Triumph Chapter 2

I want to get back into blogging again, so for starters I'm going to catch the blog up on Triumph.  Then I am going to post a few stories that I've read recently that I think you'll enjoy.

****

“First they kill my son, and now they have my daughter?  This is intolerable!  What are you doing?  How was she allowed to be captured!”  Jeanette raved at the assembled lords as they met to discuss the latest news from the front.  It was getting harder and harder to deal with Jeanette, especially with Grotok away from the city; the King had a way of dealing with her that no one else did.

“…you know how she is, always wanting to be in front…”

At least she is dressed today, Drauken thought.  Jeanette was nearing 60, and could no longer wear the adventurous and alluring costumes of her youth.  Today she was dressed in a high-necked dress of black velvet.  Whether it was in mourning for Sir Agmar, who Jeanette had recently admitted to the Court was her son, or whether she was finally realizing that she was well past her prime didn’t matter, he was just glad to see her fully dressed.

“…quite brave, you know she doesn’t shirk from danger…”

She’s still attractive, in a matronly way, he reflected, when she’s fully dressed at least.  Drauken shifted his attention away from the Queen to the man at her side.  Dorian was the head of the Queen’s Shadows, and her chief bodyguard.  After Grotok, he was the only one who Jeanette would listen to, but he rarely bothered to speak at these meetings.  The spymaster was more interested in listening to what everyone else was saying than in guiding the Queen himself.  What he says when he’s alone with her is something else entirely, though.

“Well Drauken, what do you think?”  Jeanette asked him pointedly.  “You are here representing the Council of Guilds, aren’t you?”

“Give me a moment to consult my notes, Your Highness.” 

“The arms and armor figures, Master Drauken.”  Melora whispered to him.

Drauken smiled at his Elfish assistant.  Melora was pretty, with long hair that shined with the gold of her people.  She had a fine figure, with a bust larger than most elfs which gave her wonderful curves.  Melora had been an incredible asset to him these past few months.  Thank you he mouthed before turning back to Jeanette.  “All our forges are burning night and day.  The next shipment of spear and arrowheads will be ready to depart by the end of the week.  Chain shirts will be ready the week after.  However, there is still the matter of payment.”

Jeanette scowled.  “There’s a war on, in case you haven’t realized.  Tell the Smiths that they’ll be paid in due time.”

“It’s not that simple, Your Highness.  With trade from Thesta and Sandora cut off, the Guilds are running low on gold.  Business from the Crown is all that’s keeping them afloat, but without gold they can’t pay their workers.”  Drauken explained patiently.  Jeanette knew all that, of course, but he needed to say it in a way that wouldn’t set her off.

The Queen gave an exasperated sigh and turned to her son Vilknar, who served as Royal Treasurer.  “Do we have enough gold on hand to pay those damn coin counters their due?”

Vilknar responded quickly and confidently.  “Most of our coin has already been spent purchasing food for the army, Your Highness.  The rest is needed to pay the soldiers in the field.  Short of melting down some of the treasures in the vault, we won’t have enough coin to pay the Smiths until new taxes are collected next year.”

“There you see, merchant?  No coin until next year.  Tell them they’ll just have to be patient.”

He didn’t need to look to Melora for information on Vilknar.  The young orc was one of the most talked about persons in court, though ironically not for any scandal, but because he was the one son of Jeanette’s who wasn’t rumored to be sleeping with her.  “I’m sure it would be a crime to melt down such treasures.”  He paused a moment.  “Nonetheless, the Smiths can’t sustain themselves only the love they bear for Your Highness.”

“I’m sure you have some solution in mind, Master Drauken, and are not merely listing problems.”  Vilknar cut in, hoping to cut off an explosion from the Queen.

“If we canvass all the members of all the Guilds, we might be able to produce enough coin to cover the wages of the Smiths.  The Council of Guilds can be persuaded to extend the Crown a line of credit.  But it would leave us hard pressed, Your Highness.  In order to stay solvent, the Council would need a land grant for certain mines you seized from the old Duchy of Swetford, some,” he glanced at the parchment Melora slid over, “forty-two years passed.”

“Usury!”  Jeanette snarled, her face mottling in rage.

