Chapter 49: Lampetia

Thurn city life has returned to some degree of normality by the end of the second week of the new regime’s rule. A tally of the war’s casualties is still a long way from being finalised, but it is already clear that it will take years for the Thurnian population to recover from the loss of people and infrastructure. Nobody is attempting to calculate the number of Thurnian elves who have died, although there is some evidence that the vast majority managed to flee south or into fortified ghettos like the cloisters.

At least there appears to be broad support among both Thurnians and elves for the union with Atene, particularly as the combined territory will be called Thurn. Perhaps some people believe that Thurn city should remain the centre of Thurn’s power. However, with the Dioxippe Potiora located in Atene, it makes sense for Atene to be the home for the government.

Bea comes into heat at the start of our third week together. That fortunately coincides with an easing of our joint workload, so we have a few hours a day to satisfy our carnal lust. Bea still enjoys her limbs being restrained while we have sex. It’s an unusual fetish since most Elf Maidens have no difficulty in reaching an orgasm by simply fucking in one of the more conventional ways. Bea needs the additional stimulus of bound limbs to arouse her, but once that’s achieved, her orgasms are a delight to observe. Her passage is still tight but well lubricated. Consequently my cock moves back and forth inside her with relative ease.

“Next time, will you fuck my arse?” asks Bea when I’ve finished emptying my balls inside her.

“Are you sure you want me to do that?” I ask, surprised by Bea’s request.

Although Cassandra and I occasionally have anal sex, I’ve never come across an elf who likes to be fucked up her arse. There’s no biological reason preventing it, other than the tightness of her sphincter.

“Yes, please,” replies Bea. “When we were trapped in the cloisters, DF19 had all the younger Elf Maidens push wooden plugs into our arses to widen our sphincters. She said that if the Thurnian soldiers broke into the cloisters we could give the children time to escape if we let the soldiers fuck us. But there weren’t enough of us, so she had us prepare to let two soldiers fuck us front and back at the same time.”

I’m horrified at the thought of the Elf Maidens trapped in the cloisters being subjected to such treatment by Thurnian men. Unfortunately, war seems to bring out the worst in men.

“Did the soldiers ever break into the cloisters and subject you to such treatment?” I ask.

“They overran our outer defences several times, but we were able to counter-attack and drive them off. A few of us were briefly captured and badly treated. Fortunately we weren’t in heat at the time so sex wasn’t involved.”

The more I get to know Bea, the more I realise that she is unique among the Thurnian elves in many ways. Underneath her obvious submissiveness is a hidden strength that surfaces in times of need. It isn’t just her unusual sexual preferences that make Bea different. Her whole attitude and behaviour are more closely aligned to a Thurnian woman like Cassandra than an elf. I’m unsure where she would have acquired such traits since she is biologically an Elf Maiden in every sense of the term.

We resume our duties an hour or so later than usual. Today we intend to inspect the restoration of some of the outer areas of the city which were damaged during the early stages of the civil war. Our tour brings us near to the strange monolith that stands on a low hill to the west of the city. On impulse, I take Bea to the monolith for a closer look. I recall an earlier time when Cassandra and I had spent days studying the faded engravings on the stone. The presence of the monolith has always been a mystery, as it pre-dates Thurnian settlement of this area by hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Thanks to what I’ve learned from the Atene and Merope Potiora, I now accept that this is a relic from the ancient civilisation that once inhabited our world.

“Those markings are like those on the walls of the Atene Hall of Ancestors,” says Bea.

I’m surprised by Bea’s observation since she only spent a short time in Atene, and I was unaware she had visited the Halls of Ancestors. When Cassandra and I first studied this monolith, we had no knowledge of Atene or the treasure chest of knowledge it holds. Now that I look closely at the faded marks, I realise I can interpret some of them.

“What do they say?” asks Bea, when it becomes obvious that I understand some of the markings.

“I’m not sure,” I reply. “This symbol indicates construction of a Potiora. But this one suggests it was abandoned before it was finished.”

Suddenly I remember something I learned months ago, which I dismissed as unimportant at the time. There were seven Potiora commissioned, but only five were ever completed. Could this mean that one of the unfinished Potiora is nearby? The historian in me finds the idea fascinating, but I can’t think of a good reason to search further.

“Didn’t you say that the Potiora can send messages to each other?” muses Bea. “What if this unfinished Potiora is able to talk with the Atene Potiora?”

Bea’s question gives me the motivation to devote an hour or so of our precious time to studying the immediate area. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack, as we have no idea what this incomplete Potiora will look like. Clearly a metal tower like the ones that form part of the Dioxippe and Merope Potiora isn’t anywhere nearby. The low scrubby trees and grassland can’t hide anything as large as a Potiora tower. An entrance to an underground building seems more probable, but nearly impossible to find.

“What about the other marks on the monolith?” asks Bea. “Do they give any clues about the Potiora’s location?”

“No. Although they seem to explain why the Potiora was abandoned. Water ... lots of it ... seems to have encroached on the site.”

“The sea or underground water?” queries Bea.

“Umm ... I think the symbol means the sea, but I can’t be sure. If Cassandra was here she’d probably know.”

“When I was growing up in the elven crèche we heard stories about the ‘old times’ and how rising seas swamped the land, destroying large parts of the old civilisation,” says Bea.

Yet again I marvel at Bea’s intelligence and knowledge. Like all Thurnians, I was brought up to believe that elves were nothing more than semi-intelligent animals, fit only to be beasts of burden ... or fuck toys. My attitude towards elves has changed dramatically since my first meeting with Defina35 and Defina36, but some of my old prejudices clearly linger. I’ve never studied the early education of elven children, although that’s partly because elves keep their crèches off limits to Thurnian men.

“Then the Potiora could be underwater, near the coast,” I say, slightly disappointed at this possibility.

“Or on one of the small islands nearby,” says Bea. “When I and the others were expelled from the city, the ship we were on sailed close to several islands. I thought I saw a strange tower on one of them as we sailed past.”