Chapter 18

"I accept the summons from my most esteemed and wise Master."

Master Kyllos shimmered into view.

Jollis hesitated perhaps a half-breath when he saw his mentor's grave face. Yet he bowed perfectly as protocol demanded. "Your humble apprentice is here to serve."

Kyllos hesitated. This was something he never did. Jollis was alert at once that something was seriously wrong.

"Wanderer," said the elder in a firm voice. "I must assume that you know nothing of what has happened. I hope this is the case, for I would prefer to take you to task for that."

Jollis hid his growing anxiety and presented only a calm demeanor. "What is it, Master? Does it concern the slaves I last sent to you?"

Jollis could see the anger in his eyes, even over the Farview. What had he done? Had he let mission stray too far despite the multiple assurances that his Master trusted him to make the right decisions? Had it been a test after all, and had he just failed?

"Yes, it concerns them. Surely you see why many of them are ... unsuitable for our purposes."

"That was at Overlord Freya's insistence, Master. I explained this to the Cohorts that facilitated the transport. I knew they would not be tenable because of their lack of experience."

"And is that all you thought? Is that the only reason for their unsuitability?"

Jollis paused. He searched his mind. "Yes, Master, that is the only reason."

Kyllos' expression softened. "Then you truly do not know what makes them different from the others besides their lack of experience?"

Jollis looked perplexed. "Is there something else?"

Kyllos let out a relieved breath. "Yes, my Wanderer, there is, and as concerned as I am that you did not know, it is nowhere near as powerful as my anger would be had you known and delivered them to me regardless."

Jollis bowed. "I humbly apologize once more for failing to remain in command of the situation. I make no excuses. Please enlighten me, so that I may make immediate reparations."

"The inexperienced slaves that were sent to us are Narlassi."

It was as if a thunderbolt had struck Jollis mute.

Kyllos nodded. "It does indeed appear that you were unaware of this."

"With ... with all due respect, my most esteemed Master," began Jollis in a halting voice. "These slaves obviously had the Draught of Forgetfulness applied to them. They cannot be Narlassi. Perhaps an error has been made ... by someone with very good intentions."

Jollis realized halfway through his words that his Master may have made this assessment. He hoped he had not insulted Kyllos too badly if that were the case.

"They are Draughted. And they are Narlassi," said Kyllos in a definitive tone.

Jollis uttered a quick sigh of frustration. "Yes, Master, of course. But I am thus confounded. The Draught can be given only during Portal-shock."

"I would suggest, then, that someone has determined a means of changing the Draught such that this is no longer a requirement."

"But, Master, that is impossible. It would require an advance that..."

Jollis trailed off. Kyllos looked at his apprentice inquisitively, but his eyes betrayed that he knew Jollis understood where he had erred.

Jollis had made the mistake of falling back on the same assumption that had already been proven wrong. He had assumed that Oceanus would make no significant technological progress while his plans were in motion. He had already miscalculated once with regard to the Mages.

But from the Overlords? They were too mired in their own political squabbles to even contemplate innovation, let alone one of which the Inonni had not conceived.

And yet, had he been thinking clearly, he would have realized the incongruity of Freya acquiring so many new slaves in so short a time. She would have had to have as many Trainers as she had new Captives, all dispatched at once and returning their charges as one. Even so, it would take a day to power the Portal, bring someone back with a Captive, and then reset it for the next world.

Jollis bowed deeply. "I am most ashamed of this failure. I beg forgiveness and a suitable punishment."

"Punishments will need to wait, my Wanderer, as I want nothing to distract you further from your task," said Kyllos. "It will be considered later, but I am sure it will still pale in comparison to all that you have accomplished to this point."

Jollis straightened. "I cannot waver or falter now, Master. I cannot afford to make mistakes."

"Enough. We will cease to discuss it. Let us return to the matter at hand and its mitigation."

Jollis nodded once. "It is obvious, Master. Overlord Freya must be stopped."

"Agreed. Do you wish an assassin?"

Jollis considered carefully. He had already made one mistake, he was not about to make another. "I fear this may not solve the entire problem. While Overlords traditionally handle their own Draughts, I do not believe Freya has the skill needed to make this sort of change."

"Who would?"

"Most likely it would be a Healer, Master."

"Is not chemistry a dying craft in Oceanus?"

"Yes. But consider that the Healer Vanlo was an accomplished chemist. Other than very basic instruction from the Guild, he must be self-taught. Thus it is possible that another has done the same and is working for Overlord Freya."

His Master nodded. "Yes, that would make sense. Do you wish to eliminate both of them?"

Jollis looked uneasy. "Master ... I do not wish to kill again. Not in this manner."