“Not quite, Your Highness, Usury would-”

“A land grant would not be all that unusual in these situations, Your Highness,” Vilknar intervened again, “though if such a grant was to be made, it would fund a line of credit not just for the purchase from the Smiths, but for any expenses we might accrue in the future.  Isn’t that right, Master Drauken?”  The Treasurer gave him a pointed look.

Drauken hid his annoyance at Vilknar’s punctiliousness.  If he’s always like this it’s no wonder his mother wants nothing to do with him.  Still, it was to be expected, and it doesn’t matter anyway.  Possession is the better part of the law, and when the war is over it won’t matter what line of credit the Queen has.  “Of course, that would be the custom.  Think of it as a long term investment, Your Highness.”

“Fine.” She spat ungraciously.  “Vilknar, see to the details.  We need those arms and armor!  Our forces in Heste are in full retreat.  Our army in Zentara is stuck at the Hades Pass.  What do you have to say for yourself?”  Jeanette pointed towards the green-skinned orc sitting at the end of the table.

“Bogor, Sir Agmar’s oldest son.”  Melora whispered again.

“We were ambushed, plain and simple.  Amelie knew precisely where we were going to be and had laid the perfect trap for us.”  Bogor replied.

“How could they know that?  The route he took was off the main road just so Amelie wouldn’t be able to predict his movements.  Didn’t he have outriders to intercept her scouts?”

“He did, Your Highness.  Local orcs who knew the terrain better than any Northern Lord or Thestan.”  Bogor said confidently.

“Then how did she manage to ambush him?  The Princess-Knight isn’t a magician!  She’s just a woman!  So how did she divine his location!”  Jeanette shouted out.

“Perhaps someone told her.”  Dorian interjected, heading off what was looking to be another tirade.

“What?”  Jeanette paused, but only for a moment.  “Who would have done that?  Belkor didn’t have any humans in his army, and no orc would betray us to the Thestans.”

“Then it must have been someone in this room.”  Dorian said, quietly.

The Queen’s Shadow scanned the room, and Drauken’s heart stopped as Dorian’s eyes settled on him.  But a moment later they continued, and he relaxed.  He’s not a magician either, he thought, there’s no way he could know what I did.  What we did.  Jeanette didn’t know it, but the whole Council of Guilds was against her.  Many of the Duchies as well.  This war just wasn’t good for business.  On the contrary, it was pure madness. 

“Then I have no doubt you’ll root out the traitor, whoever he is.”  Jeanette said simply as she looked around the room suspiciously. 

At least her suspicion is on the humans, Drauken thought.  Dorian is another matter though.  I’ll have to be more careful in the future.

“We need to do something about the Hesten situation.  Amelie’s ambush has left our forces in disarray.  They’re going to have to retreat south of the Warne River, which means Dormstadt will be under siege.”  Jeanette sat thoughtfully a moment.  “It may be time to put Garrett into play.”

Garrett?  He looked at Melora questioningly.

“The last Ousten King of Heste.  He’s been in captivity since the Third Thestan War.”

Interesting.  I can use that.  “An excellent idea, Your Highness.  What better way to undermine Henry’s legitimacy than to remind everyone that the last Ousten King abdicated his throne.  To demonstrate that if they were to support the Ousten claim on the throne than they are fighting on the wrong side.”

“How do you intend to proceed?”  Dorian asked the Queen.

“We send him to Belkor.  Parade him about in front of the people.  Have him give some speeches, send pigeons to the Northern Lords.”

“A good plan, Your Highness.  Will he cooperate?”  Drauken asked.

“I think he can be persuaded.”  Jeanette replied with a smile.  “We just need to arrange to have him moved securely to the front.  Dorian, begin putting together a plan.  Moving on, when will reinforcements from the Elfish Isles arrive?”

“It is difficult to say, Your Highness.  King Trogar has begun calling his levies, but is insisting King Grotok write to request his support.”

Jeanette closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  “I will make sure that Grotok sends the request.  You write to Trogar to make sure he understands the consequences of playing games.  What about our food supply?”

“Stable for now, though it is taking all we have to keep the army fed.  We’ve not been able to store any for winter, and once the weather turns we’re going to be in trouble.”  Some minor lord from the Duchy of Oxmain said, and continued to rattle off on the food stores.

