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Some may remember from a recently posted journal that I had every intention of producing a little more regular and regularly-available furry writing for you fine folks. Some may even remember that I had no idea what I would do beyond a new series, and that I had no idea of the characters, the world, or even the basic plot.

Out of this, Blood And Water was born. I still don't have all the answers to the questions posed by this story and this series and its future, and that's absolutely thrilling to me. In between working on larger projects, I'll be continuing this little series chapter by chapter, with at least one new story coming each month until it concludes. When will that be? I don't know that, either! When the story is finished, I guess.

So here it is; chapter one of my new series just for all you fine folks: Spare The Rod. Enjoy!

• Master Meridian

Blood and Water

Spare The Rod

Deacon! Attend, boy!

The roared voice almost shook the walls of the study with its intensity. Books might have tumbled from their shelves the way Deacon almost tumbled out of his chair if the words hadn't blasted through the vulpine's mind rather than ears. Russet fur stood on end as he glanced around the empty study and took a moment to catch his breath and quiet his mind.

Despite the mental nature of the command, Deacon's ears flattened atop his head as he quickly snapped the old tome in his paws shut and laid it carefully back on the desk. He pulled on the coat that he'd draped over the back of his chair when he entered and heaved a sigh. Just once maybe it would have been nice to be asked to come along for whatever pressing matter his father had concocted, rather than a sharp mental command.

Nevertheless, the young fox scampered out of the study as best he could whilst pulling on his coat. The summons had sounded particularly urgent, after all. He'd sensed the compulsion in his father's order - the subtle, mind-bending application of a practiced magi's will - but had not seen fit to fight it. Any attempt to do so would, of course, have been punished harshly.

The hallways of the family manor streaked by as Deacon broke into a sprint. Corners were rounded with the aid of paws pressed to walls in precisely the way his father had told him not to. Stairs were bounded down three at a time. A balcony that overlooked the front door to the mansion was vaulted in a single, smooth motion, and the fox tumbled tail over head to the ground as his footpaw caught on the railing.

A single paw extended toward the ground before the impact as he fought through panic and focused his mind as he'd been taught. His descent was halted in an instant, his body left floating above the ground as his fingers slowly curled inward. His fist rested a mere inch in the air over the carpet, and Deacon exhaled slowly as he allowed himself to slowly fall the rest of the way. He lay down flat as his lungs emptied, and he smiled as he sat up again a moment later. Next time, for sure. Next time he'd get it.

"What in blazes are you doing on the floor, boy?" snapped his father's brusque voice from Deacon's back. His smile vanished in an instant as he glanced back over his shoulder, and ears flattened at his father's stern glare. It was almost like looking into a mirror, so similar were his features to those of the angry fox above. "Get up. You embarrass yourself."

There was no trace of magical compulsion this time, but Deacon wasn't about to disobey that order anyway. He scrabbled upright and brushed himself down as he stepped to the side and respectfully bowed his head. "Beg pardon, father. I, ah..."

"Hmf," huffed his father with a flick of his tail. "Jumped the railing again. Fell again. Foolish boy." He strode over to stand right in front of Deacon and roughly grabbed the younger fox's muzzle. Deacon gasped and fought back a whimper, tail tucked between his legs as the older vulpine's stare drilled into him. "You are sixteen now, boy. Do not allow me to catch you engaged in such stupidity again," he said.

While the compulsion was still carefully absent, it was all Deacon could do to nod as vigorously as he could. The paw on his muzzle had him in a tight enough grip that it was next to impossible, but his father seemed to understand. He released his son and pushed him back as he strode toward the front door. "We are about to have visitors."

Deacon fought to keep himself from slinking back against the wall. There was a fire in his father's voice that he was all too familiar with. "What do they want?" he asked, as quietly as he could manage.

"I suspect we shall see." That icy stare turned back on Deacon for a moment as the older fox paused at the front door. His paw was extended toward the door as if to pull it open, but his fingers curled back in as he stepped back. "You shall see. You will speak with them."

Eyes went wide as Deacon struggled to keep his gaze on the floor. "With respect, father-" he began.

It was as far as he made it. His father's arm swept up and stinging pain swept across the side of Deacon's face. All the pain of his father's backhanded strike smashed across his muzzle, but with none of the physical force. He gasped and buckled to one knee as the older vulpine folded his arms. "Respect?" he growled. "Show respect by questioning not my instructions, boy. You will attend the door. Do you understand?"

As he spoke, Deacon nodded and pushed himself quickly back upright. It was suddenly a lot easier not to meet his father's gaze. "Y-yes, sir. Of course, sir." He took a deep breath and started toward the door.

He made it one step closer before the heavy wooden door was banged on from the other side. The sound made Deacon jump, and he bit back a squeak as his eyes flicked to his father for the barest moment. Disapproval was strong in his eyes. It would only grow stronger if he hesitated in his instructed duty.

By the time the younger fox reached the door, it had been belted again by whoever was on the other side. Ears still flat, Deacon took a moment to collect himself as best he was able. He drew himself up tall, forced his ears upright and fluffed out his tail again as he had been taught. Show nothing but power, he had been taught. Anything less is a weakness to be exploited. He pulled the door open-

-And was promptly punched in the face.

Deacon doubled over and stumbled back as tears formed in his eyes. He grunted as he tried to peer through the haze, with only a brown blur revealed. The blur moved again and Deacon tried to raise an arm, but another vicious punch to the side of his head knocked him to the floor. "Os_well_!" came a bitter, angry scream from the blur as the fox fell away.

As Deacon blinked away tears, he heard the blur release a choked out gasp. The fox's vision cleared enough that he could make out the features of a middle-aged otter male, clad in the simple brown cloth of a peasant. His webbed paws rose to his throat as he began to float above the ground, and his eyes bugged out as he fought for air.

"Observe, boy," came his father's voice. A glance to the side showed the older vulpine with arm outstretched, fingers curled into talons. "Do you recognize this person? Does he seem familiar to you?"

The otter continued to wheeze, and he looked down at Deacon even as the young fox met his gaze. Anger was gone, replaced with sheer terror. "N... no, sir. No, he doesn't."

