Alchimia Rex (046 & 047)

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[046] [My Fists (Urtha)]

Urtha woke in a tangled mess of green flesh and limbs. Her body vibrated with the soft hum of something flush deep under her skin. She grunted, swatting away at the others and sitting up, idly scratching at her stomach. The Orc’s eyes danced over the naked, well-honed and battle-hardened bodies of her sisters. With an itching of her tusks strode toward the sound of waves, the sky above hinting at the imminent dawn.

Dragging her feet, the maiden grabbed a fistful of sand and rubbed it against her skin to get rid off the mud, sweat, and blood. It left a tingling sensation under her flesh, one that made her want to move her fingers away from her arms and closer to her core. Urtha grit her teeth and pressed on, finishing her cleansing and wadded into the chilly water until it reached her hips.

She splashed her face and upper torso until the coldness had taken away the hunger within her. With a growl, she cupped some of it, took a long gulp, and with one quick glance to the deeper blackness of the sea, she suppressed the shudder and hurried back to harder soil. She stomped twice once on firmer dirt, enjoying the feel against her toes, glancing up at the sky and the coming of the morning rays.

Facing the east, she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Willing her power to seep through the soles of her feet and then pulled at it. Bit by bit she pushed her energy as far as she could before drawing it until there was none. With every inhale she would spread her energy, every exhale would draw it back in. And with the first touch of warm sunlight, Urtha’s tusks rose higher, arms spreading wide to invite the warmth to chase away the chill of the shade and the water and the doubt.

Her body relaxed, her shoulders eased, and her whole body thrummed as it stirred into full wakefulness.

Satisfied, she turned to the heap of maidens that were her sisters and began kicking at them. “Wake up you lot!” She merrily declared. A couple rougher kicks sent them careening through the dirt, only those who’d seen it coming avoided the worst of it. “It’s a good day today!”

“You can’t replace a man’s touch with fighting!” The words were accompanied by a wave of chuckles and affirmations.

“That’s because you’re not going hard enough!” Urtha’s laugh was tight as she joined in the mirth. “Today we’ll be-”

A shriek shattered the calm.

Without hesitation, Urtha broke into a sprint, followed by her sisters in arms. Her feet hammered against the dirt as she sought the source. The farmers pointed at the healer’s hut, the tiny wooden structure surrounded by knee-height stones to ward off any from getting too close by accident.

The Orc leader pulled the door out of its flimsy hinges and rushed inside, fists ready and energy surging through every fiber of her being.

The sight before her took a moment to fully comprehend. Spikes was on the ground, lashing out with a tiny blade against a mass of vines that were as thick as hair, but that were so many they appeared more like a cloud that refused to pull away from the pink-haired healer. Each of these tendrils were wildly flailing in the air, those that had found purchase on the maiden’s body digging their tips into her flesh, drawing droplets of blood.

“HELP!” The maiden shrieked, cutting away at the tendrils, but unable remove them from her person.

Urtha reached out with her large hand and grasped at the thickest part of the conglomeration. And then yanked. The healer screamed, but didn’t miss a beat as she pulled the parts that hadn’t been taken away, pulling at those that had attempted to burrow under her skin.

With one look at the writhing mass of tiny vines, the Orc frowned as the thing was now trying to poke through her skin, but failing to find any purchase. She squeezed until she felt something deep within the mass ‘crunch’. The thing stopped moving entirely there and then, going entirely limp. “What is this?” She glanced around the dank room, nose curling at the smell of rot. There was a corpse on the table, its stomach open and blood splattered all over. “It came from the corpse?”

“Open your hand, open it!” Spikes was on her feet and glaring at the thing that now hung limp from Urtha’s fist. She hovered over the wide palm and watched the thing as it withered and flaked like a plant that’d been thrown into a fire. “Nononononono! Why did you kill it!?”

“What?” Urtha shoved the healer away with her other hand. “I saved you.”

“But this was the only sample we had!” Spikes’ shrill voice was grating to listen to, the maiden trying to get closer. “Shit!”

The Orc raised her fist out of the maiden’s reach. “What’s so important about this thing?”

“This is the cause!” She flailed, fighting to get a better look at the bits of dried up plant, ignoring the bleeding spots that littered her arms and legs. “No, no!” The maiden pulled up a piece of parchment and, with careful strokes, brushed the content off of Urtha’s hand and on to it. “Shit, shit, shit!”

