Chapter 3

His footsteps echoed through the audience chamber, the fringes of his flowing cloak of dark purple swirling at his feet. His eyes, already set hard and narrow, squinted slightly at the slashes of sunlight from the skylights high overhead. Despite the brightness of the day and the copious natural light, little could dispel the sepulchral atmosphere of the chamber, or dampen the serious tone etched into the older gentleman's face.

His bejeweled fingers clasped behind his back, the gentleman avoided the throne that rose up on the round dais at the center of the room and instead headed towards the large, gilded doors. It was best to meet someone of this standing as a peer, he reasoned, as much as he loathed those of his guest's ilk now.

The two guards on either side of the door came to rigid attention as their master stopped before them. His eyes narrowed further as they looked towards the door, his slightly hooked nose giving him the appearance of a hawk patiently observing its prey.

Responding to the silent signal, the guards moved as one, converging on the door and opening it.

After a moment's pause, a second man entered from the outside hall. Younger than the other, but no less commanding of bearing, the dour-faced man stepped boldly into the room and stood before his sovereign. Bearing was the only similarity between them. The visitor was thick of body and face, whereas his host was thin, almost gaunt; the visitor had a full head of hair, only faint wisps of gray that showed up in strong light, his host was largely bald, save for some patches around the ears.

The visitor nodded his head once, almost in a perfunctory manner. "My Emperor," he said simply.

"Overlord," said the other in a tone that would have made that one word an epithet if it were any less neutral. Emperor Fenric Z'haas of Oceanus made a gesture towards the guards with a snap of his hand. "Leave."

The guards bowed deeply and exited, pulling the door shut behind them with a soft clang.

Overlord Gronnus D'yoran glanced towards the doors for a moment before turning his intense gaze towards the Emperor. "I have responded to your summons, Z'haas," said the Overlord, making it quite clear from his tone what he had thought of the action.

The Emperor was not at all affected by the Overlord's veiled insult, which was evident in the clipped nature of his voice. "Spare me any of your bluster today, Gronnus. I have no need of it."

Z'haas turned away from Gronnus and began a slow stroll around the periphery of the chamber. The Overlord kept pace beside him. "And you should have known I would call you to the palace. If I had thought you stupid, Overlord, I would never have colluded with you in the first place."

Gronnus allowed himself a smarmy smile, something no one less than an Overlord could safely do in the presence of the Emperor. "You know of the Conclave then."

"Of course I do. Unless you play me for the fool now."

"Never crossed my mind. Yet it has been only a quarter-moon."

"I have my sources." Z'haas jerked his head towards the Overlord, lips becoming a thin line. "More reliable than some I know."

Gronnus bristled. "Despite our association, Z'haas, I had no intention of relaying every little detail of every Overlord business that is conducted. Or do you now wish me providing tallies on slave transactions as well?"

The Emperor stopped and whirled around to face the Overlord. Any remaining politeness in his manner or tone evaporated. "Your association with me, Overlord, is already unprecedented. Did you not think this meant I expected you to inform of me of major developments such as this?"

Gronnus paused. What Z'haas had said was indeed true. Overlords tended to stay out of Imperial politics. So long the Emperor did nothing detrimental to either their slave trade, or the general stability of the nation, they were content to let the Emperor govern as he saw fit.

Yet when that situation changed, the Overlords were quite adept at "adapting" things to suit them better. Staging a coup, often completely bloodless, was a very common means to this end. Where the bulk of an Overlord's customers were nobility and lesser royalty, it made arranging for such a thing, often by proxy, almost ridiculously easy.

"Z'haas, you speak as if this Conclave actual means anything!" Gronnus declared, laughing.

Z'haas' face became granite. "Do not be so flippant about it."

"For the love of the gods, look who is calling it! Roquan, of all people! Do you seriously think anyone will listen to him?"

"He already has two allies."

Gronnus snorted. "What, you mean Rennis D'glounaas? His clan is barely much older than the Ronstaq clan."

The Emperor took a deep breath and let it go, forcing himself to retain a veneer of calm. Dealing with Overlords was extremely frustrating, even with one that had -- supposedly -- thrown his weight behind the sovereign. Clan prestige was important in Narlassi culture, but the Overlords took it to a ridiculous extreme in Z'haas' view.