The human lord’s rambling was interrupted as a young servant entered the chamber and whispered something in Dorian’s ear.  The look of surprise on his face made Drauken sit up and take notice.  It was the most emotion he’d ever seen on the spymaster’s face.

Dorian whispered something back to the servant and then paused to collect his thoughts.  Jeanette wasn’t having that though, and demanded to know what was in the report.  “Your Highness, a small fleet of ships has just entered the harbor, and reports are saying that Prince Augras is aboard.”

“Augras?  Alive?”  Jeanette brightened up at the news that her grandson might be alive.  “This must be a sign!  Things will certainly start going our way now.  Where has he been?  What has he been doing?”  She asked eagerly.

“He is on his way here to see you in person, Your Highness.  There is more though, reports are also saying that he has brought a small army with him; an army of Minotaurs and Centaurs.”  Dorian didn’t look happy to be reporting that; he clearly wanted better confirmation before bringing this to the Queen’s attention.

Most of the lords in the room scoffed, but not Drauken.  As Guild Master of caravans, a new Guild created by the Queen to represent the orc traders who traveled to the Eastern Kingdoms, he knew better than anyone that there were too many reports of both creatures to ignore.  Could Prince Augras really have found some on his journey to the southern continent?

“Have him brought here, we’ll get to the truth of the matter,”  Jeanette said, “and woe unto him if this is a trick!”

****

Augras took a deep breath as he stepped onto the dock and immediately regretted it.  After three years on the southern continent and two months at sea, Ruar smelled like shit and filth and rotten fish.  The sea-soaked boards of the dock creaked under his feet as he settled his massive weight on the wood.  The first time he visited the city his grandmother had been able to throw him in the air.  The last time he visited Ruar, just before leaving on his expedition, his uncle had threatened to.  Well, they won’t be able to do that anymore.

“It’s amazing what your people have accomplished.”  Marishka said.  The tall Mincenntti woman regarded the city before them with fascination.  The humans and orcs working the docks gave her a wide berth as they proceeded down the dock towards the harbor.  Marishka was a head taller than most human men, but with the lithe, spindly build of an elf.  Her skin was a darker grey than most orcs, and though her pointed canines weren’t as fierce as an orc’s tusks her utterly alien appearance made even the burly orcs step aside for her.

Of course, they may also have been clearing the way for the massive Minotaur and Centaur that were following closely behind.  The Minotaur was massive, even larger than an orc with the head of a bull and a strong, muscular body.  The Centaur had the body of a horse and the torso of a Mincenntti, making him quite tall but not quite as physically imposing as the Minotaur.

“You haven’t even seen the castle yet.”  Augras smiled at the memory of Greenthorn Castle.  He always enjoyed coming here as a chil, even if it always left Trogar in a bad mood.  His grandmother was always a delight, and never seemed to hold it against him that he didn’t look like a full blooded orc.  “It’s amazing what you can do with ingenuity and cleverness.”

“Those same attributes serve you well in the higher arts too.” She added.  “But I do look forward to seeing what wonders your people have built.” 

He could tell the Mincenntti woman was being genuine.  For all the wonders her own people created, they still lived in stone huts and used stone tools.  Seeing the craftsmanship resulting from steel and iron was a magic in its own right.

They were met at the end of the harbor by his uncle Rodarek, the second youngest of all Jeanette’s children.  “Augras!  Is that really you after all these years?  Come here and let me get a good look at you.”  The orc craned his neck to look up at him, and seemed satisfied with what he saw.  “You’ve seen to grow into yourself, finally.”

“I was reforged during my journeys, uncle.  I’m no longer the child I was when I left.”

Rodarek looked from Augras to the Mincenntti, and then to the Minotaur and Centaur following behind.  “I can see that.  Who are your friends?”

“I’ll introduce them at the castle, uncle.  It will get tiresome if I have to keep repeating myself.”  Augras smiled lightly as Marishka continued to look about the city.

“Heh, you don’t think Dorian is going to just let your friends waltz into the castle into the Queen’s presence, do you?”

A knowing smile crossed his lips.  “He might object, but I don’t think Grandmother will let him.  Plus, he’ll want to see them firsthand and hear what I have to say.  I’ve brought victory home with me, uncle.”

