turned into small nubs befitting children.
“Dwayna,” swore Jennah, watching the Charrs bound and exposed.
Their manacles were made of ice, as were their collars. They were all attached before… Before Ryland approached and undid the manacles. But not the collars, not the ball gags. Not the perverse display before the quartet of Charrs moaned and…Stood up.
They stood all at once, and the blue liquid that had dripped from their orifices spilled free, like fountains behind them.
The reaction from the crowd was as expected: consternation, horror, anger. But as the Charrs were rising in arms, something happened. Some Charrs grabbed other Charrs and wrestled with them.
The Norns, Sylvaris, Asuras, and Humans were forced to stay aside as friends and neighbors turned on one another without knowing who fought for what. As for the few Norns jumping in, they were quickly attacked by both sides.
Even the Guards were surprised, frozen, their mouths ajar at the display. But then… Jennah saw it. The twitching in their limbs, as if they were… Frozen or fighting against bindings?
As for the technicians near the Hub, they had the displeasure of stepping into the puddle of blue fluid spilling from the four Charrs.
It wasn’t deep, but as they stepped, frost and ice spread over the boots and armors except for a select few that were unbothered.
“You asked me what I wanted to do with the refugees,” spoke Bangar, his hands behind his back as the four leaders, the most important names in the current Charr leadership, were brought to the stage.
With their mouths gagged, they were moaning and groaning, their blue eyes almost rolling while they left a trail behind them.
One that stopped soon enough. Ryland pushed them and aligned them on the stage, a perfect line with Bangar approaching the first… Smodur the Unflinching.
The Imperator had been the diplomat, the one to represent the Charrs for the entirety of Tyria. Someone, Jennah even had the pleasure of chatting about and learning his culture.
He was the one who’d even allowed the Humans to return to Ascalon before the Civil War. And now…
He was there, looking different. Weaker, with ice piercings along his body. Even his fur looked paler… His arms thinner. He saluted when Bangar forcefully removed the ball gag.
“Smodur. Tell them what the greatest purpose is for a rebel.”
“To become a Jormag Juice refinery!” replied Smodur, his voice stiff.
Bangar’s eyes returned to the council. Smiling, grinning even as he went to Efram. To the former Flame Legion Shaman whose fur had gone white around the hands. He quivered then, and the ball gag was removed.
“How can a Charr fulfill that purpose?”
“By abandoning his Charrhood and his traitorous name!” replied Efram, saluting.
“What… What is this?” asked Anise, seemingly snapping out of it. “My head. Is… Is he controlling them, too?”
“I don’t think so. They are broken,” replied Jennah, gulping. “Even the Commander.”
“That can’t be,” said Logan, but he observed as Bangar went to Rytlock.
Beyond that, Bangar removed the ball gag from Rytlock’s mouth before yanking those hefty testicles. The flesh had that blue hue, and they seemed cold. But as Bangar held them, he gave them a firm squeeze.
One potent enough to distort the shape of the oblong testicle he held, yet what followed was a blue cumshot from Rytlock as he trembled.
“Are rebel Charrs satisfied when they abandon their traitorous names?”
“Yes! We do not need our names or our bloodline! One Charr!” roared Rytlock.
Bangar stepped into the puddle, ignoring it.
He wasn’t affected by it… Meanwhile, the same, couldn’t be said as that puddle seemed to crawl all over the Hub. It was… It was like an infection spreading and devouring. The ice clawed its way onto the stone Plaza, onto the metal tori. It wrapped the technicians, who fought the others, and the Guards. Only a few remained free.
The same was for the crowd as spires of ice grew amidst the crowd, like a cage around a few dissidents.
The sky above was changing, too.
Heavy clouds gathered where there were none. And the air itself was colder as Jennah’s breath formed a cloud. For once, she felt cold. An unnatural cold.
“Jormag,” she muttered, her voice tense before she turned to Logan. “We need to get out. Take the others.”. She eyed the other Leaders. With the puddle of blue ‘semen’ approaching them.