"I am given to understand, Gronnus, that Roquan's slaves are considered the best in Oceanus," Z'haas commented mildly, a small smile playing at his lips.

Gronnus D'yoran's face darkened. "Two generations, Z'haas!" he thundered. "Only two! Him and his father before him! Before that, the Ronstaqs were nothing. Rennis is only five. Whereas the Yorans go back almost as far as the founding of Oceanus itself!"

The Emperor's smile widened. His statement had had the desired effect. Perhaps the Overlord would be a little more tractable now. "And do you want this mere two-generationer to acquire any more prestige?"

"What prestige? He has none, I tell you!"

"Then why does he have Doran 'serpent-tongue' D'jorus on his side?!"

The last few syllables of the Emperor's angry shout echoed eerily through the chamber before silence fell in its wake. The stunned look on the Overlord's face told the Emperor that this was news to him. Good. Maybe a shock is what the insufferable man needed to prod him out of his complacently.

"Why should that mean anything to me?" Gronnus finally said, though the conviction in his voice was weak.

The Emperor stepped up to the Overlord. His eyes flashed anger and no small amount of worry as well. "I do not want a coalition forming around Roquan's banner."

"His banner? Come now, Z'haas, you make it sound as if you seriously think Roquan wishes to stage a palace coup!"

"If that is not obvious to you by now, then you really are a fool."

"Now, see here, Z'haas! Do you seriously think he will call for such a thing over a trade agreement?"

Z'haas allowed himself a smug smile as he sensed the Overlords growing discomfort. "Are you afraid he'll discover you were behind it?"

Gronnus' face grew red. "You seem to forget that it was you that wanted the trade agreement broken, and you made me convince the other Overlords that we wanted it!"

"You did not have a very hard time convincing them, I recall."

"We needed something to put Roquan in his place."

"Yes," the Emperor said carefully. "And it did not work. An Overlord who has been 'put in his place' does not summon the others to a Conclave."

"And why should this matter? We are no more likely to agree to 'influence' you into restoring the agreement..."

"It is beyond a mere trade agreement, Gronnus! You are so much in the dark over this that it is obvious that Doran is purposely avoiding you knowing about this Conclave until he has rallied enough Overlords to Roquan's side! You do not know what the true basis of the Conclave is!"

The Overlord stared at the Emperor with a mixture of indignation and anxious curiosity.

Z'haas stiffened, and he took a deep breath and let it go through his nose. "Roquan accuses the Imperium of sending an agent disguised as a slave into his midst. Both to disrupt his slave trade and the alliance between himself and Rennis."

Gronnus' eyes almost literally bugged out of his head. "Are you serious? That's... that's preposterous! Isn't it?"

The Emperor said nothing.

The Overlord's eyes widened. "Blazing hellfire."

"Roquan is becoming to great a threat. You have no idea how dangerous it would be for him to acquire any more power or influence."

"You... you actually sent... you actually trained your own slave?!" Gronnus sputtered. "You... how could you have even dared to think you could tread on the same ground that..."

"Enough!" Emperor Z'haas bellowed.

Gronnus was startled into silence.

"I have no time for your sanctimonious blather! There is no law that states that slavery is only the purview of the Overlords! I am the Emperor. I will do what is necessary to preserve the realm. I do not care who considers it 'unorthodox'. The fact that I, the Emperor, do it makes it orthodox. It is about time you and the other Overlords realize that."

Gronnus was too stunned to reply.

"I will repeat: no coalition is to form around Roquan's banner."

Gronnus' eyes widened. "And you wish me to stop it?"

"Is that not perfectly clear to you by now, Overlord?" This time, when the Emperor spoke the title, it was definitely as an epithet.

"And you consider someone the likes of Roquan to be such a threat that you would go to these lengths?"

"Yes, and that should be good enough for you."

"Well, it's not! You are asking me to tread on centuries of Overlord tradition! Yes, Z'haas, there is indeed no written law. Yet that is meaningless to an Overlord. Traditions are as good as law with us. Even more so. Laws can be bent; laws can be circumvented. Traditions cannot. They will not. Asking an Overlord to accept an Emperor that trains his own slaves is like asking them to accept another Overlord training a Captive who has not received the Draught of Forgetfulness! It is simply not done!"