“This what made the ferals go weird?”

“Yes!” She said, then twitched, then frowned. “Probably. It’s very likely, almost assuredly, but we don’t know enough, and-”

Hearing her hesitate and speak so weakly was grating, it was one particular aspect the healer had yet to learn from the tribe. Urtha just pushed on. “So we won’t risk our male’s health?”

“Just because it seemingly isn’t contagious doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous!”

Urtha frowned at the flaking plant-thing, pondering.

It was true that ferals driven to madness was something to be wary of, but the plant hadn’t been able to even scratch her. Whatever means the thing had of working, it only worked on weaker maidens like Spikes. And they’d defeated a horde of weaklings with just a fraction of the tribe’s might.

“It’s not something worth panicking over, we can deal with things as they come,” she said, nodding. “And since it’s not this ‘virus’ thing, the tribe can be whole again?”

“What? Yes, it’s not a virus, but-”

“Good.” She turned to leave, ignoring Spikes as she tried to babble on about things that Urtha couldn’t really do anything about.

The warm sun greeted her outside of the cabin, the Orc found herself surrounded by the others. Everyone had been ready for a fight, but now were vibrating with anticipation of good news.

“You lot should mind your business!” Urtha barked out, earning mock glares.

“Well!?” Bula insisted.

“Spikes nearly got beaten by a plant.” She waggled her brows and smirk. “But you lot better get some of the good rags on and look pretty, we’re clear!”

“YEAH!” The roar spread amongst the gathered maidens, her sisters roaring and turning to sprint away, each heading out to get cleaned up.

Like any Orc, Urtha didn’t enjoy covering herself up for two reasons. The first being that it was a needlessly annoying layer between herself and sunlight. The second that just about everything they got their hands on would rip and tear with the smallest of strains. Still she trotted to the bundle she’d prepared for exactly this occasion.

“If you don’t get any, I could lend you my hubby!” Bula laughed.

The chuckling turned into a yelp as Urtha punted the Orc towards the shore. “Better clean your tusks!” The Spear of the tribe declared as she crouched over the ball of furs she’d gotten her sisters inside the city to throw over the wall.

It contained her best boar-fur cape, a gift from the late chieftess when she’d bested the champion of the Red-Fur tribe. It had unified the steppe tribes under their banner… for a year. Just one measly year, and then the Vampire… Urtha’s hands shook as she frowned at the cape, shaking away the memory and pulling on the piece. The upper halves of two boar skulls adorned her shoulders, the maiden carefully slipping the string over the button with her thick fingers.

Next came the tusk-rings, gold and silver, won from another from the tribe when she’d bested five Orcs and a Goblin at the same time. Urtha squeezed them slightly into place so that they wouldn’t fall off if she moved her head too much. Looking down at herself, she donned the plant-leather straps to cover her chest, and the rabbit-fur loin-cloth. The soft white pelt tickling against her thighs and leaving her with a grin at things to come.

The Father would be knocked off his boots with this!

“You’re forgetting your hair again, little bean.” Sheel patted her arm, looking up at her with a smirk as she put a bristle brush on her hands.

Her lip curled, her hair was always too hard for her own liking. It felt like trying to get dirt off of a rock. “Fine.” She brought it up, to use the bristles to remove whatever muck there might be in the little nooks in her braid. “The Father should’ve given me something less bothersome to clean.”

“Mhm.” With barely a nod of acknowledgement, the Hobgoblin handed her a damp cloth. “Rub this on.”

A quick sniff confirmed it was oil, Urtha’s nose wrinkled, but she didn’t comment, following the older maiden’s guidance. “Would rather see the Father wearing only this,” she commented with a low chuckle, licking her lips.

Sheel slapped her arm, glowing red hands leaving a fiery sting that singed. “If you let your tits do the thinking, you’re going to fuck it up.”

“Easy for you to say.” Urtha rubbed at the minor burn, giving the matron-to-be a small slap of her own. “You got that man-meat of yours to fondle you as much as you want.”

Sheel glared, slapping again, hard and hot enough for Urtha to flinch even as her burnt skin grew back, leaving behind not a sign of the wound. “The Chieftess will have your head if you’re not careful. Remember the plan.”