"Your reluctance does you well, Wanderer, and it is a joy to see that this task has not hardened your heart or shaken your convictions. And you dislike asking the Cohorts to do the same. That is why I offered to send you one."

"I fail to make myself clear, Master, forgive me. I wish to avoid killing. This war will make enough death. We do not need to contribute to it."

Kyllos folded his hands before him and sighed. "No one more than I wishes to avoid spilling more blood. Far more has been shed than we wished. But what to do?"

"Allow me to make contact with Freya's healer," said Jollis. "I can interrogate her and discover if she has revealed the formula to anyone else. If she has, then it will be obvious that eliminating either of them would be moot. The knowledge is already out."

"And if she has not?"

"Then I will remove her capacity and the Overlord's to inform anyone else. I will use the Healer's own formula upon them and remove their memories."

"That is risky. If another Healer were to discover that these memories are merely suppressed..."

"By then, our plans will be complete and it will not matter. We will control the dissemination of any such information."

"This assumes that our plans will be fruitful soon."

Jollis hesitated. "Were the experienced slaves as yet inadequate, Master?"

"With what we have accumulated so far, we can reach a little more than one third of of the Noble Lord houses, and much of that is in the northern lands."

"And there are signs that the Emperor is about to march in that direction."

"It will be chaos and more blood, Jollis. We cannot launch our invasion into that."

The plan had seemed deceptively simple from the start. Enough slaves to allow capture of the Noble Lord palaces, the merchants to keep war with the Imperial legions short, and a quick end to prevent interference from the navy before a new Inonni-controlled Emperor was on the throne.

To drag this out further would be to risk direct engagement with the navy. Transporting entire warships by Portal was a daunting task even for the Inonni. It was largely academic, as it had never been done. Thus time would be short once it had begun. Any lengthy campaign would quickly jeopardize their chance of success.

"I can force Freya to give up the rest of her slaves to me," suggested Jollis.

"If you can be sure to sway her with whatever arguments or threats you would utilize," said Kyllos. "If you could be assured that all her slaves would provide enough coverage. If we could then launch our invasion before the other Overlords found out what has happened to Freya."

"More variables in the equation," Jollis muttered softly. "I have no answers for you, Master. I am sorry. Perhaps another may."

Kyllos shook his head. "As I have said before, there is no other. There is only you and me. I will think on this hard, my Wanderer, but I expect you to do so as well."

"But, Master, I do not believe that any amount of thought on this will..."

"When faced with odds against, it is the fool that admits defeat at the start, while the wise man at least makes the attempt," intoned Kyllos. "Do not be the fool, Jollis. You have never been in the past. Do not start now."

Jollis' pride swelled at what he considered high praise. "I will do my best, Master."

Kyllos smiled. "You always do. Good fortune to you, Jollis." He lifted a hand. His image faded from sight.

And then, in that moment, the words that had so perplexed Jollis from their last conversation made more sense to him: the best plans come from the mind of the wise man, but it is the fool that accepts them without question.

It did refer to the Inonni plans after all, but not the goal. That was his error. He had equated the two. The goal was inviolate. But how he attained it was subject to change.

Yet what sort of change could he do this late and still succeed? That was the difficult part. And, as yet, he had no ideas.

Commander Rol stared at the large map draped over the table as the Lord General looked on. Neither men said a word. The side of the tent flapped in the cold wind. Occasionally the tent shuddered and the lamplight danced against a stronger gust.

Rol finally looked up. "There is no way the Emperor will approve of this."

Rithas nodded. "Which is why I am not going to ask his approval."

"I am not sure you can do that."

Rithas sighed, looking bored. "Once more, Commander: are you going to report me to the Emperor?"

"With all due respect, my Lord, I wish you would stop throwing that in my face each time."

"Then please cease that constant refrain about what the Emperor would or would not like. That is my responsibility, not yours."

"But, Lord General, please be reasonable..."

"Do you wish this campaign to succeed? I mean the original one, and not this debacle that the Emperor insists we do?"

Rol's face hardened. "I do, Lord General. You know that."

"Then this is the way we will do it." He swept an arm over the map. "We have three legions ready to launch an incursion according to the original plans. We commit two of those to the new plan, a thrust northward through Talrad Pass. The other legion will be held where it is, then joined by a second, and we launch the original incursion."

"My Lord, that will stretch our supplies. We planned for three legions to be engaged, not four."

"The Emperor tells me we are very close to securing a trade agreement with the Urisi for more war supplies. I plan to hold back the second thrust until I know for sure that the treaty has been signed."

"But still, my Lord, will it not take time for those supplies to..."

