Chapter 9: A Masterwork Craft

Note: Thanks to WRC 264 for beta reading this!

Kora Falk

“As much fun as this has been, we have to find the information that we seek,” I said as Ealaín rose, her onxy features smeared with my glistening pussy juices.

As always, she gave such wonderful pleasure, just such an inspiration.

“Information?” asked Carsina. Her ruby eyes blinked. “Isn’t that what we are doing? Didn’t you bring Ava here so she could learn all the different ways she can power crafts and machines with her soul’s potential?”

“No,” Ava moaned. “Though it has been eye-opening. I’m really curious about puppeteering. Is that controlling something like a proxy while remaining in my body?”

“Yes,” Carsina said. “Though you won’t have the sensory input, but you will move it.” She glanced at the wooden man in the corner. “You could puppeteer that. He is fully anatomically correct. You could enjoy the pleasure of fucking yourself or another.”

“Interesting,” Ava said.

“I’d like to see that,” Sven said.

“It is,” I said, growing a little impatient. I glanced at my brother. He still had Nathalie sucking on his dick, her lips pressed into his bush. “But we have more important business to attend to. We need to find the Altar of Souls.”

Carsina gasped. Her eyes widened as she clasped her hands to her mouth. Her gaze darted around at us. “That?”

“So you know where it is?” Sven asked, his voice tight.

“No, no,” she said. She gave a dismissive laugh. “Of course not. It’s a myth. A legend. Nothing more. Those who follow Krab are not ones who indulge in such things. Look to the followers of Rithi if you wish to have...” Her eyes fell on me. “Well, I see you already have turned to Rithi. I am sorry I haven’t greeted you, Radiant... ?”

“Kora,” I answered.

“You know all about the Altar of Souls,” Sven said, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not a very good liar, Carsina.”

The Valyan’s bluish cheeks darkened with her blush. Her hands shot down and she hauled up her leather pants, wiggling her hips as she drew them up. “No, no, it’s not real. I’m sorry, I can’t help you with such ... fanciful things.”

Zanyia gasped and stumbled back from Ava, the dildo no longer attached to her body. The princess rose, both toys still stuck in her holes. Her skirt fell down her thighs as she moved around the workbench to Carsina. The journeyman looked down, her fingers fumbling to secure her leather britches.

Ava touched the journeyman’s wrist. She froze. The princess leaned in. “But I’m a Masterwork Craft.”

Carsina swallowed.

“I need to know.” Ava pressed her face towards the girl. “I need to find Krab’s altar. It’s a forge, yes? Where he made the High King’s sword and other devices.”

“Legend says it is where he forged the souls of all mortals,” whispered Carsina, “so that the other Gods could craft life freely, if they chose, the way he created Fabrilina, the Clockwork Woman, for Saphique. But it’s just a myth.”

“It’s not,” Ava pressed. “We know it lays somewhere in the Strifelands. There is a reason that imbuers—Masterwork Crafts—are found the most in Zeutch. This is where Krab spends most of his time because his great forge is here. We need to know. It’s vital, Carsina. We need your help to find it.”

“I can’t,” the girl whispered. “Not even for you.” She looked at Ava, her face twisted. “But ... But ... I can talk to my master. Excuse me.”

Carsina darted from Ava and rushed across her workroom. She barreled through the door, her boots smacking on the stones. They dwindled into the distance. I drew in a deep breath, touching the amulet between my breasts.

The phylactery.

I still couldn’t believe the Biomancer Vebrin’s dark soul lay in such a beautiful stone. It didn’t feel cursed or profaned by such evil. It felt so normal. I was so used to wearing it, I often forgot I had it. And then I would feel its weight other times, dragging at my neck. I couldn’t wait to be rid of it so Sven and I could focus on our true goal.

Killing Prince Meinard and avenging our family.

“Looks like we’ll be getting rid of this so soon,” I said, glancing at my brother.

“Yeah,” he groaned, his head leaning back, his hands clutching Nathalie’s pigtails.

Despite the blowjob the fourteen-year-old sex slave so vigorously gave my brother, he didn’t sound excited at all.

Sven Falk

Kora frowned at me. I struggled to put on a smile, my dick throbbing in Nathalie’s wonderful mouth. The orgasm the girl built in me was already fading. My balls just weren’t building up to that eruption of spunk any longer.

But I focused on her sucking mouth, my hips thrusting forward. I slammed my dick down her willing esophagus, my heavy balls smacking into her chin with a heavy thud. I groaned, my hands clenching down on her pigtails.

Kora sauntered to me, her hands squeezing the phylactery through her robes. She stopped before me, her blue eyes searching my face. She licked her lips and pressed her hand on my arm. “Is everything okay, brother mine?”

“Yes, sister dear,” I groaned, hating lying to her. Gods, she was so radiant. I gave her a roguish grin. “Just enjoying Nathalie’s sucking mouth. She’s doing wonders on my dick.”

“She is enthusiastic,” Kora said, her brow furrowing. Her hand stroked up my bare arm. “Are you sure... ? I know that you would rather kill Prince Meinard, but this is important.”