Grunting in affirmation, the Orc kept still, allowing the oiling to continue. “Take it slow, I know.”

“I’ve talked to Spikes.” Sheel nodded solemnly. “Just be patient, talk about things, make him laugh, maybe tell him he’s got a great ass. The Chieftess will help you with the rest once she’s back.”

“No one’s heard anything?”

“Too much of a wind-kisser.”

“More like a shadow lurker.” The Orc shuddered, dropping the rag and using her arms to dry the oil off.

“Best of luck.”

“I don’t need luck.” Urtha laughed with a tough grin.

What she needed was a miracle. The maiden walked to the city.

The wall blocked out the morning sun, the frail stone buildings not being of much use either. She stepped into cool mud, the air stale and thick with the rancid smells of shit and desperation, with only the stiff sea breeze helping ease the assault to her senses. The Orc scowled, wondering why anyone would ever build tall stone huts that were this close together. Why block out sunlight and wind?

But it was a necessary inconvenience for those who were weaker. The thought felt bitter in her mouth. As strong and mighty as the tribe was, the kingdom and the Vampires would one day come looking for war. Urtha caressed the scar on her right biceps, a recent reminder of how much larger the world was, how much more powerful others could be. The Succubus had been the one to put it there.

Her steps took her to the only sunny spot in the tiny city, the place where the fortress had been. Now it was a pile of stones that’d been neatly stacked at one side of the plaza, leaving empty cobblestone to occupy the rest. Apparently the blood-sucker had been the one to knock it down, though Urtha found that hard to believe.

It was where all the other Orcs of the tribe were. Those who’d remained within the city walls as well as those that had rushed ahead in search for their husbands. They greeted Urtha with half-hearted growls, the Goblins being the only ones showing enthusiasm about anything, running around, chasing one another, or trying to pester the Orcs into some fight.

The larger maidens were just sitting there, basking in the morning sun, a few were playing games of chance, the rest mostly chatting and sharing the events that had transpired while the tribe had been split.

“Where are the men?” Urtha intoned.

“In a meet, with the Father.” one spoke up, lazily gesturing further into the city.

She scoffed. “This early?”

“They’ve been at it all night, apparently.”

“Men talk too much.” Another correctly called out.

Bula glanced over, the Orc’s shoulders slumped as she scratched her tusk nervously. “Maybe you can help make things move quicker?”

That sounded like a boring prospect, but after so many days split from the men, she was sure her sisters were practically ready to charge in. “Sure.” She’d been away from things for too long, she had responsibilities to fulfill.

The meet was taking place in a house that was too big to be one. The ugly thing looked like a tiny mountain. It had large glass windows with steep walls. Urtha could mildly sense the energy pulsing from it, there was power in the place, the cold stone under her feet didn’t allow for her power to course through, blocking her from the earth as much as it blocked out sunlight from going inside.

This was supposedly the house of the previous human in charge, whoever else had lived there was no longer around. Urtha nodded absently at the thought of the Father opting to live anywhere else. The ceilings were too low, and the corridors too narrow, likely because the walls were so thick.

Why were the humans meeting here of all places?

Following the directions provided by the others, she found her way through the place, stopping only to stare at the cloth that covered the walls. Everywhere she looked there were battles depicted on silk tapestries. The angles were off and the fights portrayed there were nonsensical. Humans wielding spears and swords defeating maidens, forcing them to kneel, to put them in chains and have them bow their heads to the ground.

It made her hackles rise and her skin crawl. She couldn’t even fathom how expensive such a thing would’ve been, perhaps to arm the entire village? Just looking at it made her want to gag.

Urtha’s fingers caressed her throat, devoid of the bond-collar, one of the things she’d come to enjoy from having formed a bond with the Father.

“I almost didn’t see you there.” The Succubus spoke with a cool gaze, snapping shut a heavy book that’d been on her lap. “So it’s not a virus?”

“The healer said as much.” Urtha nodded, glancing at the door the maiden sat next to. “Is the Father inside?”

“And the other humans too. They demanded none else can go in until they’re done.” The maiden’s eyes coursed over the Orc’s body with an appreciative nod. “Cute.”

The Orc scowled, standing taller as she approached the door. “I’ve come to meet the Father.”

“It’s humans only.” The Succubus insisted, leaning further to block her path, the maiden’s claws were out, the smile thin, and her posture prepared.

