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Kest Saltham did not like the humid climate of the tropical southern islands. In fact, had this not been such a risky proposition, he would gladly have ordered another to come here. But the very nature of what he was about to attempt meant that it could only be carried out by he himself. So it was that he found himself on the wide, yellow Ziinaj river aboard a flatboat whose spacious suite of cabins he had seized for himself with a combination of a fat bribe and no small measure of sheer intimidation.

The journey south from the comfortably crisp climate of the north, the snow-covered mountain lodges of his people, the Bursaen, had taken nearly a week. A few stops along the way had given some relief from the creaking, vile-smelling ship. Though Awakened were not new to him, metahumans were still quite new to most of them, and the Elven tribe who called themselves the Bursaen were among the rarest of metahumans. His snow-white complexion, silver eyes and elegantly pointed ears and upswept eyebrows framed by a square-cut mane of steel-silver hair drew stares of either admiration or terror wherever he went.

When he awoke to find the ship docked, he drew on his ankle-length, hooded traveling cloak and stepped out to the foredeck. Fortunately, in his eyes, winter had come to the south; summer temperatures for him made the cloak a burden, but the benefit of hiding his sensitive skin from the southern sun made it a must. He found the ship's skipper and his skeleton crew shivering under long, thick fur coats. They stared at him, as all humans tended to, in a sort of nervous contempt that was, even after a week of traveling with him, apparently not wearing off in the slightest.

"Good morning." the skipper muttered.

"It is if this is our last day together." Kest answered without malice.

"Aye, it's that, and I'll be glad to have my cabin back. This be Cardonicus, the dest ye paid for." The skipper spat over the rail.

Kest nodded. "Good." He took five thick, oblong golden coins from his cloak, seized the skipper's wrist in one hand and placed the coins in his hand with the other. "Your crew can offload my effects to the Dockmaster's Office, and then do as you please. See that everything makes it there, or we'll cross paths again." He fixed the skipper's watery eyes with a cold, detached gaze, then released the man's wrist and strode down the gangway off the boat and onto the dock.

The city of Cardonicus was a sprawling metropolis laid out over seven hundred fifty square miles, and all of it walled, a fortified martial city second in size only to the capital city of Fina which lay back to the north. The walls were three stories in height and were themselves buildings thickly reinforced in terraced concrete with tall, narrow slit windows at the second and third stories flanking archer's, cannoneer's and sniper's emplacements spaced every two hundred fifty feet. An army of two million men had once laid siege to Cardonicus; those two million had died within a single day. That had been sixty years ago, and no one had dared attempt to take the city since.

Kest stared up at those very walls now as he approached one of eight long, wide and heavily defended tunnels that led into and out of the city. He'd return to the Dockmaster's office later to tend to his possessions; for now, he had no interest in wasting time with lodgings. He'd secure them in an Inn this afternoon. He consulted a small map whose margins were filled with the delicate scrawl of Bursaen script, an X marking with surgical precision the location of his target. Eighty miles north on the Senndal Road, the central road splitting the city into Eastern and Western districts, then west on Thir's Hall Road, which lay forty miles north of the Ikari Road which split the city into North and South.

Clearly, he noted with dry amusement, he was going to need ground transport.

He found what he was looking for in the form of the Eskari Transport Company offices. A single-story building whose sloped front and sides extended from the inside of the city wall along with those of several hundred thousand others along the inner perimeter street, its stables were immediately visible to his right as he exited the gateway tunnel.

"Help you, sir?" a small, thin man with a reedy voice asked solicitously as he saw Kest approaching the office's ornate carved ivory door.

"I need a cart and a fast horse. Comfortable is the watchword for both, if you have anything that good." He let his eyes wander toward the stables, where he could see and several Awakened horsewomen talking and laughing, as well as see a handful of Mundane horses watching the women with dull-witted suspicion.

"It's Tess you'll be wanting." the man half turned his head without taking his eyes off Kest, and shouted, "Tess Kolara! Het, girl!"

Kest saw her coming before the little man who owned her did. She was long-legged and short of torso, thick bands of muscle marking shoulders, ass, thighs and calves flexing and bunching as she moved. Kest was puzzled for a moment; the woman didn't seem particularly pleased to be put to work. The little man spoke up, "That'll be -- "

He didn't get to finish telling Kest how much the trip would cost, because the auburn-haired horsewoman, without slowing down, slapped him hard enough to knock him clean off his feet and ass-over-teakettle across the ground. "I told you about calling me, ‘girl', didn't I?" she spat. She started to turn back toward Kest. "And what do you want?" Then she took stock of his appearance. "Oh..." her scowl melted into a smile. "Well, you're a rare prize, aren't you?"

"You know," Kest smiled back. "It's hard to find out the price of the trip I have in mind when the man who was going to speak it to me is lying there unconscious and bleeding from the mouth."

"Don't bother waiting for him to wake up." she said. "I'm more than a little under the suspicion that I don't work for him anymore, anyway." she tilted her head, smiling. "Why don't we talk price, just you and I. Where might you be headed?"

"Thir's Hall." He looked her up and down, his smile broadening as he imagined the possibilities. Her own smile mirrored his, relating that she didn't mind that one bit. "How long do you think that will take?"

She considered the question. "We can make it in a day or so, taking rest stops into account. Depends on which cart you want to use."

They haggled a bit over the price -- her price, not Eskari's. Another ten minutes saw her emerge from the wide bay doors of the company's building pulling an open-air full-suspension card long enough for Kest to either sit or recline in. After handing her the map and a handful of the oblong golden coins, which she gratefully deposited in a coin purse on the belt around her waist -- the only piece of clothing she wore other than her shoes -- he opted to recline and sleep in the soft caresses of the winter wind, cradled by the swaying, rhythmically shuddering cushions of the cart.

The trip was a long one, but not so long that watching the rolling foothills of the acropolis gliding by was anything but a pleasure. They ate and chatted while Tess sat beside him on the soft, thick cushion. One of her hands rested on his thigh, her fingers moving in a lazy back and forth motion as she looked him up and down again with undisguised interest. He didn't mind.

Some hours later, Tess slowed the cart. "This is the Thir's Hall Road." she said. The trees here were evergreens, common to the Northlands. Kest occupied his mind for a moment with the question of how the builders of the city had managed to control the climate sufficiently to simulate the Northlands within their walls. It was in fact notably cooler here than it had been at the gates. Kest cinched his shirt closed against a crisp breeze.

