Chapter 8

Minister Orvon

The large blue-iron gates swung open forebodingly as Orvon strode through with his trusty steed. He patted the beast gently as he dismounted and handed her reins to an attendant.

“This way, your lordship.” The attendant gestured.

Orvon followed the journeyman mage down a path through a thick patch of woods. Soon, the trees opened up to reveal a large clearing in which stood a single tower. Smaller spires stood around the tower, topped with large magic runestones which hummed with power.

The tower wasn’t particularly large, and barely looked big enough to house a single mage, let alone a whole guild. But Orvon knew that the inside of the tower, powered by magic, was large enough to fit an entire army.

“I must ask you now to leave any magical artifacts or items with me outside, my lord.” The attendant said as he bowed. “The auras inside may alter the properties of any magic you bring inside.”

Orvon nodded. “I didn’t bring any.” He said. It wasn’t his first time visiting the mages.

The attendant led Orvon inside the tower, and the stone door grated shut behind them. The interior of the guild looked exactly like what one would expect the inside of a mages’ guild to look like. Men and women dressed in simple but elegant robes roamed about the libraries, perusing over scrolls and scribbling away with large feather pens. There were very few windows, but somehow the entire place was filled with strong natural light. The light was source-less, but appeared to come from every angle, since no one inside the tower casted any shadows.

The mage led Orvon up a long set of winding stairs, and they stopped outside the door of a study.

“Ooooh yes, archmage... “ They heard a voice inside moan.

“Ahh ... You slutty little minx...” A second, male voice also floated through the door, along with the sharp sound of a slap, followed by the female’s moan.

The attendant mage looked sheepishly at the minister, slightly embarrassed. “Ahem...” The mage cleared his throat, and knocked softly on the door. “Archmage Istrum ... Minister Orvon is here to see you.”

The voices inside fell silent, and a few seconds later, the male voice said. “Please, come in.“

The attendant mage held open the door for Orvon as he stepped through, and a blonde female mage brushed past Orvon. “Excuse me, my lord.” She murmured, red faced, as she adjusted her robes and hair.

“Ah, my lord.” Said the archmage behind the large desk in the room. “Welcome to our guild.” He stood up to bow slightly to the minister.

“Archmage Istrum, was it?” Orvon asked. “Where is the Guildmaster Zoneus?” He raised an eyebrow at a wet spot on the desk.

“Ah...” The archmage leant back in his chair, unabashed. “The guildmaster is unavailable at the moment.”

“I specifically requested to meet the guildmaster.”

“It’s simply not possible at the moment, I’m afraid.” The archmage said. “The guildmaster is performing a ritual that has taken him days, and will continue to occupy him for a week or so. He personally authorized me to make any and all decisions for the guild during his absence, however.” He added. “Please sit down, minister Orvon.”

Orvon sat in the large chair opposite the archmage, and said. “I assume you know of the Candran threat on the borders?” He knew that the Mages’ Guild was very effective with its own ways of gathering information.

The archmage nodded, and sipped at the tea on his table. “Oh,” He said hurriedly when he realized that the minister was without refreshment. “Karissa!” He called, and the blonde mage came in, still not looking Orvon in the eye.

“Yes, archmage?” The blonde said meekly, looking fine in her tight robes. Those robes don’t look to be standard issue... Orvon thought, slightly amused.

“Fetch some tea for the minister, my dear.”

“Yes, sir.” The blonde complied demurely, and soon brought a steaming cup of tea for Orvon.

“Thank you.” Orvon said, and the blonde blushed as she quickly shuffled out of the room.

“Looks like my little Karissa has taken a liking to you, minister.” The archmage winked, and Orvon realized that the whole thing had been a show planned for him ahead of time.

“I’m only here for business, archmage.” Orvon replied. “I must ask the Guild for assistance in defending the kingdom against the Candran army should they invade.”

Istrum sipped his tea with a great show of leisure. “Are the weapons we’ve already provided you with not enough?”