If Rodarek had anything to say to that, he kept it to himself.  Which pleased Augras well enough, as he knew he was going to have to tell his story numerous times in the coming weeks.  Augras had imagined many times what it would be like when he returned to the city.  Sometimes he imagined cheering crowds as he showered them in the riches of the south.  Others he was a fearsome sorcerer riding in on black clouds.  But the truth was more satisfying.  People simply watched in awe as he led his procession towards the castle.  Oh, he knew that they were in awe of his companions; he didn’t have any delusions about that.  But they were his retainers, and being the loan familiar figure amidst such wondrous companions would give him just the right sort of mystique.

“We’ve arranged a room for you in the city, so that you can rest before-”

“I may not look like my father, but I’m not my mother either.  Thank you, but I’ll sleep at the castle tonight.”  Was that a deliberate insult?, he wondered, I’ve been away so long I don’t know the political climate.  I have to remember that this may not be a glorious homecoming.

“Of course.  But the council is in session, with the war on-”

“And you weren’t invited?  I take it you don’t sit on the council, uncle.”  Augras could see his uncle stiffen at being interrupted again, but he knew that he had to maintain control of the conversation for as long as possible.  No one is going to take me serious, he thought, at least at first.  If I want to insert myself into the halls of power I need to be direct, and show them that I am someone to take notice of.

“How do you manage to craft the stone so high without shaping it?”  Marishka asked.

“Shape it?  What is that?”  Rodarek asked.

“A Mincenntti technique.”  Augras replied vaguely, and then turned to the woman.  “Chemistry and physics.  We create mortar to bind stone blocks together, and through centuries of practice have learned how to balance and support them so they don’t fall over.”

“Fascinating.  Labor intensive, but clever.”

They continued through the city, with Augras answering Marishka’s questions about how everything worked.  His Minotaur and Centaur companions stayed silent.  Neither were bred for their curiosity; their interests were more primal in nature.  As long as Augras made good of his promises they would remain loyal.

It was dusk by the time they reached the castle, which meant that Augras achieved his second objective: he made them wait all day for this meeting instead of letting them put him off until morning, a time of their choosing. 

“You’ll have to live up to this personality you’re projecting, Augras.”  Marishka said quietly, making Augras scowl.  She had sworn that she couldn’t read minds, but nonetheless always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

“I will.  With your help.”  They entered the castle, and as expected the guards had been instructed to let all of them pass.  It was a tight fit for the centaur, but they managed to maneuver the castle halls until they reached the Queen’s war room.

The councilors were all seated around the table, turned to face them.  He didn’t recognize anyone save his Grandmother and Dorian, and none of them looked happy to see him except for Jeanette.  He thought of Bernadette, and then quickly pushed the memory of her face aside. Jeanette rose from the head of the table with a smile on her face.  “Augras!  Welcome home.  This is truly a blessed day.  My grandson has been returned to us!”  Jeanette paused in surprise as she noticed how large Augras had become.  “You’ve certainly grown up, though I can still recognize you.  A grandmother could never forget her grandchild’s face!”

“Thank you, Your Highness.  It is good to be home.  It has been a long day coming.”  Augras replied in a steady tone, trying not to betray how his true feelings for the Queen.  “As to that, I had some help.  May I present to you Marishka, Archon of the Mincenntti.”  Marishka inclined her head respectfully.  “This is Brindhour, Chieftain of the Minotaurs, and Golinchkar, Chieftain of the Centaurs.  They’ve sworn to serve me, and to assist us in our war against Thesta and Sandora.”

Jeanette’s gaze drifted hungrily between the Minotaur and Centaur for a moment before she turned to Augras.  “I didn’t realize that word of the war travelled all the way to the Southern Continent.”

“Fate doesn’t need words or winds to spread its message, Blessed Mother.”  Marishka replied.

“Marishka can see visions, of sorts.  She divined that it was time for me to return home.  To offer our support in the war.”  To lead it and win it, but he couldn’t say that yet.

“Visions?” One of the human councilors he didn’t recognize scoffed.  “I hope she’s bringing more to it than that.”

The Mincenntti slowly turned her head towards the human.  The woman’s long neck and dour expression made her seem almost like a dragon as she regarded the councilor.  “More than you’ve dreamed of; enough to make your fantasies come true, narrow though they are, and sooner than you think.”