“Yes, Jennah,” said Logan, nodding.
But when he stood up, he collapsed.
He collapsed due to a massive Charr hand landing on his shoulder and dragging him down, forcing him to kneel. Ryland. He smiled, his face similar to Rytlock’s, but he was colder. More cruel, as he laughed.
“This is not over. See what remains of your Commander.”
Then, the Charr pointed his chin at Bangar, who had removed the Commander’s ball gag and squeezed his testicles forcefully, forcing an ejaculation out of the small-dicked and impotent Charr.
“What is your Future? What are your aspirations?” asked Bangar.
“To serve! To be a proud slave of the Dominion until I have cleansed the affront to the true Khan-Ur!” cried the Commander, his only eye closing while he continued to cum.
While the four Charrs were cumming, their abdominal muscles were pulling on their hefty scrotum. Bangar turned towards the leaders, triumphant.
“What I offer them is redemption, Queen Jennah,” said Bangar, his voice satisfied. “They will serve the Dominion in a way that is just and painless. They will live happily, which is something they do not deserve.”
Jennah opened her mouth, looking around.
The puddle had grown, spreading near Aife and Sigfast. The moment it reached them, the liquid froze and encased their legs, crawling higher as they shouted.
The same liquid almost touched Jehro. Even Ryland, though he wasn’t encased like the others.
The scene had devolved into utter chaos… And Jennah could only watch the storms above, ice spires growing in the distance. And she heard the cry of a beast, of a Dragon from afar.
“Does this satisfy your curiosity?” asked Bangar, approaching with his arms spread, a chorus of moans and groans behind him. “You may speak.”
“This is a cruel future. Ignoble, Bangar,” blurted Jennah, frowning as the compunction affected her. “Smodur was right to say you were crazy.”
“Crazy? No, I am magnanimous,” said Bangar. “They are my people, and I will protect them… But you should care about your own.”
“Is… Is this a threat?” asked Jennah.
“Let me go, you brute,” groaned Logan, pushing against Ryland’s hand.
“You should stay still, Human. It’s not over.”
Jennah looked at the encased leaders. At Jehro, with his torso frozen. Then at Logan, with his boots getting covered with frost. Then she saw the liquid closing in. She waved her fingers.
“I wouldn’t do that if you want your Pardon,” said Bangar, his voice dark.
“I won’t fall for another trap. Bangar,” said Jennah, unleashing her spell. “Kryta will fight you.”
“Kryta already fell,” said the Khan-Ur, raising his chin in a satisfied smile. “I only had to stall long enough.”
Then, as if on cue… The Asura Gates turned on.
All of them, four of them. They turned on, the horizon shimmering purple before four Charrs, clad in armor, exited them at once. Covered with ice, they wielded different weapons, but they left the portals and ignored the frozen statues to salute Bangar.
“Khan-Ur. I confirm the fall of Rata Sum,” said one Charr, dropping his spear.
“Khan-Ur. The Pale Tree has been taken,” added another Charr, smacking his breastplate.
“Hoelbrak and the holdings are under siege, as per your order.”
Then, there was the last. The last Jennah watched with a mix of fear and horror, even as the spell was already making her disappear. As her last vision of Lion’s Arch was the fourth Charr saluting.
“Divinity’s Reach is ours.”
-
The Commander groaned.
He groaned, but he wasn’t the only one to groan at all. His eye was half-closed, but as it drifted, he looked at Rytlock on his left. He, too, looked exhausted. The manacles digging into their wrists and attached to the bar above their head forced them to keep their arms raised.
Their limbs kept shuddering from the tension.
Even their legs, as they had to keep them spread, showing off their ruined orifice. Showing off the entrances covered with cum, steamy and dripping onto their taints and hefty testicles before it landed on the ground.
“Ry-Rytlock”, groaned the Commander, his voice low.
“Commander?”
“You there?”
“If I answer… What does that mean?” replied Rytlock sarcastically.
“True,” retorted the Commander, his eyes closing.
He was so exhausted. So drained.