There was a quiet snarl from his father that sent Deacon cringing back again instantly, but there was no attack from that quarter. All of the older fox's focus was on his suspended visitor. "Does not, boy. I did not teach you to speak for you to abuse your tongue so."

When Deacon offered no reply, the otter in the air was brought crashing down to the floor again. He traveled through the younger fox on his way there, and the two became a tangled mess of limbs as they rolled across the carpet. "There, now," snapped his father. "Perhaps _now_you will recognize him."

There was still no familiarity that Deacon could discern, at least not right away. He struggled to pull away from the otter, but the older male was able to regather himself faster. One arm closed around Deacon's neck and pulled him tight as the other swept a crude dagger out from within his rags to press to the fox's chest. "Release him, Oswell!" the otter all but screamed. Fingers tensed on the handle of the dagger as his muzzle frothed with suddenly reborn anger.

But Oswell just lifted his eyebrows slowly. "Well that hardly works. You have him at knifepoint already."

Pain bloomed in Deacon's chest as he felt the tip of that dagger push through his clothes and into his chest. It was barely a cut, not even a quarter inch deep, but enough to spill blood across the blade. "Not your pet, you demon!" he roared back even as Deacon struggled to draw breath through the otter's tightening grip. "My son! Give me back my son!"

"Ah, your son. You really should have been more specific in the first place." Oswell cocked his head to the side and perked up one ear. "And tell me. Why would I deign to acquiesce to your demand? Mmm?"

When the otter just looked confused, Oswell's eyes briefly brushed over Deacon. "You think you hold something of value over me? Hmm? You think you can hold the boy at the end of your blade and threaten to bleed him dry to motivate me?" Eyes narrowed as his muzzle curled into a snarl. "You call me a demon, and yet you attempt to appeal to my morality and decency. Paternal ties, perhaps? Hmm."

"I'll spill him!" the otter insisted, and the tip of the dagger drew a line slowly up through the crying fox' chest. The cut was still shallow, but the pain was very real to Deacon. Every moment his father delayed was another moment his flesh was split open. "I swear by all the gods I'll take your son's life for mine!"

Oswell huffed again as he looked down at Deacon with a disappointed shake of his head. "But I am a demon, sir, by your own hyperbolic admission. As a result, I cannot bring myself to care one whit what you do with him." He waved a dismissive paw as both Deacon and the otter looked up at him with a mixture of surprise and revulsion. "Living beings are a renewable resource, after all."

When the otter couldn't muster a reply and Deacon was still silent save for the odd whimper of pain and terror, Oswell shook his head again and looked to the younger fox. "You may not remember his tone of voice and dreadful presentation at the moment, boy," he said, "but we met this fellow only three weeks previous. We came to his village to offer him aid, and provide we did." Eyes fixed on the otter again. "It is quite the strange way to show your gratitude, what with all this swearing by the gods to kill poor Deacon. Certainly _he_did nothing to slight you."

Even as he tightened his grip on the dagger, the otter relaxed his hold on Deacon's neck ever so slightly. "You took my son away from me!" he hissed. "You lied about your intentions! I will see the crown destroy you for this, even if I can't stop you myself. I'll get my son back, or I'll avenge him!"

"Alas, you were the fool to think that the life of your son was a worthy price to pay for the salvation of your village," Oswell countered as he folded his arms again. "I presume your guilt sent you on this mad crusade. This too will end with a life traded." He lifted his eyebrows and spread his arms out slowly. "You came here with an intention to negotiate the release of your son through threatened violence. I propose a counter offer."

The otter spat at Oswell's footpaws. "Gods take your offers, Oswell. Maybe that vile, twisted tongue as well!"

One of Oswell's ears twitched, and he waved a paw toward Deacon as the younger vulpine tried to squirm against his captor again. "Now, boy, do not struggle. I have no doubt at all that our guest would not hesitate to slice you open if you tried anything." When Deacon whimpered again and fell still, Oswell's eyes turned to the otter once more. "And you are certain that you cannot be swayed to hear out a new deal?" When his only response was fresh spittle on his robe, the fox sighed. "Very well. Close your eyes, boy."

Instead Deacon's eyes widened with fear. He watched as his father swept one hand up with unnatural speed, and he felt the dagger ripped out of the otter's paw and his own chest. There was barely time for his assailant to gasp before Oswell thrust a fist forward, and Deacon fell to the floor as the otter was knocked back by an invisible pulse of raw force. The younger fox tumbled as the otter's limbs were pulled off his body.

He managed to look up just in time to see Oswell lift both his arms. At his back, the otter rose up into the air again with his limbs spread out wide, and a crackle of electricity echoed through the room as a ball of lightning flashed into existence in the magi's paw. Smaller bolts arced between his fingers as he smiled thinly. "You should have heard me out," he admonished the otter, before he thrust that paw forward and launched a bolt of lightning.

Smoke and the stink of seared flesh rose from the burned hole in the otter's chest as he was blasted into the far wall with the force of the blow. The otter bounced off it on impact as Oswell dropped his arms to his sides again, and the smile on his face faded as the otter slumped to the floor and lay still. Smoke continued to curl into the air as a scream sounded from outside. "Ah," he muttered as he turned to the door, "and that would be our other visitor."

Deacon looked up at the door as he heard the rapid approach of new footsteps. Everything happened in a matter of seconds. Another otter - similarly aged but with the rounded chest of a female - ran through the still-open front door. She fell to her knees beside the male, and grasped at his paw with tears in her eyes. Her head began to turn toward Oswell-

-before it twisted sharply back the other way. The crack of broken bone heralded silence, before her body collapsed over that of the male otter. Deacon recoiled from the sound and the sight and fell onto his rump as he turned to look at his father. "Why did-"

"She had come for the same purpose as he," Oswell replied, as he curled his two extended fingers back into a fist. The paw fell to his side as he looked over the pair with distaste. "They sought my destruction. To cajole and beg and bargain and threaten their way out of the deal that they had so carelessly made." He perked an eyebrow as he cocked his head to the side. "You disapprove, boy."

