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Birth of a Dictator

• Chapter 6 of the Legends of the DragonRider

A sneaking sense of disquiet reigned in the Champion's Quarters that lay at the heart of the Dragon Utopia. Blake's account of all he had seen, heard and experienced on his trip through past lives - or, perhaps, rather past incarnations - had been as disturbing as it was significant. It made a lie of many things that were accepted as fact, and hinted darkly at yet more hidden secrets. But for all that, none of them had any real idea about what to do about it all, beyond simply discussing the startling revelations.

"So basically, all the churches are lying, and mankind was actually created by some nameless, now-disappeared god, who waged war on several other gods and created the Black Dragons and the DragonRiders to aid in his conquest..." Anitra summed it up, rather succinctly. "I guess it fits together rather well, if one assume that he eventually lost the war. History is written by the victors, they say, and I suppose that goes double when it's the gods themselves who are fighting." There were many details beyond that, however - some clear, some uncertain - so the conversations rarely ended at that.

There was also the question of whether there was anything left to do. "You wanted to find out where we came from, right?" Blake queried with a shrug. "Well, now we know. I was created to be a weapon of war by a power-mad god, and you were created to support me in that, more or less. Doesn't that pretty much resolve the whole matter?" And in a sense, it did, she could not disagree. Still, at the same time, the revelations had posed several new, unanswered questions... starting with the issue of whether to distribute this information beyond their little inner circle. There were, after all, a great many scholars, sages and philosophers residing in the Utopia at the moment, many of whom would give their left hand for this kind of information, assuming they were willing to accept it as true, and not a drug-fueled dream of some kind. Blake himself was not inclined to question it - everything they had heard in Ganãraya had suggested that the visions brought on by the Mists of the Past were thoroughly accurate, and there had been no contradictions in anything he had seen.

And so, the private discussions concerning what, if any, their next step should be continued. It was a heavy matter to have on one's mind, enough so to suck some of the fun out of the wanton hedonism that tended to be their preferred pass-time - so when Blake returned from a Council-meeting with an intriguing distraction, it was universally welcomed. "We're going to be taking in a large group of refugees, apparently." he reported, prompting raised eyebrows all around. "Refugees? That's a long step from allowing carefully-vetted groups of thinkers, craftsmen and merchants..." Anitra commented, and Blake nodded. "You're not the first to say so. But there was little real choice in the matter."

The refugees had crossed the border into the Utopia's outer territory some days ago, and soon afterwards been spotted by draconic sentinels. When asked for their business in what would, to them, look like a vast wasteland, barren and lifeless, they had, through terror-struck, explained that they'd been given no choice. They had fled their war-struck homeland months ago, but everywhere they went, they were unwelcome and soon chased out. The Utopia's southern neighbors had been no different, driving them into the 'northern wasteland' with a spiteful suggestion that they might settle there, if they did not mind sharing it with the dragons that were known to live there. (Though, of course, they had no idea just how many dragons there were, or how civilized their habitat.)

"If we'd just left them alone, the jungle would've soon claimed them all, unaware as they were - they were ragged, exhausted and starved to begin with." Blake said with a shrug, and Anitra shuddered sympathetically. The vast barrier surrounding the Utopia was a terrible trap indeed, since it rendered the thick, teeming jungle surrounding the crater itself invisible to the eyes of all who had not been invited through it. Any expedition seeking to reach the crater on foot would find themselves growing unaccountably exhausted as they pushed their way through an imperceptible jungle, falling randomly ill from the bites and stings of serpents, spiders and scorpions they could neither see nor feel, and falling prey to remarkably well-camouflaged beasts who repeatedly struck out of nowhere - actually hungry jungle-cats, of course, striking from beyond the barrier. Only a determined and well-protected group could hope to make such a journey, and they would be left with a thoroughly negative impression of the area - as was, indeed, the point.

"Anyway, faced with that option - and the fact that the group was mostly old folks, women and children - even the most conservative members of the Council agreed that we would have to provide them shelter. They've started clearing a suitable site for a refugee-camp just beneath the rim of the crater already, and are dispatching some reds and blues to carry them safely there, across the jungle. Of course, they're still debating whether we're just going to offer them temporary shelter while we look for somewhere else that might take them - surely, with scholars from so many lands here, one of them must be from a place hospitable to refugees - or if we should offer them a chance to earn their keep here as workers and servants, integrating them into the Utopia."

Anitra nodded, easily imagining the painfully polite rows that would be going on, even now, between dragons from the "We must do as much good as we can, as quickly as we can" party and the "We must proceed with care, lest we bring ourselves to ruination before we can hope to do any good" party. The dragons of the Utopia were, remarkably enough, united in their dedication to altruism, but that didn't make the debates about how to go about their altruistic goals any less vicious. "Well, sounds like things are about to get a lot livelier around here!" She declared, feeling upbeat for the first time in a while. Blake, however, glanced somewhat uncertainly at Melora, who had been listening in alongside Direza, and scratched his chin. "Certainly. But there's one more detail... the refugees aren't human. In fact, from the description of the sentinels, they sound like... well, Horse-People."

Melora looked down at the refugee-camp with mixed feelings as she descended the caravan-path carved sideways into the crater-rim. As far as refugee-camps went - and she'd seen a couple during her travels, prior to meeting up with Lord Blake - it was a fairly neat specimen. The dragons had not just carved out a flat space from the encroaching jungle, but also provided some decent materials for building small, sturdy shacks and lean-tos. Enough to provide the residents shade from the noonday sun, and shelter from the occasional rain-squalls. One of the silvers had even come down to cast a simple but widely-covering Warding-spell over the whole camp, which kept the local wildlife effectively at bay... including the tiny, venomous ones, which was no small concern.

Still, however pleasant the encampment, it was still painful to watch _her_people - a people she had always thought of as proud and fierce warriors - reduced to such a ragged state. She could see them moving about the encampment, looking downcast and just generally moping around, seemingly making little effort towards improving the camp. Most of them were still throwing dark looks at the half-handful of dragons who were sitting around, perched on the crater-rim or (in the case of some smaller specimens) the thick branches of some particularly sturdy jungle-trees nearby. One got the impression that they had yet to be entirely convinced of their hosts' altruism, and were expecting to be made a meal of any moment now.

Part of her - and not a small part, either - wanted to stay the hell away from the camp. She'd abandoned her people to strike out on her own, first as an adventurer, and since as a loyal servant to Lord Blake. She was deliriously happy with her new life, and didn't owe any of it to 'her people', as far as she could see - indeed, those she had told her intentions to before sneaking out of the village wearing a ragged backpack filled with pilfered vegetables and carrying her father's second-best spear, had tried to warn her off, calling her quest a fool's errand and making dire predictions about her winding up dead in a ditch within the week.

She wondered if Lord Blake had sensed this reluctance in her... if that was why he hadn't told her to go investigate the refugees. Both he and Lady Anitra were obviously curious about them. Particularly, what exactly had driven them to flee so far from their homeland. They had all been remarkably closed-mouthed when interrogated by the dragons, only mentioning a civil war... which sounded strange to her. There were always wars in the Herdlands, usually several at a time. The tribes skirmished constantly, stealing land from each other and occasionally raiding villages if they thought they had the forces for it. The Horse-People were used to all that. Everybody knew the score. Even the rise and growing belligerence of Warchief Eclipse hadn't done much more than to concentrate the general feuding to the region around his tribal lands.

And so, she'd put on a dress Lord Blake had gifted her a while back, 'so that she might have something nice to wear, other than her armor', as he'd put it - nothing too showy, just a nice, simple cut that hugged her curves and showed off her figure without being outright erotic - and headed down towards the camp to satisfy her curiosity. Besides, with any luck Lord Blake would be pleased with her if she brought back news of interest... he often praised her for 'showing initiative' when she moved to please him without waiting for orders.

Two sentinels stood at what passed for the 'gates' to the encampment, holding worn and oft-repaired spears. Clearly, even here, under these extraordinary circumstances, old habits died hard. They blinked in surprise as she approached them, and as she drew close, one of them seized her by the arm and pulled her forwards. "What are you doing?" He whispered hoarsely, eyes flickering towards the perching dragons, who were now lowering their heads with interest. "You can't be walking around outside the camp! The beasts don't like that - you're lucky they haven't eaten you up whole, you silly bint!"

A snarl grew in her throat, and she dug her hooves into the ground to resist his pull, and instead curled one well-trained bicep to pull_him_ forwards and out of balance instead. As he stumbled, she deftly kicked his own spear sideways so that it became tangled in his legs, and finished his humiliation by grabbing him by the mane as he tumbled forwards, sending him spinning through the air, head over hooves, to land heavily on his back. The other guard gaped gormlessly for a moment, then belatedly lifted his spear to assume a rather poor fighting-stance... which instantly collapsed into terrified shivers as a young Red landed behind Melora.

"Is something the matter, Melora? Was that fellow rude to you?" The dragon asked, peering suspiciously at the guard now lying gasping on the floor. She recognized him, and flashed him a smile - he was part of Lady Anitra's coterie of occasional lovers, and as such had also been part of the group tasked with keeping her... occupied while Lady Anitra and Lord Blake were traveling, in the past. "Not as such, no. It was merely... a misunderstanding, which I believe I have now straightened out. Worry not." The red dragon lifted a scaly eyebrow and glanced at the other guard, who seemed just shy of pissing himself - though, to his credit, he HAD remained at his post rather than fleeing into the dubious safety of the camp. "Well... if you say so. But I think I'll keep an eye on the camp while you're in there, anyway. Sir Blake would be unhappy if you came to harm, you know."

Taking off in a great cloud of whipped-up dust, he soon resumed his perch on the crater's edge - but true to his word, his sinuous neck was bent, and his large eyes squarely focused on Melora and the camp. Knowing well the acute power of a dragon's eyesight, she couldn't help but feel somewhat comforted by his attention. He wasn't Lord Blake, but... being watched over by a friendly dragon was always a pleasant thing. Perhaps she'd go chat with him up on the ridge when her business was over... and show her appreciation. Lord Blake probably wouldn't mind, especially if it gave him an excuse for a round of 'punishment'...

She shook off the thought, pleasant though it was. For now, she needed to focus. The events at the gates had drawn quite a bit of attention, and she could feel many eyes regarding her from the ragged camp - suspicious, awestruck, afraid. The second sentinel had at last bolted, dashing into camp - if one wanted to be charitable, one could assume that he meant to pass word to whoever was in charge, and wasn't just running away. With a sigh, she shook her head, and aimed a quick kick at the armored flanks of the still-grounded guard, hissing down at him. "Get up and back to your post, soldier. You're disgracing our race." Back when she'd been a filly, the brave warriors of her tribe had always seemed like shining examples of stallionhood - fierce and valiant. Seeing them like this was making her feel annoyed and disillusioned. He looked up at her terror-mingled respect and did as she asked, taking up his position and staring right ahead without another word as she walked past him and into the camp proper.

The encampment looked, if possible, even more ragged from the inside. There were barely any warriors, and the two at the gates seemed the only ones uninjured... assuming she hadn't just cracked a few ribs for one of them. The rest were dependents - mares and foals, and old stallions far past their prime. That they'd managed to make it this far seemed almost impressive. And while the shacks seemed anything but sturdy, the basic layout of the camp was familiar - it was little different from the village she'd grown up in. So she led her hooves lead her through the dusty streets towards the central plaza, and the slightly-larger-shack that most likely served as the Chief's Hut.

As she approached, she saw the runaway guard who'd dashed off at the front gate, emerge from behind the ragged curtain that served as a doorway. He gave her a timid look as he darted past her to return to his post and, presumably, check on his fallen companion. He said nothing - indeed, no-one had spoken a word to her, or given her any challenge, during her walk through the camp. It didn't even seem to be entirely about her - a heavy, exhausted silence hung over the whole place, and there was no chattering or gossiping going on that she could hear.

Brushing the curtain aside herself, she stepped into the dank interior of the hut, and found herself momentarily frozen as memories washed over her. She had expected to see some old whitemane sitting in the hut, leading these ragged refugees as best he could with his wisdom and experience - there certainly seemed to be no shortage of such folk in the camp. But instead, sitting cross-legged on a rug and looking just as surprised as her, was a young stallion barely a year her senior. She knew his age exactly... having grown up with him.

It all came back to her with startling clarity. A handsome colt, son of one of the Warchief's top lieutenants, awkward with his adolescent growth-spurt. Many young mares were making eyes at him, but she was the one who'd blushingly agreed when he'd whispered in her ear that if she felt like maybe going foraging for roots and berries outside the village, he'd be willing to tag along to... protect her. They'd both been uncertain and awkward. She hadn't wanted to give up her virginity - some stallions put a lot of stock in it, even if others didn't - and besides, she didn't feel ready to be with foal yet. There were herbs to handle that, of course, but... hard to come by.

So she'd followed the advice she'd gleaned from eavesdropping on the older mares. Getting down on her knees before him, she'd lifted aside her loincloth and gaped at his sheer size even as his dick continued to emerge from its sheath and grow harder. She'd never seen an aroused stallion before - but she was determined not to let her inexperience show. She'd taken him into her mouth as best she could, sucking on the head, tasting his salty sweat and the bitter hints of sheath-lubricant. Running her tongue up and down the length of the shaft, she'd lubricated it as best she could, before raising her body to enfold it in the warm embrace of her already impressively-sized breasts. He'd moaned at the sensation, back arching, giving her courage that she was doing something right, even as she resumed sucking and licking his cockhead.

She'd been surprised when the head flared in her mouth, filling it. Most likely, she could still have managed to gape widely enough to pull it out without scraping it across her teeth TOO much, but it didn't occur to her to try. She just kept working her chest and mouth over his tool until, with a stifled groan, he grabbed her by the mane and began to pump his bitter seed into her. His virile cum filled her mouth, so full of life that she could almost feel it wriggling on her tongue as she instinctively swallowed, again and again. The feeling of his powerful hands, holding her fast, pulling her forwards, made her feel strange and wet between her legs.

Then the moment passed - a second after the last shuddering jet of jizz had washed across her tongue, he released her mane like he'd been burned, and stammeringly apologized for handling her in such a fashion. The apology only served to dampen her mood, but she was still feeling keenly aroused, so she'd just nodded it off, and applied a fresh layer of spit to his still-hard cock, which - with youthful vitality- had failed to soften in the least, even as the flared head deflated back to its original dimensions.