Yet, he heard the stomps, and then Rytlock’s mewling. Followed the faint suction noise before Rytlock’s belly bulged from his Son’s cock. It had to be his Son; it had to be Ryland. No other Charr was as hung. Except for the Khan-Ur.
A glance to the left confirmed that said Khan-Ur was far too busy.
Smodur moaned and groaned, bound the same way as Rytlock and the Commander were. His face had a grin plastered on it. His lips were pursed in a snarl, but that tongue went on and on over his chops, licking them with a delighted attitude.
His eyes were rolling at first, but now they were focused on a point above in the remnant of the repurposed cage. He was even begging silently, his tail wrapped around Bangar’s leg while the Khan-Ur pumped and pumped.
He had done so to Efram, with the Flame Legion Charr now bearing a sizeable belly full of semen… His asshole assuredly plugged.
He was finally breaking, finally giving up. His eyes were often unfocused, and whenever Bangar was breeding him… Whenever the old Charr stuffed him, Efram looked pleased. No, elated.
Their nights were no longer spent together, as they had their own duties. Their tents were shared with their new masters.
And the Commander couldn’t complain. He couldn’t even fight or be angry at Efram while he felt that cock, that immense Charr cock, going inside his depths and spraying cum inside. It was colder than expected, but its soothing touch was there…
And it was much warmer than the Commander’s groin, than his cock still caged inside the metal.
Rytlock observed it, his cyan eyes focused on the Commander’s belly. He licked his lips… Licking while his cocklet dripped onto his testicles, under that belly. He was spraying watery juices onto his balls, and none would see it… Unless they peeked under that belly with the Dominion brand painted on it. Meanwhile, the Commander’s claws dug into the ground, and his hands closed into tight fists.
His groin burned, burned so much.
“Cum for me.”
It didn’t take much for the Commander’s eyes to roll, for his body to tense while he pulled on the chains tying him, on the manacles forcing him to stay up before… Before Ryland grunted by his ear.
“That’s it. Another belly full of Charr-batter. You wish you could bear my cubs, don’t you?” whispered Ryland, mocking and cruel.
But he was right.
The Commander couldn’t fight this pleasure as that cum was pumped deeper and deeper, bringing along the familiar pressure inside his guts.
Then… As Ryland pulled out, his enormous cock left the Commander’s asshole gaping and aching, burning and winking. Only a second before it was plugged with a frost-riddled toy.
The texture was raw, but the shape was familiar before the toy was fully inside, and it was… Done.
Rytlock mewled, his asshole sucking onto the toy in an attempt to get more from Ryland. But he was already full. So full, his belly sagged, and a little more, he could have been puking his Cub’s cum.
But it didn’t deter Rytlock. It didn’t deter the Commander as their bodies shuddered and then… They were let go. The tarp was put back onto the cages, hiding them for the moment.
“M-More,” moaned Efram, his belly having that blue hue. He was the most stuffed, the most ‘gravid’ compared to the others.
“Heh… The… The Khan-Ur rewards us,” said Smodur, his voice calm and collected.
He always seemed calm and collected.
On the day Ryland fucked the Commander in front of all the other prisoners, he was there. Once his helmet was removed, he praised the new Khan-Ur and explained that the United Legions were nothing but a farce. He explained and told them they’d been wrong, and that Bangar’s words had convinced him.
Did they know Bangar regularly fucked him in the ass? Did they know he made Smodur beg to bear Bangar’s cub, even though it was impossible? Did they know about the days spent with Smodur sucking on Bangar’s cock or ass to satisfy him?
No. They never learned until it was too late. Until Jormag’s influence crept in.
Instead, they had all the reasons to point fingers at the Commander, at Efram, at Rytlock, until they broke one by one. Efram was the first to leave, to accept the Khan-Ur’s offer. No more cold pain, no more work… only to be taken, to have his prostate abused, and get the orgasms he desperately needed. Rytlock and the Commander did not judge him for it.