Deacon gulped as he forced himself to untuck his tail as best he can. "No, father," he lied, as he looked up. It was impossible to force eye contact with Oswell. "Of... of course not. As you said, she was here to accomplish the same end as... as he."

The older fox huffed again as he strode over to the dead otters. "Mmm. Do not think I cannot sense your disgust, boy," he muttered as he prodded at the pair with one footpaw. "Do not insult me by offering lies to my face again. You will not enjoy the punishment you will endure for the affront. Understood?"

It wasn't possible for Deacon to hide the tuck of his tail, and he bowed his head deeper so as to keep from further upsetting his father. He had no doubt that the threat was very, very real, and his father was nothing if not imaginative with his punishments. "Yes, sir. I offer my apologies, sir."

"Hmm. Good." He kicked a little harder at the female's side before he turned to Deacon again and folded his arms. "Now. You disapprove. Tell me why." He watched on as Deacon only cringed further back. "Speak, boy. I left you your tongue when I could have cut it out at birth. Do not make me regret the decision."

Breath hissed through Deacon's teeth as he quickly drew in air and snapped his head up. "She was unarmed, sir," he replied as quickly as he was able. The words just spilled out of him; his father would cut out his tongue if he decided he wanted to. "He threatened us, sir. He attacked us. She did not. Please do not cut out my tongue, sir. I beg mercy and offer apology for any offense."

"Oh, be silent. Beg nothing." The older fox's eyes narrowed as he walked over to stand at Deacon's side. One arm reached down to wrench the younger vulpine upright again. "You are my son. Hold yourself as such." He stepped to the side and pointed a single finger at the pair of otters. "What do you see here, boy? What is this? Two corpses? The cadavers of those who would threaten harm on us?"

When Deacon nodded, he swiftly felt pain spike in the back of his head as Oswell's paw crashed down upon it. "Fool! Look closer! What use have we for empty meat? What use have we for the dead? I am no necromancer looking to raise an army of the deceased!" He frowned deeply as he looked over Deacon's face. Most of it was hidden by a sharp bow of his son's head. "This, boy, is a statement.

"Villagers have one advantage over those such as we, boy. They have numbers." He took a step back and swept up one arm. Another wave of force blasted out from his paw, and sent the two corpses right back out the front door again. Another flick of his fingers slammed the front door shut behind them. "The spark of the arcane is rare, but mating instinct is not. You think I should have shown mercy to the female? She, who would have taken her late husband home and stirred her village into a frenzy?"

The younger of the pair remained silent as Oswell shook his head. "Disappointing. However I try to rid you of your misguided senses of right and wrong, they persist. Perhaps this will simplify it for you." He stepped back from Deacon and lifted an arm to point at his son. As that finger twitched higher, so too did Deacon's chin find itself forced up.

When at last Deacon's eyes met his own, Oswell perked an ear again. "We rendered him and his people a service. We exacted payment from them. The payment was agreed on by all parties. We were bound by the agreement, boy. They came here to break it through murder." His eyes narrowed. "I simply beat them to it.

"Learn this lesson, boy. Learn it well." His hand swept aside to point toward the front door. "Out there are people far less fortunate than yourself. They lack the ability to tap magic the way you and I are able to. They are children to us and, on occasion, they may delude themselves into thinking themselves our equals. Our betters, even. Spare them the rod, and they will be spoiled. They must fear, for they will not dare raise a paw to us so long as they do. Understand."

The older vulpine fell silent as the words sank in. With the telekinetic pressure on his chin gone, Deacon was able to drop his head again. He couldn't afford the punishment he'd receive if his father saw the disgust in his eyes. At least the 'lesson' had been absent the force of Oswell's will; if his father had decided to implant the thought in his mind, he'd hear its echo for weeks before it faded. "I understand, father," he said after a moment, with all the certainty he could muster.

"You lie poorly, but I trust you know what will happen if you fail to understand in the future." Oswell folded his arms and jerked his head to the side. "Now. Lead me to the chambers below. I should like to see the one that they were so willing to die to recover."

"Of course, father." Deacon bowed his head again and quickly hurried up and past the older fox. Beneath one of the staircases that led up to the balcony rested another door, wood dark enough a shade of red to almost match blood. Deacon pushed it open quickly and stopped on the other side, head bowed as Oswell followed him in. His fingers tightened on the door as his father passed by.

As Oswell proceeded down the staircase behind the door, he lifted a paw and willed a flicker of flame into existence within it. That dancing light lit the way for the two vulpines as they moved deeper beneath the house. Deacon kept his head down the whole time. Half of his motivation was to keep his father from becoming further agitated. Half was just so he could see where he was settling his footpaws.

The staircase sent them down at least as far beneath the ground as the house rose high above it. When at last the floor flattened out, it led them to a tall pair of opaque glass doors. There was no handle, no lever, and no other visible mechanism to open them, but they slid into recesses in the walls as Oswell waved an arm. Half a meter thick and solid all the way through, not a single sound came from their motion. "Inside, boy," he grunted.

Deacon nodded once and rushed in ahead of his father. The room beyond was round and tall, a great dome that could well have stretched up as far as the surface above. Its walls were forged of great black shards of crystal, and they glittered in the light of the fiery torches that erupted to life with Deacon's entrance. Scattered around the room were various beds and tables and the like, layered with instruments of the arcane and tattered old scrolls and pieces of parchment.

But the younger fox knew what his father wanted, and it lay in the center of the room. It was a cylinder, several more meters wide and almost as tall as the chamber itself. White, egg-like objects slightly larger than Oswell were dotted across the surface, half buried inside the cylinder's red surface. As Deacon grew closer, he averted his eyes. The closer he moved to the cylinder, the more aware he was of the pulsating nature of its heartbeat. "What do you require of me, sir?" he asked, eyes still averted from the towering cylinder. Even just being close to it made him feel as though there was some growing pressure in his mind, begging to be loosed.

If it affected his father, Oswell didn't show it. He stepped right up to the base of the tower and ran a paw gently over its surface. "Silence, if you can manage it," was his response, but absent any gruffness or anger that had so colored his tones before. Instead he sounded distracted as he rubbed gently at the cylinder. His eyes turned up as the tower began to slowly rotate.