Then she'd bent at the waist, put her hands against a convenient boulder, and lifted her tail out of the way while somewhat hesitantly making her thoughts on the next step clear. He'd given no protest, just eagerly stepped up behind her with one hand wrapped around his shaft and another steadying himself against her hips. She'd flinched a bit when she felt his thick cockhead push against her sphincter, stretching it, forcing its way inside, but she'd bitten down and endured. And sure enough, as he pushed deeper into her ass, she found the pain fading into a warm sensation of pleasure - not quite disappearing, but becoming part of something greater.

He'd been hesitant at first, too - most likely, he'd never done anything like it before, either. But as he felt the warm tightness of her ass surround his cock, his instincts began to take over. Though the lubrication she'd applied barely qualified as mediocre, he pushed on, grunting as he gripped her hips with both hands, thrusting until his hip touched her ass and his still-taut ballsack rested against her dripping-wet pussy. The friction was significant, but somehow didn't seem to actually be unpleasant. Moaning, she kept her legs spread and let him fuck her as he wished, strokes gradually picking up speed.

Whether it was her lack of complaints or his own adolescent instincts emerging, he eventually grew confident enough to drop all restraint and set the fastest, most violent pace he could manage. Her sphincter followed him out whenever he pulled back, dragged along by the poor lubrication, and when he pushed forwards, her buttocks were deformed by the impact of his bony hips. Her breathing became just as fast and deep as his thrusting, the arousal she had felt earlier redoubling as he rode her ass with unrestrained force.

Her first-ever orgasm nearly made her knees buckle under her, and _did_make her spine curl backwards like a sapling in a storm. No longer leaning against the boulder, she reached back to support herself by grabbing his hips, and he responded by shifting his own grip so that his arms encircled her waist, his hands naturally finding the handhold of her heaving breasts. As his fingers dug into the subtle tissue the forceful thrusts continued, now pouring into her from below, lifting her, supporting her as her knees trembled. His breath was loud and hot against her ear, and a second orgasm was already rising.

They got their virtually simultaneously; when she felt him stiffening against her, hips thrusting upwards so far that he was virtually lifting her off her hooves, a sense of slimy warmth spreading within her, it set her off into a trembling, teeth-rattling climax of her own. They rested against each other in the post-orgasmic glow for several minutes, then, his cock still throbbing within her as the last few spurts of hot cum leaked from it. His flared head felt like a hot fist buried deep inside her. She would have happily kept going - indeed, in that moment, she would have surrendered her virginity to him without hesitation - but then the moment passed, and he pulled out and backed away with a stammered apology for his roughness.

She tried her best to reassure him that he hadn't been unduly rough, but her frustration with his behavior and attitudes shone through, and he unfortunately misinterpreted her underlying annoyance to mean that she was just pretending it hadn't hurt. She couldn't think of how to explain to him that, well, it had hurt, and quite a lot at that - indeed, her asshole was still throbbing dully with lingering pain - but it wasn't a... bad sort of hurt, really. And certainly, the discussion was not conductive to any kind of erotic mood - his cock, which had remained at least halfway hard after being pulled out of her, rapidly began to shrink, forcing him to scramble to find some leaves he could use to wipe it down before it retreated entirely into its sheath.

And so, they had walked back home with a meager collection of berries while he reassured her that he'd certainly exercise better self-control next time. While the sex had been just as pleasurable as she could have hoped, however, everything about his attitude and approach to it annoyed her, and she was determined that there wouldn't be a next time. Fortunately, a fair number of people had seen them leave together, and return flustered and sweaty - creating any number of lascivious rumors and thus providing a perfectly acceptable reason for her to break off the relationship.

She hadn't been sure where to go from there, however. She simply lacked the experience and insight to put anything about the enjoyment _or_frustrations of her first sexual encounter into words, even within her own mind... so she also didn't know what she should aim for in a future mate. Dithering, she had spent weeks trying to straighten it out and get a handle on it all, to no effect, her frustrations growing by the day as her pussy and ass both ached for something she couldn't name. Eventually, she had volunteered to run a basket of vegetables over to a neighboring village, planning to find some secluded spot on the way where she could take care of business for herself - having heard a few hints about such things from the same careless mares who had unwarily clued her in on the non-virginity-breaking activities she'd indulged before.

On that trip, she'd found all the answers she'd been looking for, and more. Today, she knew and understood what her conflict had been. Her nascent masochism and submissive tendencies had been simultaneously teased and left unsatisfied by her first sexual encounter - only to be overwhelmingly satisfied when she stumbled upon a black dragon's hiding-spot on her path. The experience had been terrifying, agonizing, mentally and physically overwhelming... even when she awoke, many hours later, her whole body still ached from what it had been put through. At the same time, however, it had all crystallized in her mind - for she could not forget that through all the fear and pain, she had been simultaneously filled with pleasure. She had cum, repeatedly, even as she cried and sobbed. That was what she wanted. Someone who would take her roughly, make her serve his desires, push her to do things she would never have imagined. Not some stammering stallion who apologized for his own instincts.

Of course, when she returned to the village, everyone was just telling her how lucky she was to be alive. The black dragon had been spotted, coming and going, and there were whispers that a mysterious woman clad in black-scaled armor had stolen something from the Eclipse Tribe. That she had been assaulted by the dragon, and yet escaped relatively unharmed, was surely a great fortune. So everyone encouraged her to try to forget the 'horror' she had gone through, and perhaps avoid unnecessary trips beyond the village palisades in the future...

She'd spent a month, afterwards, trying to do as she was told, haunted every night by dreams revolving invariably around a black dragon. Again and again, she found herself standing before him, submitting to his will, offering herself to him. Sometimes he was gentle, sometimes he was cruel, always she was willing. More often than not, she'd wake up drenched in sweat, her fingers digging desperately into her aching pussy, trying to find some release there. In the end, she couldn't bear it anymore. Couldn't bring herself to accept that after experiencing such ecstasy, sharing such pleasures with a being of such magnificence, she should just go back to being an ordinary mare in an ordinary tribe, and find herself an ordinary stallion to be her mate.

So she'd run away, into the world beyond the Horse-People's borders. She'd experienced many things there, learning to fight and how to use the natural advantage in size, strength and endurance that her race bought her over most others. More than once, she'd found it necessary to use her body in other ways in order to survive or proceed, and those cases she faced with a mixture of eagerness and trepidation. She knew that she should feel disgusted, to be selling the virtue she once so carefully guarded, so freely - but her frustrations lingered, and her 'lovers' were, at least, not given to apology. Being handled by rough hands, passed around a campfire like a bottle of cheap booze, roughly used and then discarded... such treatment provided at least a shade of the sensations she'd experienced under the black dragon. The pain, the humiliation, the submission... enough to give her some release. Enough to make her cum, often, to the great amusement of the men. But still, never more than a shade...

So she'd kept searching. Hunting down every rumor of a black dragon traveling with a rider. Back and forth across the world, as a mercenary and adventurer - with mixed success. Sometimes she slept in well-appointed inns and traveled by coach... and sometimes, she slept fitfully, tied down to a table in a ravaged tavern as drunken mercenaries freely used her body and laughed raucously, and traveled dangling beneath the belly of a war-stallion with his thick horsecock lodged up her ass, tied to the commander's saddle, her belly filling with cum and piss as she was carried through the day.

Through it all, she had never allowed herself to be diverted from her path. When imprisoned, she had escaped. When enslaved, she had bought her freedom. When wounded, she had sewn them shut with needle and thread. When despairing, she had persevered. Even when the niggling little voice in her head told her that she was on a fool's errand, that she would never be able to find one particular creature, even one as rare and magnificent as a black dragon, in such a huge world. Towards the end, it had even started whispering that, even if she _should_find him, she would surely be disappointed, for no real creature could possibly live up to the memories she had so exalted.

But that little voice of doubt had been wrong. She had kept going, kept searching, and finally a stray rumor of a black dragon having been spotted on a course towards a known Dragonhome which she had already heard whispers of as a likely target for the notorious DragonSlayers, sent her rushing towards a bleak plateau in the back-end of nowhere. There, she had found him. And he had not disappointed. Now, she was his, totally and completely, taking the greatest pleasure in knowing that she had been of use to him, and never faltered in offering her greatest effort. Her breasts had grown back, after the incident in Ganãraya - if anything, they were perhaps a tiny bit bigger than before, and certainly more sensitive - but she knew that Master Blake had not forgotten her willingness to sacrifice even a pound of her own flesh for his cause. Even now, he looked at her differently than he had before, the weight of his eyes making her shiver with desire. She knew very well that she was still second to Lady Anitra in his regard... but perhaps it was a closer second, now.

Angrily, she shook herself out of the reverie. She hadn't come here to take a walk down memory lane, she reminded herself sternly. Very specifically not. But such determination apparently mattered little when you were unexpectedly faced with your first lover, and the unwitting genesis of the life you had made for yourself, she reflected sardonically as she nodded to him. "Hey, Tallian. Long time no see." He blinked in surprise - first she thought that he had, perhaps, just been down the same rabbit-hole of memories that_she_ had, but then his eyes widened. "Melora? Is it really you? Everyone said you were dead for sure!" Ah. He simply hadn't recognized her. Perhaps she had changed more than him.

Well, he HAD grown in the intervening years, for sure. His body wasn't as rangy and awkward as it had been when he was a colt. He was a stallion, now, if still a young one. But he still hadn't put on as much muscle as one would have expected of a warrior, and something about his demeanor told her that his personality hadn't changed much at all. Starting with the way he suddenly blushed, having apparently just remembered their past association. She shrugged it off. "Everyone says lots of things. I'm quite alive, though, as you can see, and doing quite well." Tallian nodded, clearly trying to get his mind back on track, the blush slowly dying from his cheeks. "So I've gathered! According to the guard who was just in here, you are a guest of the dragons, and under their protection!"

She raised an eyebrow, and shook her head. "That's a lot of conclusions for him to jump to... and most of them wrong. I'm not a guest, I work here as a servant to Lord Blake, the Champion of the Dragon Utopia. He does, however, value my services - so I suppose it isn't inaccurate to say that I am under his protection, and by extension, the protection of the Dragon Utopia itself." Tallian's eyes got even wider, and he whistled appreciatively. "Wow. A valued servant to a Lord of Dragons? That's... that's great! I'm very happy for you. I mean, I was really sad when you ran away, especially with everybody insisting that you wouldn't live out the month. I mean, I can see why they thought so, especially now that I've traveled the other lands myself, beyond the Grass Sea - it's a dangerous, inhospitable world..." He trailed off at that point, a pained look on his face, and she felt her annoyance soften. Traveling with such a ragged lot... they must have lost people along the way. Probably many of them.

She watched his face as the pain shifted into uncertainty, and then into a determination that he hadn't possessed before. "Well, then! If you have the ear of the local lord, maybe you can solicit some help for us? Food, supplies... healers would be particularly welcome. We have... many sick and wounded." A far more familiar expression flitted across his face as he continued. "...only if you feel that you can do so safely, of course. I would not want you to risk yourself unduly on our account." She nodded, careful to keep the equally-familiar pang of annoyance at his soft personality from marking her voice or her face. "I can certainly arrange for various sort of assistance, without any risk. Indeed, you don't need_me_ for that. These dragons are idealists - sometimes to a fault. I hear there was some debate about whether to let you in or not, but... now that they have, they'll certainly care for you as possible. The only reason healers, food and other supplies aren't already flowing down here is that you haven't REQUESTED any."

He looked at her in wide-eyed disbelief, and she once again felt her annoyance soften. From what she had heard already, it was clear that they had not been met with hospitality so far. Perhaps it made sense that, after being refused so many times, you might simply stop asking... she shook her head with a sigh. "Look... I'll carry a message up to the citadel. I'll talk to Argila - she's the one who effectively manages stuff around here. Just tell me everything you need, and I'll let her know. But you - and by that, I mean all_of you - need to stop cringing and acting like scared rabbits around the dragons. They won't eat you, but they _will be happy to help you out, if only you ask politely." Tallian nodded eagerly, and dug a scrap of parchment out of a worn and ragged writing-kit that was standing on the dirt floor by his side. "Certainly, certainly... I'll write you a list, if you will only give me a moment."

She waited for him to finish scribbling - small letters, to make the most of his limited supply of parchment - before she spoke again. "Look... if I'm going to act as your advocate in the citadel, however unnecessary, I would appreciate it if you could answer some questions for me in return. Like... why are you here, for starters? What happened to make so many Horse-folk abandon our homeland?" He looked up from his writing-kit with a haunted expression, then sighed and nodded. "Yes, yes... you certainly deserve to know, however painful the tale." He sat himself down comfortably again, and began to recount the events that had driven them all to flee the Grass Sea. She idly noted that he had a remarkably solid storytelling-voice, and excellent cadence...

It had started not long after she'd left - indeed, it was already happening, even before then, though few had realized it. The Eclipse Tribe had long held sway over the entire western shore of Lake Cerulean - the oasis amidst the endless grass which was the linchpin of the Horse-People's existence. None of the other nearby tribes could stand against him. However, a human adventurer had snuck into their village, and with the help of Warchief Eclipse's younger brother, Darcian, stolen a valuable artifact from his collection of war-trophies... humiliating him in the process.

While he had not been seriously injured in the incident, his _pride_had taken a fatal blow - and in response, he lashed out against his brother, who had aided and abetted the human. He wasn't _quite_angry enough to kill his own flesh and blood, however - so instead, Darcian was banished from the village and the tribe. Darcian, for his part, quietly accepted his exile, and traveled around the lake to join a tribe on the opposite side, apparently hoping to put at much space between himself and his violent brother as possible. There, he was soon accepted into the Dawnseeker Tribe, providing them with the same brilliant administrative skills that had once made the Eclipse Tribe large and prosperous.

Eclipse, meanwhile, sought to manage his own tribe's affairs in his brother's absence... and failed entirely. While a brilliant general and terrifying warrior, managing supplies, trade, and manpower was not in his skill-set, and indeed bored him to tears. The prosperity of his tribe swiftly began to wane as merchants went elsewhere, and his vaunted army grew ill-equipped and lax, without properly-scheduled training or maintenance. It seemed as if the Eclipse Tribe would gradually fade into insignificance, as many powerful tribes had before them.