“As Spear of the tribe, I came to talk to my husband, the Father of the tribe.” Urtha’s voice remained even, her thick brows flat. Hands on her hips, she leaned down, and meeting the golden gaze with a scowl. “Under tribal law, you have no place to stop me, charmer.”

There was a moment of silence as the blue-haired maiden smoothed her posture, lips curling into an icy grin. “I guess you’re right, Spear,” she said, mocking a bow and moving aside. “As a lowly ‘charmer’, I don’t have the authority. You should make that clear to the Father. Go ahead.”

With a slight frown, Urtha fumbled a moment with the small handle on the door before getting it to open. Ducking under the frame, she stepped into a cramped corridor that had not been built for maidens her size. The Orc grimaced as she had to twist herself slightly, keeping her shoulders from touching the walls while her head remained low to avoid bumping into the ceiling.

She picked up on the chattering sound of men trying to speak over one another.

Urtha cursed under her breath and slid across the thick rug that was far too soft. Her elbows brushed against the stone walls, knocking over objects that’d been hanging from the walls or laying atop useless pieces of furniture.

“ENOUGH!” The Father’s voice rung like the crack of thunder, it sent a shiver through Urtha that made her skin tingle.

The Orc grinned as she slowed down, resting on her ankles as she paid closer attention, a trickle of curiosity urging her to stay still.

“This is going nowhere.” He repeated, more slowly this time. “If you want me to break the tie, I will.”

The proclamation brought disgruntled sounds of approval and bitterness from the other males, Urtha had to lean nearer to the edge of the corridor just to make anything out of the useless muttering.

“I think this subject is important to be presented to the whole tribe. Thus I vote yes.” His proclamation rang with bone squeezing authority. “It will be brought in the next tribal meeting.”

Instantly, the hall was drowned with sound again, cheers mixed with screams and accusations. Furniture was dragged around, and it was clear violence just might happen. Not wanting to wait any further, the Orc shuffled forward the remaining distance and opened the door, stepping into the room and stretching out to her full height.

Instantly, everyone went deathly quiet.

Every male present froze on the spot, pale faces all around. Urtha locked on the figure opposite to her own, the Father stood on a table, muddy boots staining the overly waxed useless furniture. They were practically eye-level.

The white shirt clung to his torso with glistening sweat, his neckline low enough to reveal the scars barely hidden underneath. His throat and chin had a stubble, unshaven for at least a few days and hiding the slight tan he’d earned just recently.

There were no bags under his eyes, his complexion betraying barely irritation more than exhaustion. Her throat was dry as she met his gaze, black piercing eyes and slick hair combed back by messy fingers. Urtha felt unable to look away as she took a step closer, catching a whiff of perspiration in the air that had something about it that made her body tingle.

Another step, and her gaze flickered down, back to his scars. Her tongue licked the inner edge of her lips, remembering how he’d earned them, survived through them. The human who’d fought a blood-sucker into a standstill. The glow-stones in the room cast flickering edges of light over them, accentuating every mark.

Letting out a soft growl, she stepped closer, thrusting her shoulders back and chest out, her core sucking up the heat that was radiating out of him as he stood over the other humans in the room.

“Why is she here!?” one man abruptly turned to look at her male, trembling hand pointed at the Orc.

“Why shouldn’t I be here?” Urtha challenged. “I am the Spear of the tribe, and the Father is my husband as much as he is the Chieftess’.” She savored the word, imagining her fingers gripping the neckline of the white cloth wrapping the Father’s chest and tearing it off in a single move.

Fuck.

“Urtha.” He spoke her name, and it was like she was trapped back during the ceremony, staring into her soul as he cupped her cheeks.

The man let out a startled noise as she bumped against the table he’d been standing on, moving the whole useless piece of wood enough he nearly fell over. The Orc flinched, stepping away, finally broken from the spell and trying to calm the thundering sound trapped inside her chest.

“She’s right,” the Father said quickly, breaking the silence. “This might be a human meet, but my role as Father of the tribe means that if I come here, then so do the Spear and the Chieftess. It’s why me taking part in these votes should only be under special circumstances.” His gaze was hard, a warning hanging in his lips that cowed the others to look away. “Unless anyone else has anything to say, let’s conclude things here. It’s been a long night.”