Silence descended on the room for a moment as the Royal Council absorbed that strange statement.   Finally, Dorian broke the silence as he looked at him carefully.  “Where have you been all this time?  It seems cruel not to have sent word sooner.”

“My ship was caught in a storm off the coast of the southern continent,” Augras replied, careful not to look at Jeanette, “I was the only survivor.  I’ve spent the last three years studying and training with Marishka, as well as forging alliances with the Minotaurs and Centaurs.”

 After a moment had passed, the green skinned orc spoke.  “How many of these Minotaurs and Centaurs did you bring?”

“A thousand, give or take.”

“Not enough to change the balance in the war, then.”  The orc persisted.

“Fear is its own weapon, as I think you know.”  Marishka cut in.  “Minotaurs and Centaurs will strike terror into your foes.”

“Heh, if our enemy is even smaller than you each Minotaur is going to be worth ten of them!”  Brindhour boasted.

Augras hid his smile; it wasn’t often that an orc was made to feel small.  “They’ll prove their worth, have no doubt about that, but the real asset we’re bringing is me.”  This time he did smile, at the look of skeptical disbelief on their faces.  “I’ve more than just grown on my journey to the south.  Marishka has more than just visions and the ability to turn a scrawny boy into a strapping man.  She has powers, powers that she taught to me.  Powers that will turn the war in our favor.”

“Powers.”  Jeanette replied flatly.  “Like magic?”

“Yes, exactly like that.”

“I should like to see that.”  Dorian said.  “What can you do?  Teleport around the room?  Conjure fire?”  His lips twisted in wry amusement.

“Nothing so flashy as that.  You need to think bigger.”

“So nothing that can be easily proven.”  The human remarked with derision.

“On the contrary.  It is all easily proven.”  Augras insisted.

“Well, I’m sure we’d all like to see what strange magic you learned in the southern continent, Augras.  What can you do?”  Jeanette asked.

“Your soil is weak, near barren.  It will bloom with life again.”  Marishka said.

Augras grinned.  “Yes, that will work.  I know you must be worried about food, what with the war and all.  How would you like a second harvest, and a third after that?”

****

The bright, full moon shined down on them as Augras and Marishka reached the middle of the field.  The night was clear, so he could make out his mentor’s features as she walked beside him.  It was a good night for the ritual, even if a little cold.  No matter, they would warm up soon enough.

The field had been cleared down to the dirt in the last harvest, but at his instructions rows of earth had been freshly tilled and planted with the seed for next year’s crop.  But if everything went according to plan, it would be next month’s crop.  Or sooner even.  He looked over at Marishka, who nodded reassuringly.

“You can do this, Son of Three Races.”

“I’ve told you to call me Augras.”  He replied with a smile.

“Yes, but I’ve been calling you that since before you were born.  Old habits are hard to break.”  Marishka cackled gaily.  “You know what to do.”

Augras nodded and unslung his pack.  First, he pulled out three censors and arranged them triangularly roughly eight feet apart.  He filled them with charcoal, and then lit them with a tinder.  Next he pulled out a bunch of wheat stalks and began shredding them in his hands.  He divided them up between the three censors and began to burn them.  He quickly added an incense mixture of frankincense and myrrh, and a pleasant smell and aroma began to waft towards them as they stood in the middle of the triangle.

As smoke began to billow around them, Marishka stood behind Augras and began to rub his shoulders.  “Now picture it; the bare earth, just as it is now.  Feel your power flowing out of you, down through your legs, through your feet and into the soil.  See it spreading out, filling the ground with life.  Picture the crops springing to life, bursting out of the ground and reaching to the sky.”

Augras closed his eyes and followed the Mincenntti’s instructions.  Magic wasn’t just about rituals and components.  There was power needed as well.  He pushed his power out into the ground, and then turned around to face Marishka.  As tall as the Mincenntti was, he still towered over her in his new, enhanced form.  Augras gripped her about the waist, and then lifted her up so they were face to face and then kissed her deeply.

His tongue plunged into her mouth and twirled with hers as she wrapped her legs around his waist.  Since she was only wearing a loin cloth beneath the waist it was too easy for him to move the cloth out of the way to access her cunt.  He quickly freed his cock from his trousers and began rubbing it against her slit.  Although she was a different race, orcs, humans, and elfs were all descended from the Mincenntti, so sexually they were all compatible. 