When it came to rest, Oswell stepped back and raised both paws. There was a quiet hiss and a pop, and one of the egg-like protrusions in the tower came free. It floated down from its spot halfway toward the top, and drifted right over Oswell's head to move toward the nearest of the tables. Bits of paper were brushed aside by the object as it settled down, and the older vulpine smiled as he lowered his hands again. "Now then," he muttered to himself as he slowly made his way over to the table, "let us see exactly why you are worth dying for. Boy! Attend carefully."

Deacon jumped at the sudden shout, but nodded once and darted over. The pressure left his mind as he moved away from the tower, but a sense of unease trickled down over his heart as he reached the object pulled from it. He watched his father run a hand across the surface of the object, and it split under his touch as if a seam had ripped. The object peeled itself apart to reveal another otter, naked and younger than those who had come to the house. Slightly portly around the middle and no older than Deacon himself, he lay comatose as Oswell lowered his paw again. The older fox huffed quietly to himself as he ran both hands slowly down the otter's chest.

Questions bubbled up in Deacon's throat, but he didn't dare ask them. Instead he silently looked on, minute after minute, as his father felt across every last inch of the otter's body. He saw his father's eyes roll back into his head, fingertips awash with a soft, yellow glow as they trailed through his fur. He even waved the otter onto his side to probe at his back. Fingers traced right down from the back of his head and along his spine to his footpaws and up again along his tail. Each limb was carefully examined and left to limply fall again.

When the light faded from Oswell's fingertips and his eyes opened and focused again, he turned to Deacon. "Tell me, boy. Why do you think this one was so vigorously wanted?"

Deacon stepped up and looked down over the otter with a gulp. His eyes raked over him from toe to ear, and he shook his head slowly. "Familial ties, sir," he said, and he looked up in time to see Oswell's quick frown. "Villagers ascribe too much importance to such silliness, and they are far from intelligent enough to ascertain a greater reason."

The frown softened for a moment, and the older fox's muzzle even curled into the slightest of smiles. He nodded once before his smile faded again and looked over the otter. "Very good. The answer we can discern is not always the answer that a lesser being might arrive at. You are correct. Bain here is the son of the couple that came here tonight. They sought their son back out of blood obligation. They do not know what they created."

"Vibrancy, sir?" Deacon asked. He kept his eyes on the unconscious otter's face as he spoke. There was no certainty in his mind; all he knew of his father's secretive experimentation was that 'vibrancy' was a word that repeatedly came up in conversation.

When Oswell's eyes turned on Deacon again, the younger fox could feel the probing of his father's will inside his mind. The instinctual reaction to try and shut it out was long ago controlled, and Deacon whimpered as he opened his mind fully. He twitched as Oswell roughly sifted through his thoughts and memories, fears and hopes and dreams.

Only when he was satisfied with whatever he'd been looking for did his father withdraw. Deacon slumped down over the otter's legs and sucked in a long, deep breath as Oswell grunted above him. "Hmm. Either you are advancing faster than I expected, or you have been listening to me. Either way, I am interested. Yes, boy. His spirit has a certain vibrancy to it, but you do not understand what that even means. Perhaps you are ready... We shall investigate this together."

With a snap of Oswell's fingers, the otter's eyes flashed open. He breathed in quickly as he shot bolt upright, and his arms wrapped tight around himself. "What-" he started to say.

He was cut off as his body slammed hard back down on the table again. The structure shook as he grunted and cried out in surprise and pain. Deacon backed away with surprise, his own eyes as wide as the otter's as the young male was spread across the table under Oswell's will. "Hello, Bain. Do you remember me?"

With obvious effort, the otter turned his head to the side to bring Oswell into view. His eyes flicked down for a moment to take in the sight of a confused and slightly scared Deacon, before they met the older fox's gaze again. "You're... you're Master Oswell, aren't you?" he asked.

Oswell smiled warmly and gave a soft nod as he clasped his paws together. His entire demeanor shifted in an instant. "Indeed. I wish to thank you once again for your kind offer of service in exchange for our aid in running off those terrible bandits. You should know that your village has been safe and prosperous since the day you left." He paused for a moment and allowed his smile to slip slightly. "Your parents send their regards and their love, and regret that they cannot be here to see you. They had urgent matters to attend to; some family emergency or other. You understand."

At that, Bain smiled slightly and gave a shaky nod. His smile vanished and he looked down over his prone, naked body as it began to relax. "If I may, Master Oswell, why am I restrained?" he asked.

"So that you may be of best use to me, dear boy," Oswell replied. He ran a hand down over the top of the otter's head and patted it gently. "You remember what the terms of our agreement with your village were, do you not?"

As Deacon slowly stepped forward and stood at Oswell's side, the otter glanced over at him again. His muzzle briefly spread in a smile again, before his face turned serious again and focused once more on Oswell. "Yes, sir. You and your apprentice were gonna drive off the bandits, and you required one son of the village of breeding age for services to your tasks. You promised he'd be safe, well-kept and well cared for, and that the village wouldn't ever have to fear bandits again."

See how this boy speaks to me? The words echoed in Deacon's mind as the otter spoke, and he had to fight not to turn and stare at his father. You would do well to listen and learn, boy. His respect is genuine, not a mere affectation. If I have to break your spirit in order to ensure such a reaction, rest assured that I will do it and be glad when it is done.

Oswell himself nodded along to the otter's words. "Indeed. You have a fine memory, boy. Very good. However, until tonight, you will have had no idea exactly what services you will be expected to render." He tilted his head up slowly. "Do you know what sort of magic I deal in, Bain?"

The young otter shook his head as Deacon clasped his paws before him. Oswell spared his son a glance for a moment before he smiled down at Bain again. "I am a student of the body. I seek new ways to rejuvenate the flesh and empower muscle. I attempt to use magic in new ways to better improve the quality of life for all people. Through my experimentations, I am able to come to a better understanding of the flaws the gods have visited upon us, and how best to correct them."

