Lubricious Politics; Art By Merrurz [Unedited] (Patreon)

“Step lively, boy... you mustn’t keep the Empress waiting.” thundered the raucous voice of the tall dragonborn female. The redheaded furkin did not turn to meet her heated gaze, though he knew her eyes were upon him. Instead he turned his attention to the kobold to his right, smiling affably.

“It’s been a long time Taandi. Have you been well?” he asked in his silvery tone. His words slithered into her ears and disrupted her resolve, she could not help but hear the geniality in his inflection. The caracal was being awfully familiar, and the lizardess didn't trust herself to look at him. Instead Taandi stared straight ahead as she walked along, the thud of her staff marking every other step.

To the untrained eye, she was unbothered. But her fellow kobolds would be able to tell how abashed she was. If not by her dancing tail, then by the way her glittering, blue scales gleaned a more violet hue than normal. The color was more prominent on her head crest, that lifted and fell as she led the way. Normally a more blackcurrant color, like her horns, it now flushed a lighter shade. Something the color of Wisteria. It was a sign that she was blushing in the dim green light of the crystal lanterns that lined the hall. She was utterly flustered.

“I am well, Count Valenrow. Thank you.” she managed to sputter out, trying to be polite, but short. Despite her best efforts, she was doing a bad job at hiding the nervous edge in her reply. The little kobold's amethyst eyes blinked often, and her breathing was so heavy it was audible even above the loud footsteps of the tall kinlings all about her. She couldn't help but feel flushed knowing she had the attention of the steely eyed furkin. He was a marvel of his kind, powerful and dangerous. It excited and frightened her to have him so near, and she wasn't sure which emotion was appropriate for the situation.

The furkin was of course Count Adolyn Valenrow of Evandale. Son of Duke Palence Valenrow and one of the most infamous furkin knights in all the land. His name was especially well known in Sauria, where his accomplishments on the battlefield had earned him the begrudging respect and the eternal ire of a great many Saurians. Like his mother before him, he was a ‘Champion’ of their long time rival Kingdom, Lioncourt. At only 24, he’d already earned the title of 'Dragon Slayer' and 'Champion Slayer'. Such titles weren't easy to attain among her kin.

A Champion Slayer must defeat at least five rival Champions in single combat to earn the title. More if the title is earned outside of individual combat. Adolyn had earned the title both ways, many times over before she'd even cross paths with the valley cat. The fresh faced caracal had even defeated her twice in single combat, and once in a border skirmish. She'd been awed by his power, but also his kindness. He had spared her life all three times. Even offering her clemency and a place in his House, should she want to defect. It was a tempting offer. One that any other kobold would readily take. Her kind wasn't exactly well regarded in Saurian society, but Taandi was different.

She was not only an adept, but a powerful one at that. Something incredibly rare for kobolds. She had gained the favor of the Empress, Ætheria, and swore loyalty in blood and magic, becoming one of the few of her kin to be granted the title 'Dragon Blade'. Despite respecting her fierce enemy and maybe even being a bit enamored with him, she refused him each time, despite knowing it might cost the kobold her life. Adolyn however, always accepted her decision and kept his word, sparing her. The fact that she was alive to escort him to his meeting with the Empress was a testament to his magnanimity. Taandi's admiration had led to her offering him her gratitude after her last defeat. The memory of that gratuitous gesture is what set her tail dancing and the pigment in her scales to change. Her fondness for the furkin was probably a bit more than should be proper for a 'Dragon Blade', but then again, she guessed it was the reason the Empress had assigned her to his escort. She certainly knew of their 'history'.

Taandi's companion's opinions of the Dalish Lord were a little more negative. Olesya did very little to hide her scorn. The tall dragonborn was one of the few Blades with a connection to the 'War Faction', who had fought for the treacherous King Mizer at the 'Battle of Herald’s Keep', and had not been anathematized. Several of the Empress’ elite warriors had been present for the ‘Herald’s Keep Debacle’. Their mission had been to keep King Mizer from doing anything that would cause an all out war with Lioncourt, a mission they failed when Mizer spit poison into King Legault's face and began his attempt to assassinate the King and the other Royals of Lioncourt at the armistice. Given the situation, the Dragon Blades had no choice but to defend and fight for the King, whether they agreed with his mad ambition or not.

To say Olesya was bitter at the loss of her friends and comrades that day would be a massive understatement. She not only resented the Courtian's who took their lives, but the great Clans of Nar'kudan as well. Those most closely tied to the War Faction. A sentiment that probably saved her from being anathematized like her fellow Blades. Unlike her commander and rookery mate, Arkant, Naydrin and Rohrouk, who returned to report to the Empress immediately after the disaster, the fiery Olesya had begun rounding up and executing those who she suspected of funding and supporting the king's foolhardy scheme. While her peers with direct ties or associations with the War Faction were anathematized, Arkant, the male who swore to sire her a child, was forced to accept discommendation and lose his House and Holdings. This despite his having no knowledge of the king's machinations at all. Like the Nas'Sheren, the Reformist Faction, the Great Clans of Nar'Kudan needed their pound of flesh as well.

King Mizer was dead. Killed at the hands of the very lion he sought to murder, though Legault too lost his life that day. Arkant had been the only Dragon Blade Commander to survive. With Mizer's generals being put to death, the Clans of Nar'Kudan needed someone living to blame for their failure. Arkant's past under the War Faction was used against him, and to restore order he gave up name, house, titles and Empire to prevent a civil war. Olesya resented anyone who was even a little bit responsible for that travesty of justice.

Why couldn't it have been her. She certainly would have taken Arkant's place if he'd have asked. The black scaled dragoness was as much a part of the fighting as he was. She may not have held his rank, but Olesya had led the charge to take the battlements. Despite believing the King to be a pompous fool, unworthy of his crown, Olesya nevertheless fought hard to support him. Victory would mean survival and so much more. Defeat, well, she was living the ramifications of defeat. Lucky for King Mizer, he wasn't.