“That’s it, Augras,” she whispered into his ear as she pressed her breasts against his chest, “Finish the ritual.  Fertilize the soil.”  She nibbled on his pointed ear, and then kissed down his jawline before pressing her mouth to his again.  She clung to his shoulders, and used them as a base for leverage to grind her slit against his great thick cock.  Sliding up and down it, she lubricated the tool with her juices as she worked herself into a lather of excitement.

He wanted to tease her, to tell her not to pretend it was all for the ritual, but he knew that wouldn’t be true.  Though she’d enjoy it, he knew that for her it was all about destiny and fulfilling prophecy rather than mutual love or affection.  To be fair though, he felt the same way.  After Bernadette he hadn’t felt anything beyond satisfying a physical need either.

“Alright Marishka.  Let’s do this, let’s show them what we’re capable of.”  He ran his fingers along the cleft of her ass, stroking the strange, almost leathery flesh.  With his powerful muscles, he guided her over his cock and plunged himself deep inside her hot snatch.

He grunted in satisfaction as his thick cock slammed into her vaginal tunnel.  Mincenntti pussies had a steeper angle than humans, orcs, or elfs.  It made him enter her at an odd angle, and made her feel even tighter around his bulging shaft.  Augras started to thrust his hips, and as his cock pumped in and out he began to feel the magic welling within him.

The feeling of the magic flowing through his body was even better than sex.  Not in a physical, pleasurable sort of way, but rather an exhilaration and feeling of liveliness that couldn’t be matched.  It electrified him in a way that sex didn’t, not even when making love with Bernadette. 

As the incense swirled about them, the memory of his former lover distracted him from the magic seeping through his veins and the tight cunt wrapped around his cock.  He could still picture her in the Minotaur village on the southern continent, tears welling in her eyes as she confessed.  Taking a deep breath, he banished the anger before it corrupted the magic he was calling.

Instead he pictured the soil bursting forth with life and willed the magic out of his body and into the ground.  Each time he thrust up into the Mincenntti woman he pumped more of his magic into the earth.  Augras began to pant, and sweat beaded on his chest as he moved Marishka up and down on his cock.  The spicy scent of the incense joined the tightness of her shaft as it inflamed his senses.

“Good, Augras.  I can feel the magic coming out.  Keep it coming.  Faster now.”  Marishka grunted, and tightened her pussy around his shaft to spur him on.  She squeezed him inside her and bucked her hips, grinding her labia around the base of his shaft.

“Ah, not so hard.”  He groaned, trying to suppress the growing desire to unleash his load. 

“Control, Augras, always control.  Master the magic, don’t let it master you.”  She cautioned him for what seemed the thousandth time.

It wasn’t that he was in particular need of the warning; but rather it was simply an important one that always needed reinforcing.  Years of seeing his father’s mercurial rages and the self-control he developed in answer had ensured that.  With a deep breath, he steadied himself and focused again on the magic.  And the sex.

When Marishka eased the pressure on his cock he responded by increasing the force and tempo of his thrusting.  He slammed into her, slapping his balls, teeming with his virile cum, against her body again and again.  Augras drove his cock into her, splitting her walls and sliding deep inside her sheathe.

She closed her lips around his lower one and pinched it with her pointed teeth.  She grinned as she felt him tense in pain, but otherwise didn’t respond or lose control.  Next, she scratched her tooth against his as she resumed tightening her sex around his cock.

Augras didn’t rise to the bait though, and instead drilled even harder into her, adding a grinding motion of his own as he sought to defeat her attempts at distraction with pleasure.  He was rewarded with a gasp of pleasure from his mentor.

He was never really sure what she made of their fucking.  He had gotten the sense that, inheritor of the bloodline or no, Marishka saw him, and all the other races, as inferior.  Maybe it was how alien they were to her, and her own regret at the death of her people.  But when they coupled, he couldn’t help but sense that she felt like she was training a monkey.  She’ll fit right in Grandmother’s court, then, he thought with a grin.

“Don’t lose control now, Marishka.”  He taunted her and began to pump his hips as he pulled her into his shaft, his huge biceps flexing each time he lifted the Mincenntti up again.  The motions became a blur as he went all out, and finally exulted in triumph as he felt Marishka shudder around his cock and moan in pleasure when the orgasm hit her.