"I am not expecting enough resistance to seriously exhaust our supplies, Commander," said Rithas, voice edging into impatience. "Talrad Pass will bog us down a bit, but not seriously. The intent is to get that part of the campaign over with as quickly as possible to meet the Emperor's goal, and then we can concentrate all our efforts on the remaining plan."

Rol sighed and shook his head. "Very well. But you will need an extremely competent Commander for the Talrad Pass thrust. That is tricky terrain. Perhaps you should field-promote one of my underlings that served in the valley. I can recommend..."

Rithas shook his head. "I already know who I wish to command those legions."

Rol looked inquisitively at his Lord General until he realized what the answer to his unspoken question was. "My Lord, I ... but ... Lord General, I protest!"

"Are you saying you're not qualified to take on Talrad Pass?"

"Yes, I... no!"

"Then I fail to see your objection to this assignment."

When Rol spoke again, it was in measured words in a tone of forced civility. "My Lord, with all due respect, this is not fair towards me. I have been involved in the planning for the original incursion for some time, and I wish to follow it through. I beg of you to reconsider."

Rithas knew the real reason. Rol did not see the Talrad Pass thrust as glamorous as the original invasion plan. But Rithas knew that the pass could give them trouble, and where Rol had proven himself well in a similar bottleneck, he was the obvious choice.

"I am sorry, Commander, but my decision is final," said Rithas, turning away. He began to roll up the map. "Consider this an incentive to get the battle won as quickly as possible. Once you get past Talrad, you will have a clear run to the D'yoran Manor."

"This is insane, my Lord."

Rithas paused and looked at him. "Yes, isn't it?"

"My Lord, there is one more thing that concerns me. Your inclusion of the fourth legion will weaken our defenses against Duric's army. I am assuming you will not be informing the Emperor of that decision, either."

"No, and it took a great deal of platinum in order to secure that legion commander's silence."

"That was my other worry," said Rol in earnest. "The Emperor considers those legions sacrosanct, and they are utterly loyal to him. All it would take would be one word from them and..."

"I am aware of this, hence the gift of the platinum."

Rol fell silent, but it was clear he was not mollified in the slightest.

Rithas finished tying the rolled-up map with a ribbon and set it aside. He placed a hand on the Commander's shoulder. "Stop worrying about things better left to me. I am well aware of all the consequences of my actions."

"I simply do not wish to lose you as a Lord General. I doubt that the Emperor could find someone better."

Rithas smiled faintly. "I appreciate the show of support. But it is better expressed as devotion to your new assignment."

Rol gave Rithas a sour look, but clasped his hand around Rithas' arm. "Very well. Assuming that this wind does not bring rain with it, I can have the men marching by dawn the day after tomorrow."

Rithas withdrew his hand. "Good. The Emperor is continually harping on me to begin this campaign. This will placate him for the time being."

The Commander turned away and headed towards the tent entrance.

"I'm going to be counting on you, Commander," said Rithas. "Make this campaign quick and decisive."

"I intend to, Lord General," said Rol without looking back. "So I can join the real war and actually make a difference."

Rithas watched him leave, the wind briefly swirling into the tent and blowing strands of hair before his eyes.

It was not just Rol that needed to make the campaign swift. Rithas needed to the do the same, and with two-thirds the forces he had before. He hoped that Rol will be past Talrad Pass and mopping up by the time he set out.

If not, things could get interesting if Duric's forces arrived at the Imperium during the incursion. Then the Lord General would have a monumental decision to make.

Evella shivered as she stepped into the cold and misty air. The breeze wrapped her meager robe about her legs as rain spit from a leaden sky. One hand clutched a scroll to her breast.

She ducked her head and trotted towards the Overlord's quarters. When the rain fell more in earnest, she tucked the scroll under her robe, shuddering as cold air briefly touched bare skin. By the time she reached Freya's door, she was panting both from exertion and anxiety. She knocked urgently upon the door.

"Enter."

Evella stepped inside, then came to an immediate halt as the door swatted her rear as it tried to close behind her.

Two very young slaves lay in the center of the chamber upon plush cushions, entwined in mutual sexual pleasure. Their soft moans and pants had merged into a single rolling wave of lust. The wanton eagerness with which they licked at each other's moist sex was almost as shocking to Evella as their appearance. Standing nearby was an older woman that Evella recognized as one of the Overlord's Trainers.

Evella realized she should be accustomed to such displays, but these helpless, sex-addicted girls were her own handiwork. When she thought of the demure and upright young ladies they had been, she shuddered in revulsion at what she had helped them become.

"Do you like them?" came a husky voice.