Despite the circumstances that brought about the hostilities, Olesya believed that the fight could be won. If King Mizer had succeeded, she doubted the reformists would have been able to argue with the results. The Empress would have been pissed, but the Halls of Nas'Sheren would have been silent, in awe of a tactical risk that paid off.

She herself had dreams of gained lands and riches should victory be won. Having slayed many furkins and even two of the famed Raven Knights during her push to take the ramparts, she felt that the battle was theirs for the taking. Things were going in their favor and the skirmishers were overrunning furkin positions. She'd lost Blades, but the enemies casualties were far worse than hers. That was until a certain red headed menace showed his childish face on the battlefield.

With sparkling, narrow, amber eyes, she glared at the furkin lord next to her. If she could, she would ignite him to flame and watch him burn to ash under her withering glare. Absentmindedly, her hand rose to claw at the deep, wicked scar that marred the beautiful, purple scales of her chest. The blemish was a jagged line of pink flesh, that rose above her scales, running from the back of her left shoulder, between her breasts, and down to just right of her sternum. A vivid reminder of her defeat that day. The parting gift of a Raven Knight's enchanted Axe.

Her teeth clenched as memories flooded her mind. Olesya and her skirmishers had overwhelmed the lioness and her allies. The cleric and mage of her 'flight' lay dead on the ground. Olesya had hungrily engaged the buxom knight, believing that if she could defeat the seasoned warrior, the rest of the defenders would retreat and the battlements would be hers. It would have given them the tactical advantage they needed to take the Keep, but her enemy proved more formidable than she anticipated.

"Megogo Asherah..." she snarled under her breath. She would never forget that name. The lioness had pushed Olesya to her limits and nearly killed her several times, but, with the help of her kobolds the Dragon Blade gained the upper hand in their struggle. With the fight in her favor, the dragoness thought to move in for a killing blow, but Count Valenrow and his Legionnaires intervened. Taking the walls and organizing a counterattack that ruined everything.

The tall dragonborn turned her glowering eyes from Adolyn to her compatriot, Taandi. Try as she might, her enmity often extended to the kobold as well. If she was honest, Olesya had always looked down upon Taandi's kin for their general cowardice and weakness. She knew the diminutive lizard was an exception, but the rule did not change. On that fateful day, when the tides were changing, those cowardly kobolds quit on her. They were all too happy to throw aside their arms and surrender to the Count. She blamed them for the loss of several Blades, as well as her humiliating defeat at the hands of that wench. Her disfigurement was a constant reminder of her resentment. No white mage nor healer had been able to fix her scars. The kiss of the divine metals had left their mark eternal. They would always be hers to bear.

Frowning deeply, Olesya tore her eyes from Taandi, not wanting to project her anger on her comrade. Taandi had been brave, smart, and an invaluable ally over the years. She hated herself for her thoughts of anger and disrespect towards her friend, but it was hard to control it. Especially knowing that Taandi herself had surrendered to the borderkin on multiple occasions. Even allowing him to take a 'Conquerors Prize', instead of her life. Though she could hardly fault her for it. Taandi was no Dragonborn. She hadn't a prayer of defeating that kin in single combat.

Though she had tried to be discreet, Olesya's grinding teeth and hate filled glare had caught Taandi’s attention.  Sighing, the little lizard turned her head slightly, trying to get the attention of one who followed. With a quick nod in Olesya's direction, she silently pleaded for help.

”Calm down, Olesya.” a voice called from behind.

"You grip that handle any tighter, you're going to crack your scales." The voice was calm and in a hissing baritone, that spoke in Glavic, the ancient language of their people. She looked back to see her comrade, Slade, as he walked nonchalantly behind them. Her eyebrows furrowing, she brushed her white locks back and huffed. Unwilling to answer her colleague.

For a moment, they walked in silence. Nothing to be heard but their footsteps and the incessant sound of Taandi's breathing. Before long, a soft cough from behind brought her attention back to the red scaled lizard, and her restraint reached its end.

"What!?" she asked testily.

The calm reply was; "You tell me." She groaned as she tried to find the best way to word her displeasure.

“Is this not wrong? Does it not incense you to have this mongrel walk so proudly in our midst?!” She too spoke in Glavic, but could not keep the hostility from her voice. Any who cared to listen could tell she was upset about the current situation.

The red lizard sighed, running his hands through the black horned ridges of his head, before massaging his temples.

“My feelings on this matter are irrelevant. The Empress wished for an audience with this man and we shall deliver him safely. Period. Do not let your feelings get the better of you. It is unbecoming of one of your lineage.” he warned.

The tall dragonborn scoffed and turned her head. She knew that. She wouldn't just defy the Empress’ wishes and attack the man when his back was turned. She had more honor than that; besides, Olesya doubted such a tactic would work. She doubted she had the power to defeat him at all.

Her eyes traced down the beautiful blade strapped to his back and she could feel its power. Even without it, he was formidable, but with the sword of 'Dragon's Bane', she certainly wasn't going to defeat him alone. His was the blade that burned the skies and slew Eternians. The weapon that ended Gamel and wounded a Celestial Dragon. As impulsive as she was, Olesya was not fool enough to try the hand of the wielder of 'Durendal'. Still, that didn't mean she had to like him; or that she couldn't glare at him and hope his head exploded.

While Taandi swooned to herself and Olesya drowned in her indignant rage, Slade carried no strong feelings on the matter at all. He was utterly indifferent. Sure, he had been at the battle himself. Gained his notoriety during it, in fact, but he still considered himself the same simple swordsman he always was. Sure, he was now a Dragon Blade, with all the responsibilities and privileges that came with his title; but deep down he still felt the same now as he had then. Just another lizardkin.

