Chapter 14

The Grand Atrium of Hern served as the Royal Gardens. It lay open to the public with its stone pathways winding between flowering plants of every description. From the smallest picklillies no larger than a pin, to expansive wetfruit trees whose limbs could stretch a hundred yards or more in every direction, the Gardens were a carnival for the senses. One could be overwhelmed by the sights and smells, the ripe flavor of the air itself, and the unavoidable texture of leaves and grasses caressing the skin. A curious sound would steal into the ears as the whispered, secret language of life itself, or so some would claim. Those people were most often found in the center of the gardens, speaking in hushed tones and sharing a selfless faith in the universe.

Fronting that temple to our worldly origins, the Royal Theatre stood as an annex to the Citadel of the Royal Court. With a brilliant façade of rare onyx and broad steps rising between marble columns, it was for many people the only glimpse they would have of that portion of the ship I called the castle. Admission was free and organized by lottery, I believe, although I'd never had occasion to learn the details. Every performance would be offered to an audience liveried in such splendor as they could afford, or sometimes borrow, as the case may be.

Attending the Theatre was an event and nearby were restaurants and cabarets catering to the evening's nouveau gentry. Balls were held and grand masques upon the rooftops overlooking the Gardens. Nobles and commoners would debate on topics great and small. A baron could dance with a barmaid, a princess with a plumber; the music would swell until the late hours and then wane with drunken laughter and lonely tears. Lovers would quarrel and strangers would fuck, and all would feast until they became gorged with unsated pleasure. It was a paradox, aye, and a good and necessary one.

The Royal Theater would occasionally feature films, as a human would interpret them. Dramatic stories with characters and plots which truly are universal irregardless the specific details, and visualized through the magic of holography. The Duchess much admired swashbuckling romance and her court would sometimes be treated to the Imperial equivalent of a Hollywood epic. Not often, however; such entertainment was considered by many as too pedestrian for nobility. The average citizen wanted his royalty to act, well ... Royal.

On this particular evening, in a tradition far more usual and pleasing to proletarian sensibilities, the Eyasian Ballet performed to the ethereal strains of The Ghostly Slipper, as it would be called in English. The Royal Symphony accompanied, of course, and by all accounts the first act had been breathtaking. I'd found it interesting, or I should say that Tristam had enjoyed it, but I wasn't in a mood to cater to his pleasure. I'd made a conscious effort to dislike the music, the dancing, and most especially Helena's rapt fascination with the whole affair.

We were rather displeased with each other.

"I've drafted a letter to my father," Helena said, leaning her arms on the ornate railing and looking at me over her shoulder.

"Oh." I nodded from my chair, the one usually occupied by my cousin Talis. We were on the balcony, in the royal box, and supposedly we had the very best seats in the house.

"It only requires your signature, my Lord."

"Rubber stamp it," I replied with a shrug.

"Excuse me?" She narrowed her emerald eyes and English isn't a simple language even for people who grow up with it.

"Just sign my name," I sighed. "I don't need to see it, do I?"

"I thought you'd like to review it," she said, turning her head so she could look down at the impatient crowd. The ballet was always popular.

"How many men do you think Talis has fucked up here?"

"I'm quite certain I wouldn't know, my Lord."

"Or women, for that matter," I said. "She does have a penis, after all. Have you seen it?"

"Obviously not," Helena replied.

"I'd be jealous if you had."

"I don't believe you."

"Well, not jealous maybe. Hmmm ... Concerned?" I shrugged. "Whatever. I bet she's fucked Ellicent, right here in this very chair."

"You're acting like a child."

"I'm acting like I'm sixteen," I retorted. "And I hate the ballet. Bunch of faggots. Let's go somewhere else."

"You can't leave now," she told me, pushing off the rail and turning around. "It would insult the performers."

"Fuck," I sighed. "What good is being the king if I can't do what I want?"

"You're not a king, my Lord."

"And you're not my mother!" I snapped. "I'm leaving."

"Please," Helena said quickly, stepping close enough to push me back down. "Stay, my Lord. It's important."

"Alright," I agreed. "If you'll sit down and jerk me off while we watch the rest of the show."

"Leave then." She crossed her arms over her smallish tits. "The dancers can spare the humiliation better than I, my Lord."