"Most noble, Master Oswell," Bain said with another nod. There was no more smile on his features as he regarded the older fox, though. "But, with all respect... you didn't answer me. I understand if I'm not bright enough to, sir; I'm no magi like you. But if you can, why am I stuck here?" His ears twitched as he glanced down over himself. "And... why am I naked?"

As Deacon's eyes turned away, Oswell just chuckled. "You are pinned because I intend to wrap your body in a field of magic," he explained. "This field may cause all manner of muscle spasms, and it requires focus to ensure that you do not injure yourself or damage my equipment. As for the other matter... well, that shall become apparent in a moment." Gather the equipment, boy. Quickly!

Deacon all but jumped at the mental command, but turned immediately to his task. While his father had not been specific and Deacon had never been present in the chambers for any of Oswell's experimentation, he felt more than knew what he was meant to grab. A small wooden chest set on a table nearby was snatched up before he even knew what he was doing, and he carefully conveyed it back over to the table again.

Meanwhile, Oswell hadn't stopped talking. "Now, I wish to remind you that, as per our agreement with your family and your village, my intention is not to cause you harm." He smiled warmly as Bain offered a slight nod. "In the spirit of this agreement, I wish to point out that in some aspects of my experimentation, and to obtain the results I need, that does not mean that you will not be subject to some discomfort. Rest assured, pain is not what I require from you and would spoil my efforts in the extreme."

"I'm glad to hear that, Master Oswell," Bain replied. The young otter glanced over at Deacon as he returned and offered the chest to Oswell. "Sorry," he said as he looked away again. "I didn't know you'd be here too. I'm, ah... not used to being naked around people."

It took a cough to clear the fox's throat as he shook his head. "Not at all," he replied, and forced a cheerful smile to his muzzle. "We are all here for the same end, Bain. Your state of dress is... heh, it is _immaterial_to what is to come."

Oswell quickly stifled Deacon's chuckle with a dead stare, before he turned back to Bain with a smile. "Your naked state is essential for the moment," he told Bain, as he dipped a paw into the chest and began to rummage around. "As I have said, I study the physical state of life in an attempt to understand how to better it. In order to do that... ah! Yes, these will do nicely." He withdrew from the chest a small trio of rounded, polished rubies and rolled them about slowly in his paw.

Bain's eyes glittered at the sight of the gems. "And what're those, if I can ask?"

Oswell just lifted an eyebrow as he turned and regarded Deacon. "Boy, answer his question," he said with a perked ear. "You have been studying these techniques for some time now. I would see what you know."

As Bain's eyes too locked on Deacon, the younger fox sucked in a deep breath. Part of it was for air, but the majority of it was to give himself time to think. "They are not what they seem to be, Bain," he replied. The words trickled slowly from his muzzle as he clasped his paws together. "These are sensation orbs. They are designed to stimulate physical reaction in the person that they are implanted within." Certain of his knowledge and answer, Deacon couldn't help but smile.

The pride was not shared. With a quiet huff, Oswell nodded and turned back to Bain. "The color is what determines what sort of sensation is conducted through the subject," he continued, though his voice was a little less pleasant than it previously had been. "Sapphires induce chills. Opals provide happiness. Topaz lights a fire in the veins. Emeralds, for some reason I have not been able to discern, induce exquisite agony. Rubies, though? These stimulate mating urges."

At that, Bain's eyes widened considerably. "Ah, but... I mean... begging your pardon, sir, but I've never-"

"Nonsense," Oswell interrupted with a gentle wave of his paw. "Your lack of experience in carnal matters is of little to no concern to me. Certainly I have no interest in you as a potential mate. Neither the boy nor I do." New warmth and friendliness was forced into his smile again. "We are engaged in pure, alchemagical study here, dear boy. We are certainly not here to simply abuse our power in search of a quick thrill."

As Bain nodded, Oswell dipped his other paw back into the box. The first time it emerged with a small beaker. The second brought with it a few straps of leather scored with burned-in runes, set down beside the glass vessel. "I am going to be frank with you," he said to Bain as he continued to gently roll the gems in his paw. "Your body is required for these experiments to work.

"To understand your body, I must extract from you an essence of what is purely you. There are many ways I could do this, but most would be unpleasant or painful for you." The fox's smile turned a little lopsided. "I have no doubt you wish you keep your brain intact, after all."

Bain chuckled a little uneasily as he looked over at Deacon again for a moment. "And you're gonna extract my... my, ah..."

"Indeed. The three sensation orbs are necessary for different reasons. One would be sufficient if I simply wished you to be able to produce the necessary reaction. The three are there to ensure that it will be of sufficient quantity to aid my work, and extracted quickly enough to minimize your distress." Oswell shrugged slowly. "I have no doubt you did not wish for your body's first intimate moments to be spent with an old wizard and his son. Your sacrifice may benefit the entire kingdom, but that may be small comfort to you."

"I didn't exactly have pretty things lining up at my dad's door," Bain admitted with another uneasy little chuckle. His eyes flicked between Deacon and Oswell as he nodded slowly. "So... how does this all work, anyway?"

When Oswell waved his paw toward Deacon, the fox rounded the table and stood opposite his father. He looked down and smiled to the otter. "We will implant the orbs beneath your flesh. Don't... ah, do not worry," he quickly corrected himself. A glance up showed that Oswell's brow was furrowed, but he gave no other outward signal of his disapproval. Deacon knew he'd hear about it later. "There will be no pain. They will simply melt through your fur and skin and settle where we need them.

"Once they are there, the person they are attuned to - that is to say, my father - will be able to activate and control the levels of sensation that they produce. His magic will... ah..." The fox stammered and waved his paws gently in front of himself as he fought to find the right words.

With a disappointed sigh, Oswell saved him. "I will use my connection to the orbs to bring you to your finish quickly and voluminously," he explained. "Your part in this will be collected and stored, and you will be freed from this room."

Bain smiled broadly as he looked back to the older fox. "I can go home after this?" he excitedly asked. "I can see my mum and dad again?"