However, that was not to be. Faced with the undeniable fact that his past successes had been largely due to his brother's quiet work behind the scenes, Eclipse chose to deny it nonetheless. He roused his warriors with equal parts fear and charisma, enforcing discipline through force of arm. Then he marched out - not to raid, but to conquer. Intent on proving himself, and in the process prove the validity of his militaristic philosophy, he discarded centuries of tradition. The Horse-People had always been warlike, raiding and skirmishing, seizing territory from one another through main power... at worst, stronger tribes might raid lesser ones, stealing goods and even taking slaves. But it never went beyond that... until Eclipse did.

He adopted a scorched-earth approach, burning down the villages of those he conquered, and conscripting every mare and stallion who could hold a spear into his armies, compelling obedience if not discipline through torture and executions. Foals were seized and thrown into his War-camps to be raised as warriors, indoctrinated to obedience as they grew. And those he deemed useless - the old and infirm - along with any who refused to bend a knee to him, he simply slew. His stated goal was to unite all of the Horse-People under his own ruthless reign, and forge them into an army that could take on the world...

He was not unopposed, of course. The tribes near his base fell quickly, but those on the other side of the lake had time to see what was happening, and react. They united into a loose coalition, aimed at opposing and _de_posing Eclipse, and were putting up a fierce resistance... not least due to the fact that the Dawnseeker Tribe had emerged as their unofficial leader, with strategies and tactics deployed by their warriors often effectively countering Eclipse's assaults. Exactly where those strategies were coming from, beyond 'The Dawnseeker Tribe' was obviously a military secret, and just as obviously Darcian, who knew exactly how his brother was thinking, and had already wound up acting as the Secretary to the Joint Command of the Coalition. No official power, but many people listened when he made polite suggestions.

"...but for all of that, they are losing." Tallian said sadly, shaking his head. "Eclipse can afford to lose warriors here and there - his sheer force of personality and ability to personally spearhead attacks have whipped all his warriors, even those conscripted from conquered tribes, into a frenzy. Meanwhile, the Coalition is only winning their occasional battles through cowardly means - traps, ambushes and deception. Their warriors are demoralized. So, some of us decided that rather than wait for Eclipse to execute us, we'd escape and hope to find refuge elsewhere... a hope which, perhaps, has finally been realized."

Melora nodded, as much to herself as to him. No wonder the camp was such a ragged lot! Defectors, refugees and deserters from a dozen different tribes, most of which had been effectively annihilated by Eclipse's hordes, rallied under uncertain leadership and setting forth into the unknown... it was a wonder that any of them had survived to reach the Utopia. "My father led us to begin with. He'd seen which way the wind was blowing early, so when Eclipse came, he escaped with me and mom, even though people called him a coward for it. There... weren't anybody else from our tribe." With that, he had as much as told her that everybody else she remembered from back then - the people she'd grown up with, her family, everybody - were all either dead, or part of Eclipse's bloodthirsty horde by now.

The pain on his face seemed to be as much for her as for himself when he continued. "Mom... took sick not long after we left. Some foreign illness. Probably not that severe by itself, but... not enough food, no clean water, no medicine, too much walking... she didn't make it. Afterwards, dad started to get reckless. He fought like a demon whenever we were beset by bandits or wild beasts. I think he wanted to die in battle so he could join her. He got his wish, in the end." He sighed, running a hand down his long, equine face. "I had expected one of the whitemanes to step in and take charge afterwards. But nobody did. They all just looked at_me_. They'd gotten used to following dad - it was his idea to seek refuge beyond the Grass Sea, in the first place. By the time he died, nobody really believed we'd ever find a place anymore. We just kept going because it was at least a little better than just... lying down and dying where we were. So I guess nobody wanted to take charge of the death-march. Hence, I inherited it, as little as I wanted to."

A rather unhappy smile appeared on his face. "But hey, it seems like I haven't done too badly! I mean, sure, I led us into a deadly jungle disguised as a barren wasteland, easy prey for countless effectively-invisible predators... but it worked out all right in the end, somehow, and I suppose that's what matters." It was painfully clear that those words didn't convey his true feelings on the matter, and Melora found herself suppressing a sudden urge to give him a hug. He looked like he could use one... but considering their past, it would likely send the wrong signals. So instead, she just put a hand on his shoulder. "You kept going when you could've given up. You accepted a responsibility you'd never asked for, instead of trying to rid yourself of it. And, yes, whether by wit or by luck, you have led them all to a true sanctuary - there is no war here, under the watchful eyes of the dragons. That _is_all that matters, to those who are alive now and wouldn't be otherwise."

Tears actually appeared in his eyes, and he nodded silently. She felt suddenly awkward to have him seem so grateful for her rushed attempt to comfort him, and tried not to show it as she collected the list from him and left with the promise that the camp would get everything it needed. As she walked back out through the encampment, feeling once again the frightened, exhausted eyes of the refugees on her back, she found herself conflicted in her feelings with regards to Tallian. He still had the ability to infect her with his own shy awkwardness - clearly, he had no business leading a crèche, much less a band of ragged refugees in hostile territory. And yet, he had done so, and succeeded beyond all odds - not in any kind of dashing, charismatic 'born leader' sort of way, but by literally stumbling on an invisible sanctuary. Well, luck was a talent in itself, she supposed.

She felt too distracted and worried, leaving the camp, to go ahead with her earlier plan to sneak a quickie with the watchful red dragon on the crater-rim, and instead merely gave him a wave to make it clear she was fine, before heading up to the citadel. She had promises to keep, after all. Argila was always busy - while she didn't have a seat on the council, officially, she was the one who managed all the day-to-day matters, while the council debated philosophy and had long-winded discussions about 'the big picture'. Melora, however, was immediately granted an audience when she approached - and was guiltily aware that despite her earlier statement to Tallian, it would likely have taken quite a bit more time for someone _not_closely associated with Lord Blake. Even though he was never mentioned, her status as his personal servant meant that she was automatically trading on his name whenever she interacted with the dragons...

Argila happily accepted the list - or, rather, Melora's reading thereof, since the cramped script was too small even for a dragon's keen eye. "I had been wondering what they might need. We provided them with some basic supplies when we brought them in - food, and things with which to build shelters - but... well, it's hard for us dragons to really understand the needs of... other races." There was a slight hesitation in the final part of the sentence - a barely-audible, deliberate substitution. Generally, dragons referred to all other species - from elves to goblins, and everything in-between - as the 'lesser races', what with themselves being obviously creations' crown. Melora herself could not argue with that assessment - especially since she was one of the half-handful of people who knew that the gods themselves were in agreement on that point. But the dragons of the Utopia had decided, a while back, that they needed to come up with another word for 'people who aren't dragons', if they were to live with them in harmony. The debate as to what, exactly, this new term should be was ongoing, and in the meantime, 'other races' had been adopted as a placeholder... not that it'd surprise her any if it wound up being what they settled on in the end, just out of sheer indecision.

After having secured all the necessary supplies - healers both dragon and 'other', more food-supplies (fruits and vegetables to be specific - considering that the dragons were carnivores, it remained hard for them to remember that her kind could digest meat only with difficulty), and more construction-materials for shoring up the camp itself. Melora was ready to leave at that point, but of course, Argila wanted to hear her opinion on the Horse-People - what to do with them? How to handle them? After all, she had a unique perspective...

Melora was reluctant to do so, but knew there was no way around it. Argila, despite her lack of official power, held great influence in the Council, not least through her mentor, Elecrastor, who as the oldest dragon in the Utopia was the 'first amongst equals' on the Council. He was also growing slightly senile, and thus tended to rely heavily on his assistant's advice... who, for her part, idolized Lord Blake. She wasn't part of the harem of young, female dragons who were always competing for a taste of his sexual skills, mind - rather, her admiration for him was on a higher level, dedicated to his great accomplishments and the vast change he had wrought in the Utopia by recovering and assembling Lutan's Tablet. Regardless, she would not wish to have him disappointed in her - or in the actions of the Utopia as a whole - and likely expected (not unreasonably) that he would take some degree of personal interest in the arrival of refugees from his personal servant's race.

So once again, Melora found herself made a liar - her presence and position would, indeed, be very important to the refugees. Whatever she advised, unless it was entirely unreasonable, Argila would likely take to heart - and whatever Argila decided would eventually, in some strange way, become the decision of the Council. It was uncomfortable in the extreme for her, to feel that she was wielding such power. The_surrender_ of power was what she enjoyed, being dominated, owned... knowing that she was in good hands. She only needed to obey Master Blake's orders, and focus on how best to aid him of her own accord. That was the life she had sought, and obtained. But now, her word would decide the fate of hundreds of her countrymen... ragged, tired, desperate people, to whom she owed nothing. If her actual family had been there... well, she would have owed _them_something. If nothing else, she owed her father a debt, what with having stolen her first weapon from him when she ran away from home.

Her own feelings, thus, were that she would be much happier if the refugees were elsewhere, instead of hanging around _her_sanctuary, dredging up all kinds of old memories and feelings, reminding her of where she'd come from and what she used to be. And she could certainly think of arguments that would persuade Argila that the wisest course of action was to move the refugees somewhere else as soon as possible... for their own good, of course. But... that wasn't where her duty lay. Wrinkling her brow, she closed her eyes and thought through it all for several seconds, while Argila patiently awaited her recommendation. Then, she smiled and opened her eyes again.

"We should definitely integrate them. We Horse-people are naturally strong and hardy - you won't find better workers anywhere. Turn that encampment into a proper village, give them your protection - and then let them work for their food and clothes. What they need right now, more than anything else, is self-respect - and charity won't give them that. Once they've recovered from the arduous journey, and their sick and wounded have been seen to, you should make it clear that they can earn a place here, if they're willing to work hard for it. Do that, and you won't be disappointed - they'll surely provide many useful services for the Utopia."

Argila nodded thoughtfully, and Melora excused herself to return to Lord Blake's chambers, so that she could share the intelligence she had gathered with him and Lady Anitra. She felt a nice, warm glow at having resolved her inner conflict, too - simply by reminding herself, once more, what she was. She was Master Blake's. His property, his slave, his servant, his confidant, his lover, his bodyguard, his pain-slut... everything she was, was for him. So of course, all she needed to do was consider which path would most benefit him. With the former refugees working amongst the dragons, most of them mares, it would be easy for him to recruit lovers from amongst them, thus broadening his harem. Lady Anitra, too, would likely enjoy finding a well-hung stallion or virile young colt amongst them - at least judging by how often she had availed herself to Melora's services since the crafting of the Ring of Priap.

So Lady Anitra would be happy, which always made Lord Blake happy. Lord Blake would have other horse-people mares he could take for lovers, which would make him happy as well. And if this led to herself being neglected, left to watch as her beloved Master poured his attentions into some other mare... oh, what sweet suffering it would be. She shuddered at the thought, feeling the familiar shivers of submission run down her spine, even without Master Blake anywhere near, or any orders from him acting upon her. Well, except for the one he had given her when they were first reunited, and never rescinded - and which she indeed had never broken. At no point since then had she worn any underwear, or indeed anything but skirts and dresses. Not a single layer of fabric had ever stood between her eagerly-waiting orifices and her beloved Master, not even for a second...

"Well, it certainly sounds like we had an impact on the Horse-People during our brief visit..." Blake said dryly, shaking his head. Anitra nodded glumly, leaning back against his flanks and thinking back to the events of that day, where she had first encountered Darcian and Eclipse. Melora was snoring, curled up against his other flank - Blake had 'rewarded' her for bringing such intriguing intelligence by putting his recent experiments in finding her perfect balance of pleasure and pain to full use, though it had largely been an excuse to take her mind off the deplorable state of affairs in her homeland. A dozen rapid-fire orgasms had exhausted her, and the last one had been potent enough to knock her out altogether.

It had been a pleasant diversion for him, too, of course. Ramming his cock roughly up her ass, while her own equine member - courtesy, as always, of the Ring of Priap - was buried in Anitra's skillful pussy - providing a potent, pleasurable counterpoint to the agony that wracked her body as he lashed her sensitive tits with claws of lightning, and gripped her balls (which, for all that they were temporary, magical creations, were every bit as sensitive as the real thing) firmly with a simple, telekinetic cantrip. This carefully-mixed cocktail of pleasure and pain had elicited a symphony of screams and moans, with orgasms radiating out from both her ass and her cock.

But while she now slept off her exhaustion, he was forced to consider that he had been party to an event which had torn the entire social structure of her race apart, and plunged them into a bloody, near-genocidal civil war. He wondered if the strange, sour sensation in his belly was what he'd heard people refer to as 'guilt'... if so, he was quite happy that he wasn't normally prone to such feelings. At the very least, he felt certain that it was somehow related to the feelings he had for Melora - the nature of which he still found it difficult to put into words, though they certainly had grown of late.

Discarding the pointless reflections, he craned his head down to Anitra and raised an eyebrow. "So... considering the stuff you've been talking about for a while, about undoing the damage we've done on our adventures... I s'pose I should be getting ready to leave for the Grass Sea shortly?" Anitra, however, pulled on her lower lip and stared into the distance for a few moments, before shaking her head. "No. We can't just rush there." He gave her a surprised look, and she quickly waved her hand. "Don't get me wrong, we definitely need to fix this if we at all can, but... I'm not sure_how_, and if we just fly there without a plan, we could easily wind up making things even worse."

Snorting, Blake raised his head again. "How? That doesn't seem to complicated to me. The whole thing happened because of that 'Eclipse' guy, right? He's gone nuts, started a genocidal war... and, heck, I still owe him for attacking you back then. And I'm pretty sure his vaunted 'army' won't be able to stop me from blasting him from the sky. He won't be mongering any more wars when he's been reduced to a pile of charred bones, I reckon." Anitra laughed, but shook her head again. "It WOULD be nice if it was that simple, but I kinda' doubt it. If we killed him, some lieutenant of his would probably just take over and keep going. And even if we could wipe out his whole army by ourselves, I doubt the Horse-People would thank us for it, considering that it's apparently mostly made up of conscripts from defeated tribes."