"Sensitive," I snorted. "I'm just teasing you. No need to cry about it."

"I'm not crying."

"Sit down," I said with a nod towards the empty chair beside me. "They're about to start the second act."

"I won't play your games."

"Just..." I rolled my eyes with a sigh. "Sit down already; you're making me nervous."

"Me?" She smiled unhappily. "What's wrong, my Lord?"

"Nothing a little ballet won't fix," I said as the house lights dimmed and only the great chandeliers burned above the audience.

The chandeliers were a half-dozen in number, crystalline clouds formed of Tartian diamonds, thousands of them and each with a glittering gold flame burning tirelessly inside. It had something to do with the radiation saturating that world's unique geography and the stones themselves were quite worthless individually. Diamonds, of any size, shape, or color, are among the most common rocks in the galaxy, as a great many women on Earth were going to discover to their disappointment. On the other hand, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires were always a precious commodity, along with a number of lesser gemstones.

Such circumstances were one of the many countless issues we had to deal with. Like Europeans trading glass beads for land in the New World, we had to prevent unscrupulous traders, speculators, and carpetbaggers from bleeding Earth dry. Humans were our newest children and they had to be protected. I'd spent much of the day to just that purpose, reviewing plans for the new cities already being built on the ashes of the old. New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles would be the first and from the ground up they were designed to be modern, efficient, and functional. They would be the beautiful hubs from which Imperial culture would radiate.

The rest of my day had been spent brooding over Windham and every drop of my blood yearned to crush that measly space into dust. The military was on full alert, all its personnel on duty, every ship being prepared for battle. Plans were being drawn up, forces being gathered like the pieces on a chessboard. The logistics were staggering. Thirteen fleets were being assembled with over fifteen hundred warships. Assault forces, over a million shock troops for the planet Windham alone, were loading onto their transports. It wasn't going to be the largest invasion ever conducted by the Duchess of Cepheus, not even close, but still a significant operation and I hated the inevitable waiting.

"Wine, my Lord?" a soft voice tugged at my ears, small and female.

"Who might you be?" I whispered in reply, not wishing to interrupt Lady Helena's balletomane pleasure.

"Alys Piern," she replied with a fine curtsy, holding her silver tray steady.

She had elfin features, wide lavender eyes and a small nose between her sharp cheeks. A very angular sort of girl, tapering all over with a thin smile and a long neck rising from her slender shoulders, the rest of her long and lithe to the very point of her toes. Alys had no breasts at all, but a soft, hollow chest and a tiny waist indistinguishable from her hips as her body seemed to flow into her thighs. Her yellow hair had been pinned into a tight bob at the crown of her head, each strand drawn severely, and her small ears were pink and pointed with a filigree of woven silver, like the costume she wore. A metallic lace of intricate design covered her pale flesh, hiding and revealing the child beneath.

"Are you a student, Alys Piern?"

"Yes, my Lord," she agreed as a smile teased her brightly painted lips. "I performed the Fantasia Aperitif."

"I remember," I agreed. "You were very good. How long have you been studying?"

"Since I was three, my Lord." Her eyes shone and I gestured at a small table.

"Put the tray down and join me." I patted my thigh. "Here. You may sit with me, Alys."

"My Lord." She widened her eyes and blushed, drawing a glance from Helena.

"What are you doing?" she asked, leaning close and touching my arm.

"Entertaining," I replied, watching graceful Alys place her tray and goblets on the table. "It's why I'm here, isn't it, my Lady?"

"Hmph." Helena returned her attention to the stage and I ignored her blunt displeasure.

"Like this..." I whispered, taking the girl's hand as Alys very carefully arranged herself on my lap. "Put your arm around my neck. I want you to be comfortable."

"Yes, my Lord." She shivered and I took a deep breath of her sweet scent, holding her with my fingers clasped at her boyish hip.

"Are you cold? Shall I find some way to warm you, Alys?"

"I'm not! I assure you..." She shook her head.

"Shhhh ... Since you were three years old, did you say?" I smiled at her. "And how long ago was that?"

"I'm fifteen, my Lord." Alys licked her lips and she looked much younger than that, I thought.