Emperor Z'haas fixed his hard gaze on Gronnus. "Then do what you must to discredit his story. Make him out to be a liar. Make deals with the other Overlords. Keep pushing the idea that you and the other Overlords have 'influence' over me. Tell them this is a veiled attempt to restore the trade agreement with Colos."

Gronnus gave the Emperor an even look. "Really, Z'haas, do you think that perhaps this is going a bit far to achieve your aims?"

Z'haas raised an eyebrow.

"Why not simply concede the point? All of Roquan's bluster started when he lost his precious Far West trade route. Make him content and he will cease to be a thorn in your side."

The Emperor bristled at the idea of kowtowing to an Overlord in such a manner, despite the fact that both he and Gronnus knew this is what Emperors in the past have done. There was a tacit acknowledgment that the Oceanus Emperor remained on the throne at the good graces of the Overlords.

What Gronnus did not know, and what Z'haas now had to contemplate informing him, was that matters of late had become such that abiding by the old ways would surely lead to the ruin of Oceanus. For the first time in his reign of nearly two decades, Z'haas was frightened. It was one thing to be deposed from power; quite another to be deposed and leave no nation to hand over to a successor.

"The agreement cannot be restored," Z'haas stated flatly.

"But it would be the perfect cover," Gronnus persisted. "It would maintain your false image of appearing weak before them."

"I have already recalled our ambassador to Colos, and closed their embassy here. Relations with that nation have been terminated."

The Overlord looked taken aback. "What?! But that is done only if you fear there is to be war!"

The Emperor remained silent for a long moment. "It may come to that yet."

"You cannot be serious! Colos barely has a standing army! They have no ports into our ocean! How can they possibly be a threat to Oceanus?"

Now Z'haas hesitated. He did not trust the Overlord enough with the entirety of the intelligence he had received. To reveal the possibility of the great weapon that was being developed beyond the lands of Colos would be to make him appear utterly mad before the Overlords and virtually assure his downfall.

And while he normally refused to entertain the thought, the Emperor did realize he could be wrong. The information he received could have been distorted. It could have been an exaggeration. Yet there was the fact that in the past two centuries, there had been no serious warfare across the face of Narlass. As a result, war-related technology had stagnated. It was only a matter of time before someone rectified that mistake.

His enemy was not Colos, but it was along the likely path of an invasion, as his intelligence had told him that the threat was from the Far West.

"Roquan will not have his trade agreement," Z'haas said. "He must not be allowed contact with Colos. The danger is too great. You must trust me on this."

Gronnus' face darkened. "You do not seriously think Roquan is in league with an enemy of Oceanus?"

"I don't know. I cannot take the chance. Thus, I will say it one last time: no coalition is to form around Roquan. Keep his allies few and weak. Do whatever you can to disrupt it."

The Overlord paused and then heaved a great sigh. "You are asking a great deal from me, Z'haas. Perhaps it would have been better for you to allow me to think Roquan was lying about your machinations against him."

"It was better to be honest rather than have you swayed by his evidence and move against me."

"And his evidence is that sound? That is not good, Z'haas."

"Then perhaps I can give you something to leverage against him."

Gronnus looked at the Emperor with unveiled curiosity and eagerness.

The Emperor gave the Overlord a wry smile. "Roquan has a new Trainee. A girl named Amanda. She is being trained to be a slave, yet she was never given the Draught."

Gronnus looked taken aback. "Never given... ! Is he mad?!"

"Perhaps so, Gronnus. And perhaps, then, he is mad enough to collude with a potential enemy of Oceanus."

The Overlord considered this for a moment. "There is no way I can get Roquan to admit he never gave the girl the Draught. He is very good at keeping secrets, and the loyalty of his slaves to him is unswerving."

"Oh, come now, Gronnus. You should be able to get the other Overlords to see she has not had the Draught."

Gronnus gave the Emperor a carefully schooled blank look.

"You see, my dear Overlord, I know your dirty little secret. About the Draught."

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Yes, you do. I can see it in your eyes. You may think the Overlords have kept it such a closely guarded secret all this time, but no secret is forever."

The Overlord said nothing.

"The Draught does just a little more than just wipe the past. There's a reason you have slaves engage in sex so intensely during the first season of their training. Does not the Draught help the slave to... ?"

"We do not speak openly of that!" Gronnus spat.