The Road itself was smooth and paved in a sort of smooth, fine-grained crushed white rock. The l

landscaping on either side of the road was perfectly executed planned forest of evergreens, lush green underbrush and mulchy soil. Here and there, something skittered through the leaves and branches, or peered out at them.

The ride was smoother, though Tess's shoes were slightly louder. Kest intuited without much reflection that this was by design, a form of early warning system for the guard posts no doubt concealed within the veils of the trees. He set his sheathed sword beside him on the cushions in plain view, a gesture of courtesy to watching sentries, a statement of, "Yes, I'm armed, but honestly and openly so."

As they neared a gentle northward curve in the Road, Tess's ears twitched. "Someone's fighting ahead." she said without looking back or slowing down. A good girl, indeed. Kest noted with a small smile. A lesser woman would have shied. He placed a pale hand on his sword's hilt, his posture still relaxed.

They came around the bend to see a large man, a Mundane Human, standing over a small Mundane woman, who cowered on her knees at his feet, slowly turning to face her back to him as he brought his arm up. In his fist, a whip sang out and lashed across the girl's back, pitching her forward as she cried out. Her ragged reddish hair fell across her face as her body convulsed with pain and sobbing.

Kest leaned up, tapping a finger in the small of Tess's back. "Stop."

The cart rolled to a halt just as the towering man let fly, the whip hissing out and snapping hotly across the girl's back again, the thin and worn gray blouse she wore now sporting a pair of reddening gashes as she fell forward, wailing, onto her face.

Kest patted the scabbard of his sword as he sized the man up, then smiled and let it lay as he swung a long leg out of the cart and pulled himself to his feet. "Heil, northman!" he called out.

The man froze, his hand back behind him ready to lash out again. He turned, glaring, to face Kest and his mare, the hand dropping to his side. "Move on, traveler." he commanded in a low but even tone.

Kest ignored this, instead stretching arms and legs as if he'd been riding long hours; which, of course, he had been. "What have you got there, Northman?" he flashed the man a warm smile, edging closer with a handful of lazy, unhurried steps.

"I'm Dent Korr." the man narrowed eyes wrinkled at the corners in a face lined with age and stress. "Guardsman of Thir's Hall. And this is none of your business. Now, move on," he repeated, raising the whip.

Quicker than the man's eyes could follow, Kest leapt forward, his left arm shooting to the inside of the guard's right forearm, slamming it aside so hard the man's arm flew wide open as Kest's fist shot into the man's chest just under the area of his heart.

The older man gasped for air that wouldn't come, the wind knocked so completely out of him that he dropped to his knees clutching his chest. Kest coiled one leg up and shot it forward, a muffled crack sounding as the ball of his booted foot connected with the guard's collarbone and sent the man skidding half a meter further down the road, where he lay rocking from side to side on his back.

Kest turned to the girl and, without a word, leaned down to her, taking her arm and placing it around his neck, then lifting her under the knees and buttocks and carrying the weeping girl to the cart, where he lay her on her stomach in the thick, soft cushions. "Come." he told Tess, and they continued on foot. None of them gave the fallen guard a second glance.

Something raced past over their heads just as they finally turned the pavestone-lined circular driveway that lay wide and welcoming before the long, single-story structure called Thir's Hall. The Hall's roof was shingled in long, thick strips of copper that curved as they neared the center of the building to form the apex of the roof.

Its walls were thick stone with deep, slitted holes for ventilation and view. Before the Hall stood rows of Mundane men with blunted spears in formation, a tall Awakened male Jaguar strutting before them calling out orders as the men went through the motions of drills with the ceremonial display weapons.

The taste of smoke on his tongue and the heavy scent of spiced meat told Kest that they'd arrived at the afternoon meal or nearly so. His stomach rumbled, and he assured himself that before he left here, he would tend to that from the Jarl's own plate.

The object that had hissed over their heads slowed; in a flare of wings and a screech, it lit on the black leather gauntleted forearm of a hulking figure of a man with a long, thick honey blond mane and vivid amber eyes set in a wide, thick-boned face sporting a flat nose and powerful jaw -- the Jarl himself, Thir Lorngaard, an Awakened Leonine.

"Hold here." Kest told Tess. He gave the girl, now only softly whimpering from time to time, a soft, warm look. "You, too, girl. You stay. Tess, see if you can find anything to ease the pain she's taking. I'll be back soon for the ride home."

He slid his scabbarded blade free of the cushions and strapped it back to his waist, then turned and strode boldly toward Thir. "Heil, Jarl."

The muscles in the Leonine's kilt-clad thighs twitched in nervous reflex at the greeting, so brash and without deference to his rank or stature. He looked up from something he'd taken from the bird -- a small rolled slip of thick vellum paper. The Jarl pointed to the cart, "Where did you get that?" his voice was powerful, nearly booming. "Confess!"

Kest shrugged. "You mean the cart? Or the mare?"

"I mean the bondmaiden!" Thir growled, "Impudent boy, you test me on my own land?"

Kest shrugged, utterly dismissive of the larger man's implied threat. "I took her off the road, after I disciplined my guard for marring her unreasonably. I have more important things to talk about than undisciplined louts with authority, or frail little bondmaidens." He stepped forward, suddenly, leaning in close to Thir to speak low in his ear, visibly daring the man to strike at him. "And so do you."

Thir's eyes widened in surprised humor at the overweening gall of this stranger. The man could only be joking, taking such grandiose risks with his own life. Thir laughed heartily. "Really! Well, then, maybe you'd best come inside, little man, and we'll talk it over! What are you called?"

Kest leaned back, his demeanor suddenly coldly formal and absolutely serious. "I am Kest Saltham, Chieftain of the Bursaen, the Children Of The Sun; War-Chieftain of the Three Tribes of the Northlands. And today, I am your Master."

The lion roared with laughter.

Kest looked back at Tess and the wide-eyed girl, who looked at him in astonishment, as if their benefactor had suddenly and unexpectedly lost his mind.

"You do know," Thir chuckled, "that I could have your head for saying such a ridiculous thing." He rocked back on his heels, staring imperiously down his nose at the smaller man.

"Oh, I'm not worried." Kest assured him. "I'll be the one getting some head here fairly shortly, I assure you."

The grin left Thir's face and he scratched his cheek absently while he glared down at Kest, his amber eyes narrowing. "I thought you were being funny at first." he growled. "Now I'm starting to think you're just funny in the head, little man."

His huge right paw snapped out, catching the smaller man around the throat. It only lasted an instant, however, as Kest burdened Thir's arm by lifting both legs off the ground, coiling them to his body as his arms lifted to both sides, and then shooting the balls of both feet into Thir's ribs, just under his arm.