He'd seen Adolyn that day, cutting a bloody swath through his comrades and allies. As a member of the House Guards of Clan Treshua, he had to follow his master, the Lady Ranaayo closely. He'd fought in the border wars and seen what had happened to those who challenged the 15th. It was the most storied company in the Border Legion, led by the son of the legendary 'Death Dealer'. What lizard in their right mind wanted to take that head on. Especially given the fact that he wielded a legendary antediluvian relic that had slayed kin and kind far stronger than he. Nope, not him. He hadn't risen from nothing to be the kin he was by being stupid or impulsive.

Slade saw which way the winds were blowing that day and made a decision. He knew if they lost, the Empress would swiftly hold those responsible for the mess to account. He doubted mercy would be an entrée on the menu. So, he casually walked up behind his master, the youngest heir to Clan Treshua, and slammed his pummel into the back of her head. She went down like a rock.

He figured she'd be angry, but if she had led their tiny contingent into battle against that boy and his legion, she would have been dead. Given the fact that Lady Ranaayo's siblings were already being groomed as leaders in the War Faction, Slade assumed their time was up, whether they survived the day or not. The only thing waiting for them back home after a defeat would be the executioner's axe if they were lucky; dragon fire, if they weren't. Ranaayo was young, she would not share the fate of her family if he played it right. She would be given a chance to prostrate herself before Ætheria and renounce her family name. Given a strong desire to keep living, she did not disagree.

House Treshua may have died that day, but House Ranaayo was born from its ashes. His former Lady was given a new name. Aelyria Ranaayo, vassell to the Empress. The holdings and properties of House Treshua would be passed to her, but would be completely under the control of the Empress. A terrible blow for the other Great Clans of the Nar'Kudan.

Empress Ætheria was impressed by him. His skills as a blade master had been well known at that point, but the situation gave him the ability to show off his cunning and forethought, qualities he knew the Empress valued in her subordinates. He'd thought to earn a minor title or even some small lands for his quick thinking. Lady Ranaayo certainly owed him, but the Empress had other plans, offering him the chance to join the Dragon Blades. Slade of course graciously accepted, he'd already seen what the Empress did if she didn't get her way. Now the sturdy swordsman walked among the great halls of the Castle. The equal of nobles and those of dragon's blood. A fortuitous outcome to say the least. The Empress trusted his judgement and he appreciated that. He was certain his levelheaded pragmatism was the reason he'd been assigned to this task. Taandi certainly wasn't going to keep the 9 foot tall angry dragonborn in check. That was for damn sure.

Slade thought to say something to the huffy dragoness. They’d been walking in silence for some time and the tension was getting palpable. He was sure Adolyn could tell what was wrong, so anything he or Taandi could say would be an empty gesture. But before he could open his mouth to speak, a feminine voice called out from behind him. One that was mocking and unfamiliar.

“I wouldn’t think too harshly of her, child. She’s young yet for a dragonborn. Maturity will come with age.”

Though the words were spoken in perfect Galvic, the inflections and accent were all wrong. No lizardkin could ever speak the tongue in such an unseeming manner.

But they were in the Sanctum Sub Rosa of the Castle Alythia. Only Dragon Blades and the Empress’ retinue were trusted in those halls.

Slade slowly reached for his sword, but then felt something sharp poke his back. Softly, a furry head reached up and rested over his shoulder.

“Now I wouldn’t go doing that...” she warned. Her voice was so soft that he knew only he could hear her. Stopping in his tracks. He turned his head to see his silent assailant. What he found was the absurdly adorable face of a grey rabbit, smiling and staring, with piercing violet eyes. It was a face he’d seen many times in ultra detailed paintings during his training as a Dragon Blade. He was looking into the haunting eyes of Sarissa Elidathis; the ‘Grey Ghost’.

He took a small gulp and wondered if he had time to warn his mates before his end. The cherub-like smile on the coney’s face belighed the true threat he knew her to be.

“Shhh...” she cooed at him.

“Don’t worry. If I meant to kill anyone, trust me, you’d be dead before you purse your lips to make that first syllable.” she informed him. Suddenly, he felt the sharp object leave his back and the soft fur of the rabbits muzzle brushed against his cheek as she pecked him.

“Don’t be so theatric, Lady, you’ll give the guy a death of fright.” called out Adolyn in near perfect Galvic. His use of the tongue was better than hers, and it surprised both Taandi and Olesya.

Turning swiftly, the two Dragon Blades drew their weapons on the intruder. Their faces a mix of shock and disbelief. Olesya's eyes grew wide as she spied the petite rabbit, who danced around in front of Slade, concealing a small blade up her bracer.

With her hands behind her back, she swayed left and right like a schoolgirl waiting for class out in the courtyard. She didn’t seem at all tense or bothered by the violent tension in the air. The long braid of her pure white hair fell off her shoulder and followed her movements back and forth, as if she were beginning some hypnotic dance.

Slade had to admit he was in awe. She was far more lovely than the paintings had portrayed. Though she always looked a little blood thirsty in those representations. The young furkin before him looked anything but. Despite her full dress in a Knight Ranger’s tunic and armor, she looked more like the aforementioned school girl, though he knew that was not the case. She was a Leverin, one of the magical forestkin. Sarissa may have looked like she was barely older than sixteen, but he knew she was more like four-hundred.

“Now, now, did you really think we’d let our Primus waltz into the belly of the beast without some assurance he’d walk back out?” she asked in a sultry voice that was equal parts teasing and threatening. Taandi took an immediate dislike to her.

“Who the hell are you supposed to be?” she asked, pointing her staff menacingly. Sarissa paid her no mind and gestured for them to continue on.

“Go on,” she insisted.

“Don’t mind me, go about your business.”

Before any of the Dragon Blades could say anything, Adolyn laughed and turned away.

“Stay out of trouble. This is supposed to just be a peaceful little chat.” he reminded, continuing down the hall. Sarissa shrugged, smiling mischievously.