After her climax subsided, he set her down on all fours and positioned himself behind her.  Now it was time for the main event.  He quickly pushed his cock inside her again, ramming into her from behind.  He pump in and out of her as he gripped her high, firm buttocks.  His thick fingers sunk into her dark skin as he yanked her bodily back into his shaft.

“Prepare yourself, Augras.”  She cautioned him as she started to work her hips back into the half-orc.

“Of course, Marishka.”  His words came out tight and hoarse, as the pressure began to build inside him again.  Not just the cum boiling in his testes, but the force of his magic burning to burst free.  “Ah, this was always my favorite lesson.”

“This first one I taught you.”  She panted breathlessly.  As his cock hit the deepest point inside her she rolled her hips, grinding the tip against her cervix.  “It took you long enough to master it.  I always suspected you were failing on purpose.”

Augras threw his head back and laughed as he drove into her again and again.  “How suspicious of you.  Couldn’t you read the truth on my face?  Or in my eyes, or soul, or whatever it is you do?”  He leaned forward, reaching beneath her to grab at her breast, making it disappear in his hand as he squeezed it firmly.

“Men are hard to read in the throes of passage.   Nnnng!  Or easy, I suppose.  Mmm, all I see is your lust.”  She squeezed him inside her as she rocked back into him, moaning louder as his thick shaft pushed her towards another climax.

“Heh, I’ll have to remember that trick, the next time I need to hide something from you.”  His hips reached a rapid tempo as he threw everything he had into her.  His grip tightened on her ass and breast as he pulled her back into him, leaving dark marks on her flesh.

In his mind’s eye he saw the ground around them bursting forth with life.  Keeping that image in his mind, he pulled out of her and turned his body, then wrapped his fingers around his cock and stroked himself to completion.  As he shot his load all over the earth he released his power in one great burst, fertilizing the soil and the seeds planted within.

The censors flared up, incinerating the rest of the sacrifices and lighting up the darkness in a sudden explosion.  Smoke whirled about them, almost getting sucked into their union before bursting out and dissipating. 

Lost in release of his magic, he didn’t notice any of it, or hear Marishka cry out again as she rubbed her clit, stroking the little button beneath her fingertips as she rapidly brought herself to join Augras’ orgasm.  Steam seemed to rise off her body as she basked in the dirt under the moon.

When his climax was complete, he opened his eyes and saw the world shimmering before him.  In the corners of his eyes, the earth pulsed and throbbed, as if new life would burst forth at any moment.  With his essence spread across the dirt, he felt connected to the land, like it was a part of him.  Insects in the night felt like prickles on his skin.  Dew on the grass made him feel moist.  Or perhaps it was just sweat.

As seconds passed the feeling faded, until it was just him and Marishka, lying in the field under the moon.  Yet all around them, new life was blooming.

****

Drauken still couldn’t believe what he saw.  Two weeks after harvest and already wheat and barley were springing up in the fields that Augras ‘blessed.’  The sight distressed him, and not just because it meant that Augras really did have some kind of magical powers which would have ramifications on the war that he had no way to predict; just the fact that multiple harvests per season were now possible meant that the economy of the Western Kingdoms was going to be thrown into turmoil.  The abundance of food would slash the value of Thesta and Sandora’s biggest exports.  Most of the lords derived at least some of their income from food, especially the Duchy of Oxmain.  It would fundamentally change the balance of power in the economy.

No matter how this war ends, society will never go back to the way it was, he thought, unless something happens to Augras and his Mincenntti advisor.  That notion sent a chill down his spine.  He was willing to work with Amelie to prevent Jeanette’s mad dreams of conquest from throwing the Western Kingdoms into turmoil.  He knew that passing information wouldn’t be enough, and that more direct action was necessary.  In fact, plans were already in the works.

But assassination, that is something else altogether.  I don’t know if I could stomach that.  Thankfully, there were plenty of people in his network that could.  Would Marishka be able to see that coming?  Can she read my mind?  That would be disastrous.  Perhaps it would be better to send Amelie a letter and arrange for him to meet his fate on the battlefield.

