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Tales Of Morveria: Arranged by Fate

Tumult in Morveria, and Other Places

By Mantrid Brizon

Part 1: (Un)pleasantries

“Are you serious?!” Seran gasps.

“I’m very serious!” His father, Osbert cheerfully retorts.

Standing beside the table in his father’s study, Seran’s mouth hangs open and he feels his eyes beginning to dry. He closes his eyes and shakes his head as he tries to wrap his mind around this shocking turn of events. He stares at his father, who sits in his throne and smiles, a hand supporting a pudgy cheek.

“You want me to marry... What was her name, again?”

“Marcail.” Osbert begins. “Her father is a rather protective sort, so she’s primed for marriage! Clean, healthy, inexperienced in bed; she’s perfect for you!”

“I’ve never met her!” Seran exclaims.

“I have, and rest assured, she’s a very pretty young thing.” Osbert retorts.

“How do I know that?”

Seran eyes his father with suspicion. A portly and balding man in his early forties, Osbert cannot help but chuckle, flashing a crooked-toothed smile. The flesh of his double chin bulges.

“Hahaha! As I said, I’ve met her. She’s very attractive!”

“By your standards, perhaps... Does this mean you’ll be constantly ogling my bride?”

“Not after you marry her! Haha! She’s beautiful, she’s rich and she has huge! ... Tracks of land!” Osbert gestures with his hands over his chest.

“Uh-huh...” Seran sighs.

“You’ll be very happy with her, I assure you... I also don’t appreciate your insinuation, son! After all, I married your mother, and you know how good she looks.”

“Ew... That’s my mom you’re talking about!” Seran retorts.

“And my wife.” Osbert winks.

“Besides, your marriage was arranged.”

“See? Following in my footsteps.” Osbert’s fat quivers as he laughs.

“I cannot believe this...” Seran sighs once more, placing his head in his hands.

“This isn’t unusual, son...” Asena, his mother, suddenly chimes in.

Looking toward the door, Seran lifts his head as his mother appears from the hall. She sashays toward a padded chair beside Osbert, ever the elegant and regal woman. Unlike her husband, Asena is a sight to behold. Tall and slim, she has an impressive bust and statuesque figure. Her long and wavy blonde hair is as smooth as silk, as soft as down feathers, and glistens like water as it reaches past her perfectly formed waist and hips and rests over her perky buttocks. Her vivid, sapphire eyes look to her son as she gives him the warmest of smiles.

Her dainty and manicured hands pull her dress toward her bottom as she sits upon the padded chair beside her short and heavyset husband. She turns her head and leans in for a kiss, stroking his pudgy cheeks as they exchange their affection. One kiss become two, and two becomes two dozen. Seran waits patiently, rolling his eyes as his parents exchange their genuine affection for each other. He runs his fingers through his wheat-colored hair and then turns his sapphire orbs toward the balcony.

A perturbed grumble escapes his thin lips and Seran rubs the well-groomed goatee on his decidedly masculine chin. The tall and athletic young man then crosses his arms, tapping a foot in rhythm as his parents continue to kiss. He glances at them, watching his parents who could not appear any more mismatched. Many often remark about Seran’s appearance, wondering how Osbert, a short, portly and overall unappealing man could sire such a handsome young heir. Seran received the best blood from both of his parents, Asena in particular.

“I love you, bean stalk.” Osbert teases Asena.

“And I love you, gourd.” She teases him back.

“Ugh... May we finally continue this discussion?” Seran demands.

“No. You’re marrying Marcail and that’s final. No discussion.” Asena’s voice becomes stern.

“Mom!” Seran whines.

“Don’t start, Seran. This time it isn’t only your father’s fault. I helped him choose your bride.”

“...”

“You say that as if I’m always to blame!” Osbert chuckles.

“Often, you are. But that’s fine, because I still love you!” Asena chirps, before rubbing their noses together and kissing him on the lips.

“Women...” Osbert smirks.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me...” Seran whines.

“This is normal, Seran, even for the lower classes. Arranged marriages are not something to be hated. In many ways, they’re better!” Asena begins.

“How? How is it better when I have no choice in who I will spend the remainder of my life?!”

“We’ve raised you, son. We know how you are. We know what you like. We also know which noble family has the most land and wealth besides ours!” Osbert chimes in.

“Marcail is a fine young woman, and you may be surprised as to how quickly you adapt. Marriage comes first, and in time, love will follow.” Asena continues.

“But what if I never love her?!”

“I worried about that myself when I was betrothed to your father...” Asena admits, looking down at Osbert. “But once he took me into our marital bed, once I began to learn who he was on the inside, I found myself more attracted to him than I could’ve imagined. Just give her a chance!”

“Besides, there are ways around that, should it come to that...” Osbert quietly remarks.

Asena gives her husband a little glare, only to shake her head and roll her eyes.

“Trust us, son. Things always work out as they should.” Asena says with the warmest of smiles.

No longer needed by his parents, Seran is dismissed and left to his own devices. The young man wanders the halls of the family manor, a large and sprawling estate which has belonged to his family for generations. Making his way to his room, he passes it and instead enters the adjacent room. Used primarily for storage, his father had it cleaned out and now it’s a large and empty chamber. An archway attaches this room to Seran’s, and he’d often spent time here, playing hide and seek with his handful of friends, the other children of the local nobles, as well as a favored cousin.

Even this space, once so familiar, has changed so much. Making his way to the balcony, Seran stands beside the stone railing and stares at the rolling fields beyond. With a heavy sigh, he hangs his head, unwilling to gaze upon the verdant grounds where their many slaves of the beast folk toil ceaselessly. Does he even want to inherit this place? What’s the point of living if you cannot decide your own destiny? Why does fate seem to always be in everyone else’s hands? Looking toward the distant town, Seran has an intriguing thought.

Is life as a noble really such a good thing? The lower classes, who live and work in poverty may not enjoy his resources or luxuries but he’s often heard of many simply packing up and moving whenever the tide of fortune turns against them. They may not be of means, but they certainly appear to have the freedom to decide their fates. With a heavy heart, Seran turns away and leans against the railing. Perhaps reading a good book will lift his spirits, or painting with oil? That’s always worked before.

The melancholy Seran shuffles his feet as he returns to his room, stepping through the connecting archway. He looks toward an unfinished painting depicting the scenery of the fields beyond his own balcony. Though he approaches the canvas, the desire leaves him by the time he arrives. He turns toward a small bookshelf, which contains his private collection. Some of the books are quite rare and valuable, and though he’s read them all they never cease to entertain. Once again, by the time he can touch the spine of the first tome he no longer has the desire to open it.

Lying back atop his bed, Seran stares at the ceiling. Even the ornate paneling seems to mock him, reminding him of his status and his inability to truly control his own life. Is this why his mother and father ensured he was training in the managing of money and business? To inherit and build upon their already fabulous wealth at the expense of his own life? They don’t even allow him to travel, likely out of fear he’ll return with someone they hadn’t chosen for him. As Seran feels the anger bubbling, there’s a knock on his bedroom door.

He sits up and turns, but before he can answer the handle turns and the latch clicks open. Osbert peeks inside. The short, pudgy man stands with a decidedly somber look on his face. Stepping inside of his son’s room, his subtle waddle causes his ornate robes to sway much like his mother’s dress.

“Hi, son...”

“What do you want now?” Seran grumbles.

“Don’t be that way. I came to make amends.” Osbert begins, taking a seat on the bed, beside his son.

“And how will you do that? Am I suddenly free to choose my own wife?!” Seran perks up.

“No... I’m afraid we cannot allow that.”

“Well, it was nice talking to you.” Seran rises from the bed and walks toward his bookshelf.

“Alright, now you’re just whining!” Osbert sighs in frustration.

“If you say so...” Seran mutters.

“I think I know how to lift your spirits... Come with me!” Osbert chirps, motioning to his son.

Seran does as he’s told and walks beside his father. He repeatedly glances down at the shorter man, curious about his plans. He raises an eyebrow as Osbert asks a servant in his typically polite fashion to bring his favorite carriage to the front porch. Obsert opens the door for his son and motions with a hand.

“Ladies first.”

“Dad!” Seran whines.

“Just teasing.” Osbert laughs.

With a shake of the reins and a whistle, the driver commands the horses to move. The powerful draft horses yank the carriage before settling into a comfortable gait. Seran repeatedly looks toward his father, who rests an arm on an opened window and admires the view. He inhales deeply as he sticks his face out of the window.

“Ahh! Smell that fresh air!” Osbert chirps.

“Smells like horse...”

“Yes, but there’s fresh air mixed in! Not like in the city...” Osbert glances at his son.

“We’re going to the city?!” Seran turns to him.

“Indeed, we are.”

“But you never take me to the city... Is this a trick?” Seran narrows his eyes.

“My boy, have I ever lied to you?”

“Yes. The servant told me you wanted to speak to me about presenting my art and instead you sprang an arranged marriage on me!”

“Oh... That was different! Other than that, have I ever lied to you?” Osbert grins.

“Yes. There was the time you told me the wine was grape juice and I spit it out at Aunt Kordala’s banquet, the time you told me baguettes were actually giant fried walking stick bugs with their legs pulled off, and then the time you told me that my cousin was my long-lost sister, who Aunt Kordala had stolen after learning she was barren...”

“Heh... That one was funny. You two almost escaped in the wagon!”

“And then there was the time you-”

“Alright, I get it! ... Well... This time I’m being honest!” Osbert boasts, a hand over his heart.

“Sure...” Seran sighs and turns away.

Osbert’s smile fades, and after a quiet moment he reaches out and rests a hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Listen, son, I know you aren’t happy about this. I feel terrible for forcing you into this situation, but-”

“Then why are you doing it?” Seran cuts him off.

“Because...”

“What a thoughtful and detailed answer...” Seran growls, crossing his arms in anger.

“Alright... You’re a grown man, so I’ll be blunt... Marcail is a beautiful, vibrant and virginal woman. Do you realize how rare that is to find, especially amongst nobility?! Men would kill for the chance to even touch one of her breasts and you’re being given her! ... Because her father and myself want to merge the families...”

“Of course...” Seran sighs again.

“You should’ve guessed that. You’re not that stupid.”

“Dad!”

“I’m teasing, but seriously... This isn’t a bad thing! Your heir will inherit so much land and wealth that by the time he marries, he may have a legitimate claim to the throne of this kingdom! If he doesn’t, your grandchild certainly will! Do. Not. Ruin. This...”

“... I thought you were making this up to me?” Seran looks to his father with a furled brow.

“Oh, I am!” Osbert grins.

“Then where are we going? Or is that supposed to be a surprise?”

“No. We’re going to the Temple of the Companions.”

“... Are... Are you joking? Is this a trick?!” Seran lunges and grabs his father’s robes.

“No.” Osbert pulls his son’s hands away.

“And what about my marriage?” Seran probes.

“You’re still going to marry Marcail!” Osbert swiftly replies.

“Oh... But isn’t it unusual to claim a concubine before you claim a bride?” Seran raises an eyebrow.

“Well, yes. It isn’t exactly the usual order.”

“Then why are allowing it?”

“Because you’re my son, and I’m making it up to you!”

“By giving me a concubine?”

“Why are you asking so many questions?!” A frustrated Osbert sighs. “Can’t you just accept things as they are? Listen... As long as you give our family an heir, then what does it matter if you have a concubine now or later? If you never grow to love Marcail, then you’ll need a distraction.”

“A distraction?”

“Oh, yes! I said that there are ways around a lack of love...” Osbert winks.

“...”

“You’re welcome!” Osbert laughs.

Part 2: The Gift

Pulling the brush through her long, ruby hair, Masika gazes at her own reflection. The Vostii of the cat-kin sets the silver brush atop her vanity and collects a crystalline bottle. With a little puff of light green smoke, she sprays the fur of her neck with perfume before rubbing it in with her clawed fingers. Her hands move from her neck and over her chest, before wiping the residue near her underarms. As usual, her hands and arms bump her impressively large breasts, which often weigh her down.

It’s because of her bust that she’s not the most athletic of the Companions, and therefore slightly heavier in build. As a short woman of only fifteen hands tall, she hopes that her future master will appreciate her figure. Looking into the mirror at herself, Masika smiles and her long and bushy tail begins to sway. What man could resist her?! She will be with her future master in no time at all. If she’s lucky, he may even be handsome! What a joy that would be!

Rising from the wooden bench before her vanity, a clanking of brass causes her frustration. She glances down at the contraption, colloquially called “the master’s undergarments.” Comprised of several pieces of solid brass and connected by special locks, her chastity belt has ensured that she remains pure for her future master, despite her natural and increasingly powerful urges to mate. She, like her sistren in the Temple, hate these devices. How she longs for the day when it’ll be removed.

“Soon...” She sighs to herself.

Her claws click against the metal housing of the chastity belt as she pulls at it. Even if she could remove it right now, her urges wouldn’t be satisfied. To further guarantee their purity, the Temple of the Companions only employees females, who care for and present the women of the beast folk to their prospective masters. Furthermore, only the Unfettered, the completely emasculated mercenaries, act as security. They’re the most fearsome warriors available for hire in all of Morveria.

A knocking draws her attention. Someone raps their knuckles on the archway leading to her bed chamber. She turns to find the leader of her temple peeking in through the dividing curtain. No bed chamber has proper doors, to prevent any “pre-sale use” of the Companions, and there are no doors in the temple except for the exterior. The older human with hair as black as raven’s feathers motions to Masika.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Are you ready for your first line-up?” Nesta asks.

“Yes, ma’am!” Masika grins from cheek to cheek.

Collecting a rather revealing dress, which hardly covers her ample breasts, Masika slips into her garment before following Nesta through a small corridor. She finds herself in a strange room, the white marble walls void of any decorations. The only furnishings are a series of marble benches, upon with almost two dozen beast women sit. They’re of every race and all are quite beautiful. Masika has seen many of these women in her day-to-day existence at the Temple of the Companions, some sharing classes and some whom she’s passed whilst wandering the halls.

Now, however, one of these women, perhaps two, will find themselves living in the home on whomever is about to view them. Masika’s heart races as she’s placed beside two females whom she’s never spoken with. They look to her, glance at her chest and raise their brows. The woman to her right is a Korutan of the pony-kin, shorter and daintier than a woman of the horse or zebra-kin but with all of the same physical features. The woman to her left is a Sabaarii of the water-kin.

“By Adonai.” The Korutan murmurs, staring at Masika’s chest.

“She not be here long.” The Sabaarii quietly giggles.

“Is th-this first step? I have never...” Masika asks, trying not to sound as nervous as she is.

“Yes. We wait here, then when master ready to see, we brought out.” The pony girl quietly explains.

“Remember your training and you will be well.” The Sabaarii whispers.

Osbert approaches the viewing room as he’s led by one of the employees of the temple, a young and beautiful woman with a most revealing dress made in the ancient fashion. He glances down the hall at his son, who glares at him from afar. He’d instructed his son to remain behind, before the employee ever approached them. Seran was quite perturbed by his father, who has once again decided to sort through the beast women for him, ‘for your own good’. The young nobleman can’t even choose his own concubine!

“Before we begin, there will be formalities to take care of. Paperwork.” The employee begins.

“Paperwork?!”

The young woman is briefly taken aback by his surprise. Did she assume he’d already know? Osbert has never attempted to buy a Companion before, as his wife soon discovered a trait of his that she greatly enjoyed; he’s never needed to find sexual pleasure anywhere else, nor would he dare betray the love of his life, even with her blessing.