“Wasn’t the last one?” she teased, soliciting a laugh from Slade.

“She’s got a point...” he admitted, gaining the ire of his companions.

“We Dragon Blades aren’t like the Mad King and his cronies! We have honor!” growled Taandi.

Turning her back, Sarissa patted down the hall slowly. The complete lack of footfalls of her retreat was haunting. She stopped then, placing a hand on her hip, as her body seemed to begin to fade into shadow.

“Ask your friend there about honor.” she said seriously. Olesya growled under her breath.

“Ask her how many of your kind she threw at me just to slow me down. How many of your kin were sacrificed as fodder in an ultimately losing affair.” she teased.

Barely able to contain her anger, Olesya stepped forward, her eyes glowing with preternatural power. Slade stepped out of the way as the dragonborn opened her mouth and spewed a line of white hot fire down the hall. The flame was so intense that Taandi needed to erect an elemental barrier to protect herself from the burn. Even Slade had to draw upon his Ætheral Artes to not become collateral damage.

Furious and determined to strike at a hated enemy, the dragoness kept up the stream for as long as she could. After thirty seconds, she began to cough and the brilliant light created by her arcane flames subsided. She didn’t have to ask if her attack had landed. The echoing laughter of the Leverin Ranger was more than enough of a sign that she had failed.

Olesya stood, hands gripped around her weapon seething.

“Furry bitch!” she called out down the corridor, but no reply came back. Sarissa was gone.

“Impressive,” came a Adolyn’s affable voice. Olesya fairly jumped out of her scales as she noticed him right next to her. She had not sensed his approach or even the latent Æthereal energies of his sheathed blade. Smiling, he gestured with his head.

“Come now my lady, we mustn’t keep the Empress waiting.” he teased with a wink. The dragoness just scowled at him. With a shrug, he turned and gestured to Taandi.

“Tell me, have you worked on reinforcing your barriers. That was a weakness last time we met.” he said conversationally as he began to walk down the hall. The kobold only spared a moment to shrug apologetically to Olesya before following the Count. The angry dragonborn could hear Taandi answer him, striking up a casual conversation.

Sighing, Slade walked up beside her.

“I fucking hate that guy.” Olesya spat, gripping her spear. Slade shrugged and continued on past her.

“I don’t know, I kind of like the cut of his jib.” he offered. The dragoness growled.

“I’d like to cut off his ‘jib’.” she scoffed, but no one was close enough to hear her witty remark.

With a groan, she took a moment to get control of her emotions and center herself. Her part in this demeaning task was almost over. She only needed to deliver him safely, after that, what happened to Count Valenrow was Ætheria's royal prerogative. Though she secretly hoped the Empress would take a page from her late husband and spit poison in the man's face, she was certain the cunning monarch had other plans for the furkin hero. She could imagine what kind.

“More peace has been won in a bedroom than a war room.” she’d always heard. Maybe, just maybe, the Empress could fuck him to death.

“Or at least crush his filthy little pelvis.” she laughed bitterly. With that thought in mind, she smiled wickedly and continued after her companions.

*****

The knock came at the chamber door, just as the chronosphere on the mantle shined brightly and changed colors from mandy to mulberry; indicating the dimming of the day. The Empress’ guest was fashionably late. She’d hoped he’d have come earlier, if only to maintain the image of propriety. Though everyone pretty much knew how she planned to negotiate with the Primus of the Sacred Order, she didn’t want ‘him’ to know that.

With little effort, she reached out her quintessence to manipulate the flow around her, imposing her will upon the room. The smokeless lanterns that washed the room in an unusual light dimmed down, and the fancy candles placed around ignited, creating a more welcoming atmosphere.

Folding her wings, she sat on her throne. Her legs crossed, Ætheria leaned back, placing her elbow on the arm rest and laid her chin on her hand before calling out;

“Enter!”

The large double doors glowed as the enchantment keeping them locked faded. After a moment, they began to part slowly and her prey walked in ahead of his escorts, still smiling and chatting with the little kobold. The Empress said nothing. She simply watched with a wolfish grin.

“My Empress...” greeted Olesya. She and Slade stood before the monarch, hands over their hearts, as they took a knee. Realizing her lack of decorum, Taandi broke away from Adolyn and did the same.

“Empress Ætheria,” she nodded.

The large dragonkin smiled magnanimously.

“Taandi, I trust you are well?” asked the Empress, as her eyes fixed the dalish knight. Taandi replied in the affirmative. The larger kin were always asking her that. Even the Empress. She didn’t mind though. It was nice to have the concern of her betters.

“Tell me of your trip.” Ætheria inquired. Taandi looked to her companions and then back to the Empress; confused.

“Yes you Taandi...” the dragonkin encouraged. The young kobold looked anxious, hoping for support from her allies, but none was offered. Swallowing nervously, she stood.

Shyly, the kobold moved her staff behind her back and lowered her head.

“True to his word, Count Adolyn Valenrow, Primus of the Raven Knights, met us in the disputed lands. There was an incident in the settlement of Hope’s Progress, but it was handled diplomatically by our guest.” she began. The Empress didn’t react. She simply studied the caracal as he stood there, playing with his hands folded behind his head.

“There was some trouble passing through the Mist Marsh, but we saw it through.” continued Taandi, sounding a little less sure of herself. She’d never been asked to report to the Empress before, and she had her strong doubts the Ætheria cared at all about what she was saying. Still she continued, straightening her back and speaking up.

“We arrived at Castle Alythia via the docks where all the hands were dismissed. I believe our honored guest was unnoticed by most of the rank and file, though the Dock Master and the Commander of the Guard are aware.”

Ætheria stood then, her magnetic presence filling the room. She stepped down from her throne and began to walk forward, her alluring, golden eyes fixed on her prey.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“Besides the ‘Grey Ghost’ running wild through the halls of the Sanctum Sub Rosa.” she added. Taandi looked abashed.