I felt her warmth pouring from beneath the fine web of silver that clung to her body. The lace had become infatuated with the girl's heat; it wasn't cold to the touch at all and seemed more like silk than metal. The design was of a floral motif, with stems and leaves entwining along her legs and crawling across her lithe body. Flowers bloomed with delicate petals carefully arranged to conceal her sex, but only in the most illusory sense. The eye was tricked into focusing on the composition laid upon the soft canvas beneath.

"And very beautiful, Alys," I murmured, bringing my right hand upward.

Her nipples formed pink pistils for the delicate florets adorning her chest. They were pinched and deliberately exposed that way, enticing and teasing in league with her coquettish smile and elusive eyes.

"Mmmmm..." She compressed her lips as I massaged her left nipple, coaxing the rubbery nub to life as it began to swell.

"Much better like that," I sighed into her ear. "You're going to bloom for me, aren't you, Alys?"

"My Lord..." she offered with a ragged breath and I pulled her closer, letting her trim bottom settle upon my cock. The girl stiffened slightly, arching her back as she felt the unmistakable ardor of my erection straining against my breeches.

"Have you been plucked, little flower?" I asked, flicking my thumb across her right nipple and it too grew quickly stiff with the attention.

"Noooo..." She licked her lips, tightening her right arm around my neck as I licked the soft skin just beneath her ear.

"Why not, Alys?" I pinched her nipple, pulling her immature breast into a cone barely fit for girl just entering puberty.

"I'm saving myself," she answered, arousing her innocent smile with another blush.

"Such a long, hot wait," I sighed, dragging my teeth along her florid neck to kiss the girl beneath her jaw. "I admire your courage."

Alys was Ovellean and her newfound adolescence would stretch another twenty years probably. She'd descended from a rare species and a well regarded one, coming from a very distant star coreward of the March. I wondered how she'd made the journey at such a tender age, for she wasn't a slave or even a servant, but a student of the Royal Academy and perhaps in a dozen years the prima ballerina, if Alys possessed the talent and determination. If the child wasn't deterred from her art by the inchoate desire reflected in her lustrous eyes.

"Give us a kiss, sweet Alys," I whispered. "Brave, beautiful, obedient, Alys. You'll come to me soon, won't you?"

"My Lord, I..." the words were caught in her throat as I touched her lips with mine, tickling her with tip of my tongue and letting her go.

"You'll save your budding treasure for me," I told her. "We've kissed upon it now, Alys."

The roe's eyes closed and she nodded quickly.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Off with you then," I said, pushing her from my thighs and she only just caught herself with a marvelous plié and pirouette.

What a talent! And I felt too pleased with the unexpected performance to wonder why I'd let her go.

"Soon, Alys," I whispered as she slipped between the thick brocade covering the doorway. "Come to me soon."

"You should be wary of the girl, my Lord." Helena looked at me and I suspected she'd been observing us for some while.

"Her curiosity is piqued," I replied with a smile. "Yours as well, my Lady?"

"You've terrified her. She hardly knows what she's doing."

"The best way to plant the girl is in the fertile soil of her imagination. She'll want to be courageous in the face of love and test herself against me."

"I understand she's already been gifted; an arranged marriage with a squire of Paramus," Helena informed me. "A spoiled knave, from what I've heard, and quick with his temper."

"Do you keep tabs on everyone?" I narrowed my eyes with mock suspicion.

"Only you, my Lord."

"Whoever the boy is, he's too old for her in any case..."

"And you're not?"

" ... I'll merely put some color into her cheeks; a bit of expectation into her loins, as they say."

"Rather more than that, if I know you."

"Did you see the way she quivered?" I sighed. "Her heart demands enslavement, you'll see. Beautiful Alys. It's in her blood now."

"It's all Helena's fault." I shook my head, tromping through the empty hallways and muttering to myself.

"You should sleep, my Lord." Ransom echoed my footsteps, if not my thoughts. He didn't understand; nobody could.

"That bitch! That slut!" I felt the pommel of my sword under my fingers as the scabbard slapped my thigh. "I can't think when she's around."

"She's a beautiful woman," he offered with a chuckle, but I refused to be cheered.

"She's a whore for that bastard Tristam," I snarled. "Fuck! He's stronger when she's with me."

"My Lord, you are Tristam."

"I can't fight them both." I turned a corner and entered one of the old libraries. We were getting deep into the castle now.