“Yes, paperwork...” The employee finally continues.

“Alright. What are the other formalities?”

“There are two options for viewing a line-up. You may see the women all at once or one at a time.” The employee asks.

“One at a time is fine.” He replies, to her surprise.

“Alright. A few rules. You are not to touch the girls unless they approach and offer it, which many might. Do not become too exploratory. Proper sexual acts are forbidden. However, as the master’s undergarments will not be removed until after purchase, it won’t even be possible. I’m required to warn you, regardless. If they’re receptive, you may kiss them, touch everything except their genitals, and also receive oral pleasure.” The employee dryly explains, a task she’s likely done a thousand times before.

“Oh, my! Oral pleasure?! Does that happen often?!” A surprised Osbert asks.

“No... These are Companions, not prostitutes. They may be beast women, but they have a certain standard, as do we. As before, I’m required to say that.” The woman replies.

“Oh... Alright. I’ve now heard the rules. May we begin?”

“First, I have a few things for you to sign...”

The employee makes her way to a storage desk in the corner and collects a stack of papers as well as quill and ink. She sets the stack on a table near his viewing chair, then collects two sheets from the top and sets them to the side, leaving the huge stack to the right.

“This first sheet is our return policy... There isn’t one. We require a signature of acceptance here...” She begins, pointing at a dotted line near the bottom of the leftmost paper.

“Alright!” Osbert chirps, dipping the quill into ink before signing his name.

“This next sheet is our health and wellness guarantee...” She continues, tapping her fingernail above the dotted line of the middle paper. “It states that the Temple of the Companions has ensured the physical health of the women we are offering, that all are guaranteed virginal and therefore free of disease, and that none are purebred, as inbreeding is known to cause health issues. It also states that their mental well-being has been seen to, and that upon leaving the temple with your purchase, any and all heath issues you may or may not encounter are your responsibility.”

“Okay...” He raises an eyebrow but signs his name, regardless.

“And this stack is our liability clause. In the event that you anger any of the Companions to the point that they should attack, before or after purchase, the Temple of the Companions is not responsible for any injuries or death... You only need to sign the top sheet!” The young woman suddenly chirps.

She looks at him with a strange and poorly subdued grin. To Osbert, it would appear that this young woman truly loves seeing the expressions on the faces of the rich and powerful upon hearing this. Most would scoff at such an agreement, were it not for the fact that the Temple of the Companions is owned and operated by the Bennett family. So vast is their wealth and so strong is their influence that even a king would bow his head and sign his name without protest. Better to comply than defy a Bennett. Osbert is no exception.

“Why is it so thick?!” He asks, rather than refuse or complain.

“It’s a complete list of all potential wounds she might inflict...” The employee lifts a corner of the stack and rapidly flicks through them with a thumb. “... These are beast women we’re offering! A Vostii’s claws could open your throat, a Korutan could throw you across the room or kick you flat against the wall, and then there are the Sabaarii...” She shudders. “All those sharp teeth...”

“...”

“Sign...” She sighs with frustration.

Osbert does as instructed, and then the viewing begins. From the comfort of his chair, he watches as the women are brought in one at a time. Nesta, having other duties to attend to, instructs a subordinate to choose which woman will step through the curtain. Masika takes slow and deep breaths, her clawed fingers squeezing the edge of the marble bench and scratching against the stone. The Sabaarii rests a hand atop her shoulder and gives her an assuring squeeze. It’s a modest comfort but a comfort nonetheless.

She, like the other beast women, can hear the nobleman in the next room. He questions the women but never approaches or touches them. They routinely hear him shifting in the chair. All of the women were thoroughly instructed on the wandering hands of the nobles, but in this instance, Masika is thankful. As this is her very first line-up, she isn’t sure how she would react to such an experience. A strange man fondling her breasts, despite her own urges to take his manhood inside of her, might be too much for her frazzled nerves.

The woman who monitors them in the waiting area picks women from a bench, choosing those who sit closest to the outer edges and moving inward. Once she clears a bench, she moves to the opposite bench, also choosing the furthest bench and moving inward. It’s a very strange and convoluted system, and seems to be a personal quirk of the employee. Masika’s bench is the third to be chosen; the feline Vostii sits in the middle. Her nerves only increase as the Korutan is called, and then the Sabaarii. Finally, it’s her turn.

Masika enters the room and briefly stops when she sees who the nobleman is. A short, pudgy, balding human with crooked teeth and who is old enough to be her father. Her mind reels and her heart begs for him to be displeased, but she can see the way he examines her chest. So great is her beauty, so unique her fur pattern that Osbert rises from his chair. He blinks several times, as if to ensure that his eyes are not deceiving him. Masika gulps. Finally remembering her training, she walks the floor in a diagonal line, then performs her special greeting.

Her hands must move lower than those of the other women, as her breasts are so much larger. Even among the horse and zebra kin, the short, feline Masika is noted for the size of her bosoms. Osbert slowly sits down and after a moment of silence begins to question her. Masika answers him to the best of her ability, hoping that one of the answers with displease him and she’ll be sent back. To her horror, the nobleman appears more intrigued with every response. Please, let this not be the man who will explore her virginal loins!

“Yes, yes... This is the one.” He speaks softly, as if to himself.

“You have chosen?”

“Yes...”

Masika’s heart sinks and she grits her teeth to prevent herself from frowning.

“Alright. I will collect a bill of sale and-”

“But!” The nobleman suddenly interrupts.

“Sir?”

“Before paying for this creature, I have one request.”

“Of course.” The employee bows her head.

“Could you send someone into the main hall? There you will find my son. You cannot miss him!” Osbert chirps.

Masika and the employee, a woman whom she’s fairly certain is named “Celia”, are visibly surprised by the request. The employee does as instructed, and calls for the employee in the waiting room. Celia has her look for a man named “Seran” in the main hall, who only moments later emerges from the hallway.

“So, father, have you decided who my first conc-”

The young, healthy and handsome young nobleman stops mid-sentence upon laying his eyes on Masika.

“Wow...” Seran murmurs.

“You were saying?” Osbert smirks, looking back at his young and very handsome son.

“Huh? Was I speaking?” Seran blinks, unable to break the Vostii’s spell.

“I believe you were!”

“Oh... Uhm... I... ... It must not have been very important...” He mutters.

Masika steps closer to the young man, only to look to Osbert who gives her a nod of approval. Seran matches her steps and more, taking three for every step she takes. Seran’s eyes scan the ruby-haired beauty, whose hair is so long that it reaches down to her knees. She has a unique haircut, long and straight in the back but with bangs and medium-length strands that frame her face. A long spike of hair moves from the center of her bangs and toward the bridge of her feline snout, which has a small, black nose.

Her fur is equally unique, being the color of loam, light-pink human flesh, gold, black and white. The dark brown, almost ebony fur covers her entire body, except for her chest, belly, groin, underarms, inner biceps and inner thighs. Those areas appear to be covered in fur that matches the flesh of a light-skinned human. Thick and golden asymmetrical stripes line her forearms, legs, back and tail, with gradients leading to black at certain portions of nearly every stripe. On her face are thin white stripes, three on each cheek and two on her brow, like fingers in paint.

Her colors are so unique and vibrant, unlike anything he’s ever seen before. Even if she were a flat color, her ruby hair or even her eyes are enough to make her stand out. Her vibrant orange orbs are so bright they almost glow and remain focused on his. Her long and bushy tail sways uncontrollably, flicking and showing her delight. She scans the athletic looking nobleman, who’s skin is light, like the fur on her chest, though he has a healthy tan. Like his mother, the blond-haired man with sapphire eyes is as handsome a noble as Masika has ever seen, even in passing. So eager is the Vostii to know him that she speaks out of turn.

“I never see more handsome noble.”

“Even her voice is beautiful.” Seran remarks.

He speaks as though he hadn’t even heard what she’d just said. Masika’s cheeks flush and she cannot hide her smile. Her lips curl around her feline snout, only to peel back and reveal her sharp, pearly white teeth. It’s obvious to everyone in the room that there is a powerful chemistry between the pair.

“And to think you doubted me.” Osbert grins.

“Is she the one?” The employee asks.

“Yes... There could be no others.” Seran replies in a soft voice.

The employees, Osbert, the other beast women and even Masika are surprised by his answer. Reaching out for her new master, Masika violates her own training and makes first contact by slipping her hand into his. Celia blinks as though she cannot believe what she sees. Most Companions are too eager to live outside of the temple to fret over who buys them but this is different. If she didn’t know better, she’d call what she sees between Masika and the noble’s son ‘love at first sight’.

Osbert pays for Masika with three sen’kamen; two are the color of amethyst, and one is the color of a ruby. It’s a steep price to pay, even for a Companion. Masika’s colors, body shape and ample bust have ensured that she would be of considerable value. Meanwhile, Seran signs the bill of sale with his free hand, making him her rightful owner. The employee gives him the keys to Masika’s chastity belt and the trio quickly depart. As they make their way down the hall, Masika can hear the employee murmuring.

“Lucky...”

It makes Masika smile. Even the humans are jealous of her good fortune! Masika finds herself being led outside by the two men. Along the way, an employee appears by the doors with a satchel containing all that belongs to Masika. It isn’t much; an assortment of perfumes, two dresses and a wooden hairbrush. Seran eagerly carries the satchel for her. An elegant carriage awaits them, drawn by fine blooded horses. Osbert climbs in first but Seran hesitates. He turns to Masika and offers her his hand, ever the gentleman.

It startles both the Vostii of the cat-kin and her master’s father. Sitting across from Osbert, Masika watches as Seran takes his place beside her, to Osbert’s bemusement. He hadn’t realized just how much of an effect the new girl would have on his son, who as far as he knows is still virginal. The noble quickly shakes the thought from his head. “She’s only a Companion, a concubine of the beast folk. There’s nothing to worry about!” He thinks to himself.

Part 3: A Proper Introduction

Masika’s eyes widen upon viewing her master’s estate from a distance. The sights and sounds and smells of the world outside of the temple were already overwhelming, but the countryside plantation and the manor within are truly a sight to behold. Her new home is almost as lavish as the temple where she was raised! Seran helps her from the carriage and escorts her up the stairs, the key to her chastity belt hanging from a thin string and worn proudly around his neck. As they enter the mansion, a beautiful, blonde-haired and busty woman suddenly appears. It’s obvious that she isn’t one of the staff.

“Back from your little excursion?”

“Yes, my darling wife. We have returned, triumphant!” Osbert jests, approaching the tall and slender creature.

Masika is taken aback by the contrast. Osbert’s wife is stunning! How did he attain such a beautiful creature?! Looking to Seran, it’s clear to her from where her master’s good looks came.

“Wait... This is his Companion?!” Asena gasps, her eyes growing wide as she glimpses Masika’s form for the first time.

“Yes, my beloved bean stalk.” Osbert teases his wife, his hands caressing her slender sides.

“Are you sure you didn’t buy her for yourself?” She turns to her husband, her hands on his rounded shoulders and genuine fear in her eyes.

“What?! Of course not!” Osbert quickly pulls his tall wife into a loving embrace. “You know you’re the only woman in the world for me.” He speaks with his face nestled between her ample breasts.

Masika cannot help but find their affection both heartwarming and amusing. Will this be what she shares with her new master?

“Why would you ever think such a thing?” He asks, turning his eyes upward, her bosoms pressing against his chubby cheeks.

“Really?” Asena raises an eyebrow. “That cannot be a serious question...”

“It is.”

“Look at her! She’s stunning! I’ve never seen such a beautiful beast woman!” Asena exclaims, flattering the Vostii. “And do you see those breasts?! They’re bigger than cantaloupes!”

“I know!” Seran chirps, reaching out and taking hold of Masika’s hand.

“Ma’am, Seran is my master.” Masika begins, bowing her head in reverence to the woman of higher authority. “I belong to Seran and only Seran. It my pleasure to serve him. No one else.”

“And she’s loyal.” Osbert remarks.

With a raised brow, Asena glances between her son and the very busty and uniquely patterned Vostii of the cat-kin. Her sapphire eyes turn downward, toward Seran’s groin, before looking at her husband’s. A strange smile spreads across Asena’s lips as she turns to embrace her pudgy little husband.

“Yes... I’m sure it will be your pleasure.” She softly giggles.

“Mom!” Seran whimpers.

“What?” She flashes an innocent smile.

“Why don’t you show her around, son, before your mother further embarrasses you.” Osbert suggests.

“Good idea...”

“Show her to your bed chamber, or perhaps hers! I had the connecting room furnished while we were at the Temple of the Companions.” Osbert suddenly chirps.

“Are you serious?!”

“Of course! You should claim her right away; she’ll bond more quickly and with more intensity to the man who takes her virginity.” His father casually chirps.

“It’s true for many women, but none more than the beast folk.” Asena adds.

With his cheeks as red as ripe cherries, Seran takes Masika by the hand and leads her away. He hastily apologizes for any embarrassment, but Masika is a trained Companion. She was prepared for many possible scenarios, including debaucheries involving many partners; his parents disregard of Seran’s own shyness is merely an amusement. He begins with a grand tour, and though the temple she’d left is equal in elegance and grander in size, something about the manor nestled amidst the farmland appeals to her.

It’s elegant and yet comfortable. It doesn’t feel like a temporary living space, a school combined with a dormitory, but a genuine home. The fact that Seran speaks with a warmth in his voice and looks to her with smiles as his thumb perpetually strokes the soft fur of the back of her hand only further relaxes her. After enjoying the sights for more than an hour, they come full circle and Masika finds herself standing in a hallway with two doors, evenly spaced from one another.

“This one is my bed chamber...” Seran begins, pointing to the door on the right, near the north. “And if my father wasn’t teasing me, then that means this is your bed chamber...” He turns, pointing his finger at the door on the left. “As he said, they’re adjoined; only an archway separates them.”

Masika turns to Seran and is about to thank her new master when she stops. Is he blushing?!

“I hope it will please you, Masika.” He speaks quite softly.

For as healthy and handsome as he appears to be, there's an innocence about her master, a boyish charm. It’s something she didn’t often see in the noblemen who would pass by her in the hallway of the temple. So many noted her ample breasts; they salivated at the thought of enjoying her flesh, only to be disappointed when they learned that she was too young to be offered to them, and that her training was not yet complete. Seran is entirely the opposite. His youthful innocence is refreshing, and in her case, strangely appealing.

With a hand on her back and an exceedingly gentle push, he directs her through the left door and into her bed chamber, only to stop to open the door for her. What a gentleman! Entering her room, Masika’s eyes widen. It’s far larger than her previous bed chamber, and already has more furnishings, and of a finer quality.

“Huh... Where did all of this come from?” Seran asks, scratching his head.

“You not prepare this for me?” She turns to him.

“No. I was only told about my impending marriage this morning, and shortly thereafter, father asked me to accompany him into the city. It’s becoming increasingly clear that he’d planned much of this in advance.” He replies.

“Marriage?” Masika cocks her head.

“Oh, it’s when a male and a female-”

Masika cannot help but giggle, only to hastily stop herself. Though he doesn’t appear the sort, Seran is an unfamiliar man and she has not yet had the time to learn his personality or quirks. Her master’s face flushes as he bows his head.

“I’m sorry. I suppose you already know about that.”

“Yes.” She again giggles quite softly.