“No, your Imperial Majesty.” she finally admitted.

Ætheria Asellas was a marvelous example of a dragonkin. Tall, majestic, and imposing in her figure and Æthereal presence. She was exactly what you would expect from one born of a Celestial Dragon. So beautiful, even furkin who abhor the idea of fraternizing with her kind would stare in wonder. To the untrained eye the Empress had a glossy, ultraviolet, epidermis over most of her body; with a majority of her face, chest, and abdomen being white lilac; running down between her thighs to the bottom of her tail. A slight coil pattern adorned the edges. It looked as smooth as a dolphin's skin at first, but if one were to look closer, they’d see the fine, granular scales, that were almost indiscernible to the naked eye. It was a feature common to many first generation females. With a simple flex, what seemed to be soft, pliable skin, could turn as hard as mythril; and glitter just as bright.

Her hair was lavender and fell wildly down past her shoulders. Like many of the first generation, she had long ears, though hers weren’t nearly as pointy or hard looking. Her head was adorned with two sets of ivory, segmented horns. The first set curved up from the top of her skull, back and then up into points. The second set, just below them, curved out and down. Curling around her ears. Some say, when she cast her strongest magics, the horns would glow, drawing in errant mana to bolster her arcane abilities.

Adolyn watched her as she approached. Looking her right in her luminous gold eyes. She didn’t blink as she moved. She simply stared as she focused her entire being upon him. The oppressive weight of her soul’s Æthereal pressure choking the room.

“I am aware of the little Harimali’s presence, Blade Taandi. I am not concerned. When she revealed herself to you, she was also revealing herself to me. I could feel her individual essence even from here.” informed the Dragonkin.

“There is nothing to worry about. If she wanted to make another attempt on my life, she’d have already done so. She just wanted to threaten me a little, that’s all. Everything’s fine.” she assured her. Though Taandi disagreed.

Sure, Sarissa may not be an immediate threat, but everything was definitely not fine. Taandi could barely keep her feet as the Empress showed off for the Courtian Champion. She was certain this unbridled display of strength was not for their benefit. Looking back to Adolyn, the worry on her face was plain to see.

“Don’t you think that’s enough, your Imperial Majesty?” asked Adolyn, gesturing toward the Blades.

“If you keep that up, one of them is going to pass out.” he continued. He then smiled at Taandi.

“And I’m rather fond of that one. She’s been quite hospitable to me.”

Ætheria’s smile softened and her presence slowly stopped pressing against his soul's defense.

Casually, she reached up and unclasped the chain of her shawl and tossed it to Taandi. The diminutive lizard looked confused at first, but said nothing.

“A gift.” Ætheria stated.

“For taking care of our honored guest. It is quite a thing to be recognized by one such as he. You represent my interest well, young one.” she cooed. She then turned her attention to her other Blades, beckoning them to rise.

“You have all served me well and for that you will be rewarded.” announced the Empress.

“Slade, Olesya!” she boomed, bringing the two to attention.

“The Count will be enjoying our hospitality for a couple of days. Have chamberlain Ahdona ready a room for him.” she ordered.

Bowing deeply, Slade, shot out an “As you command, Your Majesty.”, but Olesya did not. She simply stared, slack jawed and confused at the Empress. A look that was unbecoming of the mighty dragonborn.

“You wish for him to stay here, in the sanctum?!” she exclaimed, perplexed. Olesya’s eyebrows furrowed and she shot a scowl towards Adolyn.

“Your Majesty, you can’t possibly...” her words were cut off by the suffocating presence of the Empress, as the dragonkin turned her icey gaze upon her.

“You forget yourself, child.” Ætheria warned.

“My orders are to be followed, not questioned.” she stated simply. A hard edge creeping up to the surface. Olesya quickly bowed her head and coughed out an apology. The black dragoness had certainly overstepped her bounds.

For an intense moment, Taandi thought the Empress might strike the dragonborn. Her heart started pounding when the dragonkin drew near. She held her breath as Ætheria reached up and took Olesya by the chin, leaning forward to look her directly in the eyes.

“Trust that I mean what I say, child.” she whispered, gently lifting Olesya’s muzzle.

“What must the Count think of me? Questioned by my own Blades in such a disrespectful manner.” She asked leaning forward to place her muzzle to the smaller dragoness’ ear.

“You’ve diminished me in the face of our rivals.” Chastised Ætheria, Olesya said nothing.

The tension hung in the room for several moments, before the Empress stood back, clapping her hands.

“A small lack of decorum.” she concluded cheerfully.

“Perhaps I am too familiar with my Dragon Blades. They’re normally more disciplined.” She sighed. Gesturing with her hand she dismissed them. She would give Olesya a proper dressing down later. In the old days, her reprisal would have been swift and severe. Establishing her dominance over the lesser kin had been crucial after the Baptism; but now she could afford to be lenient and understanding. The idea of allowing the Hero of Herald’s Keep to lay his burden down in the Sanctum wasn’t a prospect she reckoned any cold blooded Saurian would find unpalatable. Surely the Clans of Nar’Kudan would shed their scales if they knew. Even many of the Nas’Sheren would be appalled, but the Empress did not care. It was imperative that these negotiations be fruitful. A lot was depending on it.

The three Dragon Blades quickly made their leave. Olesya leading the trio. She moved swiftly, her shoulders slumped and her head down; trying hard to control her sense of anger and disappointment. Not with the Empress, but for herself. She knew she stepped out of line.

Slade followed closely thereafter. His accusing eyes on her back. She did not look forward to the haranguing she would get from the stalwart warrior, or the Empress’ inevitable retribution. The dragonkin could be quite creative with her petty retributions. Olesya had once seen the Empress reward a Blade’s unrepentant misogyny with an assignment to nurse maid at the rookery. The other nursemaid's opinions of his performance and demeanor were the deciding factor on whether or not more severe punishment would come. A punishment that she would allow his victims to come up with. He hadn’t learned his lesson, of course, and ended up the concubine of a powerful dragokin lord. He was certainly not the alpha male in that relationship.