Laying her head back against his flanks, she closed her eyes but continued the depressing account. "...and even if we DID take him out, and shut down his army entirely... that would just leave a huge power-vacuum and a lot of unoccupied territory, likely prompting the surviving tribes to start squabbling over it. Bleh. Civil wars are always terribly messy. Easy to start and hard to end." Blake could only shake his head in disbelief. The lesser races really were impossible to comprehend sometimes! "So... what do we do?" he asked aloud, and felt Anitra's shoulders move against his scales in a shrug. "I have no idea. So I'm going to ask someone who specializes in ideas. Heck, several someones, probably. The citadel is crawling with philosophers, sages, historians, and all kinds of big-brained types these days, no? I'm sure someone amongst them must have some ideas about how to end a civil war without wiping out one side entirely."

A couple of days later, Anitra had concluded that there were, indeed, any number of such people, and that most of them actually had _several_ideas. Unfortunately, they tended to contradict one another broadly, and come with several qualifying statements and a great deal of bet-hedging. The more trustworthy-seeming types tended to outright refuse to give any kind of specific advice on a situation they had never observes, and knew only from fourth-hand accounts. "Civil wars are highly volatile, and tend to involve a laundry-list of long-held grievances and rivalries beyond the obvious 'apple of discord', as it were..." one nervous-looking political philosopher had said. "If there is a way to defuse the situation at all, it would require direct observation and likely interrogation of several involved parties."

And of course, none of them - neither those who merrily provided _their_personal fix-all idea for curbing civil wars, nor those who refused to venture unto such shaky ground at all - were willing to actually leave the comfortable sanctuary of the Dragon Utopia in order to visit a barbaric, war-torn land somewhere near the back end of nowhere. She'd already asked so many of them that she'd started getting a feeling of déjà vu every time she saw a white-bearded old man shake his head. She had just emerged from the Philosopher's Quarters after another such denial, when she was accosted by a young man in the hallway outside.

Well, more of an adolescent than a man, she thought as she looked him over - mid-teens, at most. He had an aura of maturity about him, though, and his clothes were anything but childish. The finely-tailored suit he worse marked him as being likely the son of some wealthy noble or prosperous merchant, or possibly both. It had an understated appeal, not flaunting wealth or power - just quietly whispering of it to anyone who bothered to listen. His skin was pale enough that he could've been easily mistaken for a vampire - especially considering his neatly-combed, jet-black hair - and his hands were unmarred by any signs of work. Definitely a privileged and probably a bookish sort.

And yet, the confident twist of his smile and the sharpness of his eyes warned her not to underestimate him as he made a polite bow before her. "Ah, the noble DragonRider, companion to the honored Champion of the Dragon Utopia... I have heard you've been making the rounds in the Philosopher's Quarters of late, seeking assistance?" She nodded curtly, trying to remember if she'd seen him before. But there were so many people in the Utopia these days... and while there weren't a great many youths, several of the invitees had been allowed to bring their families, so there certainly were some.

"I am indeed... should I assume you were sent to fetch me by someone willing to offer me a helping hand? Your father, perhaps?" She asked, raising an eyebrow, still trying to get the measure of this strange young man. He laughed - or perhaps rather chuckled, with the chilling sort of noise one would expect to hear from an evil archmage right before he said something along the lines of "You think you have me cornered, do you? Fools!" and then activated some kind of cursed artifact to summon a demon or whatnot - before replying. "Sent? No, no... nobody sent me. And I daresay it will be a cold day in hell before I 'fetch' for anyone, my father included. No, I am here to offer my own services. To avoid any further misunderstandings, I should perhaps make it clear that I was invited here, to the Utopia, based on my own merit - and not due to any advantages of birth. The dragons are, at least, refreshingly free of any age-based prejudice. Perhaps because we all seem like mayflies to them... but I digress."

A cold shiver ran down her spine as she realized what this boy was reminding her of, and why his laugh had made her randomly think of archmages and demons. She'd seen that kind of eyes, that kind of arrogant smile, that kind of utterly self-possessed confidence before. Lezard Valeth... the Necromancer and Rune-Mage she had met during the early days of her quest. A youth of such prodigious skill and intellect that he could already match some of the greatest masters of the arcane, as indeed he had when he had battled the notorious Raistlin on her behalf. This kid had the same attitude - the sure knowledge that they could best and surpass their elders with ease. So, another young prodigy, and indeed younger yet than Lezard had been...

Suddenly snapping his fingers, he produced another arrogant smile and bowed again. "Ah, but where are my manners! My name if Fowl - Artemis Fowl. At your service - quite literally. Unlike my gray-bearded colleagues, I am not afraid of a bit of hardship. I would be happy to travel with you to inspect this... Civil War that has you so worried, and provide any advice I can about how to end it quickly, efficiently, and with a minimum of unnecessary bloodshed." This grand declaration, however, failed to comfort Anitra, who had been through too many scrapes to be entirely comfortable when something she'd been searching for so hard just fell into her lap.

Narrowing her eyes, she looked over him again, analyzing him... and focusing her draconic eyes on the wavelengths that carried magical radiation. She wasn't surprised to see that arcane threads were woven into his neat suit - from the strength of the glow, it would probably have a protective value similar to chain-mail. Several brighter nodes of magical light were also visible beneath - presumably some kind of enchanted items, whether for self-defense or other purposes. She didn't have the full strength of a dragon's magical perception, though, so she couldn't make out much beyond that - though, at least some of those items she could see seemed... off, somehow. Like it wasn't the same kind of magic she was used to. However, his skin lacked the slight glow that would denote him as a magic-user himself, and the closer look confirmed her earlier assessment of his physical condition: Not great. He was thin and scrawny, lacking any kind of muscular definition.

"Are you sure you'd be up for such a strenuous journey?" She asked, still looking him over. Suddenly, she caught a flash of movement out the corner of her eye, and instinctively turned her head, only to find the hallway entirely deserted save for the two of them. There was nothing to see save the vague background glow of the preservative magics built into the foundation of the Citadel, and the more potent - but also far more distant - light from the vast barrier that surrounded the entire region. Feeling embarrassed, she quickly refocused her attention on the young man... Artemis, wasn't it? She'd always assumed that was a girl's name, but she felt utterly certain that if she mentioned that to him, he would provide her with an insufferably arrogant explanation of how she was wrong.

"I mean, no offense - you certainly sound like you've got wits to spare - but I don't much like the idea of taking someone who can't defend himself into a war-zone..." Belatedly, she spotted something about him that was off. His eyes... they weren't just sharp, they were two different colors. The right one was a bright, piercing blue, while the left was hazel... and, she thought, had just the _tiniest_spark of unnatural light floating about it. She was still trying to decide whether she was actually seeing it or just imagining it when he looked away, glancing down the hallway in the same direction she'd found her eyes guided earlier. "Oh, don't worry about that..." he said, quite calmly. "I may not be much of a fighter, but I've got a personal bodyguard who more than makes up for any such... shortcomings. Isn't that right, Holly?"

A shimmer appeared in the air and resolved itself into a person, while a rather sarcastic - but nonetheless melodious - voice commented "You know, Arty, being your invisible protector is a lot easier when you don't go around pointing me out to everyone you meet..." Anitra's eyes widened as she watched the figure emerging from invisibility. She was clearly a warrior - clad in a breastplate of gleaming silver over a dark-green uniform, and wearing a compact but deadly-looking hand-crossbow by her hip, with dark-red hair cut short in the style of a soldier, she cut a sharp and deadly figure. She was also several inches shorter than the young man she was apparently charged with protecting.

It was obvious at a glance that she wasn't human, but she also wasn't any other race Anitra was immediately familiar with. If it wasn't for the size, she might have passed for some particularly odd sort of half-elf - the pointy ears and head-shape certainly seemed elfin, and while the red hair and nut-brown skin certainly wasn't something you'd see in an elf, you could find it in some human populations. Though, admittedly, not both at the same time, as far as she knew. But the size was definitely a natural trait - based on her body's proportions and the lines on her face, she wasn't just some kind of child-prodigy like Artemis.

It was her magic-perceiving vision, already engaged in order to study Artemis, that clued her in. The creature before her was positively sparkling with enchantments - the armor glowed from the breastplate to the shoes' brass buckles, each of the pouches on her belt shone brightly from whatever potent artifact was held within, and the hand-crossbow was gleaming with truly dangerous amounts of stored magic. Even the elves, masters of magic though they were, would have been hard-pressed to field such an ensemble - perhaps some personal bodyguard to the Sun-King would have something _approaching_that level of enchanted gear, but even then, they wouldn't have been able to hide so well from her eyes...

"You... you're a Seelie-Fae, aren't you? One of the Hidden Ones?" she blurted out, and the girl wrinkled her nose. "Huh. You're well-informed - and perceptive. For a Mud-woman, anyway." Artemis, for his part, nodded... and then darted a glance at his recently-revealed partner. "She is indeed... but please, Holly, try not to be rude to the DragonRider. She has a sword that can cut apart enchantments like they were made of spiderweb, and is virtually immune to magical influence herself. Besides, she's essentially one-third dragon, so I don't think the term would quite apply to her even if it wasn't an insult." Then he quickly stepped up next to her, and bowed extravagantly towards Anitra with a suitable hand-gesture. "That aside, allow me to introduce to you Captain Holly Short, of the Lower Elements Guard. Assigned to my protection in return for a few... favors I have done for them. She is quite capable of maintaining my bodily integrity, I assure you, so fret not about me being helpless in a war-zone... anyone who threatens me will learn the error of their ways without even knowing where the lesson came from."

Anitra absently nodded, her mind whirling. It was true, most people wouldn't know of the Hidden Ones - even for Sages, it was considered obscure information. But she had spent significant time in the citadel's voluminous library, researching everything she could find about the enigmatic explorer, Lutan - however little there was of it. Most of his discoveries were known today not because he himself had bragged about them, but because some records of his had been found by a charlatan named Cassius, who had passed his discoveries off as his own and spread those secrets far and wide. However, not ALL of Lutan's adventures had been detailed in the journal Cassius found... there were some that were known only because he had mentioned them to his contemporaries, never revealing any details of how he had reached those places or where they were. Some of those contemporaries, fortunately, had kept journals or written diaries of their own, and some of those records were in the Utopia's great library.

She had studied those records closely, and when she had found mention therein of the 'Lower Elements, home of the Hidden Ones, far below the surface' - a place that certainly hadn't come up when she had been off retracing Lutan's footsteps, she ran down all the information she could find about it and them - with no small amount of help from the draconic librarian and the citadel's growing collection of visiting Sages. It had proven an intriguing field of study, even if it ultimately didn't answer any of the lingering questions about Lutan's true nature or purpose.

'The Hidden Ones' was not a race or species, per se, but rather a blanket term for a number of allied races with some traits in common: All of them were short of stature (by most standards), and small in numbers. This left them vulnerable in a world filled with big, warlike races, especially since several of them had abilities or talents which might appeal to a number of ambitious warlords... if properly harnessed. And so, in order to survive and preserve their freedom, they had hidden themselves away, burrowing deep into the ground and settling in a vast cavern, beneath even the subterranean worlds of the Underdark or Exile.

The actual races were only vaguely described, being after all hidden. There were mention of some mole-like creatures who dug through the ground by eating the dirt, and possessed countless disgusting natural weapons... the Pixies, who were small even by the standards of the Hidden Ones, but had wings and potent magical abilities... the Seelie-Fae, who were similar to elves, but shorter and more talented at enchanting than direct use of magic... the Unseelie-Fae, who were goblinoids with potent pyrokinetic abilities.. and supposedly even a race of pony-scale centaurs, said to be talented at clockworks and tinkering.

The Seelie-Fae had been the best-described, with much mention of their ability to easily create enormously potent magical artifacts, as well as a native capacity for turning themselves invisible by bending the light around them. Anitra remembered how the Rakshasa, Manushya, had managed to conceal herself from her eyes - and even, to a degree, Blake's - because her shape-shifting had not been caused by a spell, but was rather an ability inherent to her kind. An ordinary, magical invisibility-spell would have stood out like a beacon to her eyes, and indeed the eyes of every dragon in the citadel - so the girl - Holly, was it? - had to possess a similar, inherent ability for deceiving the eye. Ergo, Seelie-Fae, an agent of the Lower Elements... and apparently, they young boy not only knew of them, but had helped them somehow? Enough for them to lend him a bodyguard wielding enough enchanted gear to outfit a battalion? Clearly, Artemis Fowl was more than met the eye...

Remembering herself, she made a suitably polite introduction herself, however unnecessary it no doubt was, and then lifted an eyebrow at Artemis. "Okay, you've managed to impress me... I'll bite. When can you be ready to leave?" Artemis accepted the compliment with a superior air, clearly considering it naught but his due. "By tomorrow morning, easily. I already made most necessary arrangements." Which, of course, meant that he'd been entirely confident of her agreeing to bring him along. "Shall we meet in the courtyard, or would you prefer it if we came directly to the Champion's Quarters?"

Trying not to let his arrogance get to her, she asked them to come to their quarters - she didn't bother to give them directions, and was unsurprising when none were requested. The Utopia's human visitors virtually never ventured into the dragon-occupied parts of the citadel, save for the parts they were specifically invited to, such as the library - but of course, Artemis Fowl knew exactly where the Champion's Quarters were, nonetheless. Making her excuses, she quickly walked back home, glancing over her shoulder to see Holly Short disappear from view again, leaving nothing but the merest hint of a shimmer in the air...

Anitra had initially assumed that they'd be rather tightly-packed on Blake's back for the trip, what with having two extra passengers to carry - even if they were child-sized. Blake, however had made an amused snort when she wondered aloud whether they could get his saddle modified to carry additional passengers overnight, and shaken his head. "You need to stop thinking like an independent adventurer, and start thinking like the Champion of the Dragon Utopia. We're going to stop a civil war - this stuff's right up the Utopia's alley." And sure enough, a word from him was all it took for the council to immediately agree that sending another dragon along to help on such a worthy course was a perfectly fine idea. Custom-built dragon-saddles were already available in large numbers, for those volunteers who had been hard at work ferrying Sages and scholars to the citadel from every corner of the world, so it was hardly a hassle.