“This morning I was informed that I am to marry a noblewoman.”

“Oh. Is she nice?”

“I don’t know...” He shrugs. “I don’t even know what she looks like. I suppose I’m like you, in that way. I was born to be with someone unknown to me.”

The melancholy on her master’s face tugs at her heartstrings, and though the primal woman inside of her finds it quite unsettling and even a little revolting, her training and civilized mind subdues those thoughts.

“Perhaps she be kind, loving and attractive.” Masika assures him, stepping closer to her master.

“I certainly hope so... Though I doubt she’ll be as pretty as you.” He replies, turning his eye up, his head still bowed as he gazes into hers.

Masika’s heart skips a beat. Why?! Was it the look on his face or how handsome he is? Perhaps it’s his genteel tone, which has yet to leave him? Before she can fully comprehend the reasons, she feels something. His fingers worm their way into her palms as her master takes her by the hands, stepping closer and gazing down at the dainty yet busty Vostii.

“I know that you did not choose me, Masika, but I promise I will be good to you.”

“I believe you.” She speaks in a near whisper.

Her eyes narrow and she leans ever closer, feeling her body preparing itself. Seran doesn’t hesitate, stealing a kiss from the Vostii of the cat-kin. Though she has a feline snout covered in soft fur, her lips feel so human. He can feel the pressure building as he truly enjoys his first kiss, something that he and the Companion share. Pulling his hands away from hers, he takes hold of her slender biceps, caressing her and feeling her radiant warmth. Though he may be a shy and somewhat reserved man, he’s still a man and reacts to the opportunity as she’d expected.

The passion builds as they kiss again and again. Seran pulls her closer. He soon feels his Companion’s tongue over his own. What a peculiar and yet pleasurable kiss! Masika does her best for her new master, having never before given this particular and very intimate kiss, which she’d learned of in lectures. Seran copies his Companion’s efforts, and while he’s not terribly good at it, neither is she. The Companions are not permitted this level of experience before being sold; only their master’s may claim such an honor.

“Master.” She coos between kisses, her clawed hands gripping his fine garments.

“Seran... Call me ‘Seran’.” He responds in between increasingly passionate kisses, his hands caressing her waist, back and hips.

“Not ‘master’?”

“No.”

“Seran...” She huffs and puffs. “Please, claim me.”

His heart skips a beat at his Companion’s request. Pulling back, he looks into her eyes and sees the passion, the desire, the lust. Masika’s inner beast woman has finally emerged; eager to mate, eager to breed. She knows in her heart that the choice is not hers but her carnal woman yearns for the experience. Retrieving the key to her chastity belt, Seran leads Masika toward her new bed, which was not there when he and his father left for the Temple of the Companions.

As he takes a seat on the edge, he cannot help but notice a little pot. Made of pure silver, it sits atop a special warmer which itself is fashioned of polished brass and which contains a small coal fire. The aroma of the tea is unfamiliar to him; pungent and earthy.

“What’s that?” He asks, placing a hand on Masika’s waist as he raises the key.

“Tea of neberum.” She answers after sniffing the air. “It fresh.”

“Oh... My father thinks of everything...”

He returns his attention to his concubine, whose arousal is so great that her scent begins to change. A strange and faintly floral odor radiates from betwixt her legs, causing his loins to stir. She begins petting his head, caressing his biceps and chest and inching her body ever closer. She cannot help but bump his skull with the underside of her large, feminine orbs, thrusting her modest belly in his face. Using the key, Seran unlocks the master’s undergarments with a satisfying clunk. The hinges squeak as he pulls it away.

“What a sinister looking device this is. I imagine you’re pleased to have it rem-”

He stops mid-sentence as soon as his eyes land upon her splendor. A tuft of flesh-colored fur, like a human’s pubic hairs, is matted and unkempt. She runs her claws through it and coos.

“It has been long time since I feel wind there.” She remarks.

Her fingers inch lower only for her to press through her pubic fur and gasp, this time with pleasure. Seran’s inner beast struggles for freedom as he watches the Vostii revealing the flesh of her loins, massaging her clitoris. Through the clawing and gnashing of teeth, it convinces him to try his hand at pleasing his concubine. Before Masika can truly enjoy the extent of her own ministrations, Seran grabs her wrists and pulls her hands away from herself. She gasps and turns her attention to him. They share an uneasy stare, which Seran promptly breaks.

To her shock, he grabs onto her hips and brings his face closer to her groin. Tilting his head to one side, he inhales the sweet musk of her quivering flesh, and then he begins to pleasure her. He doesn’t even flinch upon seeing her unkempt pubic fur, eagerly diving in. His tongue laps away at her clitoris, which he’d just watched her playing with. She gasps again and places a hand atop his head, trying not to be too rough with her human. The pleasure grows. What a wonderful master she has!

He brings her onto the bed and continues, hastily disrobing as he plays with her flesh. She’s quick to offer aid, bringing him to his knees and removing his garments. She won’t stop there, and begins to lead the way. The young man soon finds himself on his back. Masika is eager to test her skills on the real thing. Removing his trousers, his only remaining garments, a half-flaccid manhood is revealed. It falls backward, over one of her hands. Her eyes grow wide. It’s now clear to her what Asena meant. She, like the other young beast women, were warned about this as well.

“For some, it will be wonderful...” The teachers said. “For others whose womanhoods are smaller and not properly prepared beforehand, you may struggle. Endure any pain until you adapt to your master. Do not stop him, even if the stretching discomforts you. Do not offer guidance to the man who mounts you, lest you anger him. Remember, you live to serve your master.” The teachers warned.

Gazing upon a truly impressive male organ, Masika trembles and hopes that she’s not in the latter category. Despite her fears, she doesn’t hesitate and works her master’s body with considerable skill. Her tongue coils around and strokes the shaft and head, before she opens wide and envelopes him in her mouth. To her surprise, it all comes quite naturally to her. Like the others, she’d only practicing on fake male organs made of a dense, natural rubber and with wooden cores. Those were nothing like her master’s penis, in feel or taste!

Her enthusiasm for her master far surpasses anything she’s ever felt before, and though he quickly grows as hard as stone and larger than her mouth can comfortably contain, she uses her tongue and hands with a diligence that she didn’t even know that she had. Seran remains entranced by his Companion, his concubine, who all but devours his manhood, which hadn’t even been touched before that moment. She’s so eager! She licks every inch, and even enjoys the scent and flavor of his testicles. It startles him. He tries to shake it off, but his anxiety requires some placating.

“W-what do you desire?”

“Mmm-mmff! Ahh! To please my master.” She responds, gasping for air as she pulls the tip from her mouth, which is now all that will comfortably fit.

“No... What do you wish for your life?” He reiterates.

Masika pauses and looks up at him. Was he not speaking filthy words? She’d learned that many men might wish to say naughty and downright perverse things to increase their pleasure, but as she gazes up at her master, his considerable endowment in her hands, it appears as though he’s sincere.

“To please my master...” She speaks with a little smile, saliva running down her chin. “And one day, if you desire, to have many, many children.”

“Oh... H-how many?”

“Many.” She coos, a hand lovingly cupping his large testicles.

Before he can ask another question, Masika returns to the task at hand. Seran’s beast has had enough. No more talking, no questions and no delays. Sitting up in bed, he swiftly takes action and Masika shrieks as her master does exactly what she was hoping he’d do. Pulling her up and throwing her into the center of her bed, she flops atop the down feather mattress and giggles, watching with both glee and fear as he rolls onto his hands and knees and crawls up to her. His dominance has thoroughly overwhelmed her. The primal woman swoons.

“Open.” He growls, grabbing her knees as she lay upon her back.

Masika obeys and spreads her legs for her master, trembling from a myriad of causes; delight, excitement, nervousness and the fear of the unknown. Will it hurt to lose her virginity? She was warned that it could, but the teachers were quick to add the caveat that sexual pleasure greatly surpasses all other forms of enjoyment one could ever hope to know.

“It’s a pleasure unlike any other. Nothing surpasses the joy of what awaits you in many a master’s bed chamber.” They spoke.

However, Masika’s master is quite substantial; it takes two of his hands to ensnare his own manhood, and the head still protrudes! His inner beast prevents him from moving with skill or caution, and so his thrusts may be brutal. She gasps and her massive breasts jiggle, startled as he drops himself over her and places himself on a hand and both knees. There’s no stopping the beast. Using his other hand as a guide, Seran takes aim for her pure, unspoiled womanhood. He rubs the tip against her nether lips, as if to ensure it’s really there.

“Oh, Masika.” He coos.

“S-Seran.” She whimpers, shivering with pleasure.

Suddenly, he thrusts himself into her innocent loins with reckless abandon. Her shrieks of pain startle him and he slows his pace, but only after a handful of swift, deep and somewhat rough thrusts. His newfound caution persists, and the formerly virginal lovers gaze at each other; their eyes shift between their faces and their genitals. She marvels at the blood, for the pain is already ceasing. Seran appears unsettled by it. He turns to her and speaks softly, whispering sweet words whilst nuzzling and kissing her cheek through soft and methodical thrusts.

To her surprise and delight, her master genuinely cares about the quality of her experience and commands her to instruct him on what gives her the most comfort and pleasure. She nods, and does as he commands. Though initially awkward, their first encounter becomes slow, methodical and exceedingly passionate, courtesy of Masika’s polite instruction. Seran doesn’t fail her. He obeys her every word, just as he’d promised. What a good master she has!

A rather swift explosion of orgasmic pleasure soon follows. Masika is grateful when she adapts to her master’s size, feeling her very first climax in only a matter of moments, which then quickly cascades into several. As the teachers had promised, words cannot describe the sensation. Meanwhile, Seran struggles to continue his motions. He fights against her tightening loins, which perpetually seep a strange greyish-white cream all over his manhood. Though he tries, he cannot resist her exceptional body for very long.

Seran instinctually sheathes the entirety of his member inside of her loins, a most delightful feeling for the Vostii of the cat-kin, before unleashing the floodgates. Filling her with his potent seed is truly indescribable. He grunts and growls through the most incredible rush he’s ever felt, while her master’s expulsions elicit wild shrieks of carnal pleasure from the Vostii. She claws at his back, sides and buttocks, unable to hold back as her womanhood drowns in his splendor.

No amount of lectures could’ve ever prepared her for this, just as she wasn’t prepared for Seran’s passion; he caresses her so affectionately and steals kisses as if she were his mate. This only exacerbates their bond. When all is said and done, she feels the swelling of her master’s seed inside of her body. It fills spaces that she never knew she had, and sends a warmth of perpetual pleasure coursing throughout her entire body. It’s truly exhausting. Even Seran cannot withstand it, lying nearly unconscious beside her.

She looks to him as he lay beside her, his chest heaving and his eyes closed under their own weight. Her face reveals her ceaseless joy. What a good job she’s done! Thankfully, he was wonderful as well. Unable to help herself, she wriggles closer and tucks herself beneath one of his arms. He responds by pulling it in and draping it over her, keeping her close. Truly, she is a very lucky Companion; she would gladly live this life, willfully remaining beside Seran for many years to come.

Masika eventually manages to find the strength to drink the pre-made tea of neberum which still sits on the small warmer placed atop her nightstand. The coal fire has burned itself out while waiting for them to finish; she pours the tea into a silver goblet just as it begins to cool. She cannot help but look back and watch him, her lips curled in a pleased grin as she guzzles down the grotesquely bitter tea which will prevent his seed from claiming her womb. If she only could, she’d carry all of his children.

“Come here...” He commands in the warmest of voices.

Masika gladly obeys and climbs into bed to lay beside her master once more. Seran envelopes her in warm embrace and nuzzles her, and the lovers soon fall fast asleep. They cling to each other, ignoring their dampness and musk, truly content for the first time in a long time. Masika awakens to find her master still in her bed and still spooning with her. She sniffs the uniquely human aroma that his flesh radiates. It causes a stirring in her body, heart and mind. Her clawed fingers stroke his forearms as she cranes her neck to nuzzle his face with her short, feline snout.

Realizing just how lucky she is, Masika begins to see the truth of the words of Osbert, Asena and her teachers at the Temple. Seran has spilled her virginal blood and now there is a link between them. An invisible chain sprouts from her chest and leads into Seran’s, connecting them from the very depths of their spirit. Thoughts and feelings she’s never before experienced begin to take root. How often will her master seek to enjoy her body? Is it merely his pleasure or is there a deeper meaning behind it?

She closes her eyes and shakes the thoughts from her mind. Her training has made it very clear; she is a Companion, a slave to this human. He does with her body as he pleases, whether that be listening to her music and song, watching her dance or ravaging her whenever and wherever he so chooses. His reasons for doing so are not important. Still, she pines for his affections and kisses her sleeping master’s face with what could only be described as love. She hopes that their passion will be often and with equal intensity.

“I very lucky.” She whispers, before kissing him again. “In years to come, may we bring each other much comfort and joy.”

“We will...” Seran suddenly opens his eyes.

Part 4: The Problem

Just as Seran had said, Masika’s hopes and dreams come true. Upon awakening from his slumber, and after claiming each other’s virginity, it was obvious that her master had become as smitten with his Companion as she had with him. He cuddles with her until her own aroma forces her to request permission to bathe. Seran watches and then joins her as she cleans herself in a private bath, newly built in a corner of her bed chamber. He even helps her trim her pubic fur, at her request, until there’s barely enough left to pinch between his fingertips.

Though his parents had initially assumed that Masika’s presence would make their son’s life easier, allowing him to forgive them for the arranged marriage while also maintaining a level of personal satisfaction, they were soon faced with the unsettling reality. His subsequent visits to Masika’s bed chamber were increasingly frequent. After the first month, it became so that he would spend whole nights with her, often consecutively. His mother and the servants routinely discovered that his bed needn’t be made.

Even when not engaging his Companion in her entertaining skills of song, music and dance, or long-winded moments of carnal passion, both of which occur at all hours, he still keeps her close; the Vostii of the cat-kin is always within arm’s reach, as though she were a bodyguard. Masika’s and Seran’s obvious affection cause his parents’ discomfort. Perhaps he’s becoming too attached? Whatever their son’s feelings might be, his actions are certainly creating a difficult and potentially dangerous position for the Vostii, and perhaps for Marcail as well.

The beast folk can be carnal and brutish, and while polyamory and polygamy are not unheard of amongst the untamed tribes of the savage races, they’re especially territorial when they believe they have claim over a chosen partner, their life-mate. This is a truism for many women, including humans; though it may be liberating to some degree, even the most savage and primal beast woman would prefer monogamy. A loyal and loving life-mate, who will provide and protect, is far superior to the pleasure of scores of unfamiliar and uncaring partners, and the risk of accidentally birthing a child of unknown lineage. Females are simply too vulnerable to abandon monogamy.

Would Masika, in spite of her rigorous training, prove difficult when it’s finally time for him to marry and claim Marcail as his only legitimate bride? How would they deal with such a situation? They couldn’t sell her without incurring Seran’s wrath, nor would Masika likely be loyal to whomever they found to buy her. As fond of her as he is, it’s not unrealistic to assume that Seran would do something drastic in Masika’s absence. Something must be done. However, unsure of what else they could do, they merely warn him again and again that his Companion is only that; she is his concubine, and he will soon be married to Marcail, who will hold claim over him.

“I know, mom!” He growls after a particularly harsh scolding. “Rrrr... Stop repeating yourself as though I were a fool. I’m not a fool!”

