Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Consensual, Mind Control, Magic, Slavery, BiSexual, Fiction, BDSM, DomSub, MaleDom, FemaleDom, Spanking, Rough, Light Bond, Gang Bang, Orgy, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Fisting, Sex Toys, Cream Pie, Exhibitionism, .
Desc: Fantasy Sex Story: Prologue - Amber is a Grantlo slave on Destran. Taken from her own world, she was brought here to be a premier sex slave. As the world enters the burning times, political tensions are heating up as well as the world itself. The Wizard's Guild has a secret that it's used to increase its power at the expense of the other factions. As these troubles enter her life, she finds it hard to not take sides. You see, Amber remembers her past, and the injustices that people can do to one another.
"He'll see you now, Sir," the slave said as she exited the room beyond the door. Heversham Ranslan nodded and rose, his mind on the upcoming conversation. After a month of travel, he still wasn't sure whether telling anyone of the recently discovered secret was a good idea. The potential to tear the fabric of Destran society apart was monumental. Still, the damage that the secret had likely caused over the centuries was unimaginable. At the very least, the Guild president should be told; which is why he was here, in this office, the day before the clan moot was scheduled to start.
The man behind the door stood as Heversham entered, his hand extended. One of the constants in human society across the dimensions was the significance of the handshake. Some saw it as a gesture of peaceful intentions; others saw it as a personal affront; but all societies placed some significance on it. The greeting exchanged, Jost Lundren opened the conversation.
"So, Clan leader Ranslan, what would bring you to see the Guild president on the eve of the moot. Not hoping to curry favor on trade routes I hope?"
"No, president, not that. I'm afraid my business is far more important than trade routes and more potentially volatile than a debate over the prices of Sluggindi."
He president stopped in mid-sitting, startled by the claim made in all seriousness. The wrong trade route could send a clan into debt for decades and the price of the rare vintage of wine was capable of changing by five times in a single day on the open markets. Recovering, he finished sitting and brought a small stone out from a drawer of his desk. Tapping it twice on the desk, a silent wave of force spread from it, encompassing the room in a silence field. No one would be able to spy on the conversation about to take place.
"What could be so important and volatile, Heversham? It's not like you to make such grandiose statements."
"I don't make this one lightly. I have evidence that the Wizard's Guild has been systematically and intentionally deceiving the public. The only motivation that I can see for what they've done is to improve their position on certain matters of trade."
"Deception? Heversham, they're wizards; they're incapable of speaking plainly. That's to be expected."
"I'm not talking about the normal hedging that any practitioner engages in during the course of business. I'm talking about intentional deceit in their printed words."
The emphasis on the printed words wasn't lost on president Lundren. While not everyone was as fastidious, anyone with any knowledge of the merchant clans knew just how much importance they put on the written word. A contract, written in ink and signed, was a bond meant to be stronger than the marriage bond; one which could only be dissolved by the death of one party. No one of intelligence and sanity would lie in writing to a merchant.
Go, on," the president replied, his voice clipped and tense.
"Inclon Meracula, first advisor to Thabian Y' Grantlo, asked our clan for something quite unusual; current copies of An Alchemist's Guide to Reagents and Mana, the ones that only wizard's can possess. We weren't able to obtain any, but in an attempt to salvage the contract, I had our scribe, Brotin, copy past editions of the scrolls. Brotin also compiled the results; the shocking results. The mana levels in reagents change over time. The older editions that we're allowed by the Wizard's guild are actually wrong in many of the details. Clearly, the result of such errors would leave the wizards as the makers of the best potions, since only theirs would be accurately brewed."
"Just how sure are you of these facts?"
"Of the differences, absolutely; I've looked at different editions of the scrolls myself. I'm no alchemist, though, so I can't guess at what the results of using the wrong mana concentrations would be. I suspect that any significant differences in potions would have shown up by now. It may well be that the guild's potions are simply more efficient."
"Or it may be that problems have cropped up already; potion problems may be why House Grantlo asked for the information in the first place. I assume you've been trying to decide just what to do?"
"Yes, president. If I release this information to the moot, the relationship between the clans and the guild will be changed; and not in a good way. The clans generally don't have their own alchemists. If we were cut off by the guild, it could be disastrous for us."
"I agree. How many people know of the lies?"
"Myself, Brotin and at least some people from House Grantlo."
"We need to use this information intelligently. For the time being, we'll hold this tight in our fists. Have your scribe determine if the changes can be predicted. If so, your clan needs to hire its own alchemist. I want the clans independent of the guild for our potions. We may not be able to be self supporting when it comes to active magic, but we can make our own potions."
"Yes, president. I'll start on that right away. Do you want regular updates?"
"No, messengers can be intercepted. Don't contact me about this again until you have things in hand."