Shuttering, she imagined what twisted form her penance might take and stopped. Turning, she bowed to her Empress and then to Adolyn.

“Forgive me, I meant no disrespect.” she apologized formally. The gesture surprised everyone present. She did not dare look at the Empress again. Though if she had, she would have seen the nod of approval and the satisfied smile on her face.

Taandi followed her companions as far as the door, but was stopped by the thunderous command of Ætheria.

“Not you Taandi!” she called out.

“You will stay and bear witness.” ordered Ætheria. Again, Taandi looked to her companions, but they did not turn as they fled the room. As they exited, the light of magic crawled up the engraved runes of the beautiful double doors and they closed, sealing her inside.

Empress Ætheria nodded to Taandi, who was struggling to comfortably wrap the shawl around her neck. The chains that fastened from one side to the sigil of the Empress were difficult for her little hands to get hold of while still holding her staff. Ætheria watched on amused at the sight.

She was fond of the little kobold. Many had always decried her for uplifting the lesser kin to positions of honor and power within her court. Most thought the kobolds little more than pitiful dregs, nipping on the heels of their great society; useful mostly for labor and servitude.

“The opinions of small minds...” she thought dismissively.

The dragoness knew that the kobolds were a valuable resource in their society and had done much to help improve their quality of life. Taandi was a prime example of what one could achieve should their talents be properly nurtured.

“A sentiment I’m sure he shares...” she mused.

Adolyn’s treatment of Taandi intrigued her. From what she’d heard, he was not one to underestimate an opponent. He did not show her mercy or favor because he felt sorry for her. The Dalish had always been pragmatic about the worth of others, but, the acceptance of kobolds in their lands had been a recent occurrence. Her late husband had tried to make use of this perceived weakness in his enemies, going to great lengths to train and raise kobolds to defect as spies, but such indoctrinations had yet to bear fruit.

When they were loyal, they could only report on what was happening in Evandale. The Dalish required them to serve as support for their Border Legion for years before they earned their trust. Though not mistreated, they were always under extreme scrutiny, and their information would be less than useful.

Worse is that their loyalty did not last. Their lives in Evandale were much improved from what they lived in the Empire, and all of her edicts and reforms were not enough to change the cultural perception of the lesser lizards. She commended the Valenrows for their treatment of the kobolds in their care, even if there was still an air of animosity.

“You know,” she began.

“The last great war between our people ended here in this chamber.” informed the Empress, stepping up to Adolyn. Ætheria’s wings unfolded and spread wide.

“I am aware...” he replied, dropping his arms to his sides. She crowded his area and looked down upon him, her wings moving to enrapture him.

“Then you have some idea of what I wish to offer you then.” she purred, leaning down and bringing her swaying breasts before him. The young caracal admired them for a moment. Watching as they swayed freely behind the translucent cloth that barely hid their majesty. Gold crests ornamented the areas that would reveal anything ‘improper’ to him, but hid very little else. Saurian’s were not known for their modest dress. In truth, outside of combat, they only wore clothing as a social convention. He knew that in their homes and private estates, most of the lizardkin preferred to be in the nude.

After spending a respectful amount of time marveling at her body, he lifted his gaze to return to her eyes. There was no modesty in her expression. She was beautiful and she knew it. She obviously expected him to feel the same.

“And here I expected a heated debate where you made your demands and I had to navigate your careful schemes...” he teased. Ætheria chuckled. A genuine sign of her mirth. She was not offended.

“Your great, great uncle, Brolyn said much the same thing. You Valenrow men aren’t much for subterfuge, so I thought we’d forgo that particular dance and get right to the point.” she breathed in a seductive, hissing voice, that even a succubus would have appreciated. It sent a cold chill down his spine.

Holding his composure, he reached up, placing a gentle hand on her face. A move that elicited a gasp from Taandi, watching by the door. The Empress had not so much as flinched letting the Count touch her. It was a bold move from the Courtian Champion, but Ætheria was unbothered by it. In fact, if Taandi was truly seeing what she thought she was, the Empress was actually enjoying herself. She may have had more control over herself than Taandi had, as her tail did not dance, and her scent had not changed; but Taandi could see the slight coloring of the web of her wings grow flush. The Empress was definitely looking forward to whatever she had planned.

“Lovely Empress, I am neither Brolyn or Kaidyn. Though the offer to be a concubine in your retinue is an honor like no other, it is not a fate I would wish for myself.” he murmured apologetically.

“And what you wish to ask of me requires more than what you offer,” he added.

She knew this, of course. To end the last Great Border War, she had accepted Brolyn and Kaidyn as her concubines in exchange for ending hostilities and a generous gift of the Octesia Island from the Aslanians. In return the peace had held for many years until the Nar’Kudan began encroaching into the disputed lands. Though the following conflicts were hardly as great as the wars of the past.

Brolyn and Kaidyn had been cousins, heroes in that war. Atypical of their kind, they were far more aggressive in their tactics. Most Dalish only cared about defending Evandale, and cared little about further retaliation. The cousins had sought to send a message meant to shock and demoralize Sauria, dissuading her people from future aggression. They had made an attempt on her life.

They were mighty warriors, talented with the blade, and full or Æthereal might. Had they the gifts that their kin before her had, perhaps they would have succeeded. Instead, they merely entertained her in their fruitless struggle, but impressed nonetheless. When the situation grew so bloody that her brethren in Drakon got involved, pushing for peace, she claimed those two as a condition of her competulation. A decision she never regretted.

“They were happy here. Did you know that?” she asked. Adolyn shrugged. Placing her hand down on his shoulder she stood to her full height and began to circle him.