Nor was it hard to find volunteers for such detached duty, despite the uncertain time-frame for the mission. Indeed, basically ever dragon in the Utopia was eager to fly off on a 'Heroic Quest' with the Champion himself and his retinue. From this broad selection of candidates, Blake swiftly made a choice that was both practical and just a little bit insidious: Cerulea, the Blue dragon who had been the first in the Utopia to fly a mating-flight with him. She'd been quite devoted to him ever since, and as a Blue, she was a fast enough flier to keep up with his pace... while also being unlikely to question anything they did in the pursuit of their mission. Indeed, if they found it necessary to do something they didn't want to chance reaching ears in the Utopia, she would be rather easy to... distract at a convenient time.

And so, when they took off, it was with Cerulea following closely behind Blake, Artemis saddled upon her back. The saddle, meant to carry several adults, had more space than he needed - thus ensuring that a certain, invisible Fae could hitch a ride with no-one the wiser. It would probably be necessary to at least tip Cerulea off about Holly's existence later, but there was no reason to reveal her presence to the entire citadel. The young man showed no discomfort as he mounted the large, blue-scaled dragon, and sat astride her with every sign of confidence - managing to perfectly embody the kind of person that most people would expect to see riding a dragon; someone powerful and arrogant enough to force a dragon's submission and reduce it to a beast of burden.

Anitra hadn't been surprised by this attitude - but she WAS somewhat surprised when Artemis proved unperturbed by the need to 'sleep rough' on the journey. Dragons were, after all, still unwelcome in polite society for the most part, so they couldn't just land next to a roadside inn and seek shelter there when the dragons needed to rest. As such, their nights were spent in caves and forest-clearings for the most part. She, of course, was used to this - as was Melora and Direza, who had traveled as adventurers themselves before catching up with her and Blake. But if she'd hoped to see the arrogant youngster reduced by the hardy living, she was disappointed - he'd brought a comfy-looking bedroll in a similar quality to his impeccable suit, which also turned out to be enchanted to be waterproof and temperature-regulated.

Indeed, he also turned out to be quite capable of sleeping in the saddle, a quality Anitra herself had taken months to cultivate after becoming a DragonRider - it was, however, a necessity for efficient traveling, considering the dragon's capacity to fly for more than 24 hours without rest. When she queried him about this ability, he shrugged it off with customary arrogance. "The mind needs rest in order to function at its fullest capacity - my own brilliant brain is no exception. So I learned and mastered a type of meditative self-hypnosis that allows me to sleep when needed, regardless of discomfort, when I was 8." It was, however, some comfort to Anitra that he proved to be as useless at camp-work as she'd expected - indeed, he flatly refused to help with gathering firewood, cooking, setting up tents, or any of the other practical tasks. When pressed, he just declared that he'd agreed to accompany them as a strategic adviser, not a servant - but if they wanted some advice on the best places to look for dry wood, or the safest location to set up the tents, he'd be happy to assist!

He didn't get off quite that easily - Holly Short, it seemed, was as much his handler as his bodyguard. With some eye-rolling, she dragooned him into at least helping out with some of the less physically demanding tasks. An argument of hers that proved perplexingly effective was the suggestion that, if he had wanted to avoid labor altogether, he should have brought his butler along for the trip. Artemis blanched at this, and subsequently quietly agreed to lend a hand where his limited physical strength allowed for it. Anitra, meanwhile, quietly laughed at the thought of dragging some stuffy old white-haired gentleman in a suit along with them into a war-zone, just so that he could see to the Young Master's needs. No wonder the kid felt ashamed at that... though, still, she got the impression that there was more to it than that. Artemis and Holly were obviously close - and considering his remarks about having earned her protection by aiding her home, perhaps it was no surprise that they seemed to have been through a lot together.

It took them less than a week to reach their target - which was still long enough to make Anitra blanch somewhat at the thought of a ragged, poorly-armed and worse-supplied group of refugees covering the same distance. As soon as they got close to the Grass Sea, it was clear that peace had not surprisingly broken out after the refugees had left home - columns of smoke were rising from several points around the large, sapphire lake whose shores provided the Horse-People with their homeland. As they drew closer, it became clear that many of those columns rose from the bonfires of encamped armies... but a few drew the eyes to the ruin of pillaged villages instead.

From Tallian, they knew which village had become the heart of the coalition that stood in opposition to Eclipse - and fortunately, it did not appear to be on fire. Still, from above, it was clear that the coalition wasn't winning - large swathes of the eastern shores bore the signs of recent battles, and both the southern and northern shores seemed to have been entirely occupied. They flew over a fresh battlefield on their way, with Blake's sharp eyes picking out the forms of burly horse-men carrying the corpses of the fallen to their funeral-pyres, filling the air with the stench of burned hair and worse.

It caused some clear consternation when they landed near the Dawnseeker Tribe's village, and the top of the palisades around it bristled with armed warriors within seconds of their arrival. They had, of course, been prepared for this - and Artemis had suggested an opening gambit that, to Anitra, sounded less like tactical genius and more like common sense. Melora jumped off as soon as Blake touched down, and walked calmly up to the village gates, resplendent in her dragon-forged armor and banged on the door with her heavy glaive. When one somewhat-shaken sentinel hesitantly peered out, she simply told them that they were old friends of Darcian, and had come to lend a hand against Eclipse.

As expected, Darcian's name opened many doors - though, only hesitantly. Blake and Cerulea remained outside the village, watched carefully by a small army of horse-people, while Anitra was escorted inside along with Melora, Direza, Artemis and - though the guards didn't know it - the invisible Holly Short. The village turned out to be a somber place - save for the armored warriors lining the walls, the only people in sight were young foals, pregnant mares, and decrepit elders. These all stared at the passing group with a mixture of suspicion, fear, and dawning hope. Clearly, they were well aware of how poorly the war was going - otherwise, such a hope would never have been able to shine through their inherent distrust of outsiders.

The central hut of the village was large - a veritable longhouse. From the looks of things, it had been expanded some time ago, presumably to accommodate the coalition's high command. Said command was apparently in a strategy-session at the moment, judging from the loud arguments and barked insults emerging from the main door. Fortunately, the guards didn't take them inside there, but rather led them around the side to a far more unassuming door, which opened to a light knock. Anitra had to restrain a wince when Darcian looked out, nodded at the guards, and gestured for her and her retinue to step inside.

She well remembered him, though it had been a couple of years since their first meeting. She'd still been rather inexperienced back then - both as an adventurer, and as a lover. The handsome, burly, and yet kind and considerate horse-man had left an impression on her... and it was painful to see him in his present state. Clearly, he'd been getting too little sleep, rest and food for quite a while - his coat lacked its customary luster, his impressive muscles had partially atrophied, and his kind, brown eyes were encases in dark rings and heavy eyelids. It seemed like he had aged at least a decade in the intervening time. Nonetheless, he greeted her with a smile. "Anitra. When I heard reports of an approaching Black Dragon, I wondered if you'd come back, for some reason, or if another DragonRider had come by looking for a tablet-fragment we no longer possessed."

He greeted Melora too, and by name at that. "I remember hearing about you shortly before... things went bad. Once the rumors reached me, I immediately suspected that you might have run afoul of Anitra's draconic companion. Bit of a surprise to see you two traveling together, but I suppose you must have found a way to settle your differences! You certainly seem both healthy and happy, and that's what's important... let no-one tell you otherwise." Melora returned the greeting, looking slightly dazed. Having grown up in a neighboring village, she'd known Darcian by reputation - clearly, she was rather surprised to see him so familiar with her and her situation.

Then he sat down behind a low writing-desk utterly covered in scrolls, documents, and other papers, and spread his arms. "So. What can I do for you this time, DragonRider? I fear I have... few resources to spare at this time, alas." Once she had explained that she hadn't come looking for another favor, but rather, sought to _return_one, he brightened significantly. It was at this point that Artemis Fowl stepped forwards with customary arrogance. "You shouldn't thank us too quickly, Mister Darcian. We are here to help, indeed - to stop your brother, and end this civil war. I will be in charge of strategy, but I can already tell, you won't like what we'll have to do to accomplish this..."

He blanched at this, but then sighed and lowered his head. "If you truly know how to do it... I'll go along with whatever plan you have in mind. My own best effort so far have only managed to slow Eclipse down - dragging out our people's suffering." Then he winced a bit. "Mind, convincing the War-Council to go along with an outsider's plan might be... difficult." Artemis, however, shook his head with dreadful finality. "We won't. That's the first thing we need to deal with. Wars aren't won by committee. Strong, unified leadership is required in a situation like this. So, we're going to unite this coalition directly under you."

Darcian's eyes suddenly came into focus, and jumped from Anitra's sword, to Melora's glaive, then back to Artemis, whose look could best be described as 'ominous'. "I rather hope you're joking..." he said, his muscles tensing. Even in his current condition, he still cut an intimidating figure, and Anitra found herself instinctively tensing as well. Artemis, however, just shook his head. "Not at all, Mister Darcian - but don't get me wrong. I'm not talking about any kind of bloody coup. That would set entirely the wrong tone for your reign - and besides, based on what I've read of Horse-People cultural mores, the fools arguing in the next room will probably prove quite useful once we've got them in the field, leading your armies. So, give me some time to familiarize myself with the local political situation, and I'll arrange for a peaceful takeover." He seemed to think for a moment. "About half a day or so should do."

Arrogant though he might be, Artemis was as good as his words, and the next 12 hours definitively proved that he wasn't the sort to make empty promises... or threats, for that matter. With some help from his invisible friend, Holly, whose abilities made her a spymaster's wet dream, along with information gleaned from Eclipse and his records, he formulated a plan - and by the next morning, he put it into motion. One by one, the War-chiefs were convinced - through blackmail, manipulation, or bribery - to remove themselves from the council in order to lead their troops more directly in the field. Anitra and Blake didn't need to lift a finger - the only help he needed was a hand from Melora, here and there, in order to interact with some of the more xenophobic chiefs.

Afterwards, Darcian made a speech to the assembled warriors of the village, declaring that he'd take on the duty of managing the overall coordination of the Coalition forces. The speech was somewhat bombastic and grandiose, but clearly hit all the right notes for the martially-inclined Horse-People. This, too, was no surprise... seeing as Artemis had written the speech, and even coached Darcian on the proper cadence and body-language for making it. "Well, that was the easy part..." he declared, laconically, as the Horse-man warriors cheered Darcian's grand declaration that they would shortly begin pushing back Eclipse's forces, clearly picking up on the unspoken suggestion that the recent setbacks and losses were all part of some overarching strategy. "Now that we've got a functional chain of command to work with, we just need to win this war."

Anitra raised an eyebrow. "I thought we were here to end the war. Avoid further bloodshed. And so on." Artemis shrugged off this statement with habitual arrogance. "It's the same thing, in this case. Everything I've gathered concerning Eclipse - including your own account of your meeting with him, years ago, tell me that he won't accept any kind of compromise. Any resolution to the current situation that does not include killing and discrediting him would inevitably lead to renewed hostilities within a year and a half, at the very most." He nodded towards Darcian, who was now descending from the improvised podium he had used for his speech. "Our best bet for minimizing bloodshed is to increase Darcian's reputation and undercut Eclipse's, to the point where Eclipse's press-ganged forces will begin deserting en-masse to our side." Then he sighed, shaking his head. "But don't misunderstand. No matter what, we will have to kill thousands of Horse-People. Eclipse has built a powerful cult of personality around himself, and thus will inevitably be surrounded by fanatical devotees willing to die for him. All we can do for them is... fulfill that wish."

No more time was wasted reflecting on the inevitable loss of life that even the swiftest, surest end to the civil war would cause. Artemis leaped into action in grand form, plotting strategy and tactics with Darcian and treating the rest of the company like pawns - or, more charitably, knights, bishops and rooks. And by that standard, Holly Short was definitely the queen - her enchanted breastplate turned out to be capable of temporarily manifesting a pair of glittery fairy-wings, enabling her to move at a blistering speed. Combined with her potent invisibility, she was the perfect scout, providing the necessary intelligence for outmaneuvering Eclipse's forces in the field, or even listening in on Eclipse's own war-council.

She was not, however, happy with that assignment. "I'm supposed to be PROTECTING you, Artemis..." she growled, hand straying to the heavily-enchanted hand-crossbow at her hip. "This is a war-zone, and there's no such thing as 'perfect intelligence'. What if some commando-unit of Eclipse's launch a surprise attack on this place while I'm on the other side of the lake?" Her sheer intensity made even the generally unflappable youth quail a little bit, and even as he picked her arguments apart, he seemed aware that doing so wouldn't change her feelings on the matter. "Any such move would run entirely counter to Eclipse's demonstrated philosophy - and since it would also run counter to established Horse-People military procedures, none of his officers are likely to get such an idea either. And besides, I won't be alone here - Lady Anitra will be here most of the time, as will Direza..."

After a bit of back-and-forth, however, he sighed and put a hand to his head. "Please, Holly... I need that intel if I'm going to end this war quickly and decisively. You're the only one who can do this.Please. I'll... make it worth your while." Her pointy ears perked up at that, and a lopsided smile creased her lips. "I'll hold you to that." And just like that, it was settled. She did, however, throw a glance at Anitra. "Look after him while I'm gone, will you? For the most part, he's got an admirable sense of self-preservation, but every so often, it seems to go on the fritz..." Anitra nodded, somewhat bemused, as the tiny, elf-like creature vanished from sight again. Only a scattering of dust on the ground provided any clue that she had just risen into the sky on silent wings and headed towards Eclipse's forces on her own.

Everybody else, Blake included, followed Artemis' directions with a lot less resistance - too curious to see what the young prodigy could accomplish to take much offense at being ordered around by a mere youth. Blake and Cerulea were used as highly-mobile stratagems - rather than letting them raid and reave amongst the enemy by themselves, they were deployed as part of larger stratagems, striking enemy forces that had been lured into place by the conventional Horse-People forces. "Wouldn't do to leave the impression that Darcian only won the war thanks to the dragons..." Artemis commented dryly. And certainly, that method ensured that the common soldiers always felt that they'd played a major role in the resulting victories.