The other men were all too happy to leave the room, with the merchant taking a moment longer to give the Father some papers once the man had hopped off of the table. Urtha’s eyes lingered on the tightness of his pants around the human’s calves as he stretched, waiting for the sound of the shutting door to try and say something.

What came out was a slight choking voice she twisted into a cough to pretend she’d been clearing her throat. “What was the vote about?” She lamely asked, unable to find anything else to bring up.

He glanced her way for a second as he tucked the papers into an envelope, using his free hand to pull away some loose hair that had fallen against his forehead. The gesture was slow, his eyes distant.

Urtha wished it were her fingers combing his hair back instead.

“It’s about a concept called divorce.” His voice was tentative, turning to look up at her as if he were trying to read her thoughts. “Some of the men were seeking to merge tribal law with the law of the kingdom.”

She wasn’t quite paying attention, something about laws, his tone had a little of that derisive annoyed edge. “They’re stupid.” Her brain catching up after half a second. She lifted her arms and squeezed, flexing her muscles. “I’ve crushed many from the kingdom, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” She added a small chuckle.

He didn’t laugh, and Urtha faltered the moment he’d turned to look out the window. What was going on!? Had the Succubus done something to her!? She froze with a nervous smile when he turned to look at her again.

“I am trying to remove slavery entirely, but it’s not easy. I could just erase the thing, claim freedom for all, but it’d do nothing if the people don’t accept it.” He grimaced. “And I definitely can’t do it on one side without doing the same on the other.”

“The other?” She perked up.

“Humans.”

The word, the tone, the way he went back to watching her closely, it set off an alarm inside her. The Orc frowned ever so slightly. “Humans… are free.”

“In the kingdom, sure.” The Father nodded tentatively. “And in the tribe?”

“Humans only remain slaves until they marry.” She shook her head. “After that, they are free.” She stated more firmly now, trying to not focus on the way the dark orbs made her feel like her skin had become as thin as a leaf. “They can refuse to bond with any slave they don’t like.”

“But they can’t decline their wife.”

Urtha growled. “It’s not slavery,” she said. “They are free to pledge their oath, and if they don’t want to, we keep them protected anyway.” If they were slaves, he’d be pinned against the wall and not talking about this nonsense!

The Father didn’t move, meeting her gaze squarely, the black eyes that sent delicious shivers down her spine. The annoyance wasn’t helping either, suddenly Urtha wanted him back on the table, looking down at him made her loincloth itch against her thighs.

“I didn’t intend to mean they were slaves in the same way maidens are.” He spoke slowly, enunciating every word and nodding along, his voice low and making all the wrong things happen inside her. “But there are men who’re unhappy with their situation, and wish to change it.”

Was he one of those men?

“Then tell me who!” The thought gave her something to grasp, something hot and powerful to grip tight and rally against. Her hands flailed to point at the window, gesturing at the sun-kissed stone outside. “Show me who among my sisters broke their oaths and I will carry out the law of the tribe and shatter their limbs and leave them to the ferals!” She’d done everything right, everything properly, it couldn’t be her. “Show me the proof and I’ll punish them myself!”

The man’s expression darkened, and it only made things worse. “The choice between marriage and slavery is no choice at all. How many of them were taken from their homes, shoved into a relationship they wanted no part of?”

Her mouth felt hot as she spoke. “It’s only natural that the strongest get to protect the ones they want to protect.” She snarled. “What other option is there? Let them die while bonded to weaklings? Or to have all the fighters married to just one person?”

The words struck him, the Father looked away, lips curled, pained as he lowered his gaze to the floor.

Urtha stepped closer, pressing on. “If a man hates their wife so much, then they can just keep their beds cold, like you do.” As soon as she heard herself, seeing the wide-eyed shock and anger in his eyes as he turned towards her, Urtha flinched. “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that.”

He took half a step away, and she took a full step closer, yanking the table from between them with a sound of breaking wood.

“STOP!”

The cry came from the Father’s shadow; the Fledgling emerging with raised hands, interposing herself between Urtha and the human with uselessly small claws and fangs, hissing angrily like some half-domesticated pet.

Urtha’s gaze shifted from the meaningless gesture to the table she’d just shoved out of the way. It’d been broken beyond repair, having smashed against the stone wall hard enough to become splinters.