“Kaidyn was defiant at first. Believing he was to be tortured in retaliation for their failed assassination attempt. Brolyn thought that I’d make an example of them. Have them killed or something. Their bodies paraded through the streets of Thymera. A curious notion.” she started.

Placing her other hand on his left shoulder she pulled him to her, and Adolyn did not resist.

“What must you all think of us? I wondered. It seemed such an absurd expectation.” Leaning his head back, crimson locks brushing between her breast, Adolyn looked up at her. His piercing steel blue eyes meeting hers with intent.

“They believed they’d been given over to an enemy that had once tried to exterminate them all from the face of the planet. I mean, how many furkin have you killed, Daughter of Harad. Personally, I mean.” he challenged.

Though his tone lacked accusation. There was the hint of a rebuke in his words.

“Kaidyn asked the same question. And I will answer you as I did him.” she promised. Leaning forward he could feel her breath in his ear as her hands wrapped around him.

“More than I can remember. More than care to count. Maybe tens of thousands over the course of the last five centuries. More than the lives claimed by the last war or by the withering plague. More than any mundane kin would care to meet in a mortal lifetime.” she confessed. The Empress sounded more exhausted than regretful and for a moment Adolyn could not disguise his discomfort.

“What’s the matter, ‘Crimson Raven’, get a whiff of all the blood on my hands?” she asked mockingly.

Adolyn took her hands and held them in his own.

“You smell quite nice, your majesty. Though I doubt the stain on your soul will wash off.” he offered.

For the second time that day, Taandi feared violence would erupt in the Empress’ chamber. She wasn’t sure why the Empress would speak in such a manner about her contentious past with the furkins. It didn’t seem to serve her purpose. If Ætheria meant to seduce Adolyn in an effort to gain a favorable outcome in these negotiations, that wasn’t the way.

Ætheria embraced Adolyn then. Her wings enwrapping him, her arms closed tightly around his body.

“No it will not, my boy.” she said sadly.

“But I assure you that I’ve never murdered any of your kin.” she stated simply. Licking his cheek she lifted him easily, bringing him up to her level.

“I was no butcher. I killed on the battlefield. I defeat my enemies, I do not hate them.” proclaimed the dragoness with all the sincerity she could muster, and Taandi believed her. Though she had no idea what the Empress was like during the Baptism, the dragoness she served and came to admire was no butcher. She was an honorable warrior and monarch, who was never wicked or cruel. That is why even though she chose to follow the Stone King, despite her fathers wishes, she was chosen as Empress to lead a time of peace. Taandi hoped Adolyn could see that.

“What is it you offer in exchange for the grand concession you wish me to make?” he asked.

“To give you what you want is up to my discretion as Primus of the Raven Knights; but I’m sure you understand that the Crown, the Court, and even the Librarium would not simply let it be.” he continued. The Empress nodded. She knew that.

“What exactly could you offer that is worth the remains of an ancient dragon?”

Ætheria’s smile deepened as she heard Taandi’s gasp from the doorway. It was true. She did indeed desire to reclaim the remains of Bridigar, the ‘Red Eyes’.

“I knew we would understand one another.” She offered.

Despite their cumbersome embrace, the Empress’ dexterous fingers began unbuckling Adolyn’s armor. From her vantage, Taandi could not see just what she was doing, but after a moment, his pauldrons fell to the ground with a loud thud. Ætheria was careful to kick them aside before she continued.

“I like this part...” she whispered as her claw clipped a buckle. Letting the caracal fall from her arms. To Taandi’s surprise, his weapon, breast and back plate were still in Empress’ grasp. Ætheria removed them without even so much as unraveling the crimson scarf Adolyn wore. The kobold was especially impressed, and a little jealous of the Empress’ height and strength.

The Empress tossed the weapon and armor aside, and stalked forward.

“I may not have something as singularly important as the remains of the dragonborn race’s greatest progenitor...” she began.

“But I do have a few items that may be useful given certain situations Lioncourt wishes to deal with ‘discreetly’.”

The dragoness did not halt her advance to listen to the Count’s reply. She simply reached up to the neck of his tunic and pulled at a fasten. Taandi could hear a zipping noise, and the shift of slight metal as she removed it.

“Ahh... I like this.” She said admiring the garment. Hefting it in her hands she took note of its weight.

“Mythril?” she asked. Adolyn nodded unfastening the ties of his shirt.

“I guess this is happening then...” he teased pulling it off of his shoulders, one after the other.

“Are all your negotiations so... erotic?” he asked, tugging at his scarf.

Ætheria stopped him and smiled hungrily.

“No... and leave that. I like to see you with it on.” she said of his scarf. Adolyn complied leaving the garment on.

Scarves were a big thing in Dalish society. Everyone wore them. Taandi knew that Saurian’s liked to collect the scarves of defeated Dalish as trophies. A dalish scarf was like a record of that Dalish’s life and accomplishments. The tale of all they had done, who they were, were woven into the backsides of the garments. Since they always used a thread of a similar shade to whatever color the scarf was, you could not see the important information just by looking at them. You needed to have the item in your hand and look closely at the intricate stitch work.

Looking at Adolyn then, chest bare, muscles exposed and smiling like the furkin dreamboat that he was, Taandi felt a little ashamed of how much she’d coveted his scarf in the past. Or the fact that several of the fabrics of her outfit were made from scarfs she’d won in battle against Dalishkin just like him. But that was war though, and Adolyn understood. If he didn’t flinch at Ætheria’s body count, then he certainly didn’t care about her. What she was certain he did care about, was the massive swaying breast the Empress had put in his face. Taandi grumbled as she ran her hand down her bare chest. Kobolds didn’t have mammaries.

“I’m sure you know we still have a few Eldeidan here. Spoils of war. The regalia of Stroud, Nandaka, Sharanga, and the Varja.” she boasted.