Then, it was the Commander’s turn to end up unable to tell no to Ryland. Not when the Charr removed him from the mines and fucked him… Fucked him over a desk, forced him to suck under it, to be at his sides even in the bed.
He forced the Commander to join him on every occasion while giving him many more opportunities to attempt to murder Ryland. But… The Commander didn’t. And in the end, he was but a pathetic mess, unable to even raise a blade against his captor.
Not even to stab the very one who’d managed to keep the Dominion afoot, besides Bangar’s leadership. Instead, he was riding him, moaning his name in the dark of the night while those spines rubbed against his asshole and made him weak.
Rytlock? He was the last.
But he didn’t join like… Like the others.
No. Rytlock had been brought into the tent in chains. Once. Then, he’d been forced to lick the Commander’s asshole clean before Ryland filled it again. Then back licking it, and again and again. Each time more eager, each time more excited. Each time with more insults from Ryland until Rytlock was fucked, too.
And then…
Then they deemed it unnecessary to keep them at the mines.
They left through the Flame Legion lands, then through the Iron Legion. Finally, as their steps ended at the Black Citadel, they were paraded.
On that day, the entire Citadel was emptied, if not of soldiers, and they were dragged around in chains, naked, stuffed, only to be put in the ‘cage’.
The same cage that was exposed as the Commander’s eyes burned.
With the tarp removed, the quartet of Charrs fell silent. They faced a crowd, a group of Charrs. Of individuals who were like them. Some wounded, some not. Young, old. They were lost; they looked lost. They were the refugees, the former soldiers, those who’d been civilians. They looked at the quartet with disgust, seeing their naked bodies, the way they dangled from the bars. How their tails swayed and cum dripped from their orifices.
“BANGAR! RELEASE THEM!” roared a Charr in the assembly.
“SMODUR IS OUR LEADER!”
“DOWN WITH THE DOMINION!”
Bangar? He wasn’t bothered. He never was.
Even as he watched by the Norns during their march towards Lion’s Arch.
He gave them a simple advice: to watch their frontiers. They ran away.
The refugees? They were brought by Ash Legion propagandists to see the shame of the High Legions. Everyone’s shame.
Bangar called out to the refugees, asking them to see, to behold, to observe the humiliation.
Each time, a little more followed Bangar. A little more frowned at the sight. A little more were disgusted. A little more turned their anger towards the quartet.
Bangar won them over with supplies and lies…
The Commander kept his head low. He’d tried to speak up, once. He’d been left alone for days until he was begging and crawling back to the bed on which Rytlock was impaled.
He’d begged until his throat was hoarse. Only then was he ‘pardoned’.
The lesson stuck around.
The lessons in worship and domination, in submission.
They had lost the War and been conquered; their bodies were not even their own. Rytlock couldn’t wield the mists anymore, Efram his fire. Smodur’s mind was gone. And the Commander? He was weak.
Weak on the day when they stood at Lion’s Arch. Where they had been fed the lines, they had to say before so many faces.
“You must speak when I tell you. Or you will regret it,” said Bangar as he strutted in front of them.
Evon and his ilk were gone, sent with the orders to synchronize with the Legions posted near the new Asura Gates, ready to assault the cities on the way.
The new Imperators were hard at work, with the reports flooding in: rebels culled, Ash Legion under control, Malice captured, operation ‘Stalled Ground’ ready.
So many points of failure, so many tasks Bangar and Ryland juggled so easily.
And for what?
For his Victory.
At that instant, Bangar grinned with all his teeth. With his fist raised. His victory was complete with the representatives were encased in ice. With Jennah, Anise, and Logan vanishing.
Bangar cackled and shook his head, looking over his shoulder.
“What do you think, Commander? Was my presentation enough?”
The Commander, freed of his manacles, looked at the Asura Gates in activity. At the Charrs Tribunes saluting and waiting for orders. He looked at the storm above. Then, at the fumes from the fires starting in Lion’s Arch, the cries in the distance, the ice was growing everywhere.
Then he turned to Bangar, nodding.