The grip on Kest's throat was broken, and Kest sailed backward through the air, using the recoil of his legs to propel them both straight back overhead, his arms still outstretched to either side for balance, landing neatly on his feet.

Thir was knocked backward into the door of his longhall, the massive oak panel shuddering under the impact of 300 pounds of leonine muscle while Thir himself let out a yelp of surprise as much as pain. He shook his shaggy maned head, staring at the small, wiry invader.

"How the hell--?" He cut himself off in mid-sentence as Kest two three running steps, leaped into the air and launched a vicious right hook that nailed Thir's wide, flat nose neatly amidships, popping white light behind the bigger man's eyes.

Thir recovered quickly and swiped at him with his huge paw, his claws fully extended now -- but he hadn't recovered quickly enough and his paw slashed out at empty air.

Then he felt an iron grip block his wrist's momentum, his extended elbow suddenly smashed with a second fist, sending searing pain up his arm all the way to his shoulder as the elbow was forced into hyperextension by the blow. Thir roared in pain and rage, but Kest spun back and away before Thir could even turn fully toward him.

"You little son of a bitch!" Thir roared.

Kest grinned at him, a feral unpleasant expression. "So you've met my mother, have you? I think I might've seen yours once, digging her dinner of fish guts out of a rubbish barrel behind a whorehouse."

Thir snarled and charged Kest, whose back was now to a thick hardwood column which supported the portico of the longhall. The leonine, thoughtless with rage, had in mind only wrapping his finger's around that larynx and shutting the little man up, but permanently.

He had not yet taken into account Kest's greater speed and nearly equal strength. Just as Thir's bicep twitched, his fingers opening and his momentum irrecoverable, Kest slipped low and outside of the man's reach, straightened his legs and extended the back of his own fist up and into the base of Thir's skull as the warlord passed with widening eyes that only now registered the column.

The sound of Thir striking the column face first was loud enough to echo out to a carriage pulling to a halt behind Kest's in the circular drive.

This carriage, unlike the simple affair Kest had rented, was long and luxurious, pulled by two pairs of horsewomen tethered to gilded guidebars. The wheels were thickly tired in soft rubber, the body of the carriage itself riding on thick steel springs and shocks.

A long door swung open with a soft click, and a girl stepped out. She was completely, excitingly nude but for a slim, inscribed steel collar about her throat and a harness of narrow black leather straps about her torso which still left her large, full breasts exposed, her long blonde hair curled lightly and framing a pale, exquisite face from which wide blue eyes surveyed the scene on Thir's portico.

Her lithe but muscular arms and legs tensed for a moment before she judged that the altercation was contained to the two on the portico and wouldn't spill too near the carriage, then turned and nodded wordlessly to the other occupant of the coach and stepped back.

A taller, slimmer woman stepped daintily onto the crushed rock of the driveway, her high, stiletto-heeled boots crunching the rock beneath them as she straightened to stand with the sunlight on her face, a haughty expression painting her delicate obsidian-complected features.

Her cheekbones were high, her jaw tapered to a soft point. Her long jet-black hair was up atop her head and draped beneath finespun black lace. Her eyes were large, the slit reptilian pupils set in irises a deep, royal shade of purple beneath fine, faintly upswept eyebrows. Her ears came to subtle points, marking her as certainly metahuman but leaving any definitive Elvish origins in the realm of the debatable.

Her robes were long, covering her entire long, limber form in deep blood-red silk and crushed velvet, from her well turned ankles to the high Mandarin-style collar, matched by the crimson lace drape which she reached up to unfold and allow to veil her face.

"Go to the men there and announce me, girl." she ordered in a tone of detached aloof.

"Yes, my Mistress." her girl nodded, strolling calmly toward where Thir now cradled his pounding head in one hand, the other braced against the column for support.

Kest turned at the sight of the approaching slave girl, his eyes lighting with an intrigued smile. Even Thir turned, momentarily stunned frozen by the sight.

Their jaws dropped and eyes widened further when the girl knelt before them, spreading her creamy, toned thighs wide, her hands resting upturned upon them, her back straight, breasts thrust proudly forward, her head high to display her collar but her eyes down in deference to them.

"With the Masters' permission, Velda will announce her Mistress, Queen Akara Sk'Trii'Kora'am of the High Peoples of the Drayaarh. Which of the Masters is called Thir Lorngaard?"

Thir forgot Kest, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down at the maddening, lust-inducing vista of the girl on her knees. "I am." he finally said after clearing his throat and looking away.

The girl's eyes flickered up to him briefly, assessing him most assuredly, as a smile played across her full, delicious lips. "Velda begs Master wait while she informs her Mistress."

Thir and Kest both stood watching, mute, as the girl walked back to the carriage and the woman waiting there. Her round, firm ass swayed seductively with each step, the practiced walk of a well-trained girl.

"She is just..." Thir trailed off.

"Tasty." Kest finished the sentence. Thir snarled, having momentarily been distracted from the presence of the brassy intruder but now reminded.

"I'll deal with you when I've taken her oath, boy."

Kest chuckled. "You can serve her a drink when I've taken both your oaths." He looked over at Thir with a mild expression even as the larger leonine stepped forward to loom menacingly over him.

"You took me by surprise a moment ago, whelp." the warlord growled. "That won't happen again. We'll settle it evenly, in the arena."

"Are you challenging me to a duel of honor?"

"I am!" The muscles in Thir's jaw twitched in signal of his fury, but he managed to restrain himself otherwise.

"Then I daresay you've had your first good idea of the day." Kest grinned. "Let witnesses bear out the better man's claim. You have an Arbiter?"

Thir huffed with amusement. "No one has been stupid enough to accept a challenge or bring one to me in a long, long time, boy." He shrugged. "No, I have no Arbiter."

"Then let's put it to the Lady who comes. She'll enjoy the entertainment, no doubt."

Thir nodded gruffly. "No doubt. Would it pain the little man terribly if I welcome her to my own Hall?" The sarcasm and condescension fairly oozed from each word.

Kest merely shrugged with a smile. "Good of you to ask. No, I don't mind. Welcome her to your Hall, while it is your Hall." Thir growled at this, a low, throaty sign that his rage, while checked, was only barely so.

They turned to find that the girl had returned, quite silently, and now knelt obediently at her Mistress's left heel.

"Jarl Thir Lorngaard." her voice was warm and melodious, somewhat at odds with her dark, delicate and angular features. "I am called by many names, among them the Demon Queen, the Empress of the Ice and others. You may have heard these names."