“Sometimes I wonder...” Asena remarks, her head turned so as not to look upon them.

Masika continues to straddle her lover, riding his manhood quite vigorously atop her bed, as they both so desire. His mother’s presence does nothing to shame her into ceasing or even slowing. If anything, she works her master even harder and kisses him with even more passion. She delights in her master’s mother knowing the sway that the Vostii’s feminine wiles have over her human son. The higher being crumbles beneath the beast woman. Asena eventually departs, allowing them to focus completely on their pleasure, which, as usual, is indescribable.

Unfortunately, their dream comes to an abrupt end; after several months of absolute bliss, Osbert and Asena summon their son. As usual, Masika follows him wherever he goes. The pair are introduced to Marcail, only days after Asena’s final warning. Marcail is as beautiful as his father had promised. Tall with soft and pale skin, big emerald eyes and flowing golden hair with waves like the Great Sea of Senii. They reach over and beyond her large and perky breasts. A slim waist follows her milky bosoms, and a flat belly leads to broad hips, toned legs and a plump buttocks.

Osbert and Asena had hoped that their son would gaze upon the noblewoman’s sheer beauty and be amazed. Marcail was certainly taken by Seran’s good looks and abundance of charm, and though he was polite and witty and spoke with confidence, his parents couldn’t help but notice a distance in his gaze. He did look upon Marcail with lust, but it was the lust of a man about to buy time with a pretty tavern wench. When he turned to introduce Masika to his soon-to-be bride, a light in his eyes spoke volumes.

The raw beauty of her master’s future wife filled Masika with powerful and unsettling emotions. It was a struggle, but her training, and a simple reminder of who and what she is, managed to subdue her primal side. Only a day later, however, Masika found herself being tested even further. She stood at the far end of a row and alongside many bridesmaids. She watched with gritted teeth as Seran was forced to marry Marcail, as promised. Though it was a wedding, it might as well have been a business meeting.

The air was still and heavy, and a strange aura loomed. The vicar spoke the words and the pair swore before Adonai, The One, but neither felt anything. Marcail’s eyes revealed her lust for Seran, but her heart was cold and distant. Seran only felt pressure, and the shame of betrayal, while Masika felt the burning jealousy and rage of a female being usurped by a stranger who holds no claim over her mate. Seran and Marcail shared a kiss and almost everyone cheered. Flowers were thrown, songs were sung, and it appeared to be a glorious day for all of those involved.

The fathers of the bride and groom celebrated a union of their noble houses, as they’d wanted for so long. They salivated at the thought of their first grandson having claim to their kingdom’s throne. After all, Navarda could use a new king! Their mothers were similarly affected, wondering how handsome their future heir would be, as Seran and Marcail are both incredibly beautiful. They hoped for a grandson whose portrait would grace any castle where it hangs. For Seran and Marcail, however, their wedding night proved difficult for both of them.

His young bride, though slim and buxom and with a perky buttocks, was still virginal; she’s as sexually inexperienced as he was when he first gave himself to Masika, whose Companion training and natural talents as a carnal beast woman are far superior to Marcail’s. Despite an apparent eagerness to enjoy the flesh of her new and handsome husband, the blonde-haired young woman’s attempts were clumsy; her strokes were feeble and sheepish, and her mouth was shy and inexperienced.

At first, she was pleasantly surprised by his endowment, but as the foreplay progressed, Marcail became increasingly afraid of the size of Seran’s masculine organ, and therefore less eager to consummate their marriage. Her new husband was undeterred, however, and was eager to continue, if only to fulfill his duties and be done with it. Using his considerable strength as a male, she was made to lay beneath him. As with Masika, he spread her legs and took his place between them. Marcail then whimpered as Seran unapologetically and unabashedly reamed her virginal loins with his manhood.

Unlike with Masika, whose pain he attempted to accommodate, with Marcail he was different, content to use her body until he was finished. The sensation of a human virgin brought him much pleasure, as it did for Marcail, eventually. After giving her many orgasms, he flooded his bride’s body with his potent seed, as he was meant to. Hopefully, their union will bear the desired fruit. However, as he lay beside the semi-conscious Marcail, who panted and gasped for air as she cupped a hand over her loins, he realized something as startling as it was disconcerting.

Though he’d enjoyed the flawless body of the beautiful Marcail, whose loins are as pleasurable as those of the equally gorgeous Masika, it somehow took him far longer to climax. Why?! Why was it such a struggle to finish, despite the raw pleasure that Marcail’s womanhood gave him? This was something that Masika also noticed, as she listened to their grunts, groans and moans from her connecting bed chamber, which now has a lockable door installed in what was once an archway divided only by red velvet curtains.

A strange feeling flooded the Vostii’s chest. It shouldn’t bother her as much as it did. She knew what was expected of him; her master kept no secrets and told no lies. He’d always been open about his displeasure over the arranged marriage and his inability to escape his fate. Furthermore, she’s a Companion. Many Companions are purchased by masters who’re already married. Most have children living in their castles and manors, both legitimate and illegitimate. She was specifically trained to not become attached to her master! Why is this happening?!

Seran often spoke about wanting to choose his own destiny and even went so far as to describe a future with Masika serving the roll of what sounded like a life-mate. It was a shocking thing to hear, and on so many occasions. Perhaps those words erased her former training? Perhaps he primed her for more than merely entertaining and pleasuring him? Seran often caught himself but would always continue, despite his flushing cheeks. “At the very least”, he said, “you could be ko’leva in my family.”

Masika is unable to ever truly learn Hitrosii; she was raised with human speech and her mind isn’t capable of retaining more than one language. Seran gladly explained the concept. Those beast folk who inhabit many primitive and untamed tribes deep in the wilderness have varied but similar customs. Some live in matriarchal societies, others patriarchal, and some without any leadership at all. Some have no bonding rituals and mate freely and in front of others, like animals, while the vast majority have life-mates and a peculiar ritual of bonding.

However, some tribes allow for polygamy, often when war has ravaged the male population. In these tribes the males will claim several females as their mates. In these tribes, the ko’leva - “queen” in ancient Hitrosian - is the chief wife, superior to all of the others. She has dominance over the subordinate wives and is second only to her husband, often running the household. The ko’leva also tend to birth the majority of the children. Ko’leva are not the first wife or the most beautiful, neither are they the most intelligent or sexually gifted. They’re simply the wife who is favored by their husband.

Though many might find his latter remark insulting, in a bizarre and primal way it only further ensnares Masika, who now feels a kinship with her master that she never could’ve enjoyed with anyone else. She’s superior to Marcail, even if he cannot make this known to others. She was warned so many times about this situation, to never pair-bond with her future master, but as a beast woman and a naturally carnal and passionate creature, she simply cannot help herself. Seran speaks to a side of her, a side that yearns for him. She always feels a sting in her chest whenever her master, her only lover, enjoys Marcail’s body in the other room.

By Seran’s own words, he rightfully belongs to Masika, not Marcail! The human’s world is indeed a complex and confusing one. Though Seran continued to visit with Masika for comfort and sexual pleasure, it was with less frequency than before. After a month of emotional agony, she needed closure. Knowing her master as she did, she spokes out of turn and begged him for his thoughts.

“Do you enjoy Marcail as you enjoy me?! Am I only slave to you or do we share more?!” She cried out to him.

“Masika...”

“Please, Seran... I need to know if I speak your name or if I call you ‘master’?”

“Marcail is my wife. She’s beautiful and attentive. She’s grown to love me, and her hunger for my seed may be even greater than yours... But she’s not you, Masika... I give her pleasure because she desires it, and we do not yet have an heir. When I’m inside of her, I feel wonderful, but only when I close my eyes. They must be closed, because it’s not her face that I wish to see...”

Masika listened with wide eyes as Seran finally explained his position, her heart aching and eyes watering.

“While I admit that I take pleasure from Marcail’s body...” Seran continued, pausing to take a deep breath. “In order to hasten my climax, so that I’m not using her for too long, my mind must dwell upon you... My parents have said that love for Marcail would come later, but I still don’t love her. She doesn’t influence my heart the way that... ...”

“S-Seran?!”

“I can’t even spill my seed inside of her without first thinking of you. I don’t look her in the eyes because it ruins the illusion... Seeing her reminds me that I’m not sharing your bed. Being with you, even if we’re only sleeping and comforting each other on cold nights, is the only thing that makes me happy. I love you, Masika. I shouldn’t, but I do. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. As far as my heart is concerned, I only have one wife, and it’s not Marcail...”

Unable to contain her joy, Masika pounced on her master, and the lovers enjoyed the most passionate and pleasurable sex that they’ve ever had. Throughout the night, Masika admitted her love for Seran and pledged her eternal devotion. Regardless of their feelings, however, she is still a Companion and Marcail is his wife. Life must remain unchanged. Though they tried, Seran’s admissions only made the situation worse, especially when Marcail became pregnant with their first child.

It wasn’t difficult at first, and Marcail continued to seek her husband’s pleasure, but as her pregnancy developed, Seran began spending more and more time with Masika. The Vostii of the cat-kin happily took over where the human female failed. Perhaps this is why some men have multiple wives? However, the nobleman was spending so much time with his Companion that soon both Marcail and his parents complained. This only further alienated the lovers, and Marcail’s jealousy and disdain for her husband’s beloved concubine began to manifest.

Marcail inevitably gave birth to a son, an event that Seran missed; he was busy enjoying Masika’s body. She named their son “Voren”, and it was Osbert and Asena who cut the umbilical cord and cleaned the newborn, not his father, as tradition demanded. A long and humiliating scolding by his irate parents briefly saw Seran returning to his wife’s bed, but it didn’t last. Several months after giving birth to Voren, Marcail became pregnant yet again, and a few months later, the previous series of events repeated themselves; Seran and Masika began to consort with frequency, leaving Marcail alone.

Osbert and Asena routinely comfort their heartbroken and rejected daughter-in-law, while also caring for the heir that they’ve so longed for. Though disappointed, neither can bring themselves to disown Seran for his obvious mistreatment of his genuinely devoted wife, nor can they remove Masika from their home. It appeared as though they were powerless, and this might’ve been the way of things where it not for a fateful visit by a most unusual guest...

Part 5: Resolution

Boots thump loudly on the marble floor as they make their way down the long hall and toward the study. Servants who see them turn and bow. As they approach the double doors, a loyal guard swiftly pulls them open.

“He’s expecting you.”

“I know.” Seran replies.

“Good day, Borlin.” Masika greets him.

“Ma’am.” The guard bows his head to her.

Entering the study, Marcail sees her husband only to quickly roll her eyes.

“Of course she’s with you...” She grumbles.

“You expected anything less?” Seran retorts.

Osbert and Asena look between each other, the baby Voren babbling as he lay in his grandmother’s arms. Marcail, already five months pregnant with their second child, turns her attention to her firstborn son. Masika looks to her master’s child, soon to be the eldest. Her expression is soft and somewhat blank, though her teeth are firmly clenched. She’s long been jealous of Marcail, whose had the pleasure of growing a life and giving birth, something the Vostii has longed for ever since her monthly cycles began. It’s only natural.

“No. Why would I? We both know you cannot go a moment without her...” Marcail grumbles.

“That’s not true. I can go several.” Seran retorts.

“Hah! I’m surprised you don’t cough up hairballs...” Marcail scoffs.

“And just what are you implying?” Her husband narrows his eyes.

“Oh, don’t give me that! We both know what I’m implying!”

“Do we?”

“Yes! When’s the last time you’ve tasted me?! I heard you lapping away at Masika’s loins the other night! You happily pump your seed into her far more than you do me! For all I know, the best of your seed wastes away inside of her loins and these are but the leftovers!” She growls, a hand on her belly while she points a finger to Voren. “How much do you spend on neberum for your flea-bitten wench?!”

“If only you knew.” He snickers and shakes his head.

“Why do you treat me so coldly?”

“Why are you always so hostile?!” He snaps back.

“Because I’m hurting! Don’t you realize that I would die for you?! Must I grow a tail and fur to lure you back into our bed?!?!”

“Stop being so melodramatic...” He lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Don’t you dare condescend me!!!”

“Alright, both of you, shut up!” Osbert growls, just as his grandson begins to cry. “You are not here to bicker about your marital problems! ... I need you to behave for a moment while we await the new arrival...”

Lifting up the letter, which he’d received a week earlier, Osbert commands their silence and submission.

“Our King has entrusted our noble family with protecting and transporting a political refugee. The matter is of such importance that I don’t even know this person’s name or sex or race, but they’ll be here within hours and I would prefer it if I don’t have to lock someone in the dungeon...”

“Sorry, father.” Seran bows his head.

“As am I.” Marcail does the same.

“Good... Now, if I may, could you please prepare a room for our guest, son?”

“Of course.”

“And if you could, leave Masika with us...” Asena abruptly adds.

“...”

“What’s wrong, husband? Afraid you’ll be cold without your fuzzy blanket?” Marcail glares at the Vostii.

Masika cannot help but narrow her eyes, quietly growling in frustration and anger as she glares back at her master’s wife.

“Marcail...” Asena sighs and covers her eyes with a palm.

“No... I’ll be right back.” Seran turns to Masika.

“Yes, comfort your whore...” Marcail mutters, to everyone’s frustration.

Before he can leave, however, a runner barges into the study. He’s ridden ahead of the carriage of the political refugee, which is pulling up to the front doors as they speak. Osbert thanks the runner and sends him off to oversee the refugee’s accommodations, then calls his son and daughter-in-law to his side. Masika stands opposite of Marcail, and even closer to Seran than his wife.

“I bet you’re happy you didn’t have to leave her for all of five minutes.” Marcail whispers to her husband.

“Elated.” He taunts her.

“Quiet...” Osbert grumbles.

Footfalls echo throughout the corridor as the refugee and their guards approach. Two men in distinctive armor enter first. They’re Unfettered, the emasculated warriors and the most feared and revered mercenaries in all of Morveria. After looking around the room and noting the people inside, they motion for the others to enter. Three shadows appear, and the family watch in stunned silence as a towering figure enters with two more Unfettered following behind.

The refugee is Hitrosii, one the reclusive elves of Chumar! At twenty-one hands tall, he’s similar in height to a male Korutan of the horse-kin. His figure is slim and lanky, visible through a dark purple cloak that has a certain level of transparency. His clothing beneath is unusual, with a glossy appearance, and colored black and dark purple. His skin is the color of unpolished silver, and though his flesh does not appear glossy, like a Sabaarii of the water-kin, it still glints in the sunlight. Removing his hood reveals a truly frightening visage.

Ears are very long, slender and erect, reaching nearly to the crown of his head with two prominent points. The rearmost point is somewhat shorter than the other, forming a reversed check mark in his flesh. He stares at them with unnaturally dark blue eyes; they’re similar in color to lapis lazuli. As he shifts his gaze, they can see that his irises are larger than a human’s and also elongated, his pupils like those of a cat or certain reptiles. Even the feline Vostii do not have slit-pupils, nor do any Sabaarii! Light blue hair runs toward his shoulders.

Though full, the individual hairs appear thin and fair, as though he were aged, but he’s obviously a young man, his face devoid of wrinkles. He opens his mouth to speak, revealing silvery colored teeth and four sharp fangs, two on his upper jaw and two on the lower. It reminds them of a lion’s or wolf’s teeth.