Oswell spared Deacon a split-second glance. His son looked disgusted all over again, and more than a little weak in the knees. His ears were flat and his muzzle open as if to speak. "Not quite yet," Oswell quickly replied, before Deacon could say a word. "You will be free from this room, but not free to leave the grounds. As I said, collecting your essence will be but the first part of my efforts. I must then use it to work my magic on you, in my attempts to find a better way of healing and bettering people. You understand, yes?"

The otter nodded more slowly, and his eyes fixed on the strips of runed leather. "And... what're those for?" he asked after a moment.

With a smile, Oswell stroke down one of the strips. "These will be fashioned into a collar of sorts," he replied. He smiled a little more broadly as he watched a sliver of concern work its way into Bain's face. "No, you need not worry, dear boy. As I said, when your purpose in this room is finished you will be free to leave it. But as you will be key to my continued experiments, you cannot leave the grounds just yet. There are several rooms that are off-limits even to my son, and many more that would be dangerous to you."

"It is not so much there to restrict you as protect you," Deacon added, as Bain turned his head to regard the younger vulpine. "This house is full of magic and magical artifacts, many of them designed and created by my father. For someone who has no knowledge of magic, it would be dangerous to give a curious otter the freedom to go where he pleases. The collar will ensure that several off-limits areas remain secure, and nothing more." He smiled as best he could, and it was made considerably easier when Bain nodded and smiled back.

The smile was broken when Oswell thrust out the paw with the sensation orbs in them. "You will administer these as appropriate for maximized efficiency," he instructed. "I have every confidence that your studies have taught you exactly what you need to know in order to proceed apace."

But no such confidence in my ability to carry it out, he thought bitterly to himself as he accepted the orbs. They were warm to the touch, seething with magical energy that tried to be free. He took a deep breath as he looked down at Bain again. The otter was still smiling. "I am sorry for any discomfort these may cause you," he said.

"I'm not," replied the otter, more cheerfully than Deacon had expected. "I'm sure you'll both take good care of me."

One of Deacon's ears tipped back as he felt a genuine little smile come to his muzzle. With a nod, he slipped two of the rubies into his other paw and reached down slowly to brush apart the otter's legs. They spread more quickly than he'd expected, pulled by Oswell's mental command. Deacon felt that brief moment of mirth slip away again, and he held his breath as he looked down over the otter's malehood.

His fat sheath sat right before his eyes, but that was not even remotely what held his attention. Instead, it was the fuzzy orbs that hung beneath it that were his first goal. With a deep breath, Deacon brought the first of the gems down to touch gently between them.

Bain reacted instantly, with a twitching sort of shiver that ran the full length of his body. A quiet little chitter broke from his muzzle as the ruby shimmered and began to melt into Bain's flesh. In a few seconds the ruby was gone, absorbed fully. A second later, and a hint of pink entered Deacon's view. Bain's shaft was already emerging.

Oswell just folded his arms as he watched on. "No, I have not already activated the sensation orbs," he answered, when he saw the unspoken question on Deacon's face. "They have an innate feel to them when they are first applied. It will fade, if they are not activated."

"It's alright, Master Deacon," Bain added from the other end of the table. A glance up showed a broad smile on his face as his shaft continued to push free of his sheath. "It feels nice. You can keep going if you want."

With a nod, Deacon shifted one of the rubies to his freed paw. He reached down slowly with an extended finger to gently lift the otter's orbs, and quickly brought a second to bear to help. They already had an extra weight about them, more than could just be attributed to the gem that had been implanted. In some small way, Bain's body was already improved through the addition.

The second ruby was brought down beneath those furry balls, and it was pressed gently in against Bain's fur. There was a little shiver from the otter above at the touch, but nothing more happened. It didn't melt against the flesh and draw itself into Bain's body. It remained as firm as ever. "I don't... I mean, I do not believe this orb is going to work, sir."

A glance around the table from Oswell drew a quiet snort from him. "Fine placement, but wrong application," he said. "If you wish to stimulate something with one of these artifacts, you must apply it directly." Eyebrows lifted slowly as he smirked. "You know what you must do."

The implication was there, though Deacon had to admit that he'd not read any such thing in any of the tomes on the subject. He hesitated at the prospect of what he needed to do, and instead looked up at Bain again. The otter's chest had begun to rise and fall considerably more quickly, and a not-unimpressive length of pink malehood rested against his belly already. "I, ah... I am sorry, but this might be a very uncomfortable sensation," he warned.

As Bain nodded, the otter's lower half began to lift in the air slowly under Oswell's command. It floated slightly above the table and allowed his tail to lazily flop down, and Deacon held his breath when the otter's backside came into view. He felt his fingers squeeze down on both sensation orbs as he regarded the barest sight of Bain's tailhole, a dash of pink in a sea of brown fur. "I think perhaps this could be applied elsewhere, sir," he said, as he glanced over at Oswell.

But a glare was Oswell's only response. With a gulp and a quick aversion of his eyes, Deacon dropped his head and sighed. His father didn't accept failure or weakness. He knew that Deacon knew what had to be done, and Deacon knew there was no way out without severe punishment. His hesitation was already bad enough. He closed his eyes as he set one of the sensation orbs back down on the table, and reached up with both paws to grasp at Bain's rump.

There was a distinctly powerful twitch from the otter at the touch, but that was nothing to the reaction when the warm, round ruby was pressed quickly up against his entrance. Bain's eyes went wide and he gasped, his whole body suddenly shuddering in Oswell's telekinetic grip. "W-what're you-"

"I'm terribly sorry!" Deacon replied quickly. His ears flattened and tail tucked up between his legs as he pushed up against that tight tailring with the orb. The fox only felt intense resistance for a moment, though. After that moment, he felt the orb start to push its way inside, still perfectly solid but smooth enough to gain entry. Bain continued to shake, trembling as much as he could in the tight grip that held him as Deacon's fingers began to follow the orb, squeezed down on by unseen muscles as he pushed the sensation orb where it needed to go.

Then, finally, he felt the orb start to lose its firmness. He pulled back as quickly as he dared to avoid causing Bain any damage, and watched on as the otter's body was lowered back to the table again. Whatever was at work inside him was already teasing his body in ways Deacon could only imagine, judging wholly from the watery spurt of fluid from the tip of his malehood. It jetted out with enough force to splatter the otter's open muzzle, but he seemed so lost in pleasure as not to care.