Thir bowed expertly from the waist, smiling warmly. "I have. Your renown exceeds your holdings and has reached my ears."

She nodded primly. "It pleases me to know that, Jarl. I've come with a proposal of alliance with your Hall."

Thir blinked; clearly, this was less than he'd been expecting. "Alliance?"

She tilted her head, somewhat amused. "Of course. In actual fact, ‘trade agreement' would be more accurate. My emissaries have opened agreements with the Merchants' Guilds in several southern cities, including Cardonicus itself. As my lands lie far north of this city, my merchantmen must naturally travel your road to reach the Market District and points south."

Thir's expression soured slightly but his tone remained amicable. He spoke bluntly. "I'll have to have... words... with my own agents. They had inferred a, shall we say, more profound proposal."

She laughed outright, a bright and cheerful sound. "You might indeed, Jarl. If you're agreeable, I'll have my girl fetch the paperwork from the coach."

Thir sighed. "We are agreed. But there's a matter of a small--" he directed a meaningful glance at Kest, who raised his eyebrows, "--nuisance I'd like to clear away before we begin. Would the Lady mind a minor diversion and entertainment much?"

Akara turned her eyes on Kest, whom she'd previously paid no attention to -- her eyes widened slightly as her lips curled up at the corners in appreciation. "I wouldn't mind that at all. It's been a long journey, no matter the comfort of the coach. You mentioned an arena as I came up with walk?"

"Aye." Thir flashed a slow, predatory smile. "You may send your girl in to speak with my own bondmaids about bringing refreshments."

"Indeed? Your hospitality is welcomed. Velda," she tapped the girl's hair lightly with a pair of pale, long-nailed fingers, then pointed to the Hall's door. "See to it, and be quick."

"Yes, my Mistress!" the girl shuffled out from under Akara's hand on her knees, then sprang to her feet and moved quickly, disappearing inside the Hall.

They arrived at the arena, a fifty foot by fifty foot square sand-bottomed pit dug eight feet into the hard northern sod.

"As the challenged, you have the choice of weapon." Thir smirked down at Kest as the smaller man removed his cloak and rolled up his sleeves.

Kest nodded. "Honorable of you." He unstrapped his sheathed short sword and tossed it aside to land atop his cloak. "I've got all the weapon I want. Me."

Thir nodded, his shaggy mane swinging slightly. "I don't like you, little man, but I do admire your courage. I'll give you a proper funeral."

Kest only smiled quietly as they lowered themselves into the arena. The Demon Queen's girl had relayed to Thir's own bondmaidens the call for witnesses and the news of the ritual combat; two dozen of Thir's guardsmen and their own bondmaidens now lined the edge of the arena.

They would not interfere in the event no matter the outcome, for the outcome itself would decide whether the intruder would thereafter be a dead man or their Jarl's Jarl.

Instead, most now took the afternoon meal here at the arena, including Thir's guest. The Demon Queen bit into a drumstick of well seasoned fried chicken, her delicate, razor-sharp silver teeth glinting back a spark of sunlight as she passed a second drumstick down to her girl.

The wind gusted as each of the combatants took a corner of the arena for himself. Kest stood in the one nearest the Demon Queen and her girl, while Thir stretched in the corner nearest his guardsmen and their bondmaidens.

Both looked up and met the eyes of the Demon Queen.

"Ready!" Thir called out.

"Ready." Kest said with a quiet, self-assured smile.

The Demon Queen nodded, held up a slim, dark hand, and then brought it down, pointing to the center of the arena. "Begin!"

The two men approached the center of the pit, slowly and carefully, and then began to circle each other warily. Thir feinted with a swipe of his huge left hand, claws out. Kest danced back but dropped as the right hand sailed over his head, rolling forward to spring back to his feet behind Thir, his open palm slapping the larger man across the back of his head.

Not hard enough to inflict any real pain, just hard enough to let the sound of it be heard by the spectators. Kest was playing with Thir, embarrassing him in front of his men and his important guest.

If the move was designed to humiliate and enrage the sovereign of the small holding, it worked. But Thir was not a stupid man, and he had a few unexpected tricks of his own.

Rather than taking the time to turn around, giving the smaller man time to dance aside, Thir unexpectedly dropped, coiling his legs under himself, and launched himself backward over his shoulder, barreling bodily into Kest's legs and toppling the smaller man to his back with a surprised shout.

Kest wasted no time in scrambling away, caught off guard though he might have been by the surprise move on Thir's part. He reached his feet with barely a misstep, then backed away.

Thir pressed the advantage, keeping his elbows in tight and launching jab after jab -- Kest danced just beyond each one, but actually hitting the smaller man wasn't Thir's aim, at least not yet; his aim was simply to drive Kest back and steer him into one of the corners, to pin the smaller, more agile man down for the kill and it was working.

Thir's guardsmen hooted their approval at the show, and even the Demon Queen and her girl seemed amused and entertained.

Finally, Thir had Kest bracketed by the rough, dark wooden beams that buttressed the edges of the pit. Rather than aim immediately for a killing blow, he launched another jab low, his shoulder and elbow coiled tight to his side, and shot it home into Kest's abdomen.

He expected to see the smaller man double over, staggered back into the vertical beam that stood only a foot behind him. He expected to hear a groaning expulsion of breath as the jolt of the jab knocked the wind out of his smaller prey.

Instead, he felt a solid wall of muscle hold stone hard against his knuckles, felt the impact jar his own elbow painfully, the white flash of kinetic shock traveling back up as far as his shoulder.

He looked, and saw that Kest had braced one leg farther behind himself to absorb the mass and inertia, still standing right where he had been, still breathing quite comfortably and wearing a rakish grin. He had thought that it had been he who was toying with Kest. In fact, the truth could not have been more to the contrary.

The cheers of Thir's guardsmen died away. Even the giggling, whispering bondmaidens fell nervously silent. A gust of wind rustled the well-trimmed blades of grass that lined the open pit; the rustling of trees and other greenery was the only sound for a moment.

Akara lowered her face slightly to one side but didn't take her large eyes from the spectacle, speaking softly to her girl, "Pay attention, my own. I believe the real show is only now starting."

The girl nodded mutely.

Thir watched Kest warily for a moment; the smaller man only continued to regard him with a mellow, enigmatic grin. The world seemed to freeze for a heartbeat, as if all of Creation, too, were holding its breath to witness what came next.

"Nicely argued." Kest acknowledged, his tone light and casual. "And now, allow me to present my rebuttal."