Evella flinched, as if forgetting the Overlord were in the room. Freya lay upon her bed, her dress above her waist, a finger slowly teasing her womanhood. She gave Evella a sultry smile that elicited another shudder. "I decided to keep these two."

"What?" Evella said vaguely, her eyes wide.

Freya smiled. "Keep them. As in make them my personal slaves. Besides providing me with entertainment, I can use them to quell Mianna's fears if she insists on seeing some of the girls she provided me."

Evella swallowed hard. Her heart ached for the Maiden Elder. Mianna must already suspect something but was powerless to bring any direct accusation against the Overlord.

"Was there something you wished of me, or did you want to watch as well?"

"No! I mean, n-no I don't want to watch ... I-I'll come back later when you're not busy..."

Evella started to turn away.

"Stop," Freya called out firmly.

Evella's hand was on the door. She hesitated before turning around. Freya withdrew her hand from her sex but made no effort to cover herself. "You wished something of me, Evella. What is it?"

Evella gathered her courage. She finally stepped away from the door and carefully edged around the two slaves. She reached into her robe and pulled out the scroll, which she presented to Freya. As Freya hesitantly received it, Evella said, "This is the new Draught formula, Mistress. I thought you would want it, since Overlords traditionally mix such a thing."

Freya chuckled as she set the scroll aside. "Such formality and attention to protocol. I suppose I should compliment you on that. Was there anything else?"

"Yes ... Um ... Now that I've done this for you, I ... I think I would like to move on."

Freya's lips curled into an amused grin. "Hmm? Move on?"

Evella's heart thumped. "Yes. You took me on to change the Draught for you. I've done that. I-I think I would like to request another assignment from the Guild Hall. I'm just ... I'm just not suited for Manor duties."

Freya looked thoughtful, though still amused. She pulled her feet towards herself and gestured to the foot of her bed. "Evella, have a seat."

Evella's eyes widened. She wanted to refuse, but knew she could not jeopardize what little chance she had. She sat demurely on the edge of the bed.

Freya's smile widened. She gestured to her Trainer without taking her eyes from the Healer. The Trainer dutifully stepped over to her Mistress and folded her hands before her.

"You only believe yourself not suited for Manor duties, my dear Evella," Freya said. "And that is, regrettably, my fault."

Evella stared. "Your fault?"

"Yes. I have not properly rewarded you for your service to me. I have been very remiss."

"I-I don't really need any reward, Mistress, I..."

"Oh, but I think you do." Freya looked up at her Trainer. "Do the honors for our esteemed Healer."

"Yes, Mistress, I would be happy to," said the Trainer with a smile.

Evella had no idea what the Overlord intended, even as the Trainer knelt before her. It was only when the Trainer's hands attempted to gently coax her legs apart that she understood.

Evella clamped her legs shut. She tried to bolt to her feet, but Freya had already slid next to her and placed her hands heavily on the Healer's shoulders. Evella fell back into her seat, panting in fear.

"You will sit still, Evella," Freya whispered hotly into the young woman's ear. "You will not struggle or fight. You'll be a good little girl for me."

Evella whimpered and trembled.

Freya nodded to her Trainer. The woman smiled again and parted Evella's knees, meeting only token resistance. Evella let out another pitiful whimper as her robe was lifted and her sex helplessly exposed.

Evella closed her eyes. Her body jerked when she felt the first touch of the woman's tongue upon her intimate region.

Her stomach lurched. Her folds were dry and unresponsive. But the Trainer was extremely skilled. Very slowly, her body responded. Heat gathered in her loins, and each stroke of the Trainer's tongue met increasingly slick and sensitized flesh.

Evella shuddered and panted lightly, moaning in despair. Suddenly she flinched again as Freya's hand alighted on her waist. The sash on her robe was undone, and her breasts bared. The Overlord's hand cupped one of the soft orbs.

"Uhhn, n-no, please..." Evella begged in a badly quavering voice.

Freya played with Evella's breast until the nipple grew taut. She stroked the nipple and made Evella shiver.

"The slaves need someone to practice on, my dear," Freya whispered into Evella's ear. "My Healer always eagerly fills that role. Perhaps once you see the merits of it, you'll change your mind about staying."

"P-please, no, stop," Evella begged, her eyes glistening. "Please, I-I can't ... I..."

Freya drew back and called out to her slaves still lounging on the furs. Having sated one another, they nevertheless eagerly rose and approached. Freya stood. "Attend to her breasts."

A slave sat down on either side of Evella. The Healer continued to utter her desperate protests. They fell on deaf ears, and soon each had one of Evella's nipples in her mouth.