While he was so distracted, Deacon quickly grabbed the other orb and all but raced around the table to the otter's head. He quickly pressed the ruby down against the top of Bain's head, and it shimmered before it too melted away inside him. He backed away from the table as Bain continued to tingle and twitch there, suddenly aware again of his pressing need to breathe. Air rushed out of his lungs as he doubled over, and Deacon began to pant quickly.

When he looked up, he was met with Oswell's disapproving stare once more. "If you are quite finished with your squeamishness," he hissed, "you should prepare the vessel. This should not take long."

Deacon nodded as Oswell's eyes closed. One of the older fox's paws extended to hover over Bain's face as the otter began to groan quietly. The younger of the pair grasped at the beaker and gripped it tightly as he glanced up at the otter. He watched Bain writhe as best he could against the table. It seemed at least like the orbs had been applied correctly. "What are you actually doing?" he asked, voice low as he watched Bain twitch.

"Presently, I am attempting to manipulate his perception of reality to hasten our efforts," Oswell replied through gritted teeth. "He is now in a dream-like state. With one orb in his head, I can more easily penetrate his mind."

However, as Deacon looked on and despite Bain's twitches, the otter's shaft had begun to still. A frown spread across Oswell's brow as it even started to retract back into his sheath. "Something is wrong, though," he muttered, as his eyes opened to regard Bain. "He is resisting my efforts. I have full access to his mind in this lustful state and the other orbs are performing well, but something is blocking my influence. He is _losing_interest in the visions."

Deacon walked around the table to the otter's legs and forced himself to look down over Bain's malehood. His father was right; the otter as obviously uninterested in whatever fantasy had been concocted for him. "What are you showing him?" he asked.

"That which has always worked," Oswell replied with a huff, as he let his hand slip further down the table. It rested in the air above the otter's chest for a moment before his fingers curled slightly. "Some slinky, nebulous female form devoted to his pleasure. The male mind is not difficult to parse, boy. Perhaps I need only find the right form to his tastes..."

Deacon reached out to gently rest his paw on Bain's leg. Despite whatever stimulation the orbs were visiting upon his body, the otter simply wasn't able to appreciate what was happening inside his own mind. "How can I assist?" he asked.

His father began to shake his head, but froze in the middle of the gesture. His eyes flashed as they took in Deacon, and he began to smirk. "I did not believe you could have. However, perhaps I was the fool this time..." His paw slipped back up over Bain's head as the older vulpine's eyes closed again. "He did not fear me, boy. He had no reason to. He looked upon me as a savior. But you... hmm. Yes. Yes."

So attentive had he been to his father's words that Deacon almost completely missed the sudden resurgence of Bain's malehood. The firmness it had lost was back almost in an instant, and a few moments later Deacon was able to catch sight of the trickle of fresh pre-seed from his tip. "It is working," he said, as he looked back up at Oswell again with a smile.

The magi huffed through his smirk. "The 'it' you refer to is more 'you' in this case, boy," he announced with a little chuckle. "It seems you have an admirer in dear little Bain here. How quaint."

Deacon blinked and looked down at the squirming otter. Lost in whatever fantasy his father had concocted - a fantasy involving him, from what his father had implied - there was considerably more of a smile on Bain's face. His shaft responded in kind as Deacon's ears flattened to hide his blush. "But I did nothing!"

"You did not need to act," Oswell countered with a note of disgust in his voice. "His perversion probably has had no outlet until now. The crown would punish him severely if he were discovered with such an... unnatural desire." One eye cracked open and twitched toward Deacon. "Prepare yourself, boy! Take the vessel, quickly!"

So distracted by what his father was doing and what he had been told, there was a momentary delay between the command and his reaction. A brief glance down showed Bain's shaft beginning to throb with his oncoming orgasm, and there wasn't enough time to run around the table to grab the beaker. Instead he tried to lunge across Bain's thighs to grab it.

Grab it he did, but not quite in time. Bain's body twitched as the otter began to moan, and the first thick spurt of his seed was lost up in the air as Deacon's fingers closed around the beaker's neck. When he pulled back to present the beaker, it was too late to catch the first and second spurts. The latter hung in the air as the former splattered down against the side of Deacon's head, and the fox grunted in surprise as he raised the beaker.

The second jet of the otter's essence splattered against the table, but the beaker was able to capture the rest. Each second saw a new eruption of thick, white fluid from Bain's overstimulated shaft. As the beaker was tipped toward their source, the magic imbued to it drew every last fresh drop right up and into itself. No matter how powerful they came, the trajectory of each jet bent as it was sucked into the beaker.

Deacon could do little more than watch on, some of the otter's seed still dripping down his cheek as he collected every last drop. When the pulses of his malehood slowed, Deacon pressed the rim of the beaker to the underside of Bain's length, and watched on as the last of the otter's fluids trickled down into it. "I had no idea he would be so... volatile," Deacon muttered as he swiped at his cheek with one arm.

"And you are lucky I am occupied with his mind at present," Oswell said as he glared at his son. "Stop it and set it down. You have already wasted a considerable volume of his essence on the floor and on yourself." His growl was cut off as he turned back to Bain and adopted another warm smile.

It was just in time, too; the otter's eyes fluttered open as he panted for breath. He looked around until he spotted Oswell and gave the older fox a sheepish smile. "I... uh... I don't know what to say. Those ruby-things were..."

"Many magi enjoy using them on themselves, in order to bring themselves to truly impressive heights of pleasure," Oswell explained as he patted the otter's shoulder. The strips of leather at his side of the table began to float into the air and interlock with one another. "I find such things to be of zero use to me, but of infinitely more use in my work. I am pleased that you were pleased so."

Bain nodded, but the sheepish smile broadened as he caught sight of Deacon's splattered features. The fox refused to meet his eyes, and his tail was tucked so completely up that it nearly tickled the otter's footpaws. "Oh, Master Deacon! I'm... I'm sorry if I made a mess of you. I was pinned down by your father's magic and couldn't move... I couldn't even see you! I-"

"No, it's... it is quite alright," Deacon replied as he waved a paw over the top of the beaker. A small, black stopper flashed into existence and capped it off as he set it down on the table. He tried a smile, though the insides of his flattened ears burned hot. "It was a surprise, but... well, I am sure it will wash out."