Melora was, by Artemis' own account, a keystone in his strategy. She'd been emplaced in the ranks of the common troops, with the local equivalent of a sergeant's rank, fighting on the front lines. Between the experience she'd earned as a solo adventurer and her heavily-enchanted, dragon-forged equipment, she cut a dashing figure - and a wide swathe through the enemy troops. Inevitably, this drew much admiration from the troops - and much fear from the enemies. Her frequent avowals of devotion and loyalty to Darcian thus spread from her like a virus, along with her battlecry - "For Darcian and the Dawnseekers!" She also set a good example for encouraging and accepting enemy defections, promising surrendered enemies a chance to earn a place amongst the soon-to-be-victorious Coalition, and soon convincing them to take up arms against their former brethren.

Direza, much to her discomfort, was in charge of interrogations... not that she needed to do much. The reputation of the Drow was well-established even in the Grass Sea, and all but the most determined captives tended to start singing like a choir as soon as they found themselves faced with a genuine Drow Interrogator. Even those who seemed genuinely devoted to Eclipse - which was rare enough to begin with, considering the percentage of conscripts amongst his troops - cracked once she started describing to them (in excruciating detail) what she would do to them, and how her powers of healing would enable them to survive it. She never had to actually hurt a single soul, but it still wore heavily on her, and Anitra devoted a fair amount of her energy to cheering her up as best she could. Much as the two of them generally enjoyed their games of domination and humiliation, there were times - like this - where a gentle touch and sweet, sweet pleasure was all they needed.

Anitra herself, meanwhile, was the only one who didn't have much to do. Having her fighting on the front-lines would have made those same problematic suggestions that it wasn't Darcian, but a foreign influence, that was turning the war around - which would've been devastating for morale in the short term, and even worse for long-term stability. At least, that's what Artemis said. So for the most part, she just hung around, playing bodyguard for him and Darcian, ready to counter exactly the kind of attack that he had so loudly argued to Holly Short wouldn't come.

Around five days after they'd effectively seized control of the Dawnseeker Coalition, Anitra found herself temporarily excused from her bodyguard-duties as Holly Short returned from yet another scout-flight, and debriefed with Artemis. She headed to the hut by the fenced-in prison-yard that Direza had been settled in, aiming to help relax her again - but found the the drow-girl emotionally exhausted after a rough day of 'interrogations'. Rather than waste time, she quickly brought the tired priestess to a light, yet bone-deep orgasm with her fingers and tongue, pushing her over the edge into a weary sleep. Hopefully, the pleasurable 'lullaby' would provide her with pleasant dreams despite her poor state of mind at the moment.

Thus left without anything to do, she wandered back to the hut that Artemis had commandeered for his own use - there was, unfortunately, plenty of empty huts to pick from in the village, after years of war. Once he'd finished debriefing Holly, she'd have talk with him, she decided - about taking Direza off the interrogation-duties, or at least reducing the number of prisoners funneled through to them. Maybe she, herself, could try to take on some of the interrogations? She wouldn't have the kind of inherent advantage that the Drow's reputation lend Direza, but she knew a thing or two about intimidation...

Once she got closer, she could hear that the debriefing was ongoing - and, indeed, seemed to be devolving into an argument. The huts, made of mud and straw over a frame of tied-together branches - weren't particularly well insulated, particularly not when it came to sound. Especially not when one possessed supernaturally-sharp hearing due to being part dragon. She didn't really intend to eavesdrop, at first, but when she heard Direza's name, her ears peaked and she instinctively sidled closer to better hear.

"...so why are you subjecting that poor Drow to that? It's painfully obvious that she's suffering from being so brutally reminded of the reputation her people 'enjoy'. And it's not like you need any of the stuff she pulls out of those she terrify into submission." Anitra's eyes narrowed as she heard Holly's clear, sharp voice. They were talking about the very same thing she'd been about to raise with him. Well, now she basically had an excuse to listen in - after all, if Artemis had a clear answer to that statement, she wouldn't have to waste his time asking the same question again!

"You don't get it." Artemis said, sounding bitter. "She's not doing that for my sake. She's doing it for you, whether she knows it or not." "Me?" Holly replied, equally parts surprise and disbelief injected into the word. "Yes, you. You're invisible, sure... but not invulnerable. There are ways to deal with invisible interlopers, if one is expecting them. I believe I have demonstrated as much to you and your peers on a number of occasions, no?" His tone was, at least, somewhat light when he said the last part - but then rapidly dipped again. "If we keep launching perfect stratagems with no apparent way to know Eclipse's plans in advance, he'll get wise sooner or later. Fae aren't the only ones who can go invisible, you know. He'll guess, or at least consider the option, and take precautions."

Artemis sighed. Holly, for now, was silent. "I'm sorry that Direza's having a hard time. But because of her work, we have a very public, very obvious - and indeed, rather infamous - source of intelligence. Word of our 'Drow Torture-Master' has spread even to the opposing army, exactly as planned. It serves to encourage defection, and indeed has been known to make captured officers immediately confess to everything they know - after all, why hold back when you're just going to talk in far worse conditions later? And as long as that's going on, nobody is likely to suspect the ACTUAL source of our fine intel." There was a moment of silence before he continued. "In the end, I'd rather hurt her feelings, than risk seeing you_get hurt in a far more physical manner. And I _particularly do not want to do anything that might risk you being captured by someone with the infamous appetites of Eclipse."

There was a sigh. "Oh, Arty..." Anitra swallowed a bark of laughter. Arty, was it? Adorable! She couldn't resist any longer. She snuck over to one of the windows - hung with a heavy curtain, but nothing else. The Horse-People weren't big on glass-working. Twitching it aside, she looked in - her eyes quickly adapting to the murky conditions and spotting Artemis and Holly engaged in a tight embrace. After a few moments, Holly pushed herself back, looking at the slightly-taller boy with troubled eyes. "I'm the one who's supposed to be protecting you, you know?" He merely shrugged and looked away, as if embarrassed.

Sighing, she shook her head. "Look, Arty... I'm a big girl. I can handle myself. And I've definitely tangled with worse than Eclipse, as you know perfectly well. Not that he isn't a nasty piece of work, mind..." she appended, with a grimace. Then she sighed again. "But, I suppose I can't really blame you for wanting to do what you can to minimize my risks. If you're finding it hard to be objective where I'm concerned, well, that's ultimately my own fault." At this, Artemis laughed, and faced her again - with his usual, lifted-eyebrow expression of I-know-better. "Oh, don't kid yourself, Holly. I was unable to be objective about you long before our relationship... escalated."

Holly looked at him for a few moments, eyebrows rising slowly. Then she grinned - naughtily - and took a step back. Reaching into her belt-pouches, she pulled out a pair of metallic handcuffs - glowing with just as much raw magic as the rest of her gear, to Anitra's sensitive eyes - and dangled them in front of Artemis. "You know... you DO owe me. Said you'd 'make it worth my while', as I recall. Maybe it's time I collected." Artemis blanched and looked around the hut guardedly, causing Anitra to freeze breathlessly in place. Fortunately, the window she was peeking through was almost directly behind him, and he at least didn't have eyes in the back of his head... and he also seemed strangely reluctant to take his eyes entirely off the dangling handcuffs.

"Come on, Holly... not here!" He hissed. "They've barely invented_doors_ around here, much less locks." Holly, however, laughed it off - a strangely tinkling sound, considering her usual, hard-as-nails image. "Oh relax, Arty... most of the village thinks you're a vampire. The rest are just creeped out by you. The only people who ever come here are Darcian - who I happen to know is busy giving a suitably bombastic speech to the newest batch of recruits the next village over - and Anitra. As for her, she'll be in Direza's bed by now, trying to ease the poor girl's heart. She certainly spends enough time sticking close to you while playing bodyguard that she isn't going to want to spend her precious free time bothering you as well."

Artemis dithered, fidgeting with the cuff-links of his suit - somewhat more rumpled than it had been when they got there, but still splendid. "Well, they haven't invented glass, either. A casual conversation can carry far around here." His eyes darted to one of the curtain-covered, but otherwise empty, windows... though, again, fortunately not the one Anitra was peeking from. Holly, again, just grinned - and stepped up closer to Artemis, leaning into him and putting her arms around him, jangling the handcuffs behind his head as she whispered in his ear - her voice just barely reaching Anitra's inhumanly-sharp ears. "So we'll be quiet. You _do_know how to be quiet, don't you Arty?"

The answer was a low-pitched growl. Suddenly, Artemis' arms were around the slender Fae's shoulders, lifting her up, pushing her back until she hit the walls. Holly laughed naughtily, making no resistance as Artemis pushed her arms up above her head and tore the handcuffs from her fingers. He didn't even look as he deftly attached them to the fae's slender wrists, where the enchanted metal promptly shrunk down to snugly encircle them - instead, he was busy pinning her head up against the wall with an intense kiss. Anitra boggled at the sight. The usually composed and straight-laced Artemis was finally acting his age, it seemed - letting loose the hormone-driven beast that could not help but exist in his teenage loins, whatever his intellect had to say about the matter.

The way he was handling the handcuffs hinted that he'd used them many times before. Still busily mashing his lips against Holly's in a kiss that was clearly heavy on the tongue, he squeezed the middle link of the cuff's central chain, causing it to briefly light up. Then he pushed it back against the wall, where it sunk through the dried clay - and probably the wooden frame, too - as if it was water. When he removed his fingers, the cuffs were left thoroughly attached, holding Holly's hands high above her head. She shuddered, pushing her head forwards to redouble the intensity of the kiss - but just then, Artemis broke contact and stepped back a bit, his face red and sweaty.

Putting both hands on her lower torso, he looked down at her silvery breastplate and whispered a word in a magical tongue. The breastplate flashed, and parted down the sides, causing the back of it to slide off and hit the floor behind Holly's legs with a metallic clunk. The front, meanwhile, was left in Artemis hands, for the bare second it took him to throw it aside. He quickly tore open the dark-green jerkin that she was wearing underneath, revealing a slender frame and a pair of small, yet perky breasts - which he wasted no time bending down to taste. She moaned and trembled as his tongue and lips caressed both of her nipples, each in turn, leaving them fully-erect and glistening wet as he moved lower yet. He kissed a trail down her belly, working his fingers into the waistband of her trousers as he did.

With a sudden jerk, he pulled them down to her ankles, revealing a neat, dripping-wet pussy topped by a well-kept bush of dark-red hair, for a few seconds only - then his head blocked the view as he dug into it with his tongue. Her moans redoubled, indicating that she'd already forgotten her earlier statement about being quiet. "Oh... ahh! Arty... you always did have a clever mouth..." she mumbled, her face flush with pleasure and desire. She apparently got a nonverbal reply, based on the way her neck suddenly curved. Mouth hanging open, she stared unseeing at the ceiling, shaking bodily, arms pulling instinctively against the unyielding metal of the handcuffs.

Apparently, somewhere along the way, she'd managed to work her feet out of her pant-legs, not to mention the heavy, brass-buckled shoes. Certainly, her slender, muscular legs were entirely naked when they rose from the ground to curl around Artemis' back, crossing behind his neck to pull him harder into her soaking-wet slit, even as she hung her full weight from the handcuffs. He didn't seem to mind, digging into the feast before him as he lapped away noisily. Anitra couldn't help but wonder if his oral techniques were as refined as the rest of his skills - certainly, Holly seemed to be enjoying them a lot. Her hands had strayed, seemingly on their own, towards her own crotch, and her fingers ached to dig under the bright-red fabric of her panties and satisfy the urges now rising within her. It had been a long time since she'd last felt this kind of voyeuristic thrill...

She looked away from the window for a moment to gaze around her. Holly hadn't been kidding when she'd said that most people avoided Artemis' hut, and this window was up against the wall of another, neighboring hut, putting her in something like a back-alley - with one end blocked by some carelessly-discarded supplies, to boot. Mostly everyone in the village who wasn't busy at work, had gone out to hear Darcian's speech to the new recruits. The risk was minimal... and heck, if someone DID see her, she'd deal with it. She needed this. Slipping her fingers past the waistband of her panties, she let them explore all they could reach, biting her lip against the rising surge of pleasure even as she turned back to the window to continue watching the show.

Artemis, meanwhile, had apparently had enough to drink. His pants fell to his ankles as he rose, having presumably been undone at some point while he'd kneeled there to show off his cunnilingus-skills. His hands now gripped Holly's legs, lifting them along as he got to his feet, though they quickly unfolded and slipped over his shoulder so that he was holding on to her shins. With her upper body still hanging from the handcuffs, her back against the wall, this left her groin at just the right height to meet the rock-hard erection now rising to meet it, vibrating with youthful virility. It was no larger than one would expect from a boy his age - but then, considering Holly's petite build, that wasn't necessarily such a bad thing. If they were planning to continue their sexual relationship as Artemis grew into adulthood, however, Holly might find herself under quite a bit of strain...

For now, however, they clearly fit together just fine - judging by Holly's drawn-out moan as Artemis slid into her, anyway. Grunting, he began to thrust his hips forcefully, giving his instincts free rein for once. Dangling between his shoulders and the handcuffs embedded in the wall, Holly was buffeted by every thrust, swinging helplessly back and forth as Artemis pounded her. When one slightly-too-violent thrust caused her to swing far enough back that he fell out, Artemis merely paused, took a deep breath, and readjusted his grip on her legs - pulling her up a bit. Then he pushed forwards again, first carefully, then with more certainty, and Holly hissed through her teeth. Anitra grinned, letting her fingers dig deeper. Even from this angle, she recognized a well-executed orifice-jump when she saw it, and judging by the ease with which Artemis had gained entrance into Holly's no-doubt tight ass, it was far from the first time he'd been there.

Certainly, he was pounding her every bit as enthusiastically as he had before - and between the panting breath, the reflexively-curling fingers rising from the handcuffs, and the way her feet were crossing behind Artemis' neck, Anitra rather suspected that Holly Short didn't mind one bit. Indeed, after a dozen or so thrusts had seen Artemis' bony hips collide with her jiggling ass-cheeks, she shuddered and moaned as her body convulsed orgasmically. Artemis clearly wasn't far behind, and as he grimaced with pleasure, he stepped forwards, taking advantage of Holly's extremely limber body to nearly bend her in halves, just so he could lean in and once again bring their lips together in an intense kiss.

They remained lip-locked as Artemis' hips stopped, his balls resting against her ass. His muscles vibrated with the intensity of his orgasm, and muffled groans escaped the seal of their lips as he steadily pumped his youthful seed into her asshole. After a couple of long minutes, he broke the kiss in order to lean his forehead against the wall next to Holly's head, eyes closed and arms shaking as he tried to regain his breath after the exertion. Holly was similarly panting, and Anitra suspected that she'd gotten a second, smaller orgasm on the tail-end of the previous one... something she knew quite well could rapidly take your breath away.

