The Princess' Heat

_©2023 Bruno Hirschkoff

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_The following is a work of fiction intended for adult audiences. If you are not an adult, this isn't for you. All characters, situations, settings, locations, names and concepts are the intellectual property of their respective creators (@IrvingWrites [Twitter] and @BrunoHirschkoff [Twitter]). Do not repost, distribute, alter or copy any element of this work without the express written permission of the author. _

_All characters, settings, religions, histories and geopolitical structures are fictional and resemblance to real-world characters, settings, religions, histories and geopolitical structures is purely coincidental. _

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Chapter 1

Venium Academy of Antiquities, 1921AD (Arahanius Domini)

*

"Hard at work, I see, Lu-Temba?"

The 20-year-old gazelle was jolted to wakefulness by the rumbling guffaw of Erebius Mahktra, one of three professors who oversaw the museum of the Venium Academy - a sprawling institution dedicated to cultural antiquities, archaeology and anthropology; the largest and most highly regarded of its kind in all of Asantrea.

"I... yes sir, I was just..."

"Resting your eyes. So I saw. You are a loud snorer, for one so young and fit."

Lu-Temba could feel his muzzle burning under the critical gaze of the professor, although he did not seem to be displeased. As a _tahlab _- a student intern - of the Academy, a significant proportion of Lu-Temba's day was spent here, deep in the bowels of the museum, painstakingly cataloguing and preserving countless artefacts brought in from field expeditions for restoration and eventual display. It was an archaeologist's wet dream, and a prelude to field work of his own. He sat in a great library whose thousands of shelves, cabinets and cases groaned beneath the weight of history they contained. It was exciting, at times, certainly. But for a young man like Lu-Temba, those ancient pottery shards, coins and fragments of bronze jewellery were so stagnant, so sterile, in an environment like that. He longed to get out into the field. To get his hands dirty sifting through the rubble of the ancient past, in the great dig sites that dotted the landscape around much of the Mare Internum. Or to immerse himself in noble and ancient cultures, a window in time to the age of heroes long past.

He turned his eyes from Erebius Mahktra back to the stack of wooden trays before him, dozens of new artefacts from an archaeological dig in the northern Valasean state of Tironia, yet to be properly tagged and catalogued. Only two weeks remained of his time here in the museum.

"Worry not, boy," Mahktra rumbled.

The enormous, round-bellied Cervid was well and truly out of place here in the arid heat of Venium, far from his ancestral home in northern Doregal. But his booming exuberance and academic eccentricity lent him a sort of placelessness - he simply inhabited whatever space he found himself in, with a sort of unflappable objectivity that was possessed by the most learned of his generation.

He peered through tiny, gold-rimmed spectacles over Lu-Temba's shoulder at the collection of oddly shaped, heavily tarnished silver coins the gazelle had been dozing over. "Mm," he grunted. "Late eighth century. Second Arahanic Crusade. Tyrecan silver, stamped with the likeness of Quintus Spiuso the Second, and of course the Arahanic sandal. They'd held Venium for a while, by the time this Dinari was minted, and were seeking to consolidate all of Valasea under an Arahanic theocracy. Curious how currency was such a powerful tool of political influence in those days."

"Y-yes, quite. At the same site, they found a stockpile of much older coins alongside freshly minted Dinariae, and the remains of some crucibles. It seems the Tyrecan coins were being actively minted from older Bastian and Messanian shekels collected through taxation when they were interrupted, and the building burnt to the ground. Some papyri survived, which indicate a ledger of some sort," Lu-Temba said, although it was likely nothing Erebius did not already know.

"Very astute, young tahlab. You've done your reading, this pleases me."

"Thank you, sir."

"Is the Second Crusade a period of particular interest for you?"

"I'm... not entirely sure, sir. It's all fascinating, but I believe..."

"Excellent, excellent," Erebius interrupted. "Because I have a special task for you."

Lu-Temba suppressed a groan with some effort, watching the professor turn to lift something onto the desk alongside the stack of trays Lu-Temba was supposed to be working on. It was an ancient wooden chest about the size of a shoebox. It appeared very heavy. Lu-Temba hadn't noticed the professor bring it in.

"What is it?" the gazelle asked, perhaps a little tentatively.