The maiden looked down at her hand, holding back the grimace, imagining what she might have done had it been the human within her immediate reach instead. Her gaze flickered to the door.

“Don’t run away,” he said with a soft voice.

She hesitated, glancing at him, then at the door. The man raised both his hands and lowered his shoulders slightly, adding a demure smile. Just looking at him twisted her stomach into a knot.

“I am a warrior.” Urtha stated with a growl, not stepping closer, ignoring the tense, pale blood-sucker. “I fight for the tribe, to protect the tribe, and to protect our men. To protect you.” Her hand shoved the Fledgling aside, finger pointed at Rick, though nowhere close enough to actually touch. “If you want equal rights, then the punishment for oath breaking should be equal too. And none of us, not one soul amongst my sisters, would be cowardly enough to kill a human.”

His eyes widened, stepping back and going pale.

Her heart in an icy grip, Urtha couldn’t stand it.

She walked out.

[047] [Fire]

“It would be the most reasonable approach.”

The sky was a sea of angry white and gray cotton. Only here and there would a beam of light dare peek through and make it down to the city. Rick’s lips curled at the thought, he’d seen towns larger than Sinco. His finger caressed the perfectly smooth surface, feeling the telltale tingling of elemental power under his skin. The window was enchanted like everything else in this place. He wasn’t entirely sure what every little thing did, but he was fairly sure the glass had been made to distort the light so that it hid how thick the walls were.

If Eva’s estimation of costs were anything to go by, the window alone could be traded in for enough gold to buy every meal Sinco needed in a day.

But he could try to sell every window and every enchanted item in this dump and the food problem wouldn’t be solved for even an hour. Because concepts like “trade” worked differently in this world

A city could only afford what was immediately within the city’s reach. When the roads were put to use again, anything coming from any neighboring city would be through an extreme “road risk” premium.

In the back of his head, he could only begrudgingly acknowledge the late Baron of Astunes. A tiny village far more cut off than Sinco, and they’d set-up a functioning hospital and radio tower. Rick’s lips curled from the bile left in his tongue at the thought. The noble had tried to take Monica from him, and died for his efforts, but he’d still spent what could have only been a fortune to push the place into something resembling a more modern outlook than many other places in the kingdom.

“You stand beyond your station. You do not have what it takes to survive a single misstep.”

Thorley’s words rung inside Rick’s head like some sort of accursed chant. Even the monsters here knew how to handle the politics and economics of this world better than he ever would.

They’d been literally trained for it since they could walk.

But there was something else that gnawed at him, something he’d been trying to ignore but couldn’t. Urtha’s bond pinched at him, the Orc was somewhere outside, and he could sense she was thinking of him. Intentionally or otherwise, she was shoving herself through the bond and at him with an undercurrent of regret, frustration, and pent up desire.

It was like a drop of water that would splash against the back of his neck every other second. He was sure she wanted to forget what had happened yesterday as much as he did.

Even without the subject matter about “marriage”, which wasn’t exactly the most comfortable topic to talk about, the truth of the matter was that she’d rattled him.

“And none of us, not one soul amongst my sisters, would be cowardly enough to kill a human.”

Her words had sent him back to that moment. The stool, heavy in his hand, dripping with blood.

The lifeless eyes of Thorley, the man staring up at him in one final moment of horror.

Rick had been willing to execute humans in the tribe who’d posed a threat to him. The lord had been a threat, and his death had served to cement his authority over the city.

But her words cut deep all the same.

“My dear husband, what do you think?”

Kiara’s voice came with a prickling sensation that rushed up his spine in a teasing passionate caress. Her powers withdrew as soon as he jolted away from the glass, the man turning to look at the two occupants in the room.

The Succubus hid her scorn with a simple gesture of her head towards their “important guest”.

It took Rick’s mind a moment to catch up with the current situation, another for him to bring himself to care.

Ariana Donohuei was a human woman approaching her thirties that had put up a lot of effort to look like David Bowie in the early 2000’s. Short straw-like blond hair, a rather flat jaw, and makeup that highlighted age rather than seek to erase it. Her clothes matched the fashion trend other female nobles had used, a frilly blue shirt and vest, and tight black leather pants that stressed her broad thighs and-

Rick frowned, cutting off the slow sweet ooze of lust that Kiara was shoving his way in some clear attempt to keep him grounded. The Succubus looked at the human woman like she was little more than a treat just waiting to be undressed and gobbled up.