"I am not an Overlord. I am under no such restriction. It is quite possible I just might let what I know slip to the right people in Uris. Then their Slavemasters would no longer need your slaves would they, when they can train them just as well on their own."

Gronnus' eyes burned. "You would not do that."

"Oh, would I not? Do not spar with me on that point when so much is at stake. You will lose every time."

"And you have a lot to lose yourself, Z'haas!" Gronnus thundered. "With the great prestige we bring Oceanus!"

The Emperor viewed the Overlord with disdain. "I can bring more than enough prestige for the realm if I wish it."

Gronnus fell into a seething silence.

"Do what I wish of you, Overlord. Do what you must to keep Roquan in his place."

"And if I fail? What then?"

"Then... I will have to seek alternate and more... permanent... means."

The day after Amanda had been collared, she had wondered exactly what it was she was expected to become; a little over a week later, she was still wondering.

Amanda had yet to be taught anything, save for some very basics about obedience and submissiveness, and this occupied only a short time in the mornings back at Sirinna's quarters. Much of the rest of the day was spent at the Circle, the circular grassy clearing at the center of the Manor where the slaves gathered for the midday meal and for slave training exercises.

It was late morning. Amanda felt her body grow excessively warm as the tropical sun rose towards its zenith, despite the fact that she was well within the shade of the large trees that grew along the edge of the Circle. Very soon, however, her need for sexual release grew to such excruciating levels that she no longer noticed the heat.

Amanda panted hard, barely able to form coherent thought, let alone the words she might wish to use to beg for relief. Her body quivered, or what little of it was not held down did. She lay sprawled on her back, her wrists pinned down above her head by Sirinna. Two more slaves held fast her legs, forcing them to remain spread apart. Between her legs, Marisa's skilled tongue licked at her swollen womanhood.

Much to Amanda's chagrin, Marisa had involved herself in Amanda's training from that first day after her deflowering. Sirinna never solicited Marisa's services, but every time Marisa offered her help, Sirinna accepted it.

Amanda gasped as threw her head back, eyes closed tightly as she felt herself beginning to rise the final distance, her pussy straining hard. Yet as with the last three times, Marisa relented, sliding her tongue down and probing Amanda's tunnel instead.

"Uhhh!... oh God..." Amanda moaned. Her voice was breathless and weak, and she struggled briefly against the ones that restrained her.

"Easy, easy," Sirinna said gently. "Don't fight it. Just enjoy it."

Marisa flicked her tongue once against Amanda's womanhood. Amanda's hips jerked as she spiked but did not crest. Marisa paused, then did it again, and again. Amanda whimpered. "P-please..."

Sirinna corrected her immediately. "No begging for relief. Just let it happen at its own pace."

Amanda bit her lip. It felt like torture to be held at the edge constantly.

She didn't understand the purpose of all this constant sexual activity. Sirinna's explanations had been vague at best. All she knew is that it grew more and more intense as each day passed. She never thought her fourteen-year-old body could be driven to this many orgasms in a single day. By the time evening came, her pussy always felt achy, though this was slowly getting better each time.

Yet it meant she was hardly in the mood for intimacy with Sirinna when it was "their time" in the evenings. Amanda knew Sirinna was disappointed with this, despite her attempt to hide it.

Amanda could not hold herself back anymore. It was too much for her. "Oh God, mistress, please... please, let me cum... let... uhhh... uhhhn... !"

Halfway through Amanda's plea, Marisa began to deliver deep, incessant strokes against Amanda's womanhood. She soared up and over what little distance she had to go, her cunt now spasming hard in orgasm. So intense was her climax at the start that Amanda's throat locked up, her teeth clenching and her hips threatening to buck.

When she could give voice to her feelings again, she uttered loud, strident cries as her pussy pulsed and throbbed. Marisa played the tip of her tongue over Amanda's now hyper-sensitized clitoris, drawing out the girl's pleasure until her mind reeled. By the time it was over, Amanda was weak and helpless, her legs falling limply to the grass when the other slaves released her.

Amanda was vaguely aware of Sirinna releasing her wrists, but she was in no condition to move. Her eyes remained closed, her chest rising and falling quickly as she caught her breath. Like before, her orgasm left her with a powerful, lingering ache in her cunt. She knew if she moved too soon, her still sensitized pussy would throb weakly again.