But Thir had no intention whatsoever of allowing any such thing. Instead, he launched himself at the smaller man without a word, without warning, huge fists flying in tandem with open-handed swiped, razor sharp claws and hammering knuckles presenting a vicious wall of punches and slaps any one of which might have taken a man's head off.

But Kest was not that man. Not today. He slipped under a slashing right paw, leaped just inside a slamming left jab, danced past an elbow thrust at his ribs, slapped the arm away back toward Thir's center of mass to bind him temporarily on that side behind his own arm, which ached now as if he'd taken a not so friendly tap on the shoulder from a battlemace.

Kest's next move was a blur -- pivoting around Thir's larger form, he allowed his larger adversary's forward momentum to continue uninterrupted, stepping past and spinning to shoot both hands out straight, both palms slamming with bone-bruising force into the small of Thir's back, launching him toward the timber-lined wall of the arena.

But Thir had learned his lesson about Kest's superior speed -- rather than trying to fight the wall coming at him, he put both hands out and caught the wall, kicking both legs into the air expecting Kest to be on his heels, thinking he'd catch the smaller man with an unexpected neck scissor hold.

He was nearly right -- but he had no way of knowing just how fast Kest was. Kest watched as Thir's feet came up off the ground and lunged forward low, both his hands shooting directly vertical over his head.

Thir roared in surprise as the arena dropped away under him and the world tilted, then came inevitably speeding up at him again.

Time seemed to slow as Kest slipped forward and to one side, looking up at Thir as the larger man reached the apex of his involuntary flight, his body horizontal over the firm sod floor of the arena.

Then reality and gravity snapped back into focus as Kest spun deftly to one side and Thir slammed down on flat on his stomach on the floor of the arena. The breath was knocked entirely out of him; he lay there, stunned, for a split second.

Kest reached down and took a fistful of the back of Thir's shirt collar, hauling the larger man to his knees despite the protesting tear of fabric against the big warlord's considerable weight.

Dropping his hips low, Kest drove a fist with blinding speed into Thir's jaw, driving him onto his back in the dirt. He placed his booted foot on Thir's chest as the larger man, overwhelmed with the physical shock of the assault, lay motionless with his eyes rolling back as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Kest looked up, looking at the faces of the guardsmen and bondmaidens, then finally toward the Demon Queen and her girl. The Demon Queen wore a lustful expression, and it wasn't even entirely clear if she were still watching for the purpose of arbitrating the conflict or for a more... personal reason. Her expression turned slightly from exhilaration to disappointment.

She stood, and called out. "Finish it!"

Kest shook his head with a wry grin. "He's no use to me dead!"

A faint pout pushed out the Demon Queen's full lips. "He must yield or die! If you take what is his without one or the other, he will turn against you! He must yield or die!"

Kest shrugged. He hadn't wanted to kill the man, or even risk being forced to kill him. Headed as it was by such an imposing figure as Thir Lorngaard made for a perfectly effective icon to lead his holding, and Kest knew little of the man's second in command, or if he even had one. He wanted someone powerful to lead his foreign holding here, and he wanted it to be a known quantity.

He paused for a moment of thought. Forcing the man to yield would be next to impossible by any conventional means, for precisely the same reason the man was so valuable. If he would yield easily to Kest, he'd yield just as easily to anyone else who came to challenge Kest's authority here. A simple beating would certainly not be enough to get the job done. No, something more creative and far more extreme would be required.

A slow, devilish grin turned the corners of Kest's mouth upward and a twinkle touched his eyes. He had precisely the right thing in mind.

He reached down, hauling Thir to his knees by a fistful of thick blond mane, his other hand drawing back to slap Thir hard across the cheek, bringing the warlord to sputtering, groggy consciousness. "Wake up!"

Thir's hands came up and Kest's open palm cracked brutally hard across his face again. "Hands down or I'll snap your neck."

Thir growled, but lowered his hands.

"Good boy. Now," Kest stared down his nose and raised his voice so that the spectators could hear clearly, "Yield!"

"I'd sooner die." Thir snarled.

"I'd sooner you don't." Kest lowered his voice again so that only Thir could hear him. "And so you're not going to. I'll make this clear: you're going to yield, and I don't need you to say the word for it to be so. Your acquiescence can come by word, of course, or..." Kest's grin took a particularly evil caste, "by orgasm."

Thir was aghast, "What?!"

"Is that not one of the ways to take submission from a bondmaiden?" Kest looked down at him evenly.

Thir sighed, clearly trying to determine which was a lesser loss of face before his guardsmen, their girls and the Demon Queen.

"My patience is growing thin, and my stomach is rumbling for some of that lunch our audience is enjoying, so make your choice before I make it for you."

The Demon Queen looked down at her girl; the bondmaid fidgeted on her knees, her breathing quick and heavy, her eyes wide. The girl loosed a quiet whimper of need, and the woman looked up. "Finish it!" Her own voice was breathless with excitement.

Kest shook his head, not taking his eyes from the sullen, silent Thir. "You're stalling." With his free hand, he reached forward and dug his powerful fingers in behind Thir's collarbone, finding the cluster of nerves there and squeezing lightly. Thir immediately howled in pain as his arm went numb but the sensation of steady, burning lightning raced into his torso, shot up and down his spine.

Kest released his hold on Thir's hair, moving the hand to the laces of his leather breeches and unfastening them, then reaching in to withdraw his ivory-complected member. Even flaccid, it was immense, 8 inches in length even "sleeping", with thick veins the baby blue color of which reminded Thir, absurdly, of a just-laid egg.

Kest's fingers obscured them as he took himself in hand, stroking himself as he locked eyes with those of the watching Demon Queen and ignoring the gasps of the bondmaidens above and behind him, the faintly aghast mumblings of the guardsmen. "Quite a piece of meat, isn't it, boy!" Kest declared, loud enough for all to hear him. "I'll bet you'd just love to take a big bite of something like this! But if you even think about biting, I'll snap your collar-bone and then kill you."

Thir's cheeks were damp, and now it was unclear as to whether this was because of the steady stream of pain from his brutally manipulated nerves or from the humiliation he saw coming but was powerless to prevent.

The sun glinted down on the watery eyes, the dampened fur on his cheeks and the blinding paleness of the massive meat stick jutting out at his lips. Somewhere birds were singing, and Thir wished them dead for sounding so happy during such a thing as this.

Kest gave the nerve cluster behind the warlord's collar bone a vicious squeeze, causing Thir to roar in pain, and then his roar was cut short with a faintly comical, confused, "urp?!" as the massive cock, now 13 inches long and fully four inches around, was stuffed into his mouth.