"Wealth, my boy. A pirate's hoard, perhaps, or a secret cache collected by a merchants' guild to avoid the taxmen. We do not know. This chest was found beneath the flagstones in the basement of a building that pre-dates even the First Arahanic Crusade. We've opened it, of course, and counted its contents. Two hundred and eighty-four coins, all silver, tin and bronze, and all in denominations that pre-date Arahanic Dinariae. We need them all dated and catalogued, so we can understand how they came to be collected so, and whether, as we suspect, there was an underground resistance of sorts following the establishment of the Arahanic theocracy! Given how especially astute you are at deducing great swathes of history from something as small as a coin, I cannot think of a better candidate for the job than you."

It took all of Lu-Temba's effort not to slouch. Following the Academy's protocols, that would take him probably the entirety of the time he had left at the institution - peering at rusty coins found under a floor right there in Venium. As exciting as the prospect of that discovery was - it would rewrite more than a few history books - it felt like an extremely small and tedious piece of the puzzle, and far less interesting than the crucibles and artefacts from the desert nation of Tironia, which simply oozed adventure. Still, he felt a swell of pride that Erebus Mahktra had taken note of his specific proficiencies.

"What about these Tironian artefacts?" he ventured. "I wouldn't want to leave a task half-completed."

"Hogwash!" the professor guffawed. "Worry not about those for now - they are the more exciting, but they relate to an episode of history already well-understood and exhaustively documented. I shall have one of the newer _tahlabs _complete the excellent work you have begun. This chest of coins is a critical piece of a much larger and more important story - a discovery upon whose cusp we teeter! I shall expect to see good progress from you, Lu-Temba. I cannot have you forever and I should like to get the most out of you before we send you charging off into some distant forest or other!"

Professor Erebius Mahktra chortled as he went on his way, leaving Lu-Temba alone in the library once again.

Field work it wasn't, but as Lu-Temba settled in and began systematically analysing coin after coin from the ancient chest, his imagination filled in many of the blanks. The First Crusade had been a time of extreme turbulence around the whole Mare Internum. The Heladian Empire, which over its fifteen centuries of glory had touched every region from Nabu-Shar to Rhocarn and Venium to Ithenor, had been in a state of slow but inexorable collapse for some time. The martyring of the Prophet Arahan by their hands in Venium had been the stone that begat a landslide, and within a couple of generations the Heladian Empire was no more, sundered into a dozen bickering fiefdoms. And in the fires of the collapse of the greatest empire yet to sprawl across the face of Asantrea, the new faith was forged - and quickly followed in the footsteps of the Heladians. The Arahanic Crusades were known for their brutality, a stark contrast to the peace and tolerance Arahan himself had preached during his life. Images flashed through Lu-Temba's head as he studied coin after coin, conjured by his vivid imagination and deep historical knowledge. Images of the last Heladian legio, _predominantly Equid soldiers, _beating a hasty and chaotic retreat to their war galleys in the face of ten thousand Lupa and Urssa Crusaders.

The common understanding of that period of history was that the Heladians had been beaten out of Venium by an almost ubiquitous fervency for the new religion. Yet, as time passed and modern Venium became more secular, discoveries such as the hoard Lu-Temba now studied were being regarded as signs of a resistance to the rising Arahanic institutions, if not the faith itself--and that carried implications that only a century prior would have been considered heresy.

In spite of his reluctance, Lu-Temba found his excitement for the discovery rising once again.

Chapter 2

Venium Academy of Antiquities, Two weeks later

*

Lu-Temba's eyes flickered open as a shaft of sunlight lanced across his face through the window. It had been a hot and oppressively still night in Venium, and the young gazelle had slept with his shutters thrown wide to admit as much of an ocean breeze as could be summoned within the ancient walls of his tiny room in a dormitory above the museum. The general hubbub of the city was a susurration occasionally cut through by a merchant's bellow, a ship's horn or a bell. It sounded like precisely the cacophony of early modernity it was. Yet, in its way, Lu-Temba supposed it wasn't so different from the Venium of two millennia hence. There were merchants and ships' bells and markets and crowds then, too.

Lu-Temba rolled himself upright and stretched his back. A yawn caused his eyes to water and his jaw to pop, and he forced himself to stare at the patch of azure sky he could see through his window to wake himself up properly. Today was the day. He needed to be alert for it. Today, he would be boarding one of those ships he could hear down at the docks. His heart fluttered in excitement at the prospect of getting out from within these stifling walls, even if he was to be dropped in the figurative deep end. His destination was Forlasea. The southernmost nation of the Valasean landmass, Forlasea was the homeland of the Lupa people - wolves. Lu-Temba had never actually seen a wolf in the fur, let alone actually met one or engaged with their strange, archaic customs beyond what he'd read in the history books and gleaned from the Arahanic holy book. Arahan himself, after all, had been Lupa.