“I am Ebrenu...” The elf speaks slowly and in a startlingly deep and sepulchral voice. “I am told you will assist me.”

“Y-yes...” Osbert gradually snaps himself out of his trance. “Yes, we will assist you.”

“I thank you...” Ebrenu bows his head. “I must travel to the region of Zhenai, to meet with King Kerym, ruler of the kingdom of the southern coast.”

“The Kingdom of Emerald Sand?!” Osbert appears surprised.

“Yes.” Ebrenu nods.

“You are not staying in our kingdom?” Osbert asks.

“No... Your King, Rolim, is aware of my intentions... This sealed letter provides instructions.” Ebrenu continues, his slow and methodical speech unsettling the group.

One of the Unfettered claims the letter, marches up to Osbert and presents it with the confidence of a man looking down upon a beggar. Only these mighty warriors could treat a nobleman so casually and get away with it. Osbert first examines the seal before breaking it, then sheepishly unfolds the letter. Even for a noble family of their prominence, this is clearly a matter of such importance that he fears they may be in over their heads. Clearing his throat, Osbert reads the letter aloud.

“Lord Osbert Bailey,

Standing before you is Ebrenu, an elf who has for years been an emissary between the Kingdom of the Ilium Rose and his people, the ‘Coalition of Hitrosii’. It has come to our attention that King Castor and his people have been unnaturally bolstered with technology gifted to them by this Coalition of Hitrosii, in an effort to create instability amongst the human kingdoms.

Having found his conscience, Ebrenu has fled and seeks asylum in Zhenai, with the Kingdom of Emerald Sand. King Kerym’s son, Prince Horith, was present for a negotiation when Ebrenu came to us seeking sanctuary. The prince has left with great haste to inform his father of the news. Please escort Ebrenu to King Kerym and ensure his comfort and safety.

I have already secured a detachment of Unfettered but I would be grateful if you would bolster his defense force. An alliance is forming. The Kingdom of the southern coast will soon join forces with not only my great Kingdom of Navarda, but also the Kingdom of the Reeds and the Kingdom of the Crimson Dunes. Together, we will stand against the Kingdom of the Ilium Rose.

Ebrenu is the key to this glorious future. Lord Bailey, I not only command but beg for your help. Fulfill this task, and in exchange your family will receive titles, treasures and the eternal gratitude of our people and your King. May Adonai, The One, be with us in these dark days.

Sincerely,

King Rolim the Fourth.”

Osbert, like the rest of his family, are speechless. Lowering the letter, he passes it to his wife, who glances between the parchment and her grandson. Osbert clears his throat and shifts in his throne, taking a moment to ponder what he’s just learned.

“Well, this is indeed a startling development... Of course, I will provide you with shelter and supplies, as well as bolster your security, as my King has requested. It would be my honor.”

“I thank you.” Ebrenu speaks in his slow and eerie manner. “I wish to depart as soon as possible.”

“Will tomorrow morning be acceptable?”

“Yes.”

“It would be better for you to rest and give us more time to better supply you on your quest.” Osbert continues, attempting to reassure the towering elf.

Ebrenu’s expression suddenly changes, shifting from relief to worry. Lifting a hand, the elf wears a strange gauntlet. It appears to do little to protect his hand, and he only wears one. With shifty eyes scanning his surroundings, Ebrenu appears understandably anxious. His fingernails are like ebony claws as he carefully adjusts the fit of a glowing crystal on the back of his golden gauntlet, as if worried it might fall from the socket.

“I do not wish to trouble you...” The Hitrosii begins.

“It’s no trouble, Ebrenu.” Osbert replies, his naturally jovial tone gradually returning.

“I could leave now, after resupply. Word of my defection has already reached my people. I do not wish for them to send assassins; their weapons could kill many.” The elf continues.

“But you travel with the Unfettered!”

“Their weapons... Are unlike any you have ever seen...”

The elf raises his hand and presents his gauntlet. Though they’d assumed it was merely jewelry, Ebrenu’s device begins to screech as tiny bolts of lightning jump between the wrapped fingertips. Masika jumps back a step while Asena and Marcail both gasp. The crystal’s glow diminishes, revealing itself to be a power source. Within moments, Ebrenu summons a static bolt of lightning, which hisses loudly. A ball of lighting forms in the air, above his palm, tiny shards of lightning jumping around it. It appears as ready to leap from his hand, like a bolt inside of a primed crossbow.

“I-I... I understand...” Osbert gulps. “But I would prefer it if you took a night to rest. Who knows when you will encounter another soft bed?”

“As you wish.” Ebrenu bows his head and lowers his hand, the device no longer emitting energy.

“Seran!”

“Yes, father?”

“See to it that our guest is properly accommodated.”

“Of course.”

Seran takes his leave, a jittery Masika following closely behind. Ebrenu and his Unfettered bodyguards keep a respectable distance as the nobleman’s son offers them shelter. After showing the elf to a room, the warriors send for reinforcements from their convoy to work in shifts guarding the elf. Peering outside, Seran can see that there are in fact two wagons, and the second carries as many as twenty more Unfettered along a series of benches. Two dozen is a considerable number for warriors of such skill! Truly, this elf must be of high value.

“I hope your room is to your liking.” Seran comments, returning from the balcony. “It’s well away from any entrances. Your guards should easily spot any assassins who come for you. It’s also our finest guest bed.”

“It will do.” Ebrenu remarks, pressing a hand into the mattress, which is barely big enough for him.

“I can have the servants prepare a meal for you.”

“That would be appreciated.” Ebrenu slowly nods.

“I’ll do that right away. Come, Masika.”

“I thank you... Nobleman?” Ebrenu suddenly begins.

“Yes?” Seran stops and turns to him.

“You are called ‘Seran’?” He asks.

“Yes. Seran Bailey, son of Osbert Bailey.”

“I am just ‘Ebrenu’. I do not know my father.” The elf speaks in an unusual, matter-of-fact tone. “And who is this Vostii?”

“She is my Companion.”

Ebrenu stares and then blinks, clearly unaware of the significance.

“It’s a type of slave... Highly trained and valued as an entertainer and concubine.”

Masika grins as her master turns to her. She bows her head but steps closer, her arm brushing Seran’s. He responds by slipping an arm around her waist and embracing the cat woman.

“Sexual servitude. I understand... From your shared behavior, I believed her to be your wife.”

“...”

“I learned of the ritualistic practice of ‘marriage’ when I first began to visit your people. It is an interesting concept. It also does not appear to be an uncommon practice for your race to mix with the bipedal beasts.”

“You could say that...” Seran murmurs.

“I have seen many Polotan and Tretik among your populace. I had assumed many were offspring of these ‘marriages’.”

“Perhaps.”

“Does the Kingdom of Navarda allow multiple wives?”

“No... ... I’ll return with food and drink. Try to rest, Ebrenu.”

The elf closes his eyes, breaking the unsettling gaze, and nods his head once. Seran and Masika hastily depart. They walk hand-in-hand throughout the manor as Seran commands the servants. He watches to ensure that they prepare the finest meal for their elven guest, and without tampering with it. Given the circumstances, he cannot be too careful. Once they’ve finished, the noble and his Vostii lover accompany the servants as they deliver the platter to Ebrenu’s bed chamber. The Unfettered promptly stop them, no less than five standing guard in the hall.

“We’ll need proof that this hasn’t been tainted...” An older warrior speaks sternly.

Having witnessed the food being prepared, Seran takes a sample of each piece and takes a bite before the warrior, then takes a sip of both wine and water, straight from the pitcher. After waiting for a moment, the warrior appears satisfied and allows them entry. Inside, they find three more Unfettered standing guard, one near the balcony and two on the other side of the room, at opposite corners. Ebrenu sits at a table which has been pulled away from view of the balcony door. He looks outside, from a safe angle, and appears to be deep in thought.

“Here is your food, Ebrenu. I hope it’s to your liking.”

“I thank you...” The elf speaks in a hushed voice.

Something about his tone unsettles Seran. The melancholy in the Hitrosii’s voice is undeniable. After a pause, he clears his throat and turns to the elf.

“May I ask a question?”

Ebrenu merely turns his head and stares at Seran. When he realizes that he must give an answer, he slowly nods his head once.

“Why did you defect?”

“It is a very long and difficult story.”

“But that gauntlet... If your people possess such magic-!”

“It is not magic.”

“What?!” Seran gasps in deep belief.

“It operates as any device, following rules of the natural world. There is no magic.” Ebrenu insists, glancing at his gauntlet.

“Alright... But if you have such weapons, such power... Why come here? Why flee to the realm of humans?”

“An interesting term, ‘human’... Do you have a faith, Yasheriit?” Ebrenu asks.

“Yasheriit?” Masika furls her brow and looks to Seran.

“It’s what the elves call us.” He answers her, before returning his attention to Ebrenu. “And I suppose... I was raised to believe in Adonai, The One, but I myself am not particularly devout...”

“But you could imagine Hell if I asked?”

“Yes.”

“Whatever you imagine, it cannot compare to what exists in my homeland...” The elf’s tone becomes stern and dark.

“... How is that possible?”

“I flee from a regime of evil, in a land conquered by a collective without a soul... You were present when your father read the letter... The Coalition of Hitrosii seek to undermine humanity through conflict. They manipulate your governments so that you will destroy each other, and yet they also engage in trade with your people. The truth is they would crush you for no other reason than your mere existence, because they find you to be inferior...”

“And you wouldn’t crush us?” Seran raises an eyebrow.

“... No... I am one of the few who still remembers.”

“Remembers what?”

“What life was before the Coalition.”

“But that’s many hundreds of years!” Seran gasps.

“Thousands...” Ebrenu murmurs.

“You Hitrosii live so long?!” Seran’s brow raises in shock.

“No... My lifespan is not very different from your own... I learned the history of my people from secret knowledge, preserved by brave Hitrosii and shared only with the trusted...”

“Knowledge is not freely available?”

“No...”

“Oh...”

“The Coalition controls all knowledge through the ‘Ministry of Knowledge and Understanding’. Only their word is accepted, and only their word is heard. None may learn except what is taught to them through the state...”

“That sounds unpleasant.”

“Indeed...”

After an awkward moment, Seran wishes Ebrenu a good night. Masika merely bows her head. She rarely speaks to anyone except her beloved master. She has no interest in anyone else. As the pair make their way back to the study, where Osbert likely awaits them, Marcail suddenly appears. With a hand resting beneath the modest bump in her belly, she makes her way toward her bed chamber, the room that was once Seran’s. Seeing her husband and his Companion out of the corner of her eye, she stops in her tracks and turns to them.

“So... Whose bed will you be gracing tonight, oh master?” Marcail mockingly bows to him while glaring at Masika.

“Don’t start, Marcail.” He says with a heavy sigh.

“That answers that question!” She scoffs.

“I just need to report to my father. Can we discuss this later?” He asks with a frustrated sigh.

“When? After you wet your manhood inside of her loins, or have you had your fill of beast woman for the day?!” His wife snaps.

“Must you be so difficult?!” He snarls.

“I wouldn’t be, if you tended to your wife the way you tend to your slave... When was the last time we had sex that didn’t involve me begging for it?”

Unable to respond, Seran merely sneers before walking away.

“Ooh, did I upset you?! ... Bastard...” Marcail growls as the pair leave her alone in the hall.

Seran and Masika find his parents in the study, still seated in their thrones and still attending to baby Voren. They whisper amongst themselves until Seran enters. He turns to Masika, who smiles and quickly shakes her head once. It’s their subtle signal which they’ve used for many months; she often uses her superior hearing and eavesdrops on conversations for him, in order to prevent any embarrassing encounters. He breathes a quiet sigh of relief as his parents were not gossiping about them.

“Son...”

“Yes, father?”

“We have something to discuss...” Osbert sighs, a heaviness in his voice.

“We’ve asked much of you, son, throughout your life... We’ve forced you into schooling that you did not want, we’ve forced you to be tutored in swordsmanship, despite your reservations, and we’ve forced you into marriage without allowing you to become acquainted with your bride.” His mother chimes in.

“But now we wish to ask for your help...” Osbert continues.

“... With what?” Seran raises an eyebrow.

“The Kingdom of Emerald Sand is perhaps our closest neighbor, what with the arid and rocky wastes of Vokeem and the vast deserts of Horabii between us. King Kerym is a powerful man, and I couldn’t help but notice that our esteemed King Rolim neglected to send an emissary on our behalf...”

“Father...” Seran sighs and hangs his head.

“Please, son... Things are volatile right now.” Asena pleads.

“If you will accompany Ebrenu and his guards, I will guarantee your safety with a further detachment of guards. I’m willing to hire another dozen Unfettered, solely to accompany you.” Osbert adds, worry in his eyes.

“And once we arrive, what exactly do you wish me to do?”

“Make the proper introduction, then, after Ebrenu has made whatever deal he’s there to make, ask for an audience with King Kerym. Make it clear that he has allies in the Kingdom of Navarda, allies other than King Rolim...”

Osbert raises his brow as he tilts his head. The message is clear.

“You want me to imply our allegiance, behind our King’s back?!”

“No, no! Nothing of the sort!” Osbert chuckles. “I want you to imply that, should Rolim fail to live up to their expectations, we won’t... And that Rolim is not to know about this...”

“How is that different from what I said?” Seran raises an eyebrow.

“Because it is... ... Anyway! I want you to imply that we understand the game of politics... We are a wealthy and powerful noble family, after all! You’ve married and bred an heir with Marcail, her father’s only child; their noble family is now ours. Allies as resourceful as us could be of great use to King Kerym in the coming years, and perhaps that will even benefit our own kingdom... If that should mean that Rolim’s lands and titles might, let’s say, changes hands a time or two... ... Well... So be it!” Osbert chirps.

“Of course... ... Fine! I’ll do as you ask, but I go nowhere without Masika...”

Masika’s heart skips a beat and she cannot help but lift her head and smile. Osbert and Asena look between each other, unable to hide their displeasure. Osbert cringes at the thought of sending his son away with the slave who has so obviously infected Seran’s heart, but given the dire circumstances, he realizes that there may be no other choice.

“... Fine!” Osbert finally hangs his head, covering his eyes with a palm. “You may take your Companion, but please, son... In Adonai’s Holy name, do not make me regret this...”

“I will do as you ask, father.” Seran says with a little grin.

With a wave of his free hand, Osbert dismisses his son and his Vostii slave girl. The pair are quick to depart, eager to pack for the trip. After a moment of rubbing his brow, Osbert growls and buries his face into both hands.

“That was a mistake...” He sighs into his palms.

“Perhaps... But think of the positives, my beloved gourd... At least he’s provided us with a legitimate heir!” Asena tries to cheer up her husband, a dainty hand so tenderly rubbing his back.

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“He’s my son, too...” Asena’s tone becomes stern and frustrated.

“I’m sorry...” Osbert straightens and sits up, shifting in his throne to face his beautiful wife. “I didn’t mean to imply that...”

“I know.” Asena bows her head and lets out a melancholy sigh.

“He’s our only child.”

“I know.” Asena lifts her head and smirks. “I’d have given you more, except for the difficulty I had birthing Seran frightened me. I’d rather suffer through that dreadfully bitter tea than risk it.”

“It’s alright, my beautiful bean stalk. I always understood...” He reaches out and takes hold of her hands, their fingers weaving together. “I’d never risk you... Never... I knew after our first night together that I could never enjoy a day of happiness without you.”