Kest stared down sternly at Thir as, for a moment, nothing happened. At least, nothing in the arena. Above and surrounding, the voices of women very clearly and very audibly enjoying the spectacle were plain and undeniable.

Kest squeezed down with slowly, steadily building pressure on Thir's nerves, until he finally felt the rough feline tongue surround his stiff cock. "That's a good boy..." Kest muttered, closing his eyes briefly.

He would alternate between a light grip on Thir and a harsh one, depending on whether the beaten and humiliated Jarl kept his tongue and lips moving or whether he stopped. When he was good and energetic, the pain would ease; when he slowed or stopped, or tried to pull his head back, gagging on the immense organ, the grip would tighten until fresh tears welled in the lion's eyes.

Carefully controlling Thir's responses, Kest rapidly approached the brink of release, feeling the muscles throughout his entire body tense, the sensation sweeping up his spine, down his arms and out to his fingers, tensing them hard on the trapped bundle of nerves, causing Thir to howl in agony, the sound reverbrating up and out of the trapped and used warlord, vibrating his teeth and tongue on Kest's engorged and quivering cock.

Kest's eyelids fluttered, his head thrown back and hips bucking forward, driving his cock deeper into Thir's throat as his balls knotted and then sent wave after searing, explosive wave of cum down the lion's throat.

As stuffed as his mouth was full of the elf's massive meat, Thir had no chance to spit and no choice but to swallow or choke on the salty-sweet bursts of cum and filled his mouth and throat, forcing him into a sort of body-wracking, sobbing, choking, gulping silence.

When Kest finally pulled himself from the lion's mouth, his cock glistened in the sunlight from the combination of saliva and sauce, more of which dripped from the corners of Thir's mouth, forming a hot, sticky trail that crept toward his chin where his fur was already matted with more of the same.

Kest released his hold on Thir's collarbone and the warlord fell back, sputtering and trying now to spit though it was by far too late for that. And Kest was still hard as he slipped off his boots, then pulled his shirt up over his head to expose his pale upper body to the sunlight.

Every muscle was carved so distinctly that in the golden sunlight his body appeared to have been carved from pale marble. Thick shoulders tapered to sharp points above the rounded swell of biceps whose midpoints were run through with thick veins. His chest was broad in proportion to the rest of him, abs so cut their appearance was stark, almost harsh in their hardness. The cabled muscles of his forearms shifted as he worked the buckle of his belt and breeches loose, them stepped out of them to stand fully nude over the defeated warlord. He looked up at the spectators, smiling, seeing that some of the girls now more hung from the guardsmen's trousers than kneeled under their own power now.

"I hope you girls have plenty of lust left!" he called out, then laughed as he cast an eye toward the prone and weakened lion. "Because I still do!" A soft but audible collective moan rose up from the female contingent of the spectators. "I take that as a ‘yes'..."

"No..." Thir whispered hoarsely.

"Ohhh, yes." Kest grinned diabolically, "You didn't think that was the main event, did you, boy? It'd be a damn shame to have you lubricate me like that and then do nothing about it."

Thir, in his defense, tried to back away. But it didn't amount to much, let alone enough. Kest reached down and hauled him to his feet this time, the steely sinews of his left arm standing out, impossibly, in even greater depth and detail, then cocking back his right arm and launching a horrific punch that struck Thir's jaw dead-on, lifting the larger man off his feet and launching him to sprawl on his stomach amid a small, faint cloud of dust as his massive weight displaced some of the dirt floor.

Crouching directly behind Thir, Kest took the waistband of the lion's woolen trousers in both hands, at Thir's hips, and wrenched it toward his ankles, raising the protest of the seams as the lion's bare but thickly furred ass cheeks were exposed.

There was no preamble, no warning, no need for either. Kest pulled Thir's britches down further to bunch them at the lion's ankles, shoving Thir's muzzle into the dirt as pale, iron-hard hands spread his cheeks, and then without further warning of any kind Thir was inside him. The pain was instant and overwhelming, and Thir barely made out the words when Kest muttered, "You probably thought it felt huge before..."

Thir couldn't make a sound, could barely breathe, as the devilish elf worked himself in deeper and deeper, finally easing in and out with a steady rhythm.

The event was unfathomable to Thir, something he'd never even considered in his weirdest imaginings. He'd only ever been with women -- and it took a rare kind of woman, at that, to not just tolerate one as large as he to say nothing of taking pleasure in it herself. Thir had always been the conqueror, the taker, seizing what he wanted, concerned not with the girl's pleasure but merely -- if she was enjoyable -- her survival so that he could use her again.

To be the one being taken -- or to share such a thing with a man -- was inconceivable to him. And yet...

Perhaps because the elf was hitting a certain spot, perhaps... he dismissed the thought with a confused grunt that came out only as a gasp. His opinion on the matter had been formed in his youth from stories told by his parents, their friends, those he'd been raised with both litter-mates and friends alike. He knew how he was supposed to feel. So why was he growing hard himself? He wondered what had gotten into him, and then wondered if that question constituted a joke.

The ache had subsided to an odd sensation which he sternly refused to identify to himself.

"Well, look at this little thing!" Kest laughed between deepening, quickening breaths, fondling Thir's cock as it hardened further still. Thir had seen womens' eyes go wide with trepidation at the size of his manhood, had listened with smug satisfaction as bondmaidens he'd bedded had whispered about it with tones of awe and fear. Yet, compared to Kest, his nine hard inches seemed fairly mundane. He felt his cheeks flush with renewed humiliation beneath the fur.

The tempo of Kest's thrusts increased, and Thir felt a sensation welling up from the pit of his stomach that he absolutely did not, could not, allow himself to believe. His own breathing grew harsh and ragged in time with the elf's, and soon he was crying out as much in pleasure as in shame as they both came, Kest for the second time, both their bodies rigid, Thir's hot seed spattering in the dirt as Kest's blossomed hotly inside him.

When Kest disengaged from the now utterly broken lion, he didn't bother asking again if Thir would yield -- the question had been taken out of the warlord's hands. Kest looked up to the Demon Queen, whose own breathing was only very, very slowly returning to normal.

She stood on shaky legs, struggled to regain her composure and, almost as an afterthought, took her hand from beneath her skirts. "This duel is finished!" she shouted out across the arena. "The victor is Kest Saltham. Thir Lorngaard has yielded by climax!"

Taking his cue, Kest turned to glare menacingly up at the assembled guardsmen. "Does anyone here offer challenge to the ruling?" he called out.