And as far as Rick was concerned, the woman was an annoyance he had to put up with. She alone led the loggers of the city, though if rumor was to be believed, it would be more accurate to claim she was the one responsible for the entire operation to begin with. Any medium-sized company Rick had ever known of could dwarf the totality of her “power”. But in this world of tiny cities with a population of “low thousands” being impressive numbers, she might as well have been a miniature Rockefeller.

The sole question of the current meeting being to determine whether she’d be a useful annoyance, or one they’d have to sideline and toss out.

“Doubling their production with only a handful of Orcs for aid would be quite appropriate,” Kiara said with a demure smile to catch him back up to the conversation, taking a sip from her glass of wine.

Rick didn’t laugh the question out of hand, they couldn’t spare warriors. To say nothing that the tribe was in a rather delicate situation right now. “How cold is winter in Sinco, miss Donohuei?”

The woman stirred in her seat, a friendly smile cracking ever so slightly. “It can get quite frigid, my Lord. There’s a Frostcaller nest in the eastern mountains, and their blizzards have made winter intense for over a generation.”

He nodded along, it was still somewhat appalling to consider maidens could just up and alter the weather on a whim in such potentially catastrophic ways. Was the kingdom ignoring their nest because it was cheaper to leave alone, or because it would just be a fruitless endeavor? It was convenient they had their own weather-altering maidens on hand, but there were only a dozen Neigix in Sinco, meaning a blizzard would not be something they could shake off no matter how hard they tried.

And that firewood would be literally life-saving once the temperatures dropped.

“When was the last time you’ve had an expedition into the woods?”

“A little before… the events involving the previous Lord.” She smiled thinly, taking a sip from her glass, the teasing edge to her lips becoming warmer.

Rick suspected Kiara was doing something, but wasn’t about to comment. “Why not just grow the timber near the city?”

She curled a brow at this question. “Plants that have been pushed to grow are equally rapid to unmake themselves. Something produced in a week will probably rot away within the following month. Chopping it down will only make it happen faster.”

Was that why Rick hadn’t seen a single grain silo? Was the process of growing the food through a maiden’s powers that made it somehow much harder to preserve? Was it the elemental energy or something else?

Just thinking about food supply was giving him a headache. He didn’t want to consider how Dia’s monster-plant discovery might influence such things; the healer had yet to leave the Lord’s library in her mad search for clues.

He scratched his stubble in thought. “What of the super-trees?”

“I… am not sure what you mean, my Lord.”

“I happened to be in the deeper forest at one time, south of Astunes,” he said, shifting closer to the seats only to avoid distracting himself with the window. “I saw trees thicker and taller than any building in Sinco.” Bigger than every skyscraper he’d seen too. “They couldn’t exist without elemental energy involved somehow. Do you know about them?”

The glass was emptied in a single swing. “The fact that you’ve seen the Elven grove and live is impressive, my Lord.”

Kiara perked up slightly. “Could you elaborate?”

“It’s an old tale of the first Elf Queen.” She shook her head. “The ancient trees of the deeper forest are older than the existence of maidens, it’s a place where very dangerous ferals live. We avoid those parts.”

Seeing how it was the general area where he’d met Monica, Rick could only nod absently at the wisdom of her claim.

“What other myths are there regarding Queen Isadora?” There was a glint in her eye as she asked, leaning forward on her seat.

“I hadn’t known that was her name.” Ariana smiled. “We have some tales, but really the place is called the Elven grove because any Elf whose bond’s broken will feel a tug towards the deeper parts of the forest.”

The Succubus bit her lip for a second, but pushed the conversation onward. “Any ever come back?”

This time the woman laughed. “Who’d be insane enough to seek a sleeping Elf?” She shook her head lightly. “Even if anyone could awaken them, the place’s chock-full of the worst ferals out there.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Any Elf that’s gone there is feral food by now.”

Rick cocked his head, as far as he knew, Elves were unique in their feral state. Where someone like Monica going feral would turn her into an intelligent and highly dangerous animal, Elves however, fall into a deep slumber. At least that’s what Dia had told him. “But why are they drawn to the woods?”