Seen by most ungulate nations as being something of a hermit kingdom, Forlasea had responded to the onset of modernity elsewhere across Asantrea with disdain. Separated from the rapidly modernising northern Valasean states by a nigh-impenetrable forest and spine of mountains, the ultra-orthodox Lupa nation remained an ancient matriarchal theocracy, steeped in centuries of tradition and possessed of rigid social hierarchy. It was finally beginning to open to outsiders and quickly became a hotbed of archaeological exploration - one barely needed to dig in Forlasea in order to find objects of immense historical interest. They were still often in everyday use.

Lu-Temba was originally from the sprawling metropolis of Goza, four hundred miles to the east of Venium, where the River Akad flowed into the Mare Internum. He was well accustomed to the heat in this part of Asantrea. It was the humidity that rose from the Mare Ossium--the Sea of Bones--that got to him. He paced back and forth in his tiny room, arms outstretched, just to feel some air movement through his sweat-dampened pelt before he needed to dress.

Slender and fine-boned, Lu-Temba was a quietly spoken, somewhat effeminate young Toro man. The ivory-pale pelt down the front of his body was sharply divided from the dark ochre-brown of his back by a striking black stripe that began on his cheeks and terminated on his buttocks. Curved, densely ridged ebony horns grew from his skull amidst a nest of loose, dark curls. Lu-Temba could be considered boyishly handsome, even pretty, especially by Toros standards, most of whom were far more heavy-set than those of Lu-Temba's heritage. His lean yet soft physicality leant him a certain air of mystery - many of the people with whom he crossed paths during his childhood were unsure whether to refer to him as a Toro boy, or perhaps as a Caprin, or even a Cervid. It meant that he fit in reasonably well wherever he ventured, and as an aspiring adventurer that suited Lu-Temba's needs perfectly.

What was less well-suited to an aspiring adventurer was his libido. In a part of Asantrea that was still steeped in peculiar Arahanic notions of propriety and viewed abstinence as strength, Lu-Temba had grown up believing that the hormonal demands of his body were, at the very least, sinful. However, naked in his stiflingly hot room, there was at least one part of him that had completely awoken with the reliability of the dawn itself. The gazelle frowned at his morning glory, watching it bob lazily with his heartbeat. He knew from experience that ignoring it absolutely did not make it behave itself. Sinful or not, he was going to have to relieve himself before venturing out into the world, as he did most mornings. He didn't know when his next opportunity would come.

Lu-Temba had never lain with another. It was not for lack of desire, but such things were not proper to consider or discuss. He sank back onto his thin mattress and allowed his mind to wander. It was important, he figured, to engage in this moment of sinful writhing to ensure his mind would be clear and sharp for his coming journey. It was little more than a chore, but that did not mean he couldn't enjoy it. Secretly, at least. Nebulous images swum through the gazelle's mind. The curve of a woman's hips. The feeling of her thighs beneath his hands, parting to reveal... Lu-Temba used his imagination to fill in what he had only seen illustrations of. His slender fingers slid up around the engorged flesh jutting from his groin. He fantasised that they were someone else's fingers. Admiring his length, perhaps. He squeezed himself and rolled his hips, sliding his taut flesh through his grip. A quiet moan escaped him and his mind found something to focus on. The feeling of a woman's flat groin pressing to his thigh. He imagined the warmth, the softness, the anticipation of her closeness to him, the weight of her breasts in his hands... His masturbation became more deliberate, a well-practiced twist and tug that ignited a familiar spark in his core. Rapid flurries of furtive strokes shortened Lu-Temba's breaths to aroused gasps and shaky exhalations. It did not take him long to approach his peak. He slowed, drawing out the approach. His imaginary partner watched approvingly, perhaps entertaining her own fantasy about taking his seed inside her. Lu-Temba groaned softly at the thought. Hurriedly he licked his palm and continued, using the slickness to simulate--he figured--the feeling of pressing inside a woman's most sacred spot. The chalice of life. The juxtaposition of such a pious thought with his burning lust was jarringly discordant, but Lu-Temba aggressively suppressed that grain of intellectualism--this was all about relief. He squeezed tightly and pushed upward with his hips, hooves braced on the wooden floorboards. Again. Again. Quicker. His breath caught in his throat. The flood was coming.