The guardsmen, to a man, shook their heads mutely, wearing expressions ranging from awe to bewilderment to disgust, and all took a step back from the edge of the arena.

Kest nodded, then stepped back to where he'd left his clothing in a heap and began to gather it under his arm. "Take this man to be cleaned and mended. Now! And send out two fresh bonds to tend my guest Akara and I!"

The guardsmen retreated to the Hall; all but four, who ferried Thir out of the arena. Kest went to the opposite side, tossed his clothing up, then climbed out after it. He approached the Demon Queen still nude, still semi-erect.

"Dearest Queen Akara," he grinned. "Would you bathe with me?"

"I don't think I've ever seen such an... innovative method of forcing a man to yield before." Akara commented as she turned slowly to face the tub in which Kest reclined, still nude.

"Velda, heel." she instructed, and her girl came obediently forward to kneel just behind her as she reached up to unfasten the lace veil that bound her long black hair and covered her face.

Kest drew a soft inhalation of breath when, instead of unbinding her hair, she simply removed it entirely, veil and all. She laughed. "I see you're unfamiliar with my tribe."

"I suppose I must be," he admitted, tilting his head to watch as she also carefully removed her perfectly sculpted eyebrows, peeling them gently and handing them to the girl, who placed them inside a slim black leather case..

"We call ourselves the Drayaarh." she said, and turned to shrug off the straps of her gown, casting a mischievous gaze back at him over her shoulder. "Our first Queen came out of the Desert the mundanes named the Sonora and traveled north through the Coalition to what was then known as the city of Toronto, what is now Fina's Historic District."

Kest nodded, having heard some of this history, though not Akara's roots in it.

"When the Awakening came," she continued, slipping the silk and satin folds down past her lush breasts and turning back toward with with a sultry, sinuous movement, "most in the Sonora died. But Torra was Awakened instead, her skin blackened... and not a hair remaining on her. All of her children share those two traits." Her slim, long-fingered hands slipped the robes down past her rounded hips, allowed them to drop in a whisper to the white tiled floor, where Velda caught them and gathered them up.

Kest let his eyes travel slowly back up from the floor. Her toes were slim, dainty and perfect. Her calves were long and tapered, her thighs showing powerful sinews beneath smooth, soft skin. Her hips were broad, with a slight indentation. Her pussy was slim, tight and neat, absolutely smooth. She turned, rising to the balls of her feet, her head turning back to look at him over her shoulder again with a seductive smile as she took in his clearly impressed gaze.

Her ass was absolutely, deliciously perfect. Round, hard cheeks flexed as she wiggled it playfully at him before, with a wink, turning again and stepping slowly toward the tub. Her stomach was taut and flat. Her breasts -- large, round and nearly gravity-defying in their perkiness -- swayed tantalizingly as she approached.

"There are those among us who suspect," she said, slipping into the tub and trailing a hand down Kest's sculpted arm, "that our first Queen may even have been the very first of the Awakened." She lifted one long, lithe leg from the water to trail her toes over Kest's thigh in a subtle yet unmistakable gesture which also displayed unnatural flexibility. He smiled. "And of course, we have... other... talents. But, then, so it seems do you." she noted, returning to her original thought.

"You knew the condition for yielding, though." Kest took a bite of a thick, seasoned beef patty smothered in cheese and ferociously hot peppers.

"I did." She smiled. "But I had never seen it until today. It's more commonly a condition for forcing a matriarch to yield."

"I strive always," he said, "to do nothing in the common way."

She grinned at that.

"The paperwork of fealty to me is being drawn for Thir now. It should be ready by the time we've finished our lunching bath."

She gave him an intrigued look with her large purple eyes. "And what of mine?"

He blinked. "You know, I did taunt him a bit about taking your oath, to goad him on. But --"

"Well, I'm not taunting," she pursed her lips slightly, "or jesting, either. I still need protection for my goods when they pass through this holding, and..."

"You don't need to swear fealty to me to get that."

She leaned forward and he set his meal aside as she whispered, "Maybe I just want you to make me yield..." She leaned forward further still, her lips sealing against his before parting. He pulled back suddenly, his eyes wide and a bewildered grin on his face.

"What?" she half-smiled, half-pouted.

"Stick out your tongue!"

She did -- it was the color of jet, like everything else but the irises of her eyes. And it was forked. Long and delicate, the tip was bisected into two points, each perhaps half an inch long.

"I never kissed a girl with a forked tongue before." He chuckled, his fingers reaching out to trace lazily over the rounded swell of her breast; he watched as the areola marbled and the nipple hardened almost instantly, heard her slight gasp of pleasure.

"We all have forked tongues, my King. Most women simply hide it better than others."

"Mm." he nodded, appearing to contemplate this for a moment. "Do tell, what else is that tongue good for?"

She smiled. "Let me show you..." She began to slip down in the wide, deep tub, but he stopped her with a gentle hand and a warm smile.

"Ah!" he pushed her gently back to a sitting position, then watched her eyes widen as he slipped forward, leaning over her for a moment before slipping down himself, his strong hands gently spreading her thighs. "My turn first." He could hear the Demon Queen and her girl alike gasp with surprise and pleasure at the idea.

She was as trim and tight as he'd imagined she would be. He ran his own long tongue over her lips, tasting her -- she had an odd but very pleasant flavor, a bit like licorice but sweeter, as his tongue probed between her lips, pressing in with a slow, firm thrust that made her gasp anew, caused her inner thighs to tense slightly against his cheeks as her long, slim fingers found purchase in his hair. He didn't mind that in the slightest.

The warm water combined with the sounds and sensations of the beautiful Queen gasping, her hips pressing toward his skillful lips and tongue and her thighs caressing his face to harden him again instantly and to slightly greater size than before. He knew he'd have to be careful lest he hurt her.

He found her clit, the tiny, stiffened nub of nerves already achingly sensitized, and let the tip of his soft tongue cup it lightly, bringing a cry of ecstasy from her before flickering it lightly on his tongue, driving her to an even higher plane of sensation.

He heard her girl moan, as well, and could only deduce that one or both of the bondmaid's hands was now occupied with its own pleasant diversions.

Some moments later, Akara's cries of pleasure were silenced as the electric bliss coursing through her nerves and muscles exceeded even her voice; Kest felt her thighs go rigid against his cheeks, the muscles beneath the silken skin turning to stone and holding him pleasantly immobilized as her head rolled back and she expressed her bliss silently to the heavens, a warm wave of her cream bursting from between her folds to wash his lips and tongue in her sweet flavor.