The place should have been covered with dust and grime, the thousands of books moldy with the decay of years, but it wasn't. The cleanliness offended me. The efficiency of the chamberlain and his staff. The air filtered so thoroughly that I felt like an insect beneath a looking glass. I kicked a chair out of the way, onto its back with rigor mortis. I had half a mind to perform an autopsy on the beast, cutting into the fine tapestry of its skin and the overstuffed flesh beneath.

"Stupid chair." I searched my memory for a book and found it, tilting the fifth volume of Ahkruhk's tepid History of the Ancients.

"Where are we going, my Lord?"

"Behind the scenes, my friend." I grinned at the black giant as a section of the bookcase surrendered with a groan. "Didn't know about this one, did you?"

"No." He smiled back at me. "Where does it lead?"

"I just told you," I replied, slipping into the narrow passage. "Mind your head."

At last I found some must to itch my nose and the darkness swallowed me whole. I felt the wall with my right hand, keeping my left on my sword. My feet knew the way and I kept my eyes closed as I counted the steps. One hundred thirty-four ... Not yet, my legs were shorter ... One hundred sixty-seven and I felt a draft upon my cheek.

When I opened my eyes, the faint light seemed as the mid-day sun and I winced, looking left and right. We'd come to an intersection of sorts and Ransom's breathing seemed to echo through the crooked flume.

"Hold your breath," I hissed. "I can't hear myself think."

I couldn't hear anything and I went left out of habit, following the light towards an ancient balcony overlooking a disused chamber below. The ceiling was a lattice of pipes and cables, the nervous system of the great ship exposed and out of place. The room had once been used as a salon, but the furniture had been broken up to feed the fires of yesteryear. The stone walls were mottled and once majestic tapestries were now tattered and eaten through, clutching at their sprits like the sails of derelict set adrift. No fancy rugs here, just dull stone worn smooth and uniform grey.

What light there was came from the balcony opposite mine, and from that yawn I could hear the rutting grunts and gasps I sought.

"This way," I breathed. "We'll cross the pipes one at a time."

"These pipes, my Lord?" Ransom offered me a doubtful look, reaching upward to take one in his fist and pull.

They were long and narrow, bundled together by threes and fives, a half-dozen at the most, and slick with mildew. The metal groaned as Ransom gave it some weight and a loud snap issued from somewhere in the shadows.

"We'd best go around," he suggested, letting go and slapping his palm against his thigh.

"You go around," I said. "I'm going across."

"And if you fall?"

"It's only thirty feet." I shrugged. "It won't kill me."

"Unless you land on your head," he said with a chuckle. "Come along, my Lord. We'll find another way."

"Too late..." I grunted, leaping from our perch with my hands over my head, catching two pipes with a third above and between them, denying me a firm grip.

"Tristam!" Ransom growled. "Son of a..."

"Shhh..." I hissed, almost laughing as I turned my hips and shoulders, walking my hands quickly as I dangled above the stones below.

I'd been too old for too long and it felt good to have some vigor in my blood. But I wasn't Tristam. Without Helena he was weak and I had my own thoughts, not his. I should have fucked that baby ballerina. Taken her in the royal box in front of Helena. That stuck up bitch! Fuck! She pretended like she didn't care, but I knew better. She had Tristam whipped. The bastard had never even fucked her. I'd made her kiss my dick; he couldn't even get the slut on her knees! I'd fuck her next. I'd do it while he watched. Do it while she wept for her precious virginity. Stupid whore. Let her marry Wren, she could make her vows with my sperm burning inside her womb. It would serve them right, all of them.

"There now..." I breathed, crawling through the balcony and onto the old dais overlooking the Harlequin Stanch.

On that oval stage sat a chair, heavy and handsomely carved from a single stone, and I ran my hand along the back. Three short steps led to the floor and makeshift torches burned in wrought iron cradles, linens soaked in wine so nearly gone to vinegar that the cloth would hardly burn. They smoldered and sputtered, heaving black smoke into the air. Broken chains lay rusting where they'd fallen and of the many clever devices I remembered, none could be recognized.

"Ho-ho!" I grinned at the three men and their victim, a pink-faced whore flat on her back. "What gallant pursuit! Saving a fair maiden from her virtue, are we?"