With that in mind, she refocused the efforts of her fingers. She didn't masturbate very often, what with the broad range of lovers she generally had access to, but that hadn't stopped her from developing an effective technique - mostly because she could just repurpose the tricks she'd mastered for fingering her frequent lesbian lovers. Meanwhile, the novelty of it helped to make up for the obvious and deplorable absence of an inhumanly large cock lodged up one of her orifices - and the fact that she could, by now, easily slide a finger up her urethra to stimulate the highly-sensitive nerves lining that tiny passage helped as well. As the lovers inside the hut recovered from their exertion, she stifled her own orgasmic moan, gnashing her teeth together as she shuddered, sweet juices dripping from the crotch of her dragon-scale panties to stain the ground beneath her.

As she refocused her momentarily-distracted attention on the couple inside the hut, she saw that Artemis had taken a step back, pulling out, and was now letting Holly's legs off his shoulders. His cock still stood proud and hard with the tireless virility of teenagers everywhere, but he just looked down at it with a sigh, and pulled a handkerchief out of an inside pocket in order to wipe it down before lifting his pants back up and closing them over it. "Aww... you sure you don't wanna go another round?" Holly teased, still hanging mostly-naked from the handcuffs as little rivulets of pussy-juice ran down her inner thighs. Artemis, however, sharply shook his head. "Quite sure. We're taking an unnecessary risk as it is, and since I'm currently thinking clearly again, I'm putting a stop to it."

Holly smiled as he reached up to touch the handcuffs, triggering their enchantment somehow and causing them to slip out of the wall just as easily as they had slipped into it. Another touch made the steel cuffs spring open, releasing her reddened wrists. She rubbed them for a moment before taking the handcuffs from him and spinning them around a finger. "Well, if you say so... but it's still your turn to wear the cuffs next time." Artemis lifted an eyebrow and delivered a lopsided smile, even as she began to pull up her own trousers. "Maybe so. Then again, maybe Juliet will rescue me in the nick of time." Holly stuck her tongue out at him at this, while adjusting her heavy equipment-belt, and then started picking up her enchanted breastplate. "Give me a hand with this?"

Anitra withdrew from the window, letting the curtain fall back into place. They seemed like a nice couple, she thought, despite the... irregularity inherent therein. Holly was a fully adult Fae, after all, and considering their elf-like lifespan, that meant she was probably pushing 100. Compared to Artemis - a human still in his teens - that was quite the age-difference. Then again, she reflected, she was hardly one to talk. Blake was a rather young dragon, so he wasn't really THAT much older than her... but some of the dragons she's struck up a casual relationship with back at the Utopia had centuries to their name.

Regardless, there was no point in interrupting them now. She already knew the answer to the question she'd intended to ask Artemis - and knew that he wasn't likely to risk his girlfriend's life just to spare Direza's feelings. All Anitra could do was continue with her current course - comforting Direza and easing her pain whenever possible. With that in mind, she retraced her steps and slipped into Direza's bed again, ensuring she'd be there when the exhausted elf woke up. A breakfast-meal of several slow, languid orgasms and whispered reassurances that she was doing well and making her Mistress proud would be in order, she decided...

Artemis' plan worked. Over the next several weeks, The Coalition forces pushed Eclipse back both north and south of the river, retaking land that had been lost over months of fighting. And through what could best be described as sleigh-of-hand on a large scale, soldiers on both sides were left with the impression that the presence of foreigners - including foreign dragons - had far less to do with this than it actually did. Morale was soaring, both from the objective successes, and from Darcian's growing skill as an orator. He'd always been a scholar by nature, and had proven to be a quick study once Artemis started teaching him oratory and demagoguery. No longer did Artemis have to write out his speeches in detail, along with directions for proper tone and body-language - by now, a few simple guidelines as to what the gist of his speech should be was enough.

A cult of personality was growing around Darcian, who was getting all the credit for the repeated victories - so carefully redirected from Holly, the dragons, and Artemis himself. This was, of course, part of Artemis' long-term plan - as was the introduction of a unifying banner, denoting the Dawnseeker Coalition as a whole. He had designed it himself, with an eye towards emotion-invoking colors and symbolism that would appeal to Horse-People traditions, and it caught on rapidly - replacing the various tribal standards used in the field, 'in the name of unity'. "Tribal societies always suffer from internal unrest..." Artemis explained. "The only way to ensure that something like this doesn't happen again, is to instill them all with a powerful sense of nationality. Once the war is over, the Horse-People Tribes will have seized to exist - and a single, unified Nation will take their place." It was social engineering on a grand scale, and enough to make Anitra's head hurt. But Artemis approached it with customary confidence, and the rest of them followed behind - impressed and a little bit disturbed by the effectiveness of his approach.

Finally, after little more than a month, Artemis declared that it was time for the final stratagem. "The morale of Eclipse's forces are at the breaking-point. Half the enemy units we meet surrender as soon as we get close to them. If we strike now, we can break them altogether." Darcian was... uncomfortable with the battle-plan Artemis outlined, but finally agreed with a reluctant nod. "I suppose there's no choice." Artemis surprised them all by emitting a bark of laughter. "No choice? Don't be silly, man. There are thousands_of choices, and I've examined them all. This is the one that will minimize the casualties and the bloodshed, while maximizing post-war stability in the long term. If we pull it off, the war will end _this week, and the Horse-People will emerge from the ashes stronger and more unified than before." And thus, the fate of the Grass Sea was sealed.

Three days later, the Coalition forces launched an ambush on Eclipse's central war-camp. Several squads of elite warriors - led by Melora - had been emplaced behind them, thanks to several nocturnal trips by Blake and Cerulea, enabling a partial pincer-maneuver. Naturally, only the most loyal of his troops were present in Eclipse's own camp - most of them members of his original tribe, who had fought beside him since the start of the war. They put up a determined defense, but their spirits were shaken when they recognized the brilliantly-armored stallion marching at the forefront of the main force - Darcian. Meanwhile, they glorious leader's presence pushed the already-eager attackers' morale into the stratosphere - none of them wanted to do anything less than their utmost before Darcian's eyes.

The outcome was determined before the first blow fell. Even Eclipse's loyalist troops wavered in the face of Darcian's presence - a member of their own tribe, and someone whose skills and wisdom they had respected prior to the schism between him and Eclipse. Needless to say, the inflated reputation he had earned in the past month had reached their ears too, further reinforcing those feelings. Several of them surrendered rather than challenge Darcian - which did the morale of their fellows no favors. Had it not been for Eclipse's own magnificent presence and raw charisma, they would have buckled and fled.

As Eclipse himself strode forwards through the bloodshed, wielding a massive axe and laying about himself at any foe unfortunate enough to stray within his reach, Darcian stepped forth from the lines of the Coalition's forces to challenge him, and the two armies paused in their tracks, holding their collective breath as the two brothers faced one another upon the battlefield, weapons in hand. A heavy saber lay in Darcian's hand, still unstained by blood. Sadness was in his eyes, but determination was there too. He'd gotten himself back in shape over the past month (with quite a bit of help from Holly, who - unlike Blake - was quite capable of weaving healing and vitality-boosting magic... though of course, nobody else knew that), and he cut a dashing figure as he raised his sword to salute his twisted brother.

Eclipse briefly rested his axe on his shoulders. "I didn't think you had it in you to meet me like this, brother. Perhaps you are not the coward I thought you were..." he rumbled, eyes burning with hatred. His hooves tore at the blood-stained ground, and his nostrils flared with eager breath. Darcian said nothing. "Perhaps you are merely a fool. You cannot beat me. You never could beat me. Still, better a brave fool than a clever coward - come, let us end this! Once you are dead, I will finally have what is mine by right!" His eyes flared, and he readied his axe, wielding the heavy slab of metal like it was weightless. Darcian sighed, eyes still sad. Then, at last, he spoke up - and though his voice was quiet, every soul on the battlefield heard it. "Yes, brother. Let us end this, indeed. You are my blood, and I still care for you - so I will give you the only mercy I can: A swift, clean death on the battlefield, just like you always wanted."

Then the two collided. It was a fierce fight indeed, and the contrast between them was clear. Eclipse wielded his axe with overwhelming force, every strike aiming to kill or cripple his opponent. Darcian, meanwhile, fought defensively - dodging and weaving, blocking and deflecting, always being where the axe was not. Waiting for an opening. Eclipse continued to swing his axe, seemingly tireless... until suddenly, he seemed to miss a step. His hoof slipped on the ground, his knee buckled, and with a surprised expression, he fell sideways, the weight of his axe and inertia of his swing pulling him off balance. Darcian struck immediately, his sword whipping out for the first and last time. The razor-sharp blade bit into Eclipse's muscular neck, severing his head from his body with a single swipe.

For a moment, the battlefield was silent. Eclipse's body settled on the ground, hand still gripping the haft of the axe firmly, even as blood poured from the next. The head stood nearby, still looking surprised. Darcian looked down at the body, then at the bloody blade in his hand, grief written across his features. Then, in a single, fluid motion, he brought the sword down on his armored knee, fragmenting the blade with a shocking noise. As the jagged pieces of metal fell to the mud, he rose and declared "This blade took the life of my brother, and won peace for my people. It shall never serve a lesser purpose."

A massive cheer went up from the Coalition forces, and at the same time, Eclipse's army collapsed - literally, for the most part, as the horse-people discarded their weapon and fell to the ground. Some grieved the fall of their leader, others were filled with consternation simply at having been on the losing side, and many more were simply... tired. None seemed inclined to continue fighting, caught between two forces and leaderless as they were. The war, for all intents and purposes, was over. Word spread rapidly across the Green Sea, and though one or two of Eclipse's officers refused to surrender and sought to continue the fight, they shortly found themselves dead at the hands of their own demoralized soldiers.

A great victory-celebration was quickly planned. (Or rather, Artemis had - with his usual arrogance - planned it well in advance.) Indeed, the very next evening, Darcian rose on a podium before his assembled armies and gave perhaps the most important speech of his life. He declared a general amnesty for all prisoners of war, and pronounced the formation of the new Kingdom of Equus. "The tribes are no more! Whatever symbol of honor or tradition they once provided is a phantom, a memory. The time has come, my fellow Horse-People, to rally to a new banner. In unity lies strength; already, many of the independent tribes have joined us. Out of the many, we shall forge an indivisible whole, capitulating only to a single throne - and from that throne, I shall watch over you. From this day forward, let no Horse-Man make war upon any other Horse-Man, let no Warchief conspire against this new beginning, and no outsider call us barbarians or savages. And to those whose lands surround ours: Seek not to stand in our way, for we shall persevere, no matter the cost!"

And just like that, the Dawnseeker House was established, with Darcian as its first patriarch and monarch. Approval was instant - the common people had already come to view him as something akin to a messiah, and Artemis had carefully laid the groundwork - ensuring that the tribal chiefs most likely to object had been silenced ahead of time. Through careful negotiation and manipulation, where possible, but... one or two Warchiefs had, perhaps, fallen in skirmishes that - objectively speaking - seemed to have been strangely light to have claimed the lives of so experienced warriors.

Needless to say, the victory-party only gained steam from the declaration. Food and drink was flowing freely, and the soldiers danced around great bonfires as they celebrated their victory and remembered those who had fallen. Quite a few stallions slipped into huts or outside palisades with a willing mare, eager for some life-affirming activities to take their minds off the recent bloodshed. And amidst it all, Melora approached Blake, who had moved away from the celebration a bit, watching the activities with a tolerant gaze. "My Lord... you wanted me?" She asked, gazing adoringly up at him. He nodded, and lowered his head to her side. "I did indeed, my dear. A thought occurred to me, you see."

He let his eyes scan the crowd as he talked with deceptive casualness. "Anitra is beginning to... show. It will be months yet before the birth, but it made me think. Once she gives birth to my child, we might have use for a wet-nurse. And if my calculations are correct, the gestation-period of a Horse-Person just about matches the likely months remaining of Anitra's pregnancy." Melora's heart beat faster, her lips suddenly dry as her Master's gaze turned to fixate on her. "What... would you have me do?" she asked, spine already tingling. Blake chuckled, and gestured towards the ongoing party. "Go out there. There are plenty of stallions and colts there, filled with happiness to be alive and eagerness to prove it. Offer yourself to one and all. Let them fill your womb with their seed 'till it overflows. Do not come back to me without a foal in your belly."

She bowed deeply before him. "As you wish, Master." As she walked away from him, she heard him whisper arcane words, and felt a tingle in her abdomen - a spell taken from the Library of the Perverse, presumably. No doubt, she had just started to spontaneously ovulate, ensuring that her body was as ready to obey his commands as she was. A warm glow of love filled her as the implications of the order she'd been given coursed through her mind. He was telling her to get pregnant, in a way that would ensure that no single stallion could possibly be identified as the father. She would give birth close to Lady Anitra, and her foal would suckle alongside their child, as Milk-Kin. This was, ultimately, the closest that her Master could come to having a child by her himself.

With this in mind, she threw herself into her assignment with abandon. The party, already growing steadily wilder as the amount of alcohol consumed overwhelmed even the impressive constitution of the Horse-People, didn't take much of a push in order to descend into an orgy. Melora's performance in the field had won her many admirers, and once she made it clear to them that she'd fought the whole campaign without wearing anything under her armored skirt, loincloths rose all around the campfire. Soon, she was surrounded by eager lovers, too drunk to worry about long-term consequences as they plunged their erect horse-cocks into her waiting pussy.

There were other mares amongst the soldiers, of course, and most of them followed her lead - at least in part. Grabbing whatever colts or young stallions they'd particularly had their eyes on, they'd quickly drag them aside with whispered promises, spurred into action by the very real risk of having the subject of their affection seek Melora's embrace. There was plenty of men left over, however, and she eagerly accommodated them all. The important thing was that they filled her womb with the fertile contents of their heavy, sweat-soaked balls, of course, but she saw no reason to deny them the use of her mouth and ass at the same time. Used as she was to dragon-sized members, her body handled the influx of equine dicks with ease - and the endurance she had earned, both as an adventurer and as a servant to Lord Blake, enabled her to outlast lover after lover.