Orvon shook his head slowly. “Not against the military might of Candra. And they’re eager to prove themselves. Ever since their unsuccessful campaign against the Mandorans half a century earlier which shattered their imperialistic dreams, they’ve been itching for a fight.”

“Well...” Istrum said slowly. “What’s in it for the guild?”

Orvon raised an eyebrow. “Its survival, for one.”

“Ah ... Excuse me for saying so, minister. But the well-being of the guild does not necessarily depend upon the survival of this kingdom.” The archmage said with a wry expression on his face. “If I’m not mistaken, minister, you are one of the very few people who know about the true source of magic.”

Orvon nodded slowly and narrowed his eyes. “I do not know the true nature of the source of your magic, but I do know that the stones that you mine are not inherently magical.”

The archmage smiled and leant forward. “So ... Minister. If, gods forbid,” He said with an exaggerated expression. “The Candrans do take over this kingdom. What’s to prevent the guild from making decisions that would best benefit us?”

Orvon frowned. It was true that the guilds owed no allegiance to any particular kingdom, but to so blatantly suggest betraying the kingdom in which they reside...

Ah well ... You expected this. He told himself. “You know full well that the status quo your guild maintains with this kingdom will not be the same should the Candrans take over.”

“Well-” The archmage began to say.

“Please.” Orvon interrupted. “I won’t mince words. We both know that your guild is only able to keep its independence because we’re a small kingdom. Is it not why you guys chose to set down your roots here? After all, runestones are just worthless rocks that you can mine from any old quarry.” He sipped his tea. “The Candrans will not be nearly as tolerant of another powerful entity within their ‘empire’. They will force you to reveal the true nature of your source of magic, and bend your guild to their will.”

The archmage opened and closed his mouth a few times. He’d hoped to at least gain some concessions from the minister.

“Ah well...” Istrum chuckled. “I see your reputation is not just for show, my lord.” He cleared his throat. “Very well ... The guild will provide you with whatever assistance you need.”

“Thank you.” Orvon nodded. “On the subject of the Candrans, what are your assessments of their magical capabilities?”

Istrum shrugged. “The runestones we sold them are only capable of small enchantments and boosts. They can be used to bolster armor, give sword swings more power, make them sharper, and give spears more penetrating power ... That sort of thing.”

Orvon nodded and stood up, getting ready to leave. “Thank you for your information, and your cooperation, archmage.”

Istrum stood as well to show Orvon out. “Be careful, minister.” He said. “Our magic is not the only kind of power out there. The sort we use comes from our great god Salk. He was not a particularly caring god, from what we can gather out of the historical texts ... But the magic he left behind is quite intuitive and malleable by us mortals.” He hesitated, and added. “The Candran priests have been making great progress in harnessing the power of their own god. From what we know, their powers are still unstable, but quite strong. Candra was a god of war, after all.”

You could’ve told me that earlier... Orvon thought to himself. “Thanks.” He said dryly. “I must be on my way now. Thank you for the tea.” He said, and left the guild in a hurry.

Prince Jacob

Jacob lounged on his bed as Ada licked his cock, cleaning it of juices from his previous bout of lovemaking with his queen-to-be, Eliana.

“Oooh ... Yesss, you little whore.” Jacob heard Eliana hiss next to him, as she held the other twin, Ava’s head between her legs. The countess had been insatiable that day, having just finalized her divorce with her husband.

The countess lay on the bed, propped up by a stack of cushions, as Ava noisily lapped at her cunt, sucking out the cum that Jacob had just deposited in the spectacularly beautiful Eliana. Jacob stared, admiring the perfect body of the countess. Every inch of her was flawless, her body looked like it was chiseled out of marble by the gods themselves. He watched as Eliana moaned and caressed her own breasts, her sweat rolling down the cleavage between the two luscious mounds. He traced his gaze downward, and appreciated the countess’ flat stomach, with just the hint of solid muscles beneath its skin.

“Mmmm...” Ada moaned. “You’re getting harder already, Jacob?”