They stared at me, the woman with her skirts around her waist as she lay on the floor. The laces of her bodice had been undone and I judged her heaving breasts had been roughly kissed recently. The flesh looked red and swollen, with dark splotches where bruises had begun to sprout. I reckoned the whore hadn't minded awfully as she wore only pleasure beneath a mask of surprise. Her chestnut eyes matched her curling hair as it clung to her face and neck, and she wasn't so much plain as just plain dirty.

They were all filthy, but especially the men with their mismatched clothing and hairy, haggard faces. These were the lost children of the Royal Court, young men whose excesses had bankrupted their welcome. They were drunks or unlucky gamblers perhaps; debtors and thieves most likely, living in the walls and stealing scraps to survive. Patchwork knaves without a shred of decency between them.

One of the men had his pants around his ankles, his bare ass between the woman's bent knees and his prick buried within her cunt. Another must have recently finished with her, his semi-hard cock still dewy with passion and his threadbare trousers likewise undone. The third was still dressed at least, although he held his crotch mid-squeeze and I cocked my head, wondering if that wouldn't begin to hurt after awhile.

"How far the Empire has fallen, eh?" I asked in the gutteral tongue of low Imperial. "Do you know this room?"

"Bugger off, boy," the man on his knees replied, throwing himself into the whore with a vile grunt.

"I say we bugger him," one of his companions offered, the one massaging his crotch.

"Pretty little thing, what?" The other stroked his slick penis, pulling the foreskin back and pushing it forward. "I'll give him a go."

"My master wouldn't care for that," I said, grinning as I fondled the hilt of my sword. "He's a mighty Lord. You'd be foolish to cross him, I think."

"We won't be telling," the one holding his cock said. "And neither will you."

"Not after I cut off his tongue." His companion had drawn a dagger from behind his back, waving it back and forth as he lurched towards me.

"Only the two of you?" I narrowed my eyes. "Perhaps we should wait for your friend to finish."

The knife advanced before the grinning scarecrow and now that I could get a good look at him, I felt something akin to pity for his wretchedness. That would be faggot, I thought, and I pushed his feelings aside with an effort. He drew his strength from Marcia and she was another whore I had to watch closely. She should have been mine, not his; I'd made her a slut. She belonged to me! Bambi as well and I had it in mind to sell them both and be free of those ghosts forever.

"Don't be frightened, boy," the man whispered, extending his empty hand and clawing at the air with his cracked fingernails. "Come to me now. There's a good, lad. I won't hurt you ... Come on."

I stepped from behind the chair with a flash of steel, cutting through nerves and tendons and very nearly severing the vagabond's right hand at the wrist. The knife clattered on the stones, tumbling from twitching fingers he no longer controlled. I took him through the throat a second later, with his eyes turned down and a screech forming behind his curdled grin. Blood sprayed across my boots before I could pull my blade free and I danced around the chair as he gave staggering chase. The man took three steps and the fourth led straight to hell; he landed face first on the stones with a heavy thud.

"Cowards!" I shouted after the other two, taking the steps one at a time with my sword pointed down and away from my body.

They'd run like dogs, with their tails between their legs and whimpering.

"Don't hurt me!" The woman had pushed herself upright, hugging her knees to her breasts. "Please! I'm innocent!"

"Innocent of what?" I asked, frowning as I'd intended to kill all three of the fools.

"Everything!" she cried, rolling over and prostrating herself at my feet. She sobbed and kissed my bloody boots, and I was taken aback by her grotesque display.

"Nobody's that innocent," I reminded her, finding the whore's throat with my blade and lifting her head.

She choked down a breath with wide, blinking eyes as I held the edge tight beneath her jaw. Upright on her knees, the girl's unfettered breasts jutted from her meager form. I'd thought her a woman, but now I could see through the cloak of poverty and she wasn't so much older than me. She stank of fresh cum and stale vomit, the bright odor of piss rankled my nose and I turned my head and spat on the floor.

"P-Please, my Lord ... My Master ... Don't murder me!"

"What's your name?"

"Whaaahhh ... Swan!" she said quickly as I turned the cold steel across her wax-like skin.

"Swan ... Swan?" I narrowed my eyes and considered that for a moment. "No. I don't know anyone by that name."

