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Prologue - Sylvie, Knight of the Citadel

Silver was the only way, as the heroes of history discovered. Why it burns them is any alchemist's guess, but it works. All Knights of the Citadel strive to collect as many pieces as possible in order to better hunt and protect the country.

Today is no different. A Knight was called to arms in a town offering to pay in pure silver if a knight could only cleanse it of a constant threat.

Wind caresses the blood-soaked blades. A severed hand twitches, wishing for darkness so that it may rejoin the body that no longer exists. Organs and guts writhe against the sunlight, withering and sizzling into ash. Wilders gasp their last breath, unable to heal while the sun shines its pure essence.

Another shriek of a Wilder, another eruption of dark blood, and one more Wilder's end decrease the total threat.

A shining sabaton crushes the blood-soaked grass. Silver pangs against steely claws. It was able to lunge a paw at her, to grope her silver-encased breast before it shrieks in pain. Another painful roar abruptly ends, another Wilder's head tumbles across the grass.

These Wilders are far easier to take down when it is such a beautiful day.

Sylvie's elegant stance is not for show. She knows what she's doing, the evidence laying strewn about the field. Groaning, half-dead beasts, having lost a limb or been disemboweled, crawl away from the brunette Knight. Her legs are spaced perfectly apart for the three remaining opponents at her front and the two opponents creeping up behind her.

A thump against the ground suggests she side-step. The beast grazes her silver breastplate and pauldron, which instantly agitates the bipedal beast's flesh. It wails in agony until its flesh stops burning, to then glare at the slender woman glaring back.

"Only five of you left who can fight me?" Her voice is soft-spoken and gentle. "What's wrong? Didn't think this village could afford a Queen's Knight?" Sylvie taunts, though her angelic voice, only confuses and arouses the Wilders.

Of the five beasts, two are wolfinaires, which is basically a werewolf but with barbs along its spine, one is a reptaeliat, which stands on two legs and wields a sword and shield and nothing more, the fourth is a dermiagle, which is a fleshy blob creature covered in flabby phallic limbs and a human-like molar-filled mouth the size of its gaping body, and the fifth is a robed gordeblin, which is a fat magic-aligned goblin. It is the gordeblin that clearly leads this small skirmish of Wilders.

Sylvie has yet to determine what elements the gordeblin has mastered, and taunting it offers no reprieve for her concerns. She about-faces and rushes the worst of the five remaining Wilders, the dermiagle. It is the only one among the five that keeps downwind of her, to forever predict her tactics, to better grunt what she is about to do to the others. With the wolfinaire having charged her and left the fleshy abomination alone, it feels the most ideal target.

Startled, the creature shrieks just as a silver-tipped blade buries into its eyeless socket and into its heart. Infected with blessed silver, it boils from within.

Sylvie runs away from it, keeping her distance from the other Wilders as the dermiagle explodes in noxious blood and writhing flesh.

It used to be a villager, she presumes. With its innards exposed to sunlight, the dermiagle withers and catches fire, unable to regenerate as it did when she struck it beneath the cloud cover.

If there is one thing Sylvie could do without, it is a partly cloudy and otherwise beautiful day. Patches of darkness tend to triple the healing potential of these Wilders, as well as double their speed and strength. Unlike her squire, who lays twitching on the ground after getting surrounded by the Wilders at the start, Sylvie is not one to let her guard down. She keeps herself near Belle, to make sure the remaining four enemies do not attempt to snatch her for their den.

She takes on her stance once more and glares fiercely at the gordeblin. "Bring it, you fat slug!"

The gordeblin roars and waves his gnarled stick around and the three beasts charge.

"Yes."

The three reach Sylvie at about the same time, but she was quick to lunge to her left to put her far-left opponent in the way of the other two. She feigned an attack, knowing the wolfinaire would use its steel-like claws to parry, retracting her blade to rush into the creature's kill zone. The wolfinaire froze, then blood erupted from its mouth just as the knight raced behind it to parry the reptaeliat.

The wounded wolfinaire grasps the puncture on its chest as it falls to a knee. Boiling blood squirts onto its hand, dissolving its hand down to the bone.

Sylvie parries the lizard's shield with her metal knuckles just as the first wolfinaire explodes and blinds the second wolfinaire with silver-infected blood as it was slipping across the soft grass and loose dirt.

The reptaeliat hisses and swings to knock Sylvie's blade away, but she is too quick for it. Despite her heavy armor moving against a much faster Wilder, she spun partway and opens up the reptaeliat's right side. The armed lizard stumbles and falls, but silver is not its weakness. Sylvie takes off its muscular arm to temporarily disable the lizard's shield. She races past it and glides over slippery grass to slash up the second wolfinaire still whining from the silver-infected blood melting its eyes.

Wolfinaires are always the weakest of her opponents.

Sylvie races to the reptaeliat as it was just reattaching its arm. "How untrained of you!" She buries her blade into one of its hearts, then evades a clumsy thrash of claws. "Experienced reptaeliats like you know, to leave your arm on the ground, and not leave yourself open like that!" She rushes the lizard before it could take up its sword again, and while it was focusing all of its smarts on properly reattaching its wriggling arm. Her silver blade caught a bad angle, ricocheting off the reptile's chest.

A firm hand grabs her wrist and squeezes, lifting her off the ground. She drops her blade, intending to catch it with her other hand just as the lizard squeezes a little harder and breaks her left arm.