“It was,” he said, his voice stiff.
Bangar scoffed, rolling his eyes, and then waved his hand at the quartet.
“Have them readied and cleaned up. I have places to be,” said the Khan-Ur, strutting around while Ryland produced chains tied to their necks before he forced them to walk from the Farshore Ward to the Eastern Ward with the Coriolis Place. No Humans, no Sylvaris, only Charrs standing and saluting by the only Gate still lit. Then…
Then, they were back at the Black Citadel.
A procession awaited them.
Charrs. Refugees had been brought recently, and more were coming through the network of gates in front of the enormous sphere representing the glory of the Iron Legion's engineering.
Whispers followed their exit, with eyes following their steps and fingers pointed at them before the offenders were whipped.
“We… We lost,” mumbled the Commander, watching the Charrs being stripped and collared, down to the civilians.
“Lost… What?” asked Rytlock, his voice slurring.
Then, the Commander looked at him with one eye, seeing the blue gleam in those.
He shook his head, looked ahead, at the immense door they were led to… And were swallowed by.
Once inside, Ryland had them cleaned and prepared. Their furs, grimy with hints of cum, were scrubbed until they were pristine with a clearer shade. Their manes were shaved, their chest scruff clipped so it wouldn’t hide their numbers.
The nails were filled, and the horns were adorned with gold stumps. Similarly, uncaring soldiers pierced their nipples before attaching them to chains. More pierced their cocks, even their sheaths.
After what felt like months, the Commander was finally allowed to see and even touch his cock… What a pathetic sight. Just a cock, just a small organ, practically invisible even when yanked out of the sheath. The moment it went limp, the pouch was ridiculously big for such a tiny cock.
A similar fate for everyone, down to Rytlock, who’d been so proud.
After that, they were shown… Their armors.
In Efram's case, it was closer to rags.
But to the others? It had been the armor or clothes they’d worn on all occasions. Yet, modified.
The loincloths and skirts had been stripped for Rytlock and Smodur, exposing their genitals. As for the Commander and Efram, they had the displeasure of having the cut modified to expose the numbers branded on their chests.
It was… It was a display; they would be paraded. Potentially fucked as their posteriors were left uncovered.
A collar was passed around their necks until they had to stand proudly. To be standing in line by the Imperator Core’s entrance, by Ryland wearing the perfect blue of the Dominion.
The center of the Black Citadel seemed different, with all the Dominion Soldiers wandering around, with frost and ice growing everywhere like a cancer that everyone ignored.
It was a blur of action, of inspections, of verification, until, with a proud smile, Bangar arrived and took the chains attached to Efram and Smodur’s neck.
“We are ready,” he said, his voice stern.
“Everyone was captured?”
“Not at all. That Queen slipped past my fingers. Same for a few twigs, but we’ll have them soon.”
“Shouldn’t we postpone?” asked Ryland, seeing his Imperator’s jaw twitch.
“Not at all. We have our prisoners. We have our victory.”
Ryland nodded, yanking on his Sire and the Commander’s chains so they’d follow. They descended to the ground levels, dragging along a cohort of Soldiers: former Blood Legion, Ash, or Iron Legion. Even a few Flame Legion who’d integrated into the Dominion.
Like a shepherd, Bangar led the way to the exit… To the circular opening onto the heterogeneous crowd anyone had seen in Charr territory.
A majority wore the collars and chains, showing how efficiently the Charrs had captured their former allies’ capitals.
The humans wore the flashy collars and fabrics of nobles. The Asuras were all in their typical garments when attending official gatherings. Sylvaris were the same. The Norns had to have Charrs flanking them or watching their ranks.
No traces of the leaders, though. None from the Arcane council or the firstborn. The Pale tree couldn’t follow. Knut wasn’t there, though one of his son, Skarti, was there.
“Logan isn’t here.”
The Commander turned to see Rytlock. The Charr’s face betrayed no emotions. A mask. Then, the Commander’s eye lowered. Ryland and Bangar advanced, dragging them, until they were at the end of the slope leading to the Imperator’s Core.