"Ohhh..." the girl rasped with a shiver, closing her eyes and plainly expecting me to slice her throat.

"The Harlequin Stanch. Do you know of it?"

"N-No."

"I do," I sighed. "Look at me. I have to tell you a secret."

Swan arched her spine as if she might grow a fraction taller. Her head remained very still as I spoke, her eyes dulled and diluted by tears.

"Before the rule of Talis, her father began the Spinward March. That..." I looked at the empty chair " ... was his throne and this place, this gloam of glory, was his butchary. It's said that only Duke Hern's favorite jester could stop the slaughter in this room."

I paused, listening to her ragged breathing and the slow beating of my heart.

"So much blood. They say visitors to Hern's court would have to wade knee-deep through the bodies. Men, women, children ... pretty dells like you, Swan, all hacked to pieces."

"Please ... I'm sorry, I..." Her hands fluttered like butterflies.

"For the good of the Empire, he used to say." I took a deep breath and focused my eyes on hers. "Do you know what happened to the Duke?"

"No."

"He went mad and his daughter and her lover murdered him. They had to, you see? He was suspicious of everyone and sooner or later, he would have brought them down here. He would have cut off their heads, Swan, and nobody could have stopped it, not even his favorite harlequin."

"D-Don't cut off my head, sir," she begged and I felt the palpitation of her heart through my steel.

"We had to do it," I whispered. "I used the walls and came in through the balcony, quiet and clever, imagining each step to be my last. Talis knelt before the throne, soothing her father the way a daughter shouldn't, and..."

I looked at the chair.

" ... I cut old Hern's throat and saved us all," I told her. "Regicide ... It's the last time I knew fear, Swan. After killing a man like that, what's left? The terror supping at the very marrow of your bones. Can you feel it?"

"Yes!" she gasped, shutting her eyes with a shiver.

"And now you know the secret," I sighed. "The only one I have. Oh, Swan ... Whatever shall I do with you now?"

"P-Please! I don't want to die in this place!"

I pulled the sword away, giving the girl one quick breath before finding her left breast with the tip, pricking the skin for a red pearl. A thin, rivulet of sanguine milk followed the curvature of her flesh, gathering into a single, bloated drop that refused to fall.

"Stubborn life." I lifted my blade. "Kiss the sword, Swan, to seal our pact. Kiss the brittle blood of terror and never forget the taste of it."

I had Swan bathed and her clothing burned in the hearth while I stirred the ashes myself. Precious oils were soothed into her chestnut hair until it glistened, curling as the liquid evaporated and leaving behind only the scent of sweet acacia. Likewise, a rare balm of dragonseed burned away the bruises and the girl's veteran skin turned pink and supple with youth. She grew vigorous before my eyes, stretching her asthenic body as a smile crept across her face like sunrise after a long, dark night.

"Am I beautiful, my Lord?" she asked, pointing her dark nipples towards the ceiling as she reached above her head.

Her fingers found the edge of the mattress and I could count her ribs and see the bones beneath her scrawny hips. Swan spread her legs and pointed her toes toward the corners of the bed, exposing her sex through a veil of curling brown pubic hair. Her labia were long and ruddy, pulled apart to reveal the pink meat inside, and her clitoris extended beyond its wrinkled sheath.

"No." I shook my head. "Not yet, but soon perhaps. How old are you?"

"I don't know, my Lord."

"Where are you from?" I unsnapped my tunic as she furrowed her brow and finally laughed.

"I don't remember, my Lord."

"Have you any other name?" I wondered. "Lady Swan? Slave or servant? What must you be now?"

"Lady Swan," she sighed, watching me with her doe eyes full of humor. "I am dreaming, my Lord. Or have you murdered me and this is heaven?"

"There is no heaven," I replied. "Hell, perhaps ... but no heaven for the likes of us."

I removed my breeches and took my languid penis in my fist, stroking myself to erection as I mounted the bed and then the girl. I put her legs over my shoulders so that I could see her helpless and yielding. The moist folds of her sex surrendered without so much as a whimper to mar the moment.

"You've been a whore for a long time, I think." I felt her hot inside, and wet, but hardly tight.

"Yesssss ... my ... Lord," she breathed, licking her lips as I pumped her famished cunt.