She missed catching her sword with her right hand because of the pain. An impact from the reptaeliat's reattached arm knocks the wind out of her. Even with her armor, the silver plate shows a considerable indent, preventing her from taking in any breath at all. She conjures the sunlight in her right hand and aims her palm at the reptaeliat. Having never faced a knight, it did not know that its head was about to explode.

Both Sylvie and the dead reptaeliat fall into a pile together. She growls at the pain. Looking at her left arm, her steel gauntlet, and subsequently, her arm within it is crushed. Roaring with fury she stands, then stumbles from feeling lightheaded. She reclaims her sword with her right hand and faces the gordeblin.

Her opponents number zero, as the fat goblin fled.

"Coward."

Exhaustion finally hits her. She approaches her squire and glares at her. "Belle, what the fuck were you doing? Why did you run off on your own? Do you not recall two months of training?"

Soaked in tears, Belle's quivering expression, wincing against the bright sun, turns slowly to see Sylvie standing over her. Weakly smiling with relief that she's not about to get nabbed and lost in some dark breeding den, she tries to move. She cries out from the pain between her legs.

Sylvie's disdainful glare examines Belle's abused body. Her bare breasts, crisscrossed with claw marks, so too are her bare hips. She had most of her iron and leather gear easily ripped from her body when the beasts ravaged her. Blood and monster semen still ooze out of her vagina. "I'm disappointed in you. You failed to wear your chastity protection to a fight against Wilders. Now, look at you. You're a fucking mess, but we've all been there, me included, as is part of the job. Now, get the fuck up. We have a mile to hike to get back to the village."

Crying, Belle accepts Sylvie's hand and right shoulder to lean on. She cries the entire way back, hobbling, groaning as bloody slime oozes down her thighs. "Wait, my gear,"

"What gear? It got ripped off of you. Every buckle and strap and plate is scattered in the grass and my sword arm is shattered. If that gordeblin returns with more Wilders, you and I, are going to be their personal wombs. Ah, you know, after they chop off our arms and legs for dinner."

"Fuck. Sylvie, I'm so sorry! I messed up."

Hearing this just as the town's fortifications become visible at the top of the hill, Sylvie pauses so that she can give a one-armed embrace of her squire. Though Belle was feeling unworthy of her life-long dream after yet again getting defeated and raped by Wilders, she lets Sylvie in and the two kiss.

When the kiss breaks, Belle cries, "I'm not worthy of being your squire. This is the second time I screwed up, and, it hurts so much."

Nuzzling her cheek against Belle's, Sylvie promises, "You'll always be worthy of me, you big-tittied squire. When we get back to our gear, I'll get our priestess to help fix my arm, then me and her, we'll heal your tits and pussy."

Belle wipes a tear from of her cheek. "How are you so strong? Your arm, it's, twisted back."

Sylvie grins like a monster and says, "Because I've had far worse than this. You've never given birth to a Wilder, have you?"

Belle audibly gulps as the two continue hobbling. In the distance, toward the town, four of the watch run full-speed to the two, though it will take another minute before they reach them.

"Belle, remember the Wilder-beast in the dungeon, the one you were, uh, reluctant to train with?"

Belle looks away, blushing hotly. "He was a lot bigger than the ones I just lost a fight to."

"Yeah, he sure is a lot bigger, and you handled him."

"Because he was gentle! He was well-trained!"

"Do you know why?"

Belle nods. Sylvie's silence tells her that the knight expects a verbal answer. "Because he was born under the Citadel and domesticated."

"Do you know _who_domesticated him?"

Belle bites her bottom lip, assuming it was Sylvie. "You did, my Dame."

"Correct, because a mother _should_teach her son to be kind to those she cares about."

Belle's eyes double in size, she then stares at Sylvie's soft face as the knight smiles to the four watchmen still running to them. "How? He's, so big! Almost twice your height!"

Sylvie grins. "Yep. He came out twice the size of a human baby and he grew up so fast in only three years. Mommy trained him to be gentle to all of the sisters, knights, dames, and clerics, but boy oh boy do Wilders get horny!"

"How did you, uh, survive whoever, uh, his father was?" Belle cautiously asks.

Sylvie stops walking as the watchmen near them. "It was a long story. I'll tell you about it when we get back to the Citadel. His father was, well, he was just as gentle as his son. If that Wilder were to again cross my path, Belle, I would never be able to fight him."

Belle's eyes water up again, confusion swells her worrisome heart. "Is he that strong?"

"The strongest, however," Sylvie kisses Belle's cheek to reassure her. "My heart, my body, everything I am, belongs to him. Don't tell anyone I said this Belle, but, if he came back into my life, I would quit the Queen's Order, leave the Citadel with my son, and disappear into a dark den to be with my love. He was different than all of the Wilders. He was civil, quirky, funny, and nothing could corrupt or control him no matter what tried to. He saved my life countless times, and I saved him, and I never felt more right about anyone before in my life until I was with him." She leans in and whispers into Belle's ear. "And holy fuck was his cock a monster, just like his son's. A big, gentle, monstrous cock."

Belle remained silent the rest of that night, even after she was healed by Sylvie and the town's priestess. She promised herself to keep Sylvie's secret to her grave, and wished, that just once, she could meet a monster like Raphnel's father, with who Sylvie is still in love after all these years.