Then, a few Charrs presented their warhorns and blew them through their helmets. A Human stood at the center of the place, flanked by a young Sylvari. The two held Asura devices pointed at the Khan-Ur, his right Hand, and the captured Charr leaders.
The two wore collars.
“ONE CHARR!” shouted Bangar, hitting his chest.
“ONE CHARR!” replied Ryland, alongside the Soldiers.
“WE WERE BORN IN THE CRUCIBLE OF WAR!”
“WE WERE MOLDED BY THE BATTLEFIELD!”
“WE BLED WHEN THE HUMANS TRIED TO CRUSH US!”
“WE BLED WHEN THE DRAGONS TRIED TO DEVOUR US!”
“BUT WE ENDURED!”
“BUT WE ENDURED!”
The Charrs’ heels met, while the prisoners shuddered. Blades were unsheathed by shaky Humans and Asuras. Blades were raised in a symbol.
Above, the sky was heavy with clouds. Snowfall, so rare in the period, was happening. Just a few touches of white descending from the sky as Bangar puffed up his chest.
“THE DOMINION DEALT A DEFINITE BLOW TO OUR ENEMIES! WE NEVER FORGOT THE SHAME THE HUMANS BROUGHT TO US!”
The Human part of the crowd seemed to want to shrink.
“THEY SKINNED US LIKE PETS! THEY MADE US GROVEL FOR MORCELS OF OUR LANDS! WE SACRIFICED SO MUCH TO TAKE BACK WHAT WAS OURS!”
Ryland seemed almost proud, shuffling in his armor. The Commander? He kept his eyes down.
“BUT THE HUMILIATION WASN’T DONE! WHAT ABOUT THE SHIVERPEAKS REPLETE WITH IRON THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN OURS?”
Bangar roared, raising his clenched fist.
“WE DESERVED THE LANDS MORE THAN THE NORNS! THEIR METAL SHOULD HAVE BEEN OURS!”
The Charrs roared, while the Norns scorned and huffed.
“WHAT ABOUT THE ARROGANCE OF THE ASURAS WHO BLED US DRY? WE HAD NO GATES! WE HAD ALREADY GIVEN SO MUCH! BUT THEY HAD TO MAKE US BEG FOR A DOOR TO THE WORLD!”
Scoffs came from the Asuras, then cries as a pummel hit someone’s face.
“BUT THE WORST WAS… THE SYLVARIS!”
No cries. A silence. A heavy silence as Bangar turned towards the Commander, a sign with Ryland dragging the two and making them kneel by the Khan-Ur, similarly to Smodur and Efram.
“THEY ALONE REPRESENT WHAT IS WRONG IN TYRIA! THEY WERE SPAWNED FROM A DRAGON, AND THEY LIED TO US! FROM THE BIRTH THEY WERE COMPLICIT IN THE DRAGONS’ CRIMES!”
One Sylvari tried to advance, to shout. But a Charr grabbed her by the face to silence her. She fought, but only to be beaten. To have a Charr hitting her while the place was in a stony silence.
Bangar didn’t move; the Commander couldn’t move. They waited until it was done, and then… Bangar inhaled.
“THEY WERE COMPLICIT BUT… SO WERE WE!” roared Bangar.
The silence was heavier. Even a Charr gasped in consternation before Bangar raised his hands towards the quartet. Towards the four exposed Charrs in chains.
“WE TURNED OURSELVES AGAINST OUR PEOPLE! WE FOUGHT OUR KIN! WE EVEN SOLD THEM TO POWERS THAT OUGHT NOT TO BE! BUT I SAY NO MORE!”
“NO MORE!” answered the crowd, Ryland among them.
“THE DOMINION WON TODAY! BUT IT HAS NOT WON THE WAR! BEYOND THE OCEANS! FURTHER NORTH AND SOUTH, ENEMIES AWAIT!”
Heavy silence, again. A tension in the air.