At the last moment, Lu-Temba surged upward to perch spread-legged on the edge of his bed. His body trembled and convulsed while he spilled himself onto the wooden floor. Rhythmic grunts and moans of relief accompanied the flurry of sticky droplets. Better on the floor than in his pelt, he reasoned. He remained upright for a moment longer, his eyelids drooping and his breathing slowly returning to normal.

Lu-Temba relaxed back onto his bed again, enjoying the soft buzz that followed such a 'sinful' release. That was at least one problem taken care of, for the day.

Eventually, he forced himself to get up and dress. It would be cooler outside, surely, he reasoned, and cooler still once his ship left the port. Loose linen trousers made their way up Lu-Temba's slender legs, high-waisted and deep-pocketed as was the style of the day. A button-fronted shirt of a similar, but paler fabric covered his upper body. He tucked his shirt-tails into his trousers, and then slipped a light waistcoat that matched his trousers over his shoulders. Open-fronted Heladian sandals made their way onto his cloven hooves, held in place with simple clasps around his fetlocks.

Sitting against the stone wall of his room beside the door sat Lu-Temba's expedition kit; a large travel-case contained clothing and all the basic necessities of an itinerant archaeologist. He also carried a medium-sized leather satchel containing coin and paperwork, sketchbooks and journals and charcoals and ink. The rest of his belongings were packed into several large trunks, which would be stored on-site at the Academy for the duration of his absence, allowing the gazelle's_ _room to be used by a new _tahlab. _Lu-Temba took one last look around the room that had been his home-from-home for almost three months. He swung his satchel over his shoulder and lifted his travel case. It was heavy, but not terribly so. His last act was to reposition a small, threadbare rug over the scatter of wet spots that stained the floorboards.

Adventure called. But first, breakfast.

*

The _Hurait Albahr _was an elegant merchant Khebec, crafted from exotic hardwood so dark she was almost as black as the pitch that sealed her hull. A constant flurry of activity surrounded the ship, her crew and the Venium dockers swarming like bees, exchanging cargo and supplies. _Hurait Albahr _was not typically a passenger vessel - although her captain, a former _tahlab _of the Venium Academy herself, made exceptions for the Academy's prodigies--for a price.

The ship's nameplate translated as 'Nymph of the Sea.' Lu-Temba's mind recalled ribald images of nymphs he'd seen in his mythology studies, and he couldn't help but smile. Some of those images had mysteriously made their way into his bedchamber, for 'further study,' and in the depths of his luggage somewhere, a small book of illustrated erotic stories was concealed which also contained those pilfered, neatly folded pages.

"No, no! Over there, you useless sack of _samad! Asrae! Na'ql!" _

Lu-Temba's attention was drawn to the source of that very irritable female voice. He supposed he should have expected to see as much, but the vision of a Lupa woman brandishing the ship's cargo manifest and snapping orders to her scurrying crew caught him off-guard. He ducked aside as an enormous Minotaur docker bellowed at him to clear a path, charging through with a barrel on each shoulder. The gangplank bowed and shook under his heavy hoofsteps as he made his way swiftly aboard the ship, and Lu-Temba barely made it aboard before he was shouldered aside by the same docker, charging back whence he had come with a contemptuous glower for the slender gazelle.

"Who by Lakesh's barnacle-encrusted cunt are you?"

Lu-Temba whirled around and came face to face with the Lupa woman. Or rather, face to chest, given that she was significantly taller than the gazelle. She oozed power and authority, and advanced with slow, assured steps to loom over him with a sort of haughty assertiveness. Lu-Temba wrenched his gaze upward from her cleavage to her golden eyes and flattened his ears to his skull submissively.

"Mute, are ya? Speak up, whelp! Are you the precious Academy cargo that Professor Mahktra kissed my nethers to transport?"

"I... I am, I think!" he stammered. "I am Lu-Temba. Captain. Ma'am."

The wolfess looked him over with a derisive snort, and her tone softened somewhat. "Captain will do. Call me ma'am and my crew will think I'm your mother. And let me be clear, I am _not _your mother. I have a job to do and a ship to sail, and you shall behave like every other piece of cargo I carry. Be silent, stay still, and try your best not to fall overboard, because I am not turning around for you if you do."

"Y-yes, captain. Understood. Thank you for granting me passage," Lu-Temba said, bowing his head and inwardly cursing his voice for coming out as a demure squeak, rather than the excitedly-confident tone he'd hoped for.

The captain regarded him for a long moment in silence, and then flashed him a toothy grin. "You're going to fit in well in Forlasea."