The prince glanced back at Ada, surprised himself that he was already rock hard and ready to go.

He heard a giggle beside him as Eliana said. “Why don’t you fuck her in the ass ... My prince. I like to watch...”

Jacob grinned, and obliged the countess by flipping Ada around, and squashing her face down into the sheets.

“Great idea, my dear.” He said as he plunged his long, hard cock into the loyal slave’s puckered hole.

“Uhhhhhh!” Ada made muffled grunts into the sheets as she took the full length of her master’s cock.

Jacob began to saw in and out of Ada’s asshole. He’d never tire of fucking the twins. They knew, through years of experience, just how he liked it when he fucked them. Ava squeezed her ass around Jacob’s cock, and he loved the tightness of her lusty hole.

As he started to fuck Ada in earnest, he looked to his side and watched as the countess, with her breasts heaving, enjoyed the ministrations of Ava’s tongue lapping against her cunt.

“Oooohhh yes...” Eliana moaned. “That feels so fucking good.”

The erotic scene aroused Jacob further, as he began to pound Ada so hard that the bed began to shake, and the slave could only gasp and whimper in response, her eyes rolling back from the combination of pleasure and pain.

“Mmmm ... That looks incredible...” Eliana said beside him in a voice dripping with lust.

Jacob pulled his cock out fully to enjoy the sight of Ada’s gaping asshole, which quivered at the sudden emptiness.

“Ugggh ... Master, please put it back in...” Ada mewled.

Jacob grinned and spit inside her open hole, and obliged her by shoving his cock back in, straight to the hilt.

“OHHH YESSSS!” The slave screamed into the sheets, and Jacob could tell by the quivering of her legs that she had just came.

“Cumming without my permission, slut?” Jacob scolded her as he started to pound her again. “You know what the punishment for that is, right?”

“P-Please, master.“ Ada moaned. “H-Have mercy.”

Jacob grinned, for he knew that Ada wasn’t really afraid of the “punishment”, especially not when she called him “master”, which she only did when she was aroused.

“Ugh...” Jacob groaned. “You little whore. You definitely need to be punished.” He said haltingly, and couldn’t take it anymore. He quickly pulled out of her ass and flipped her around, and released great ropes of cum onto the slave’s face and chest.

“You’ll go to the market and do your shopping,” Jacob panted. “Wearing nothing but my seed upon your face.”

The slave’s face turned pink under the thick ropes of the prince’s cum. “Yes master...” It was not the first time she’d been tasked to walk around nude with cum on her face.

Jacob glanced at Eliana, who caught his eye and blushed, remembering how the prince had made her expose herself in the same way.

There was a knock on the door. “Come in.” Jacob called. The door opened, and a serving slave came in, blushing at the lewd scene of the room.

“Your highness.” The slave said. “Lord Gerion and Lord Serat are requesting an audience.”

“Show them to the audience chamber.” Jacob ordered.

Jacob sat in a large chair as he listened to the lords’ complaints. Gerion and Serat were two of the more important lords in his service, and whenever they came to Jacob, it meant that they represented the rest of the lords of their unofficial “coalition”.

“Your highness.” Gerion began. “Orvon is drafting all our soldiers to join General Kalman at the eastern border. We are beginning to worry that we shall not have enough men to counter Prince Ravon ... Should the need arise.”

Jacob, still in his robes, sipped wine from a goblet, and asked. “Orvon took all of Ravon’s men, as well, did he not?”

“Yes, your highness.” It was Serat who spoke this time. “But there are still many lords who support the first prince. Not to mention that no one really knows just how many men the queen can conjure up.”

Jacob chuckled. “Do not fret, my lords.” He said with a smirk on his face. “I am not without a plan. You will soon see that Orvon’s orders will prove to be a great boon to us.” Jacob drained the cup of wine, and smacked his lips.

“Uh ... Very well, your highness.” The lords replied hesitantly, still not sharing the prince’s confidence. However, they’d long known not to question Jacob’s cunning.