"In fact, perhaps you should go now and wash it out," Oswell suggested cheerfully. The voice may have been mirthful, but a glance from Deacon showed his glare as decidedly unfriendly. "You can show Bain how the facilities here work. Teach him how the enchanted rooms will cleanse and serve him, so long as he is our guest." He reached up and plucked the forming collar out of the air with one paw and waved it in front of the otter. "If, that is, you intend to stay. I cannot and will not force you."

With a slow nod, Bain smiled a little wider. "It would be my pleasure to assist you, Master Oswell," he replied as he all but beamed. A little chuckle wormed its way through his smile. "Definitely, if you're gonna need to do that again."

With a chuckle of his own and another warm grin, Oswell reached down to snugly wrap the leather collar around the otter's neck. "It will depend entirely on the outcome of my initial experiments, and the vigor of your body. However, the implanted sensory orbs will continue to stimulate you in various ways, and your body will be altered to better handle the new, more intense input. You may find yourself with a heightened libido for a few days. If necessary, you may relieve yourself."

As Bain nodded and fell silent, Oswell traced a finger down between the two ends of the leather collar. They pressed together around the back of the otter's neck under his touch, and sealed there as the older fox smiled wider. "There, now. You should be able to move again as well. Could you sit up for me, please?"

The otter followed the instruction and looked around slowly. "This is a very impressive room, Master Oswell," he said as he drank in the details. "Is this all for your efforts with me, or is this for all of your experiments?"

"Oh, I had this chamber constructed many, many years ago," he replied with a wave of his paw. The other helped Bain to hop down from the table and steadied him as he wobbled. "Now, be careful. You have been in a magically-induced hibernation for several days. The way I awoke you should help with your balance and muscle control, but be wary." He cocked his head to the side and smiled. "Perhaps head over to the stairs. Deacon will show you up presently and explain to you the rules of this house."

"Of course, Master Oswell." Bain bowed his head as he tried to steady himself. Once sure of his footing, he let go of the older fox's paw and started toward the stairs under his own - albeit slow - power. "I will await you at the stairs, Master Deacon," he added as he glanced back at the younger of the pair.

Deacon nodded softly as he watched Bain start off. He continued to watch for a few moments until he was sure the otter was out of earshot. "You gave him the chance to leave?" he asked. Before he could utter another word, pain bloomed in the back of his mind from some unseen source. It drew a near-silent whimper from the younger fox as his legs buckled. Only a quick paw saved him from tumbling to the floor, as it grasped at the side of the table.

Oswell lowered the paw and raised finger that he'd pointed at his son, the disgust back on his face again. "Listen to me, boy, and listen well," he growled under his breath. "The next time we need to extract from that wretch, you will not miss a single drop. Do you understand me?" The pain faded as the older fox's muzzle curled into a silent snarl.

With a quicker nod as the aftershocks of that head pain flickered through his awareness, Deacon straightened up and bowed his head again. "I am sorry, sir," he whispered. "I promise; next time I will be ready. I will not miss a drop. I will capture it all for you."

"You had better, as next time I will have you engaging in the entire process," Oswell said with a quiet snort. "You need to learn these techniques for yourself, boy. If you cannot carry them out, I have little to no use for you." His eyes narrowed. "Do not think yourself irreplaceable. I have great and wonderful plans for you, in spite of how ungrateful you constantly seem to be. Do not make me regret my devotion to your learning."

Deacon remained silent, eyes on the floor as Oswell snorted. "Now," he said as he looked past his son and to the otter in the distance, "go to him. Do as I said and show him what he needs to see in the manor. I will not have such a promising subject lost because you forgot to warn him about the wards on my bedchamber's door." He watched as Deacon nodded and waved a paw. "Go. I have work to do. I will summon you if necessary."

With a nod, the younger fox turned quickly and hurried away. His father had no more patience for him that night, and it was plain to see. His eyes lifted only long enough to notice Bain patiently waiting for him by the stairs. They dipped to the floor again, the better to hide his wince.

Why had his father implanted fantasies of Deacon in the otter's mind? Why couldn't he have just invented some sort of imaginary character to tease Bain to his climax? The answer was simple and obvious and typical of Oswell, but Deacon couldn't help but hope that there was more to it than just his father's desire to keep him on-edge and off-kilter. Maybe there was some plan, some design to the elder magi's actions.

"You alright, Master Deacon?" Bain asked as the fox arrived at the base of the stairs. "You look a little distracted."

As he looked up, Deacon tried to summon a warm smile to his muzzle. He wasn't quite sure he succeeded. "I am quite alright, Bain," he replied, as he wiped at his still-damp cheek. "Or rather, I will be alright, once I have cleaned myself up."

With a chuckle, Bain nodded and looked down at himself. His own body was more than slightly sticky with the remnants of the pre-seed that soaked into his fur. "I think cleaning up would be a great idea," he said with a smile that seemed considerably more genuine. "I, ah... I kinda smell like an over-eager... well, me, heh heh."

"Not to worry; we can fix that," Deacon assured him, as he started up the stairs. He offered the otter his paw as he took a breath. "And while we clean you up, we can discuss where you cannot go within the manor. My father would be very angry with me if I did not ensure you were safe while here."

As he took the fox's paw, Bain nodded and smiled all the wider. "I'm sure I'm going to be very safe in your care," he replied as Deacon helped him up the stairs.

Deacon just nodded as he spared a glance back at his father. The older fox was already hard at work at another of the tables, the beaker of the otter's seed at his side. He vanished from sight as he helped Bain up the stairs, but Deacon could still feel the barest hint of his father's presence in one corner of his mind. He was being monitored. He'd expected it, of course; Bain was an investment for Oswell. Deacon needed to make sure that the otter was taken care of properly. Considering what his father had planned, Bain was already more valuable than the magi's own son. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes.

If he did, Deacon knew death would be a welcome respite from his father's wrath.