After a long moment, her thighs relaxed and she released him, lowering her legs back into the warm water and watching with joyful amazement as he licked his lips and smiled. "I hope," she announced in a breathless voice, "that you have more lust in you..." he laughed delightedly at her repeating his earlier announcement, "because I certainly do..."

He pulled himself up, suspending himself over her and looking down into her eyes. "It's nice to meet a woman, at last, who can keep up with me." he noted with a gleam in his eye, then gasped and gave a pleased little growl as her fingers wrapped around his rock-hard girth.

"We shall see, my King," she teased, "whether you can keep up with me." She squeezed him playfully, pulling him up and forward to tease the head of his cock with the slickened folds of her lips. "But I must say, you're off to a most..." she gasped as he thrust lightly at her, parting her lips and working his head into her slowly and carefully, "...auspicious start... oh, you're so going to ruin me for other men..."

"That, Akara, is the point." he grinned, his eyes closing for a moment at the delicious heat and clutch of her walls around him, then opening to gaze warmly down into her wide eyes. He worked in further, just as carefully, pulling back out slightly, then worked his way in a bit deeper as he leaned down to seal his mouth over hers in another kiss, this time allowing her to playfully swirl her long, serpentine tongue over and around his, the kiss sealing her slightly discomforted moan as he continued to work inside her, stretching her as he did.

Finally, he sank himself into her to the hilt, the hot, oily slickness in her gripping him tightly as his thrusts became deeper, smoother, more powerful. Her legs came up around him as her discomfort ebbed away, her hands reaching up from under his arms, long black nails grazing the ivory skin of his broad, muscled back as he moved in her.

Their exertions were unconsciously mirrored by those of the squirming bondmaid on the tiles until a sharp glance from Akara stilled her, leaving the whimpering, shaking girl clutched in the fist of raging need.

Kest felt himself coil within, the delicious tide of pre-orgasmic neurochemical stimulation washing over him as Akara's inner walls clutched at him, her moans rising again into a range beyond human hearing or even his own, the white hot searing lines her nails drew on his back only another delicious sensation at the periphery of his consciousness as they came together.

Their breathing returning to normal slowly, she turned her head as she cradled his cheek next to her own. "Velda."

"Yes, my Mistress?" the girl breathed, still shaking but, obediently, watching and listening for commands; perhaps more food, perhaps more drink, towels, whatever her Mistress might desire. But what her Mistress desired was:

"Strip, girl, and join us."

"Yes, my Mistress!" the bond squealed with delight, rising from her knees, the supple muscles in her thighs flexed as she rose and unclasped the harness she had been wearing, setting it carefully aside on the tiled floor of the bath chamber and stepping forward.

Akara shifted slightly to one side as Kest sat back, so that when her girl stepped gingerly into the hot water, Kest found himself sitting with each of his knees facing a deliciously nude woman.

He needn't have worried that he'd drain their energy or their desire; they were ravenous. He had no idea how long they could take him, but he was delighted by the prospect of finding out. The steam from the bath mingled with the sweat of their exertions.

Akara returned the oral pleasuring first, her smooth scalp sinking to his belly as her plump lips parted, her long tongue darting out to swirl over the head of his cock. She teased, caressed and flickered over him. He reflected that she could easily have prevented even a mundane Human from losing his steel -- she backed down slightly, as her ministrations were so subtle, so skillful, that even Kest was nearly on the brink of release again before she took him into her mouth.

And even that was before she shocked him, joyfully, with what she did next:

Tilting her body forward and her head back, she took him slowly but fully into her mouth as her tongue -- much longer than he'd had any reason to suspect -- enveloped his shaft, spiraling around it, wrapping it within coils of soft, strong muscle, and drew back, simultaneously licking and squeezing his shaft as she went. His head tilted back, eyes closed, as his hands squeezed down on the rim of the tub.

Meanwhile, her girl leaned in close, taking his earlobe gently in her teeth before flickering her tongue lightly over it, her hand moving to his balls to gently squeeze and manipulate them.

That was all it took to send him over the edge again in the most powerful climax his considerably honed memory could recall since... basically, ever.

Akara smiled. "Is my King well pleased?"

He gasped back his breath and it turned into laughter. "I am, that, Akara! But not drained!"

She grinned, "Good!" With that, she straddled his lap as her girl moved to sit behind her, the fingers of the bond's hand still gently massaging his balls as her Mistress rode him, the fingers of her other hand moving lightly over her own clit as she leaned forward to kiss her Mistress's delicately pointed ear.

Then they traded positions. They shared him, and he shared them, and they were still enjoying each other long after the bath water had cooled.

When Tess finally saw her customer again, bearing two sealed and weatherproofed courier's envelopes with the Oaths of Fealty from not one but two powerful holdings in them, she was well-fed, well-rested and well-paid, as had been his instructions. He saw the Demon Queen and her girl to their own luxurious carriage, received hot kisses from both of them, then turned to make his way to her. "Ready to go?" he asked.

"Ready. The girl we brought in earlier is being taken care of."

"Good." He climbed aboard the carriage, adjusted the cushions and lay back. They departed in an air of satisfaction. "Good day's work." he could be heard to say as the carriage left the Hall's drive and turned out onto the Road.

"Well!" Tess called lightly over her shoulder. "Good day's work?"

"Aye..." he leaned back on the cushions, a lazy smile playing across his lips. "Two holdings to my books, and with them enough leverage to hold a stake in the city as a whole."

She turned to look at him over her shoulder for just an instant. "Was that the plan?"

He shrugged. "That's not to be said." he winked. "But I'll tell you this, Tess. This time next year? Not a transaction, nor piece of goods, nor the passing of a coin from one hand to another... none of these things will happen in Cardonicus but that my ledgers see a percentage in it."

She chuckled. "You'll be a wealthy man when that day comes."

"Mm." he nodded. "I suppose. But it's not about wealth. Those balances will go back to the citizenry to keep them happy, prosperous and -- most importantly -- productive. No, it's not about wealth. It's about power. And I mean to have as much of it as I can lay my hands to. It makes my life better, and theirs. No need to hurry, Tess. I wouldn't mind a good, long nap."

And with that, satisfied, he drifted off to dreams.

Meanwhile, inside the hall, another dreamed as well. Thir Lorngaard lay recovering, half in a stupor from shock. He's dreams were filled with a salty-sweet taste, the sight of ivory skin. He tossed and turned, and his whimpers were faint. One might have wondered, though, whether they were sounds of distress... or of longing...