“Aww! You’re so sweet, my beloved gourd!” She gushes, grinning from cheek to cheek.

“I just don’t like this situation. I don’t like sending him away...”

“Neither do I...” She sighs, glancing at the doors to the main hall.

Part 6: Rebellion

Barging into the room, Marcail’s eyes are as wide as saucers. The morning sunlight beams through the windows, the marble floor glistening as brightly as her clean, golden hair. The occupants turn toward her and stare. With a satchel and a pack stuffed with small items, the satchel slung over his shoulder, Seran doesn’t even greet his wife. Nearby is a chest filled with clothes and assorted personal items, with two servants standing on either side of it and prepared to carry the chest. Masika presents another pack to one servant. He places it on his back while she closes and locks the lid of the chest.

“Tell me you misspoke...”

“You may take that to the carriage.” Seran instructs the servants.

“Yes, sir.” They bow their heads before following his commands.

“Seran...” Marcail approaches, allowing the servants to leave Masika’s bed chamber.

“Father has asked me to broker a deal with King Kerym...” He begins, turning to face his wife. “I’m to offer an alliance beyond that which King Rolim has offered. I suspect he’s planning to undermine King Rolim, so that our son might one day sit upon the throne. I told him I didn’t want to go but he begged, and so-”

Before he can finish speaking, Marcail slaps him across the face.

“Don’t pretend to be stupid, you son of a whore! You know what I’m talking about!” Marcail snarls.

Masika steps closer, her expression first of shock and then of anger.

“What?!” Seran gasps, a hand covering his reddened cheek.

“You heard me!” Marcail shouts.

“Do not harm Seran or insult Asena.” Masika takes a step closer.

“Stay out of this, you mangey bitch!” Marcail growls at the Vostii.

“Rrrr...” Masika narrows her eyes and bears her sharp teeth.

“You’ve done enough damage here... And don’t you ever raise your voice to me, slave! This is all your fault...” Marcail scowls at the cat woman.

“Leave Masika alone. She’s not responsible for any of our problems.” Seran comes to Masika’s defense.

“You know something, Seran... You’re right! This is all your father’s fault! I mean, who in their right mind would buy their son a Companion before he first enjoys the flesh of his bride?! No one! I’ve never once heard of anyone doing something so foolish! How was I ever expected to compete with a trained whore! A submissive and skillful wench who lives only to swallow your manhood with both sets of lips! Which one do you pump more seed into? Her mouth or her cunt?!”

“Ugh... Must you be so vulgar?”

“No! But I’m angry!!! ... No wonder you were such a good lover... She must’ve spent months training you... You took that big penis of yours and used it as though it was your trade. You took my body and pleasured me until I could hardly keep my eyes open. You seduced me with your passion, and now all I can think about is you; pleasing you and being with you... But then you impregnate me and subsequently abandon me for a beast woman, as if I were nothing more than your baby farm! And now you’re going to leave with her?!?! How dare you!!!” She screams, tears streaming down her alabaster cheeks.

“I’d take you with me, but this is a dangerous journey and months in a carriage would endanger our unborn child.” He begins, stepping closer and resting a hand on Marcail’s belly.

“You... You would?!” His wife sniffles, her teary eyes looking up and into his.

“Yes.”

“... You wouldn’t leave me... Would you?” The human woman whimpers.

Seran embraces his wife, causing Masika to grit her teeth and quietly huff. A few tender kisses to Marcail’s cheeks and lips lull her. Seran turns his head and looks to Masika, then motions with his eyes toward the door. Though shocked by the silent request, the Vostii bows her head and obeys. After leaving the room, she begins to walk down the long hall. Perhaps she should wait for him at their carriage? Unable to help herself, however, Masika stops. Turning her head, she focuses her hearing and listens to the muffled voices insides.

“I’m sorry, Seran. I just love you so much. I cannot express in words how much I love you; they simply don’t exist. It hurts me to have to compete with a Vostii. You spend so much time with her; I feel abandoned.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I need to know that I’m important to you. I want to be. I desire nothing more than to be the woman who follows you from room to room.”

“You are my wife, Marcail.” He speaks quite softly and tenderly.

“But am I more important than her?”

“Of course, but often your anger can make you... Difficult... I don’t react well to that. I’m not a confrontational man.” He replies.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better... Please, husband... Please tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Marcail, and I will return.”

“Okay...” She whimpers and sniffles. “And what of Masika?”

“She’s a trusted slave and my Companion. She warms my bed on lonely nights. Nothing more.”

Masika’s heart sinks, her bottom lip quivering as her eyes begin to water. Unable to stand and listen to any more, she turns and runs toward the front door, where the carriage awaits. The servants take note of her sorrow but none dare question her. Masika may be a slave, but as Seran’s Companion and perhaps the only woman who holds his favor, she might as well be a noblewoman. Moments later, Seran emerges from the manor and steps into the carriage. With the nobleman accounted for, the convoy begins their journey.

Ebrenu rides in a private carriage covered with steel plating, ahead of Seran and Masika, and surrounded by guards. Many wield strange weapons that look like iron tubes. Masika stares out of the window for a while, trying to avoid the dark thoughts. Unable to silence them, she turns to her master and places a hand on his leg. He turns to her and sees the sorrow in her eyes. It shocks him to his core. He turns to her and places his hands on her cheeks, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.

“What’s wrong, Masika?!”

“I sorry, master... I listened... I heard you...”

“...”

“Did you mean what you said?”

“... No...” He speaks with such warmth, his face as pained as hers.

“Why then did you say bad thing?”

“I told her what she needed to hear...”

Seran leans in and kisses her quivering lips so tenderly, so softly. She cannot help but envelope him in a warm and loving embrace.

“I love you, Masika. I have loved you since before I ever met Marcail. You claimed my heart long before she ever had the chance. She was correct; she never stood a chance against you. I regret that I must now lie to her. It isn’t her fault. She’s a good woman and she doesn’t deserve to be in such pain, but I cannot help how I feel. If I had my way, I never would’ve married her and you would be my wife.”

Though they’ve shared much and speak often, Seran has yet to be so bold, so forward with her. Perhaps it’s because they’re away from the manor and shielded within the carriage, which squeaks and shifts as they’re pulled along the trail? Pulling back and looking into his eyes, Masika can see his sincerity; she hears it in his words. It can be very hard to deceive one of the beast folk; they intuitively understand body language, and can decipher expressions and subtle vocal tones. Satisfied that her master’s heart belongs to her, Masika’s confidence is restored. She enjoys the journey whilst leaning against his side, cradled in his arms.

“I love you.” Masika coos.

“I love you, more.” He whispers, nuzzling and then kissing the crown of her head.

Some time later, their convoy stops to rest for the night. Every Unfettered is on alert, with many ingesting a special powder that boosts their energy levels and alertness. Those who do not partake will rest when they become too weary, though they always keep their weapons close. A pair of servants cook over a large fire, while the Hitrosii, the nobleman and his Companion sit around it on small and padded stools.

“I beg your pardon, Ebrenu, but would you tell me more about your homeland?”

The elf turns to the young nobleman, who sits across from him at the large fire, his dainty but buxom Vostii Companion still tucked beneath an arm. After a short pause, the Hitrosii nods his head once.

“What is it you wish to know?”

“What’s your land like?”

“Please clarify... Are you curious about the geography, are you interested in our infrastructure, or do you question our politics or our social systems?” Ebrenu replies, his voice unsettlingly emotionless.

“Hmm... Honestly, I’m interested in all of them!”

“That would be a very long conversation. Perhaps a book containing many volumes.”

“Well, I’ve already read of the Chumarian geography... Start small! What’s your daily life like?”

“Alright, Yasheriit. I will begin... I live in a modest home, as every adult is allotted one. Many thousands of years ago we constructed homes of stone or wood, and then later, metal and glass. None were sufficient, as stone was too difficult to work with, wood and metal deteriorates, and glass is fragile. Today, our homes are made of crystals, grown from small gems which are activated with electrical current.”

“What?” Seran furls his brow in confusion.

“The power of lightning, as that seen in storms.” Ebrenu sighs.

“Oh! Fascinating!” The human’s eyes light up.

“Yes. Lightning awakens the crystals and they grow rapidly. Floorplans are simple, and each gem has its own interior design. It is not unlike our grand walls, but on a much smaller scale. As I stated earlier, every adult has their own home. At our designated time, we awaken for work. I wash in the basin with flowing water, using a lever to choose whether it is hot or cold. I dress in the clothes we are given and then prepare a meal with food stored in a... A special chest that is always cold inside...” He continues, trying to translate into terms that the human would understand.

“Wow! That sounds like magic!”

Ebrenu’s lips gently curl at the corners of his mouth. He cannot help but find an endearing amusement in the primitive human’s wonderment at the simplest of household technologies.

“Once washed, dressed and fed, I ride to work in a... We call it a ‘parya’schina’.”

“A what?”

“It is like a carriage... That flies...” Ebrenu continues.

“What?!” Masika gasps.

“... Are you lying to me?” Seran narrows his eyes with suspicion.

“No. Sometimes, when the weather is nice, I do not ride in the parya’schina but walk. Our streets are made of special stones that trap and store energy, which we then use at night. It lights and warms our homes without flame. However, the streets also radiate heat, and so I walk on pathways made of golden colored slabs. Along the way, there are trees and bushes, all of them bearing fruit. Anyone can pick from them. I sometimes gather a modest meal to eat later. I travel to my office and there I take conferen-... I speak to many people who are in other places...”

“What?! How?!” Seran gasps.

Ebrenu sighs, struggling to describe the most basic of his technologies to the primitive beings.

“With a tele-... With a device... I see and hear them, and they see and hear me. We discuss policy and my upcoming duties. After a day of work, I return home and spend my time relaxing.”

“Your world sound magical.” Masika remarks.

“Indeed! I would love to see it!”

“No... No, you would not.” Ebrenu mutters.

Seran glances to Masika, who shares his perplexed expression. Why wouldn’t they wish to see such a wonderful place? Houses made of crystal, golden walkways, boxes that keep food cold, the technology to speak to people in other places, and even flying carriages?! Even in their wildest dreams, they’ve never imagined anything like his homeland. Though curious about the elf’s remark, Seran decides to try another line of inquiry.

“So... What do you do when you want to relax? Do you have hobbies?”

“Sometimes, I seek sexual pleasures.”

“...”

“Often, however, I stay home and watch televi-... A device that shows me moving pictures.”

“Wow!” Seran exclaims, his eyes wide.

“Do you have mate?” Masika asks.

“If you are asking if I have a ‘wife’ or ‘Companion’, as in your culture, then no, I do not.”

“But you said you...” Seran hesitates.

“Hitrosii do not have mates. We engage in sexual pleasures with whomever we wish, whenever we wish.”

“Oh... Sounds like fun!” Seran quips.

“...” Ebrenu stares.

“You have many children?” Masika asks.

“No. Neberum is used by all females, until such time that it is forbidden. They take it in a powder that is made whole and then swallowed. We call them ‘capsulai’ or ‘tabletka’, depending on form.”

“Oh...”

“But the beast folk use it. I thought they...” Seran pauses.

“They drink it as a tea, as we once did, many thousands of years ago. It was Histrosii who first discovered the use of neberum as a contraceptive. We cultivated the once rare mushroom, and introduced it to the beast folk for population control. That was long before our retreat to the region of Chumar, before the construction of the great crystalline wall. You also kept the names of regions, as we originally described them, and even the classifications of the beast folk.” Ebrenu continues.

“I had no idea you contributed so much to our history!” Seran chirps.

“There are many things you do not know...”

The elf’s demeanor changes and it becomes clear that he no longer wishes to speak. After another shared glance, both Seran and Masika cease their questions. A peaceful but somewhat uneasy sleep precedes the next day’s journey. With their cache of supplies, which Osbert had given them, the convoy first move through the rocky wasteland of Vokeem, the region bordering the Kingdom of Navarda, which envelopes a portion of Skolna and Vetosk. Everyone is eager to reach the region of Zhenai as quickly as possible, especially Ebrenu.

Using a powerful telescope of elven construction, they look many miles away and ensure that they avoid any settlements, tribe and even caravans that appear in the distance. Even those that do not appear unsavory are avoided; they only stop to resupply after nearly a month of travel, and only at outposts with proper governments, where they find organized and uniformed guards, and flourishing marketplaces. Osbert had given them a cache of zakians and sen’kamen, for just such a purpose.

The weeks pass. Seran and Masika only continue to grow closer, and often enjoy passionate sex inside of their private carriage, when they should be resting. Ebrenu cannot help but envy their bond, and though he gives them privacy whenever they consort, he watches them by day. His interest in their relationship opens up an avenue for Seran to bond with the Hitrosii, whose cold and distant demeanor slowly begins to wane. Sometimes, he sounds like he has actual emotions!

After several more weeks of travel, the convoy resupplies for a second time, at a small but rapidly expanding city. The unmarked and wholly unique city lies near the border of Vokeem and the sandy dunes of Horabii, the desert region near the center of Morveria. It is then that Ebrenu truly opens up to his hosts.

“What’s wrong, Ebrenu?”

He turns his head and looks down at the human, who has since begun riding in the Hitrosii’s carriage, along with his beloved Vostii of the cat-kin.

“You alright?” Masika asks.

“Yes. I was thinking.”

“About?” Seran probes.

“That last city... I have never seen such a place.” Ebrenu murmurs, his voice distant and a little melancholy.

“Oh... Neither have I. I didn’t realize that humans and beast folk could live in such harmony...” Seran adds, sharing in Ebrenu’s tone.

“I enjoy it!” Masika chirps.

“Rare are female leaders, especially beast folk.” Ebrenu continues.

“Her human husband seemed to be the true leader, but she certainly held sway over her people. She had a motherly warmth about her. I respect that.” Seran comments.

“Do you recall the name of that city?” Ebrenu asks.

“Hakala’kata.” Masika answers.

“Hakala’kata... Places such as that often make me reflect...” The Hitrosii sighs.

“How so?” Seran wonders.

“I do not often enjoy speaking of my homeland...” Ebrenu sighs, once again returning his attention toward the world outside of their carriage. “I avoid the topic, and am thankful that you do not persist.”

“I’ve noticed.” Seran smirks.

“I do not speak of my homeland because it makes me sad. Places like Hakala’kata show me what life could be... You have homes...”

“But you have home.” Masika retorts.

“We have houses. Houses are not homes...”

“I not understand...” She furls her brow.

“We do not possess anything; the state distributes all resources equally. It is for this reason that we have not drastically advanced our technology since we adopted our current form of governance. That is over a thousand years with almost no growth, as without incentive and free enterprise there is only stagnation. We do not have parents. When our population begins to decline, the ‘Ministry of Population’ submits a request for breeding to the Coalition. The leaders observe the census, and if needed, they then authorize and establish orgies.

Females are no longer permitted to use their neberum capsulai or tabletka. Within the day, they are ready to conceive and for the next month are bred by as many males as they so choose. They are not forced to attend the orgies, but failure to conceive is not acceptable. They are encouraged to think only of the physical pleasure, and not about partners or the lineage of their children. Growing attached to a singular partner is forbidden. Bonding with children is made impossible. Females who do not conceive during the time of the orgies are tested for fertility.