By the time the fires died down, with exhausted party-goers snoring around the embers, clinging to bottles or each other, at least a couple of dozen stallions had sprayed their cum into Melora's waiting womb. At least as many had filled her ass, or blasted their seed down her throat. Sticky fluids were dripping from between her buttocks, staining her tail and thighs, as she rose, feeling the slight bump of her cum-packed belly with one hand as she licked her lips. She wasn't done - not nearly - and she had a fairly good idea where she'd find some fresh lovers.

The gates to the huge prison-camps where captured and surrendered soldiers of Eclipse were held had been thrown open when Darcian announced the general amnesty, but most of the residents were still there. They didn't have anywhere else to go, and hey, there was shelter, food, and water in the camps. Why leave? Of course, they weren't in quite so celebratory a mood as the victors, for all that there was a certain sense of 'new beginnings' in the air. When a cum-stained, stark-naked mare walked into the camp and woke up most of the male population, however, it wasn't hard to get them into a suitably festive mood - and since they'd just been moping around all day instead of partying, they had energy to spare.

They were rougher than the victorious soldiers had been. A lot rougher. Melora had been a highly-recognizable presence on the battlefield. Most of them had seen comrades or even family cut down by her glaive on the battlefield, and for all that the martial code of the Horse-People said that there was no cause for grievance in such a case, hard feelings persevered. Seeing her offered up on a silver platter like that, those feelings swiftly found an outlet. Hard, square teeth closed around her nipples, gnashing and pulling. Calloused hands fell harshly on her buttocks in a constant stream of blows as whichever stallion was mounting her from behind worked off his aggression. Open-handed smacks would hit her face if she was too slow to start sucking on a proffered cock. Meanwhile, they pounded her pussy and ass with undisguised brutality, grunting with the effort.

Once it dawned on them that she'd been stretched far enough in the past to make even their girthiest members unspectacular, they only got nastier, aiming to overcome this fact in creative fashion. The stallions clustered around her, bodies mashed together as they shoved first two, then three full, hard cocks up her pussy, straining it to the limit. Meanwhile, a muscular, barely-lubricated arm was pushed up her ass, to the elbow, the coarse coat covering it teasing every inch of her lower intestine as it roughly pumped in and out of the tightly-grasping orifice. Her abdomen was thoroughly filled, her hip-bone aching from the strain. So, of course, she came.

Between her masochistic enjoyment of her body's protest-signals, the powerful stimulation both her nether orifices were undergoing, and the underlying knowledge that she was acting on her Master's orders to the best of her abilities, it was hardly a surprise that she rapidly reached several potent climaxes. Well, her 'lovers' were surprised, of course, but she didn't care much about that. What she did care about was feeling their mashed-together cocks jerk inside her as they blasted a triple load of cum into her already-stuffed womb. The overstretched tissue smarted under the strain as it ballooned out against her taut belly-muscles, though unfortunately, this delightful pain didn't last long - even with their heads flared, the three cocks left entirely too many gaps between them to effectively stop the slimy white fluid from flowing back along their shafts to bubble out.

By the time the ornery stallions had exhausted both their balls and their imaginations, the sun was rising... and the party was starting again. So after taking a brief break to relieve herself and give her cum-stained hide a rudimentary washing, she returned to the war-camps, eager to hunt down some morning-wood amongst the celebrants. She deliberately aimed for a different war-camp than the one she'd spent the evening in the day before - there were several of them scattered around the area, each containing hundreds of stallions. No point retreading ground unnecessarily...

The feasting and partying following Darcian's declaration of victory famously lasted for three days and nights. During that entire time-period, Melora carried out her task without pause. She'd gone longer than that without sleep before, and with the frequent cum-loads she gulped down, she barely needed to stop for meals. Occasional potty-breaks and quick baths to prevent herself from getting too gross and sticky to attract willing lovers was all she allowed herself - she would spend the morning in one war-camp, the noontime in another, and the evening in a third, before heading to one of the prison-camps to spend the night. The years of civil war had diminished the Horse-People's population somewhat, but there were still tens of thousands of colts and stallions in the Grass Sea. And by the time the festivities finally came to an end, a significant percentage of them had lodged their seed in Melora's womb.

Her entire body ached, though nowhere more than her pussy or ass, both of which had been rubbed thoroughly raw. Her throat was little better off, and her lips were swollen from countless blowjobs. Fatigue laid upon her shoulders like a sack full of bricks, and she'd sailed through the final night mostly on sheer endorphin-power. The last campful of prisoners she'd 'entertained' had been particularly ornery - understandable, perhaps, after three days of watching their erstwhile enemies literally revel in their victory. Their treatment of her had been just shy of torture, and her heavy tits were still burning with pain after having been repeatedly slapped and squeezed by powerful hands. Her groin and ribs ached brutally as well, having received several parting kicks from hoofed prisoners too worn-out to continue with more creative torments. The overall level of discomfort was beyond the point where she could legitimately claim to _enjoy_it.

And yet, she was smiling as she dragged herself into the small encampment that had been established as a sleeping-spot for Blake and Cerulea, approaching her Master with the sure knowledge that she had done well. She hadn't dared to bathe after her nightly ordeal - she was so tired, she genuinely feared that she might fall asleep in the water and drown herself - so her coat was thoroughly messy, plastered down by sweat and cum. Nonetheless, as she reached Blake, he drew her in close and ran a claw caressingly through her mess of a mane. "Well done, my dear..." he murmured, helping her to settle her tired body against his chest. "You have carried out my command splendidly. Rest, now - you have earned it." She fell asleep instantly, and with a smile on her lip, despite the countless aches of her body.

Anitra, who had just emerged from her own hut after a good night's sleep, grinned up at Blake as she saw the young mare's condition. "She's been working hard, huh?" she asked, but Blake shook his head. "You have no idea. I didn't just put that fertility-spell I'd been talking about on her before she set off - on a whim, I put Borja's Counter on her as well." Anitra's eyebrows rose. "That curious little spell that keeps track of the number of sexual partners you've had?" Blake nodded in reply, and carefully ran a talon through the tangled mane of the sleeping horse-woman. "I read the results as soon as she staggered in here. Just a shade over three thousand. More than a thousand lovers per day, considering that she didn't start 'till the evening of the first day. She's probably slept with more than half of the adult male population of her entire race."

Anitra whistled quietly. "Okay. Yeah. I'm impressed!" Then a grin crested her lips as she walked up to Blake and patted him on the flank. "Well, when it comes to servants, you certainly know how to pick 'em. I think she'll prove to be an admirable nanny for our kid! She's certainly got the stamina for the job, anyway." Blake twisted his neck to smile down at her, his eyes automatically panning to her abdomen, where a vague bump just barely was visible. She shuddered, not from pleasure but from love, as he lowered his head further and nuzzled her belly with his scaly nose, warm breath playing across her skin.

For her part, Anitra had spent the first day and night after the victory catching up with Blake. Since he wasn't 'on call' anymore, and her bodyguarding-services no longer needed, the two of them could indulge in some quick-and-dirty fucking in the relative privacy of the dragon-camp. Her pregnancy still prevented vaginal sex, of course, but between oral and anal, there was still some perfectly fine options - including the way Blake's long, snakelike tongue could reach into her pussy to tickle and caress every sensitive spot inside. Mostly, though, they just relished the sense of closeness, after having had very little opportunity to be together for the past month.

Once she'd been satisfied, though, she found herself somewhat rootless. She didn't feel like joining the festivities - or rather, Artemis had warned her about not doing so. Her presence would be a reminder that outside forces had been instrumental in securing the celebrated victory, which they couldn't afford. So for a lack of anything better to do, she went back to hanging out around Artemis, continuing to play her role there. It couldn't hurt to keep up appearances - their official cover-story, after all, was that Artemis had flown in to act as a 'strategic adviser', due to owing Melora a favor, and that he'd brought a couple of dragons, a Drow Interrogator, and a black-armored bodyguard to assist. Holly Short officially didn't exist - which was convenient, since it meant that nobody was wondering if there might have been some external reason why Eclipse suddenly stumbled during his climactic duel with Darcian. Like, say, an invisible Seelie-Fae with an invisible hand-crossbow...

Artemis, for his part, didn't seem to consider his job done yet. He was closeted with Darcian for most of the three-day period, reading him up on the larger, geopolitical conditions of the area surrounding the Grass Sea. Neighbors to watch out for, potential allies, dangers and opportunities... with more of the later than Anitra would have expected. Apparently, several profitable trade-routes could potentially run through the Grass Sea, and the only reason they currently didn't was that most merchants had considered the area too unstable and risky. Some of the tribal chieftains had been willing to trade, and to let caravans pass through their lands with a reasonable tax. Others, however, raided any caravan that came within reach, or charged ruinous fees. Since the territory of the various tribes had changed on a weekly basis due to the endless skirmishes, there had been no way for travelers to make sure they avoided the lands of the later. Needless to say, the outbreak of the civil war had not noticeably improved the area's reputation.

However, with the rise of a single, unified Horse-People Nation - the newly-founded Kingdom of Equus - that was about to change. If Darcian dealt fairly with the foreign traders and levied suitable taxes on them, there'd soon be several caravan-routes running through his lands, bringing lots of income into his coffers. At the same time, he could use those caravans to bring in resources that were hard to come by in the Grass Sea - such as stone and metal - along with trained labor that could help build his new kingdom out of the 'mud-huts and wooden barricades' level.

"Of course, with prosperity comes new challenges..." Artemis warned him. "Once it becomes clear what a cash-cow this place is going to be - and believe me, that's exactly what it's going to be - your neighbors will start to look at these previously-ignored lands with covetous eyes. If you look weak, they will not hesitate to invade. You'll need to not just maintain your military, but also upgrade it with better equipment, better discipline, better tactics. You'll need to maintain a hard line with your more aggressive neighbors, making it clear that you won't just defend yourself, but also launch punitive strikes against anyone who dares to attack you. And if someone does attack you, you need to demonstrate that you weren't bluffing. I know you don't care for war, but... in the long run, it'll save lives. Weakness always invites aggression." Darcian seemed to take the advice to heart, tracing potential caravan-routes on the map with a thoughtful look. The idea that he might be able to build a prosperous, secure, respected kingdom for his people clearly appealed to him.

The next day, after Melora had had a much-needed bath, and a dose of healing-magic courtesy of Direza (who was quite happy to be using her clerical abilities again, rather than playing interrogator), they all prepared to leave. Darcian came to see them off, albeit only briefly - he had another speech to make, about how the Horse-People would rise from the ashes of the civil war and reach new heights of prosperity, and how it would be necessary to maintain a strong military to deter potential aggressors. He was clad in suitably royal fashion, with a gleaming, decorated breastplate and a long cape draped from his shoulders - bright-red, like the banner of the newborn kingdom. He thanked them all for their contribution, Artemis in particular, before heading towards the podium for his speech. "I think I can manage on my own from now on... don't worry. I'll look after my people. Now that we're standing together, no-one will threaten us again." He seemed genuinely confident as he left, and Blake nodded thoughtfully after him. "He seems to have come along nicely, all right."

As they lifted off, they had a nice, aerial view of the speech. The newly-minted Royal Army of Equus was marching in formation before the podium where Darcian was speaking, hooves rhythmically striking the ground as their weapons gleamed in the noontime sun. Several long banners danced in the breeze behind him - bright red, but for the white circle in the middle showing the silhouette of an equine head. Simple, clean lines with passionate coloration - a nice piece of work, Anitra thought. Certainly, most kingdoms didn't have that much thought put into their flags - most of them just happened by accident, in her experience. And Darcian had certainly grown into his role, thrusting his fist into the air in order to emphasize some statement that drowned in the roar of the crowd. A job well done, indeed.

Nice to get away from all those questions about forgotten pasts and whatnot for a while, and just do some good... she thought telepathically at Blake. He grunted audibly before answering in kind.We weren't as far away from them as you might think. I've been wondering something about the Horse-People for a while, y'know._Blinking, Anitra sat up straighter in the saddle, the relaxed attitude draining from her mind. _What about them? she asked, and the reply was not long in coming. Their name. 'Horse-People'. It's ridiculous! Nobody would call themselves that. It sounds more like the kind of thing _ humans _ would call them. And yet, they don't have any other name... well, hadn't, anyway. I suspect they might start calling themselves 'Equus' now, thanks to Artemis' machinations.

Anitra nodded. It had occurred to her too, though she'd never spent the time to give it any deeper thought. So... do you have any idea why? She already had a sneaking suspicion herself, but knowing Blake, he wouldn't have brought it up if he didn't have more than that. Well... seeing as we're currently somewhat welcome amongst them, I thought I'd ask some of their lore-keepers about their past. Shamans, storytellers, that sort of thing. According to them, the oldest myths of the Horse-People have that they were slaves somewhere, until a 'cataclysm' of some kind broke their chains. They escaped into the Grass Sea, then, but the slaves had been divided amongst several different cities, and each group had grown apart from the rest. Hence, winding up divided amongst tribal lines. Each tribe was founded by slaves from a different city, see?

She saw, all right. And she remembered what he had told her of his dreams of past lives. Sighing, Anitra shook her head. Do you suppose they had cities of their own, once? Big, nice ones with stone walls and temples to the god who protected them? She felt his rumble of agreement through her thighs. Probably. Before the humans came, with Black Dragons and DragonRiders in support. They flew in silence for a few minutes after that, before Anitra forced a smile and continued the train of thought. Well, if that is how it went down, maybe we've done more than just compensate for accidentally starting a civil war today, eh? If the Horse-People rebuild into a unified, prosperous kingdom - which they probably will, following Artemis' advice - then we'll have effectively undone the damage of our ancestors to boot! Blake barked a laugh at this, loud enough to be audible even over the roar of the wind. _Talk about positive thinking... well, that's not so bad. Maybe if we learned more about what went down back then, we could do more to undo that kind of damage. It certainly seems compatible with the Utopia's goals, no?_With this more positive spin kept carefully in mind, they flew home.

THE END

Surely, everything will work out swell for the Kingdom of Equus and all of their neighbors... so let's just forget about them and look forwards to the next chapter: Go To Hell. In which nothing bad will happen, I'm sure.