“Now, a gesture of my thanks.” Jacob snapped his fingers, and a nude Ava walked into the chamber, smiling. “For your continued loyalty.” He smiled and left the chamber, leaving the pair of lords agape with unconcealed lust as Ava knelt before the two of them.

Alarin

Alarin, General Kalman’s chief strategist looked over the large map set in front of him on the table. He and several officers of the army stood around the table inside the command tent, wearing their fur coats. The thick tent flaps, even tied down, could not keep out the biting cold of the Kaskarian winter. The candles in their sconces flickered with each howl of the wind, and the corners of the map flapped frantically against the weights which held them down.

Alarin had just received a message the day before, in which Minister Orvon ordered the troops to continue their campaign without the general’s return. He frowned as he perused the map. Alarin had expected to crush the barbarians before the winter’s arrival, but it appears the Barbarians had prior knowledge that this year’s winter would come early, and had been on constant retreat for the past month to minimize their losses.

“Sir, the problem isn’t the morale.” One of the officers spoke. “We are winning victory after victory, and pushing back the barbarians further and further.” He continued. “However, the deeper we go into barbarian territory, the thinner our supply lines get stretched. And if the Candran threat is serious, Orvon will undoubtedly choose to supply the eastern front over our little campaign.”

“Yes, I agree.” Another officer piped up. “It would be more prudent to not push the barbarians any further, and focus on securing the border.”

“Nonsense.” Said another. “We have the barbarians against the ropes. In another week or so they will have no place to run to, and will have to face us in battle. Besides, the border is too long to secure properly, and was it not the purpose of this campaign to crush the Kaskarians, to stop their raiding once and for all?”

Alarin bit his lip. He hated letting down the general, who had been his greatest mentor. But the better course was certainly to turn back and secure the border, while keeping an eye on the barbarians’ movements. He’d also started to become wary of the barbarians’ retreat, seeing as how they’d never shied away from open battle, even when they were at a disadvantage.

“We turn back.” Said Alarin, and the sighs of relief from most of the officers in the tent made him frown. These bastards are just glad they won’t freeze their dicks off while they fuck their slaves. He thought bitterly. For indeed most of them were sons of nobles who had been sent by their families to join an “easy” campaign, and had been fairly useless during its course.

“Sir Brenvin, Sir Evrin and Sir Ponta, you will stay with half of your men to serve as scouting parties to inform us of the barbarians’ movements.” He ordered sternly to the three men whose expressions of relief had been the most obvious, and the speed with which their smiles disappeared gave Alarin a modicum of satisfaction.

“Uh ... Yes sir...” The three knights responded despondently.

I’d have to mix some of my own men with theirs. Thought Alarin. He wasn’t stupid enough to fully entrust such an important job to these pompous oafs.

“Sir ... If I may,” A thin, reedy voice floated from the back. “Shall I start carting the slaves we’ve captured back to the capital?” It was the slavemaster, Fethon.

Alarin turned his nose slightly at the odious man. The man had a thoroughly distasteful, carrion-like aura around him, and brought with him a miasma of a mixture of sweat and rot wherever he went. He was the Slavers’ Guild’s man, responsible for the keeping and transportation of all captured slaves during the campaign. Alarin shuddered, remembering the baleful look the man had given him with his beady eyes when Alarin had commanded him to stop some of his more extreme practices for disciplining the slaves.

“Very well.” Alarin said with a frown, this time not begrudging his fellow officers of their sigh of relief when the loathsome Fethon bowed and left the tent.

“Well, gentlemen.” Alarin said with a clear voice. “You have your orders.”

The officers each nodded in turn and left the tent. Gusts of frigid wind rushed inside as they opened the tent flap, and Alarin shivered.

Yeah ... Not the best conditions for my first time in charge... He thought as he walked outside, the cold already making his face ache before he could reach his personal tent.

Inside, he found his slave lying under a mound of thick furs. The girl was a guild slave, and her eyes lit up with mindless obedience when he entered.