If they are fertile, they are forcibly bred until they conceive. If they are found to be infertile, they are treated. If treatment fails to make them fertile, they are executed. Their bodies are taken to the ‘Ministry of Disposal’, where they are ‘dispersed’; they are made into fertilizer, becoming ‘useful’ by aiding in the growth of our crops. This fate also befalls any who oppose the state. Once children are produced, they are claimed by the state mere days after birth, raised in state facilities to know only what the state tells them. This is how I was raised.

The only choice I truly make in my daily life are which trees and bushes I pick fruit from, if there is any left. I also choose what clothing I put on, clothing that is identical by sex, and made and distributed by the state... We do not even have a deity. The state erased all religions so that nothing would oppose it, and even those who have tried have failed to save any texts. They rewrote our history. Only scraps were saved by a brave few, circulated by those within trusted circles. It is from those bits of history that I ever learned the truth...

You have kings and queens and slavery, and yet your slaves have more freedom than I have ever known...”

Seran and Masika listen in stunned silence, horrified by the truth of Ebrenu’s government. How could such a powerful and advanced race live in such barbarism? How could anyone accept life under the boot of a tyrannical government, which treats its people like chattel?! Though slavery is legal in many of the human kingdoms, including their own, few are treated so cruelly. Oftentimes, the naturally tribal beast folk accept and even find comfort in their bondage, living as family members within a strict tribal hierarchy. They are as children, given certain levels of freedom but always with a watchful eye.

Perhaps that’s why the Hitrosii haven’t thrown off the shackles of their government? Perhaps it’s easier to accept that you have no life but to serve your master? Being fed when they say, being bred when they say; perhaps there is comfort in that? Could it be that Ebrenu was afraid? Is that what stops the others? Seran looks to Masika and feels a tremendous sense of guilt. Only when she offers him comfort in the form of nuzzling and kisses is he reminded that she is a beast woman, a creature who is socially and intellectually inferior to himself.

However, a glance at Ebrenu, who flashes a modest smile as he watches the couple, gives Seran pause. The Hitrosii were long thought to be superior to humanity as well, but in their cold, logical way, they have accepted a style of government that is nothing short of pure evil. How, then, is one to tell if they are superior or not? Perhaps humanity is the greatest of all races, for their insight but also their heart? Feeling Masika’s snout rubbing his face erases that thought. He turns to her, embraces and kisses her. It becomes clear to Seran that they are all, in fact, equally flawed.

“I suppose that is why you have defected...” Seran remarks, lovingly caressing Masika’s cheek.

“No... For as horrid as my life was, it was not until I learned what they were planning that I decided something must be done...”

“Plan?” Masika lifts her head and looks to the elf.

“We Hitrosii have long considered ourselves the true rulers of Morveria. We enjoyed technology you could not imagine when even the Yasheriit... I apologize... When even the humans, were making tools out of rock and bone. Our reign was brought to an end with a global crisis, and the Coalition of Hitrosii was formed to resolve it. We retreated to Chumar, the most hospitable and comfortable land for us, and rebuilt with our new form of governance. We had long hoped to reclaim the world that was once ours.

When Voletrynu made the first proper contact with King Gerek, the true founder of the Kingdom of the Ilium Rose, we learned that our centuries of delays had allowed the humans, in communion with the whole of the bipedal beasts, to lay claim to this world. We plotted and schemed for two hundred years, and finally an idea emerged from the nightmare of bureaucracy that has consumed our government. It was a simple plan, as effective as it was devious. It proved to me that we were not, in fact, greater than the rest of you...

We would ally with King Castor, give the Kingdom of the Ilium Rose vast technological superiority, allow the humans and bipedal beasts to wage war against each other in a desperate struggle for freedom and power, and when millions had suffered and died, we would attack the surviving kingdoms, whomever they may be, and enslave you all...”

Seran and Masika stare in horror, eyes wide and mouths agape.

“And so you defected, fleeing to King Rolim and offering us technologies instead?”

“Yes...” Ebrenu slowly nods.

“But aren’t you a diplomat? What technologies could you give us?” Seran asks.

“A teenage Hitrosii learns more in schooling than what is contained in the whole of your libraries. Within my mind I possess information that could advance your people by many centuries, and I am not even trained for anything more than debate and statecraft. My mandatory evaluation by the ‘Ministry of Profession and Competency’ determined that was my primary skill, and so it became my duty. Imagine if a doctor or scholar or general had defected... This is, unfortunately, the best I can do, but it should be adequate.”

“Can you be so certain?” Seran raises an eyebrow. “If you defect, wouldn’t they seek to hasten their plan? What if this only makes things much worse?”

“That may be possible, but the Coalition of Hitrosii will not commit resources to their grand plan. It is forbidden to use soldiers to assist even our ally; we may only grant them knowledge.”

“Why?” Masika cannot help but ask.

“Our numbers are very few. If I told you, you would not believe me. We simply cannot win a war, even with our weapons and technology; you are too numerous, too expansive. It is for this reason that they had hoped your kind would do all of the work for them... Thankfully, the bureaucracy of the Coalition is so vast that a swift decision in response to my defection should be all but impossible. I have no doubt that they have sent assassins to eliminate me, but if I succeed in my mission, their plan will be halted before it can even begin.” The Hitrosii answers, a hint of fear in his bellowing voice.

“Assuming all of this is true, then it would seem that you truly are the most valuable asset we have...”

Part 7: The Choice

“How is that possible?!” The aging man growls.

“The Coalition’s restrictions are very clear, Supreme Chancellor Kazhalu. We are not to reveal the extent of our technological capabilities to the Yasheriit or the bipedal beasts.” The General replies.

Seated at the grand, crystalline table, the surface glistening in pink, blue and aqua waves, the designated leader of the Coalition of Hitrosii glares.

“You are telling me that the assassins have failed to find him?!”

“Without the use of parya’schina, we cannot travel deep into Morveria. Their trade network, though primitive and slow, is vast; once Ebrenu slipped away from our circle of influence it became all but impossible to find him. Upon further investigation, it has become clear that he did not reveal his plans to anyone except Gaeolyn, and she is obviously unable to reveal them to us.” The General answers.

“This is unsettling news...” A subordinate council member murmurs.

“If the Coalition had realized the value in it and supplied resources to develop our proposed satellite network program, we would be able to find him easily, and without revealing our true power to the lesser beings of this world...” The General remarks.

“You know as well as I that we could not afford such an expense. Crop yields are down, solar generators are less efficient than we had hoped, and power crystals are not growing as quickly as they once did. Our population may need further diminishing, and yet the military wanted us to divert vital resources to a system that only functioned in theory? ... It is all we can do to maintain control of our own people, let alone spy on the pathetic insects who live outside of our great wall.” Supreme Chancellor Kazhalu lets out a frustrated sigh.

“Those ‘pathetic insects’ outnumber us an estimated three million to one... Our very race may not survive the next millennium, but of course the Coalition knows what is best.” The General cannot help but scowl.

“Watch your tone, Commander General...”

“... I apologize, Supreme Chancellor, for my needlessly emotional tone, and also for this unsatisfactory result. We are, however, doing our best, and we will continue to do so.”

“I understand... But never forget that we are also doing our best, for the sake of the glorious Hitrosii people.”

“Of course, Supreme Chancellor. I serve the Coalition of Hitrosii.” The General stands at attention.

Supreme Chancellor Kazhalu leans back in his chair, the aging elf closing his eyes. With the bland, emotionless voice that he and his people force upon themselves, he ends their meeting with a final thought.

“I suppose it is fortunate that Morveria is such a wild and inhospitable land. For as resourceful as they are, the Yasheriit undoubtedly cannot tame it to the degree that the glorious Hitrosii people could... Despite your failure, Commander General, I am confident that Ebrenu, wherever he may be, did not survive his journey in the land of the primitives...”

Shifting inside of their well protected carriage, Seran, Masika and Ebrenu gaze out of the windows as they ride through the city. An escort of no less than five-thousand men meet the Unfettered, who have so dutifully guarded the defecting elven male, the young nobleman and his Vostii Companion for nearly three months. The army take command, and in short order, with the denizens of the capital city watching, they are taken to the sprawling castle of King Kerym. It’s a first for all three occupants of the steel-plated carriage. Masika is especially grateful to see the world beyond her master’s lands.

The soldiers move like water, spreading to allow the carriage to pass through the center as it moves beyond the gates and into the courtyard. They close the gap behind them, surrounding the castle while as many as one thousand men flood inside and take positions in towers and along the walls. To those who have lived in the relatively calm and peaceful city, in a kingdom that hasn’t known war in nearly a generation, it’s as awe inspiring as it is unsettling.

With the Unfettered surrounding the carriage and forming a wall of flesh and steel along the pathway, the trio emerge to find themselves gazing upon a grand stoop. Standing at the top, a middle-aged man, his trimmed beard being salt-and-pepper in color, stands before them in flowing, golden robes. His skin is nicely tanned and his hair, naturally curly and the color of mahogany wood, flows past his shoulders. Seran has never met him before, but from his clothing and a description he was given, he is certain he knows who this man is.

“King Kerym?” Has asks, bowing his head.

Masika follows her master’s lead, but Ebrenu stands tall, staring up at the man with eerie, unblinking eyes.

“I am.” The man nods. “Seran Bailey, I presume.”

“I am. I was sent by my father, Lord Osbert Bailey, under orders from King Rolim. I present you with ‘Ebrenu’, the Hitrosii diplomat.” He continues, motioning to the towering elf with one hand.

“Ebrenu... I thought you Hitrosii always traveled in pairs?”

“We do, King Kerym.”

“Did your companion not wish to join you in your grand escape?” The King asks with a chuckle, slowly making his way down the steps.

“... No...”

Seran turns to Ebrenu, his expression that of surprise. They’d spoken at length during the nearly three-month journey to the Kingdom of the Emerald Sands; he thought they were becoming rather close, and yet this is the first he’s heard of Ebrenu’s unseen companion.

“I see... That’s unfortunate.” King Kerym remarks, standing before the elf and gazing up at him.

“I have a letter from King Rolim...”

Ebrenu slowly retrieves the letter, which he’d hidden on his person the entire time. Seran was unaware of it, though he’d always suspected.

“Please, enter...” King Kerym says, placing a hand on Ebrenu’s arm. “I’d like to hear what it is you have to offer us.”

The group are escorted into the well-guarded castle, a true hybridization of royal palace and fortress. Kerym’s kingdom is one of the more ancient in Morveria, as Zhenai was settled quite early in human history; it still maintains the old style of construction, architecture that was popular thousands of years ago. Tall and cylindrical pillars support dense, rectangular blocks which are the size of their carriage and horses combined.

The castle, like the pillars, is constructed of red granite blocks and vaguely trapezoidal in shape. The walls are thick and wide and very tall, with sharp edges and a flat rooftop lined with many triangular merlons, and with generous embrasures. The surrounding walls are also made of red granite and are similarly shaped, with men both inside of the hollowed upper walls - the bottoms are filled with a form of cement - and also lining the rooftops. They look between the embrasures, their crossbows at the ready.

The gates leading into the courtyard and even the castle’s doors are sharply angled and taper toward the top. Even the defensive towers are squared, the ports for shooting being thin but tall rectangles. It was built before the use of murder holes or machicolations. While imposing and quite beautiful, the many flat surfaces are not at all suited for defense against modern siege weaponry. The interior, however, is truly fit for a king.

The floors, walls and ceilings are beautifully polished, the latter two containing many intricate designs which are carved into the dense, granite blocks. The carvings depict scenes of humans and beast folk alike engaging in many acts of valor, often side-by-side. It startles Seran and Masika, though only briefly. Both had learned of the long history of the Kingdom of the Emerald Sands, a land where the beast folk were given far more privileges in their enslavement, and far more leniency whenever they failed to live up to their master’s expectations.

It’s in this kingdom where the beast folk’s bondage first became more akin to pet ownership, rather than traditional enslavement; benevolent and genuinely caring masters, who treat their beast folk as lesser than human but not as tangible property, welcoming them as members of their family. It’s this kind of social hierarchy where the beast folk thrive, and as depicted in the carvings on the walls, many have willfully fought alongside their human masters in bygone days.

Only fear, the most natural of emotions, feeds the institutions that maintain the social order used in other kingdoms, such as Ilium Rose and Navarda. Fear of the beast folk’s unrestrained and primal nature is considerable. Given their natural physical gifts and an intelligence superior to the four-legged beasts, it was a foregone conclusion, and is perhaps the only thing preventing the other kingdoms from imitating Emerald Sand’s practices.

King Kerym enters a grand hall and sits upon a throne made of ebony wood. It’s adorned with gold leaf and padded with down feathers stuffed into a red velvet cushion. A pair of servants, one human and one a Vostii of the fox-kin, fan him with large palm leaves. The Unfettered, ever mistrustful, take positions along the long, golden carpeting that covers the polished red granite floor. Seran, Masika and Ebrenu stand before their host, who, after a brief pause, motions with a hand.

“Well? Come forward and begin! Let’s hear what you have to say...”

Ebrenu presents the letter to King Kerym once more, and though he has a servant collect and then present it to him, he doesn’t open it.

“I first desire to hear it in your own words, if I may.” He says, setting the unopened letter upon his lap.

“As you wish... I am ‘Ebrenu’, one of two diplomats who has been tasked with negotiating on behalf of the ‘Coalition of Hitrosii’, the government of my people.”

“I have always wondered...” King Kerym interrupts. “What is your government like? How does it function?”

“We are a collection of city-states, each with a Chancellor. A Supreme Chancellor acts as figurehead for the Coalition, which is intended to act as a republic.”

“And is it a republic?”

“No...”

“I see...” King Kerym gently rubs his beard.

“If I may continue, King Kerim?”

The king nods his head.

“After an assessment by our first true scout, Voletrynu, the Coalition formulated a plan to reconquer the world that, many thousands of years ago, was once entirely ruled by Hitrosii. They seek to empower their neighbor and ally, the Kingdom of the Ilium Rose, by gifting them with advanced technology, especially weaponry. You are aware of fire dust, sometimes called ‘gunpowder’?”

“I am.”

“That was our gift to them, and we have given them much more...”

King Kerym sits in shock and awe, listening with both enthusiasm and horror as Ebrenu lays out the Coalition’s plan as he understands it. Every battle that the Kingdom of the Ilium Rose has won in the past two decades were directly influenced by technology and tactics taught to them by the reclusive elves of Chumar. Powerful siege weapons, armor, armor-piercing projectiles, potent medicines and most recently, gunpowder.

It’s clear that the elves have a plan for Morveria, and it does not involve any of the human kingdoms or the beast folk who inhabit them. After collecting himself, King Kerym asks the obvious question, only to be dismayed that Ebrenu has no knowledge or understanding of the Hitrosii’s more advanced technologies. As he told Seran and Masika, however, he does know enough to counter that which the Coalition has given to King Castor, and the Kings of the Ilium Rose who have come before him.

“I will not be able to teach you how to recreate this...” Ebrenu explains, lifting up his hand and revealing the sparking gauntlet. “But rest assured, if you grant me asylum, I will advance your people and those who enter into this proposed alliance by centuries.”

King Kerym pauses only long enough to collect himself before gleefully accepting the deal. He’d be a fool not to. With his safety assured and their contract fulfilled, the Unfettered take their leave, all except those who were hired to protect Seran. The young nobleman and his Vostii Companion, like the elf whom they escorted, are offered lavish rooms and all of the compliments of their own home.