Even that didn’t look to be an easy feat.  Augras was the largest half-orc he’d ever seen; he was larger than most full-blooded orcs.  Taking him down in single combat wasn’t going to be easy for anyone.  If anyone can do it, it’s Amelie he told himself.

One thing was clear; he needed to call another meeting of the Guild Masters.  They needed to be apprised of what was happening and what it could mean for the Kingdom.  Drauken nodded at the footman who opened the door to his townhouse to let him inside.  A servant took his coat and hat, and he began making his way upstairs towards the glow of a flickering fire emanating from his solar. 

When he reached the top of the stairs he nearly gasped at the sight of Melora standing before the fireplace.  Being backlit by the flames turned her silk dress sheer, giving him a glimpse of the lithe, pale flesh beneath.  The shadow of her torque hat looked like a crown atop her head, and with the silks and jewels he had gifted her she might have been a queen.

She appeared intent on rearranging his silver and straightening the art above the mantle place.  Drauken’s cock began to stiffen as he admired the way he could just make out her left ass cheek when she turned.  He pressed his palm into the shaft and squeezed it gently as he watched, before finally stepping into the room.  “What are you working on, Melora?”

The elf girl jumped and gave a soft little squeak before falling back.  He rushed forward to catch her, and her small elfin frame fell into his arms.  “Master!  I didn’t hear you come in!”  She looked up and beamed at him, her ivory teeth flashing brightly.  “I’m just making a few adjustments for you.  You’re the representative of the Council of Guilds to the Queen’s Court.  If you want people to take you seriously you need to have a home that projects wealth and sophistication.”

A deep rumbling chuckle rolls out of his throat.  “If you say so, my dear.  I’ll have to take your word for that; it’s why I hired you after all.”  Drauken smiled down at the diminutive elfin woman.  She blushed when she looked up at him, and he noticed her nipples start to harden and poke through the fabric of her dress and into his hand.  Without even realizing it he was touching her breast, holding it snugly in his big grey palm.

“Oh?  It wasn’t for my keen business instincts?”  She smiled softly at him, before pulling away and turning towards the mantle again to make another adjustment.

Drauken fought down a grunt as he caught the soft curve of her small breast, remembering how nice it felt in his hand.  Even the darkness of her nipple was visible now as the light shone through her gown.  His cock got even stiffer, and he was sure the outline of his bulge was visible through his pants.  Does she know what she’s doing to me? He wondered, before quickly dismissing the idea.  Everything he picked up from her so far suggested she was an innocent.  Well, as innocent as anyone could be in Ruar.

“That too.  You’re the whole package, all rolled into one.  You more than earn your pay.”  He grinned down at her again.  “As I’ve shown you before.  That being said, there is no rest for the wicked.  I need you to send out messages to all the Guild Masters requesting a meeting.”

Melora’s smile faded into a shrewd, appraising look.  “Prince Augras actually delivered on his promises, then?”

“Indeed.  I hadn’t thought it possible, but it looks like we’ll be getting a second harvest by the end of the month at the latest.  Maybe sooner!”

“That will change everything.”  Melora whispered.  “The short term winners will be the smiths; they’ll be producing scythes and other equipment like mad to keep up with the harvests, especially on top of the demands of the war.  Demand for their services will be unprecedented.”

The orc Guild Master nodded.  “Yes, we’ll have to shift my assets from food to the smiths.  But with the war going on, the big money will still be trade with the Eastern Kingdoms.  Since I control that, the effects of the shock this is going to cause won’t be too immediate.”

The elf nodded.  “I agree.   You’re well positioned to benefit from this war, even if you don’t approve of it.”

“I may be making money in the short term, but in the long term the war is going to destroy the existing markets without any way to grow new ones.”

Melora smiled again and rested a hand on his chest.  “Well, if anyone can figure out how to navigate this mess, it’s you.  I’m sure you’ll find a way to keep trade going in the aftermath of the war, regardless of who wins.”

“I hope you’re right, because I fear there isn’t anyone else considering it.  At least, no one in a position to do anything.  In that vein, when you arrange the meeting with the Guilds, set up an appointment with the Master Mason before the meeting itself.  I have a special request for him.  Then let the Council know that I am going to be leaving the city for a few months in order to attend the eastern trade routes.” And to rescue a fallen King.