“THE DOMINION OF WINDS IS AT OUR DOORSTEPS! CANTHA AND ELONA ARE BUT A BREATH AWAY FROM ATTACKING US! CENTAURS, DREDGE, KRAITS, AND MORE TARGET OUR HOMES!”
“BUT WE SAY NO MORE!” shouted Ryland.
“WE SAY NO MORE!” roared Bangar and the others.
Then Bangar raised his fist again, watching the crowd. He had his arms behind his back, his voice calm as his eyes seemed to shimmer.
“DOMINION FIGHTS FOR ALL CHARRS!”
“DOMINION FIGHTS FOR ALL CHARRS!” roared everyone… Down to the Quartet, down to the Charrs slaves. Down to the other races, bound and forced to see what was the glorious warcry of Bangar.
What followed was a thorough conquest of Tyria.
Though the Commander and Rytlock were kept as pets for Ryland, now the new Imperator of the reformed Blood Legion, they heard it all.
They heard about the Tengus’ fall while they were forced to worship Ryland’s cock under his desk.
They received news of Jennah's capture, as well as the last rebels, while they were bending over the desk.
Even Aurene’s capture, as painful as it was, happened on a typical fisting with Ryland using Rytlock’s gauntlet to punish the Commander’s ass.
The map of Tyria and then the World quickly changed hands. So quickly. Too quickly, one would have said. But no dissension was left in Bangar’s Dominion.
Slaves filled the ice-riddled streets of the Black-Ice Citadel, pushing forth the economy while the females were forcefully bred and the males put to work.
The new Fahrar praised the glory of the Dominion and the will of Bangar to undo the former Legion’s legacies.
And as months, years, then decades were spent.
Everything was the same. The Commander was the same; Rytlock was the same; Ryland was the same. The sole difference was the clearer fur and their more intense blue gazes.
The same dynamic remained among them… Even on peculiar occasions.
“I’ll need more men for the western expeditions,” said Ryland.
He wasn’t asking. He merely stated the fact as Smodur and Efram were worshipping him in tandem. One was on his testicles, another on his cock.
Meanwhile, Bangar huffed while yanking on Rytlock’s nubs down, making him choke on that cock that kept pumping more cum down his throat.
“You think the Wizards are hiding there?”
“If not them, who?” asked Ryland, shaking his head. “The wards are magical in nature, but we can brute-force them.”
“Good,” replied Bangar, taking a sip of ale. “You’ll be fit.”
“For?”
Bangar stopped, then released Rytlock’s throat. The Charr dropped, gurgling and coughing, before it was the Commander’s turn to choke on his cock.
“I need an heir,” he said, looking at the window and the heavy storm clouds choking Tyria and the fields, though it bothered the Dominion little. Only the slaves.
“An… An heir?”
Bangar smiled. He had that smile, even at that age.
“I plan to live for far longer. But as much as I desire, I cannot make Smodur give me cubs. Hence, should I die… You will be the next in line.”
“That’s… That’s an honor, Khan-Ur,” said Ryland, surely prostrating.
The Commander couldn’t see; he could only feel that lukewarm cock deep into his throat, making breathing difficult while more liquid was pumped down his throat.
Then… With a push, Bangar forced the Commander’s face away, then had the muzzle rubbed against the groin.
“No. It is pragmatism, Ryland. You offered our victory on a plate. You even offered your Sire to me,” said Bangar, scratching Rytlock’s scalp while abandoning the Commander. “A good soldier should be rewarded.”
“Reward…”
Bangar stopped his scratches. Then… He turned his head.
“What is your request?”
“Can I ask plainly?” asked Ryland, his voice stern.
“Anything. You are asking the Khan-Ur.”
“Should I become the Khan-Ur, I want to claim Smodur and Efram for myself. They are the Khan-Ur’s concubines.”
“Done. Anything else?”
“No. This is what I want,” said Ryland, his voice dark.
Dark enough as the Commander turned to see Ryland, to see a gleam of ambition in his eyes. Cold, ruthless… Fitting the next Khan-Ur.