The lovers lie in bed, after having put it through its paces, their nude bodies pressed together as they snuggle. Though Masika nuzzles and kisses her master with her typically intense passion, Seran merely stares at the ceiling, his fingertips softly caressing her furry upper arm.

“What worry you?” She finally asks.

“Hmm?” He turns his head to look at her. “Oh... Nothing...”

“Do not lie, Seran. I know better.”

“I know... I’m just... Never mind.”

She sits up and twists her body, the golden sheets falling away from her voluptuous form and revealing her massive breasts.

“Please, Seran. I listen. I always listen. Do not reject me.”

Seeing the worry in her eyes, the human reaches out for the cat woman and pulls her back into loving embrace. He eases her mind with a soft shushing and a kiss to her forehead, though she can sense that he’s uneasy. Unfortunately, he never reveals what troubles him and seems content to remain silent on the matter. Though it takes some time, the couple manage to fall sleep. Despite his discontent, she’s comforted by knowing that he still loves her.

The following day, Seran does as his father requested. While enjoying that morning’s breakfast in the great hall, Ebrenu and King Kerym beside him, he makes the appropriate hints in a very subtle and yet obvious way, speaking in hypotheticals. Ebrenu stares, as if analyzing the conversation, while King Kerym appears amused.

“You are not very accustomed to this, are you?” The King finally asks with a soft chuckle.

“No, and I humbly beg your pardon. This wasn’t exactly my idea...”

“No, I’m certain it was Osbert’s, and perhaps also Olaf’s. Your bride’s father is as ambitious as your own. When riders came ahead of you and informed me who was escorting our new friend, I took a moment to prepare myself for such a proposition. I will admit, I had expected you to use a bit more tact.”

“Again, I apologize.” Seran bows his head.

“It’s alright. The truth is, this alliance is as important for our future as Ebrenu’s gift of knowledge. King Rolim is a fine man, a good man, but he’s a King for peacetime...” King Kerym’s expression suddenly changes, becoming stern and perhaps a little fretful. “I don’t know how long we have before war begins, but when it does, the Kingdom of Navarda would benefit from having someone else on the throne... Someone young and willing to listen to those with wisdom, such as that possessed by Lord Osbert Bailey...”

King Kerym leans closer and gives Seran a peculiar look. It’s instantly clear to the young nobleman what the King is implying. With his heart sinking, Seran looks to Masika. Her confident and warm smile does little to ease his troubled mind, only making the situation more dire. He returns his attention toward the King and gulps before taking a deep breath and preparing himself.

“I... Don’t want it.” The young nobleman finally admits.

“I beg your pardon?!” King Kerym nearly gasps, his eyes growing wide.

“I was born a noble. I didn’t choose it. My father and even my mother have been telling me of their desires since I was old enough to listen, and I never once smiled at the thought of claiming a throne. They married me to a woman, a fine and beautiful woman, but a stranger. They did it to solidify two noble houses and make it even easier to lay claim to the throne... I understand what you are saying, I understand the politics and even the logic in it - King Rolim is a genteel and weak man - but I don’t like the concept of living someone else’s life. I want to live my own. I could never do that while sitting upon the throne.”

King Kerym takes a moment to collect himself, visibly shocked and yet seemingly impressed with the boldness of the young nobleman. With the warmest of smiles and a fatherly aura that radiates as thoroughly of his wealth, he leans closer, drapes an arm over Seran’s shoulders and gives him a gentle embrace.

“I admire your honesty, but now I have a truth for you... Sometimes, fate has its own plans for us. It’s in those moments that we must realize and then accept that we simply do what must be done, not because we enjoy it or desire it, but because that’s what must be done... I love the throne! I would never surrender it willingly! That being said, I have often given many orders that I wished I could take back. Soldiers sent to war, deals broken and settlements abandoned... I hated to make them, but they were necessary at the time, for the greater good. It is what it is.”

After giving Seran a firm pat on the back, King Kerym straightens and raises a golden goblet.

“Of course, you’re an adult! As a nobleman, you are more capable than most at directing your life. In any event, you might inform your father that I’d love to hear his plans for your kingdom...”

“As you wish.” Seran bows his head.

“Perhaps I’ll visit? I’ve always been fond of the lush greenery in the Kingdom of Navarda, and I haven’t seen the Holy Mount in some time.” The king continues.

“Mount Navarda is as beautiful as it is sacred. We would love to have you.”

Some time later, Seran and Masika walk through the halls of the castle. They admire the sights and sounds of the vast city beyond the castle’s walls, which stretch nearly as far as the eye can see. The sun has begun to set, and it’s time to rest. As they make their way back to their bed chamber, a familiar face crosses their path.

“Ebrenu! Hello!” Seran chirps.

“Good day, Seran. How are you?”

“Very well, thank you. How are you enjoying your status as a refugee? Are they appreciative of your knowledge?”

“I am alive and comfortable. That is enough. I believe it is progressing appropriately. I have already given them a formula for creating gunpowder that is more potent and does not emit such smoke. I have recommended encasing it in brass shells, and offered design concepts that would be both comfortable to wield and simple to use. They appeared to be pleased.”

“I can imagine!” Seran chuckles.

“... May I ask you a question?”

“You just did!”

“...” Ebrenu cocks his head.

“That was a joke... ... What’s your question?”

“I have watched you for a long time. You and Masika are very close, beyond your perpetual mating. I was not present in your home for long, but it was also clear that you do not hold the same level of affection for Marcail, who I understand is your ‘wife’. Your kingdom does not allow for multiple wives, so why then did you marry Marcail and not Masika?”

“That’s... Complicated...” Seran murmurs.

“Is it?”

“I was promised to Marcail in order to solidify our noble houses. I had not met her or chose her before the wedding day.”

“A political marriage?” Ebrenu cocks his head and furls his brow.

“Yes.”

“And what of Masika?”

“She was a gift.”

“I his Companion! I entertain, comfort and pleasure him!” Masika chirps, throwing her arms around Seran’s torso and embracing him rather tightly.

“She was purchased for me by my father when I didn’t react to marriage to his satisfaction.” Seran continues, embracing Masika and nuzzling her. “It’s the best thing he’s ever done for me.”

“Aww!” She coos and giggles as he kisses her neck.

“I understand. Speaking hypothetically, if you had the choice, whom then would you desire to marry?” Ebrenu asks, recycling a variation of Seran’s poorly masked offer of a secret alliance to King Kerym.

“The truth is... Masika is my Companion, but she’s also my first lover... My love... I was promised to Marcail without ever meeting her. I took her into my bed because it was expected of me, and she bore me an heir because it was expected of us... But my heart belongs to Masika. I love her, and I never would’ve traveled all this way without her by my side. If I could, I would’ve claimed her as my bride instead of Marcail, and she’d be the mother of my children.”

“Seran!” Masika gushes, squeezing him even tighter.

“Hmm... If you had a friend who desired a woman who also desired him, and he did not desire his wife, what would you say to this friend about what he should do? Would you recommend he abdicate his marriage for the sake of his own happiness and that of his desired mate?” Ebrenu poses.

“...”

A long and awkward pause befalls the trio. Ebrenu examines the human and his Vostii lover with expectance, only to realize that Seran doesn’t have an answer for him.

“How strange...” Ebrenu cocks his head in the other direction, his unsettling gaze shifting between them. “For all your freedom, you struggle to admit something so trivial.”

“...”

“Good day, Seran and Masika. I must return to King Kerym and his scribes, but I would be pleased to see you soon.”

With that, Ebrenu leaves the young nobleman and his Vostii Companion standing in the hall. The elf’s words roll around in the human’s head for the remainder of the day and throughout that night. Even Masika’s attention cannot sway him.

“What troubles you?” She asks, wiping saliva from her lips as she crawls back up to him. “He did not rise for me.”

“I... I should write my father.” He says, suddenly pushing her aside and climbing out of bed.

Masika watches as her master walks toward a small but ornate desk, his bare feet softly patting along the granite floor. She climbs out of bed and follows him, pressing the mounds of her bosom into the back of his head as he begins to draft a note. Unable to read or write, she cocks her head and wonders what the string of letters means. By the third line of text, she cannot bear to remain silent.

“Seran? What do you write?”

“A letter to my father... King Kerym’s answer... And...”

“Why write when we return? I not understand.”

Finishing another word, he prepares to dip the quill into the inkwell but pauses. He twists his upper body as he turns and looks back at his Companion. A little smile graces his handsome face. He gestures with a finger and lures her closer. She brings her face nearer to his, only for him to grab her furry chin and steal a kiss. Though he never answers her, content to return to writing his letter, Masika can see his delight. She’s certain that whatever he intends to send to his father will not affect them or their relationship.

Her mind wanders, and she recalls a moment that bolsters her strength. Marcail had cornered her in a room, while Seran left her alone to carry out a task given to him by his father. The human was irate and spoke poorly to Masika, but the Vostii of the cat-kin ignored her poor insults and pathetic pleas to distance herself from her master. It wasn’t an issue until Masika turned her back on Marcail, who grabbed her shoulder in anger.

Whirling around, Masika’s eyes were wild as she glared, baring her teeth and hissing at her master’s wife. She flashed her sharp teeth and sharp fangs without hesitation, while an arm bent and her fingers coiled and stiffened in preparation. Marcail reacted just as she expected. She jumped back in fear.

“Do not touch me!” Masika roared, startling Marcail, then heavily pregnant with her first child.

“He is my husband! I may soon give him a son! I love him and you can’t have him!” Marcail continued.

“Seran my master. If Seran prefer to warm my bed and feel my loins, I not deny him. I enjoy his touch. I enjoy when he use my body. I live for his love, and I have it.” Masika boasts, flashing a sinister grin.

“Y-you think you can claim him?! You think you can take him away from me?! You are but a slave! You have no claims over him! He’s mine! ... If you don’t obey me, I could punish you!” Marcail insisted, her voice already quivering with fear.

“No.”

“... What?!” Marcail gasped.

“You cannot punish me. Do not try... This fight you would lose...” Masika growled, again baring her teeth and gently caressing Marcail’s throat with the back of a sharp claw.

“You... You just threatened me!” Marcail gasped again, placing a hand over her throat as she took several steps back. “I-I will have you punished!”

“No, you not.” The Vostii snickered, her tail flicking.

“What?!?! B-but you just-!”

“Find Seran. Tell him. Who will he believe? Osbert and Asena cannot punish me. I belong to Seran and only Seran. You tell Seran, and he will laugh!”

“...”

“I tell him you attack me, that I forced to fight. I tell him, and he believe me. You stand in my way; you prevent me from obeying him. I was here first, and Seran trust me more. He love me, and I love him. Stand in our way and it is you who will be punished.”

“I hate you...” Marcail whimpered.

“Only because I better.” Masika smirked.

Masika cannot help but softly chuckle at the memory. As her eyes stare at her master, whose hands write the strange script that only the humans can decipher, she’s certain that there is nothing to fear. Seran is her master but he’s also her lover, her mate. After finishing one letter, Seran drafts a second. Only then does his libido return, and in full force; he carries Masika to bed and ravages her. The carnal pleasure is even more incredible than usual, and her orgasms are many.

Unlike every other sexual encounter they’ve enjoyed, he prevents her from drinking the tea of neberum. She sits up in bed with her master’s seed filling her loins to capacity. It’s so thick and viscous that it has yet to drip. She stares with wide eyes and gaping maw.

“Leave it in. Let it work.” He says, stroking her cheek.

“S-Seran?!” She gasps.

“I wrote my family...” He begins, scooting closer and slipping his arms around her damp and musky body. “I thought a lot about what Ebrenu said.”

“Oh?”

“Yes... I will live as I choose. I will not allow my future to be arranged any longer. I will not allow our future to be arranged. From this day and until our last, we make decisions as life-mates, as we always should’ve. You, me, and however many children you wish to give me.” He says with the warmest voice and most sincere of grins.

“Oh, Seran!” Masika exclaims, leaping upon her human lover with unbridled joy.

Several months later, after giving birth to her second child, a daughter whom she names ‘Meiva’, Marcail has yet to receive word from her beloved husband. He promised to return, and yet not even a single letter has come from the Kingdom of the Emerald Sands. Just then, a rider approaches! Seeing him through a window, she notices a satchel of mail! Growing increasingly anxious, Marcail sets her daughter down for a nap, in a cradle beside Voren’s tiny bed. The air flutters her golden locks as she makes her way toward the study, nervously nibbling on her fingernails.

“Why that little-! I cannot believe-! ... That son of a...”

“Watch it.” Asena remarks, standing beside her husband’s throne and resting a dainty hand atop his balding head.

“Sorry...” Osbert sighs, closing his eyes and setting the letter aside. “I just... I’d hoped that this quest would be rather cathartic for him!”

“It seems it was...” She murmurs, softly rubbing the crown of his head.

“I didn’t intend for him to leave! ... I don’t know what upsets me more. Him abandoning his love-sick wife to start a new one with that Companion, his renouncing of any claim to the throne, or the fact that he used our family name to borrow an obscene amount of money in order to fund his fantasy life!”

“If this alliance is as important as King Rolim led us to believe, the wealth he borrowed we could pay back many times over. Why not think of it as his inheritance?” Asena suggests in a soft, soothing voice.

“What do you mean?” Osbert shifts, turning to look up at his wife.

“Well, he did marry Marcail, and he fathered two children with her, one of whom is a strong and healthy heir, a contender to the throne. If we simply act as though he no longer exists, then who’s to say he does?” She suggests, a warm gracing her face.

“I suppose you’re right...” Osbert sighs.

“Of course I am!” She giggles.

“I’ll still miss him.” Osbert mutters.

“So will I, but he made his choice. In the end, it was always his life to live.” Asena assures her husband.

“And they say the beautiful ones aren’t smart.” He smirks, eying his wife.

The couple share a loving kiss only for the doors to abruptly swing open. Marcail bursts into the room, an anxious look in her eyes.

“Is that word from Seran?!” She asks.

“... Yes, it is...”

“Why didn’t he come home?! Is something wrong?!?!”

“No, no! He, uhm...” Osbert clears his throat, folding the letter and squeezing it tightly.

“The negotiations for the alliance are taking longer than expected. He needs to stay for a time and ensure that King Kerym accepts King Rolim’s offer, as well as our own.” Asena steps in, quickly and skillfully lying to her daughter-in-law.

“Oh...” Marcail sighs.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll return soon.” Asena remarks.

“I know! He promised he would! I just don’t enjoy waiting!” Marcail chirps, her hope rejuvenated. “I miss him so much.”

The pair watch their daughter-in-law leaving the room, humming softly to herself. A guard closes the doors behind her and the noble couple look to each other.

“Thank you, bean stalk. I don’t think I could’ve lied to her like that.”

“You know I will always perform the difficult tasks for you, my beloved gourd.”

Though she smiles at her husband, he can see the worry in her eyes. She didn’t enjoy deceiving Marcail any more than he did. Rising from his throne, he waddles toward the fireplace. He lifts the letter and prepares to discard it, only to pause and look to his wife.

“Shouldn’t she know the truth?”

“Osbert...”

“It’s not right to keep a secret like this. She deserves to know, doesn’t she?”

“Perhaps, but certainly not now.” Asena replies.

“Someday, then...” Osbert murmurs, slipping the note into a pocket of his elegant robes. “Someday, when she’s ready, we’ll tell her the truth... Until then...”

“I’m sure Seran will be ‘detained’ for some time.” Asena mutters, sharing in her husband’s guilt and shame.