With that, she was gone, sweeping away to resume heckling the crew into some sort of order. And Lu-Temba was aboard. His excitement began to grow again, and he quickly found a space on the curved deck of the Hurait Albahr _where he'd be out of the way. The voyage would take almost two weeks under sail power, accounting for several stops along the way, and the Academy had assured him he would be fed if he approached the galley cook after the crew had eaten. Precisely _what _he'd be fed hadn't been mentioned. But that was a concern for later. For those first minutes he spent aboard the _Hurait Albahr, _Lu-Temba had eyes only for the haughty captain. In all the hubbub of his arrival and boarding, the one grain of flawless detail that had scored itself into the gazelle's memory - aside from her considerable bust straining at the buttons of her tunic - was the derisive look she had cast over him. The curl of her lip, the way her eyes had flicked down, and then up his body. Sitting with his back to the ship's railing, Lu-Temba fantasised about her advancing on him again, standing over him with that look of utter condescension on her muzzle that somehow translated into arousal for the poor gazelle. _His desire ached between his thighs even despite how recently he'd throttled it into submission, and he drew his knees up to his chest to conceal it. Two weeks at sea stretched out before him, with little or no privacy, and he was already imagining the haughty captain pinning him down and using him for her pleasure.

With a cacophony of bells and shouted orders, the crew of the _Hurait Albahr _cast off. The wind caught her elegant, triangular russet sails with a snap, and Lu-Temba's journey was underway.

Chapter 3

Lady Eibed of Apos Convent, Coralesh, Forlasea

*

In the Lupa nation of Forlasea, little had changed in centuries. It was a nation steeped in tradition, both cultural and religious. Almost two millennia hence, the Lupa prophet Arahan had transformed Forlasean society with his teachings, and his claim of being the true Heir of Ysion, the God of light and wisdom, among other things. Following his martyring at Venium and the miracles that had followed, word of the truth of Arahan's claim had spread across the Sea of Bones, and eventually around the world. Forlasea became the heartland of the Arahanic faith, with monasteries and convents popping up all along the great spine of mountains that spanned its width.

Princess Malatheia Dominia went about her daily tasks and labours with the barest minimum of effort. She should, by the age of thirty-two, have been firmly established as the Duchess of Coralesh, with servants, staff and a harem of eager Lupa males at her beck and call. As the Third Heir in line to the Forlasean crown she may never have assumed the role herself, not naturally at least. But to be banished from her own lands, her own birthright, to live in the Lady Eibed of Apos convent like a petulant puppy among commoners was beyond galling. And the truth of her station was evident every moment of every day. Where the majority of the Forlasean Lupa were a monochromatic lot, their pelts varying from glacial white to the darkest, inky blacks, Malatheia's golden fur and coppery hair marked her out as being of noble blood.

It was a peculiar quirk of the integration of Arahanism into traditional Lupa society that all members of Forlasean nobility spent much of their adolescence within the walls of the monasteries and convents. But where most returned to court after only a few years' education, Princess Malatheia Dominia had languished in Lady Eibed of Apos for almost two decades. She had all but given up hope of ever being allowed to return to the life she'd had as a pup.

"Sister Auliabe!" Malatheia called, the caramel-pelted wolfess gathering her habit to catch up with the convent's Sister Superior.

"Malla! What can I do for you?" Auliabe paused, and turned to greet the princess with a smile and an outstretched arm. A white-pelted wolfess some forty years of age, Auliabe was sleek, sensual and good-humoured; far removed from the typical image of a severe, dusty old woman conjured by her title.

"Fine, fine. Sister Superior, you have just returned from Zeiram, were you able to make my case heard to the High Priestess?"

Auliabe's ears flicked backward within her sky-blue, gold-edged wimple, and Malatheia knew immediately what her answer would be, even if Sister Superior's smile remained steady.

"I requested an audience as you desired while I was in the capital, my dear, and amongst other business we did discuss your... situation. While it would sadden me to see you leave us, I made your case with as much fervour as was proper."

"And...?"

"I believe you already know all the answers, Malla."

"So I'm to be stuck here for the rest of my days, cloistered within this compound? As beautiful as it is, Sister Superior, I am of royal blood!"

"Malla, you know as well as I that Forlasea has always been this way. We Lupa women rule this land with its many Duchies and its maelstrom of political intrigue. Your cousin Velvia, the Duchess... well, you know that her claim to the throne is tenuous - if you were to ever bear a daughter of the correct bloodline, her claim would become forfeit, and rebellion would surely follow in Coralesh, where so many are loyal to her. It is unfair on you, I know that. But there is little I can do. Indeed there is little the High Priestess herself could do, to overrule your cousin. Only a decree from the Grand Matriarch herself would suffice, and that would have every possibility of sparking a war."