“Tree-huggers always get pulled to the deepest part of whatever forest is nearby.” Kiara answered quickly, keeping her smile at ease. “If you know any lullabies or child rhymes about the Elf Queen Isadora, I’d be very interested to learn them.”

“Maybe we could talk about it over some tea tomorrow? It’s been so long since I’ve heard any of them, I would need to refresh my memory.” The woman replied, cutting off the conversation topic.

Rick sat down, trying to figure out how much of this farce was actually necessary and how much of it just to placate one of the power-brokers of the city. The farms didn’t have much need for wood, and currently they had all the metal they might want, for both the militia and the farmland. Having protections made out of wood was useless in the face of ferals compared to using stone, and yet… there was another thought that lingered. “Have any of your maidens stumbled onto the source of the smell that blows this way from time to time? The sulfur.”

Ariana nodded. “Are you seeking to reach the green pools?”

“Yes,” he said, grinning a little as he took his cup and sipped. “We do need a guide for the forest, in general.”

Not just for the pools, but also because there might be someone out there looking to attack the city. But overall Rick had little reason to chase after them, the prospect alone would likely be impossible considering the sheer size of the forest, and how little maiden-power they could spare for such a task. As things stood, the better option was to get a hold of a stable supply of sulfur.

As soon as Rollo had some workable prototype for air compression, he’d be able to set-up shop and start work on creating an industrialized ammonia production. With that in his pocket, he could readily give a gigantic middle-finger to anyone that came knocking.

“I think it would be possible to coordinate something.” He gave her a thin smile, keeping his tone polite.

Next to him, Kiara stiffened, eyes widening for a fraction of a second as the disguised maiden reached out to grip his knee and squeeze. “Perhaps best to speak further tomorrow? I’ve just remembered there was some important business we need to attend to.”

The shift in mood caught the others off guard, but Ariana reacts smoothly, moving the conversation towards the pleasantries mixed in with goodbyes and vague meaningless words. Rick’s focus was more on the tight grip the Succubus had on his leg, hard enough it made him grimace inwardly. The bond frothed with something that felt like borderline panic even as the disguised maiden kept speaking with an impossibly pleasant and calm voice.

The fake pleasantries were quick, and Kiara practically shut the door with a loud slam the instant the human had stepped out of the room, not bothering to take her towards the entrance.

With a flick of her hand the blue-haired maiden locked the door and spun to face him. “Someone’s broken through the protections.” Her tone was dead serious, face contorted into a glare that was aimed at something only she could see.

Eva emerged from Rick’s shadow. “That’s impossible, an alarm should go off if that were the case.”

“Maybe it’s breaking down?”

“I checked the matrix myself, it’s a Darkton work, it should have at least another year before that happened.” The Fledgling shook her head. “What did you detect?”

“Hey.” Rick spoke up, trying to make sense of the situation. “Could you-?”

“Advanced scrying of some sort. Their focus on us was gone in a split second, probably trying to confirm they could look into the mansion.” The Succubus muttered, tracing her finger against the door in what was clearly a pattern, though for what, he wasn’t sure.

“Hey!”

Eva was looking over the window, hands trailing the frame. “Maybe you imagined it?”

Kiara glared. “If I were that sloppy, I’d be dead. Someone made it through the protections. Do the enchantments have a key of some sort?”

“Maybe? It’s not like-”

“COULD SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON!?” He shouted, eyeing them sternly.

“We need to find the problem before we can explain it to you.” The Succubus frowned.

It was like a hot coal had just been dropped into his stomach, jaw clenching as he glared, fists tightening at his sides. “Try me.”

Kiara hesitated, having taken half a step back, gaze darting from his face to his hands, and then back.

“We’re under attack,” the Fledgling said, strained.

The Succubus rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t go THAT far, more like a potential-”

There was a screeching sound, a black veil falling down the window and ending with a heavy THUNK that plunged the room into darkness. Everyone froze, hearing the same sound repeated a dozen times over, all around them, the noise made from every shutter in the household slamming down.

Rick guessed the soft click that followed was the sound of the protections locking into place.

“Something’s tripped the alarms.” Eva’s red eyes glowed in the dark, the maiden summoning a tiny sphere of light on her hand. “We’re under attack.”

“From what!?”

As if to answer his words, there was a shriek that pierced through the closed door.

“I guess from whatever just killed our guest.” Kiara clicked her tongue in annoyance.

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