Malla drew herself up to her full height, and adopted an air of haughty indifference. She was, like most Lupa women, culturally conditioned to be in control of her life. On some level, she could even find it within herself to feel smug about her seemingly permanent detention here in the convent - it showed that her cousin, third in line to the throne, feared her. By keeping her here, and preventing her from ever having pups who could destabilise the delicate balance of power in Coralesh, she showed her weakness. That alone was what kept Malla going, on some days.

That wasn't to say life in the convent was dull. Far from it. While the ultra-orthodox Arahanic Holy Orders that governed the monasteries and convents were strict and unwavering in their condemnation of sex of all kinds, traditional Lupa society was not. The Orders preached that any sexual contact unsanctioned by a Priestess was a taboo of the highest order - but at the same time, Malla was well aware of the secret tunnels and paths beneath the convent walls that ran directly into the bedchambers of monks in the neighbouring monastery, barely a half-mile away. And while the whole of Forlasea celebrated sex with elaborate fertility rituals governed by the calendar of the moon Saliel, the Brothers and Sisters sat apart in their respective chambers, waiting for the lunar cycle to wane so that they could meet once again. Life in the convent was outwardly staid and inwardly wild, with wine-drenched orgies and all manner of debaucherously forbidden treats shared at the lowest point in the wolves' fertility cycles. It was like a life lived inside-out - for obvious reasons. It would have been impossible to appear to adhere to the strictest letter of scripture if there were mysterious wolf pups in the convents.

In spite of the concessions, Malla wished for her freedom. She was allowed a measure of independence over and above the other Sisters, which extended to having her own private chambers, and being greeted with deference by all but Auliabe herself. As befitted her status in Lupa society - exiled or not, she was still a princess, and carried herself with the regal stance her title implied. But even then, Malla could not find any appeal in relieving her bodily desires by riding some ornery monk. The few times she had succumbed to her body's call for male flesh, it had left her feeling dirty and debased. It was beneath her, she felt, to make do with whatever rod was thrust in her direction, as many of the other Sisters did. For the most part, Malla's fingers were enough to satisfy her urges. Or the company of those Sisters who were comfortable sharing intimacy with another woman.

"How go the preparations for the Festival, out there in the world?" Malla asked, after a short pause. She needed to speak of something else, anything to take her mind off her situation.

Auliabe smiled, a curious, lopsided quirk of her lips. "One would be forgiven for believing the Great Alignment was already upon us, Malla. It seems the whole nation is overcome by the... revelry."

Malla sighed. "I remember the fertility festivals when I was a pup, before I came here. Mother was adamant that I stay in my room and not see any of the more adult-oriented celebrations."

"And as the obedient girl you were, you followed her instructions, one presumes?"

The Princess gave Auliabe a predatory grin. "Of course I didn't. I was curious. But I suspect the Great Alignment will make the fertility festivals I saw as a pup look demure and staid."

"You are quite correct there, yes," Auliabe confirmed.

Malla was pleased to see Sister Superior's blush glowing through the downy fur on her cheeks.

"Ahh, what I wouldn't give to partake."

"Oh but we are partaking, are we not?" Auliabe said. "I entered the convent through the Great Hall, it is already looking most festive."

"You know exactly what I mean, Sister. Don't be coy with me!"

Auliabe chuckled, and bowed her head. "Aye, that I do. One day, Malla, one day you shall have your wish, of that I am certain. And in the meantime, well... the Brothers of the neighbouring monastery have sent us glazed pottery replicas of all their members, so that in our lust we do not fail in our duty to uphold the Orders! Isn't that thoughtful of them?"

"Disgusting, drooling wretches," Malla grumbled. "Please tell me I heard sarcasm in your tone, Auliabe."

"Of course you did. I agree, it was a gesture made in incredibly poor taste. They're not even accurate, most have significantly embellished what they truly wield."

Malla laughed, and looped her arm through Auliabe's. "Come, you must show me. I'm in need of a good laugh."

As Saliel drifted across the heavens far above Asantrea, and the rest of the Lupa nation continued their months-long celebration of the Festival of the Great Alignment, Princess Malatheia Dominia began to feel a tingle deep inside, an itch that neither her fingers, nor the ridiculous pottery cocks that sat in a row on the Great Hall's mantelpiece, could hope to reach.

*