“I have Kladenets, the precious Eldeidan of Albert Belk on my mantle. Those squirrels stirring up trouble in the north would certainly want that back, and his WindWalker Boots.”

She spoke of the remains of heroes slain. The bones of honored foes such as King Charles Mondo de Lioncourt; husband of the Queen of Hearts, Alazia de Lioncourt. The Compendium of Trent. The greatest encyclopedia of the Arcane ever produced. And of course, culturally relevant to Adolyn, the ‘Standard of the First’; an ancient artifact that the original Border Legion passed down from standard bearer to standard bearer. Made of Thantosian Wood, it was a powerful antediluvian relic.

The Empress spoke with deference about the artifact, but didn’t know the half of it. Even those early Dalish didn’t know half of it. Adolyn knew that it was actually the Staff of Arment and it was crafted by Druids as a lesser version of their own Staves of the Order. Arment was a mage and Arcane Knight, uplifted by the Order after the founding of Evandale. It’s true power and history was a secret known only to House Valenrow. It’d been lost for centuries.

Adolyn could not deny he wanted the staff, but he could ask for it and everything she named, and it still would not be enough to justify giving the Empress the remains of an Ancient Dragon. Even now, dead for as long as the brilliant beast had been, it still emanated Ætheral Energy. The Librarium wanted to study it. The King wished to craft Arcane Arm’s from it’s bones. It’s heart had crystallized and the shattered pieces were dragon diamonds; Mana stones of such awesome power, a single one could make a novice spellcaster dangerous enough to destroy an entire village. Surely she couldn’t be asking him to release such power back into the hands of the enemy. The Ordered had refused to release such material to the Crown. Giving it to her was out of the equestion.

“I will not return to you the Heart of Bridigar. Nor can I justify the bulk of his bones. You understand that the Crown would go to war with the Order if I did.” he appealed. The large dragoness nodded. She understood.

Reaching down she placed a clawed finger to the center of his belt, pulling him to her by the waist.

“I want only his skull, what is left of his brain, for I know it is still intact, and his claws. I trust he has most of his teeth?” Ætheria queried.

Taandi was amazed that she could focus on such a serious negotiation while still looking and being so seductive. Though he didn’t look it, she could tell Adolyn was a bit unbalanced. He was spending more time thinking than he was talking, and he’d never let himself be led like this with her. She’d certainly tried when she offered him his ‘Conquerors Prize’. The ramifications of what the Empress wanted was enough to throw him off. The Empress was giving a masterclass in her particular brand of diplomacy.

The Count gasped then as the Dragonkin Empress went from being subtle, to forceful. He was barely able to keep from tumbling as she pushed him back. Adolyn stumbled a few steps before catching himself, but was made to fall on his ass on the throne as Ætheria kicked him lightly in the chest, sitting him down. Adolyn did not exclaim or protest. He simply looked up, an interested glint in his eyes as he sat face to face with her femininity. She was standing, one leg up on the arms of the throne, the sheer loincloth she wore leaving little to the imagination.

“I will offer you all that I have shared and more, as well as the Isle of Octesia, to be made a Daish land, not returned to Aslan, as well as the few dozen prisoners we still have here in the Tower of Shattered Wings.” she offered.

She then smiled as she pulled back on the sheer cloth revealing her budding flower to him.

“I’ll even sign that ridiculous treaty your King sent over... but in exchange, I want what I’ve asked of the ‘Red Eyes’, and a personal promise from you.” She continued.

The border kin gulped as he took in her sight and scent. The feminine abyss of a dragoness was something he’d encountered only a few times in his life, and Adolyn had always wondered at the smell. Like Monette, the succubus in the Orders employ, there was something about the powerful scent of their womanhood that addled the mind and enticed both lizardkin and furkin alike. He was sure it was not a spell. He could not feel her quintessence interfering with the flow around him. No. The Empress didn’t need magic to aid in her seduction. She was doing a great job all her own.

He stared at her crevice, trying to keep himself from leaning forward and taking it in his mouth. For some reason he could not say, he longed to do so. Had she not relieved him of his belt, he was sure his erection would pierce through his briefs and give the dragonkin the satisfaction of seeing him utterly aroused. Instead, he chose to meet her eyes again and counter her offer.

“All you have offered and two more things. One for the Kingdom, and one for myself.” he countered.

Ætheria leaned down, her wings spreading and blocking Taandi’s view. She engulfed Adolyn in her presence, and her hands leaned down to capture his face. The Empress kissed him then. Forcefully. Passionately. Her tongue pushing inside of his mouth and probing around to steal his breath. It was a kiss that wasn’t as awkward or uncomfortable as some he’d had with lizardkin. Most reptites had never used their maws to kiss a furkin and the navigation of such intimacy took time to perfect. Apparently the Empress was a master. Adolyn had never been kissed that way. When she pulled away, her long tongue was still in his mouth even after he could see her nose to nose. He knew she’d done this many times before.

“Name your price, sweet boy, and I will name mine.” She purred.

Adolyn took a moment to regain his composure. Long enough that the Empress giggled at him.

“For the King, I want the Raven’s Wing.” he demanded. Despite his mind being somewhat overwhelmed by her intoxicating power and femininity, he would not be distracted from this most important of goals.

“It is the symbol of the foundation of our Kingdom and a Relic that means more to the culture of Lioncourt than others.” he insisted. Ætheria looked as if she would argue, her resolve momentarily shaken.

“Do not claim you don’t have it. For I know you do, it is somewhere here in the Sanctum Sub Rosa is it not?” asked Adolyn, a small grin growing on his face. The Empress gave him a knowing smile.

“The Grey Ghost was never here for me was she?” she asked absently. Adolyn shrugged reaching out and taking hold of her womanhood.

“I did not deploy her.” he answered, running the curiously soft pads of his fingers up her slit.

Unlike her, he was not so confident in his ability to seduce a powerful Dragonkin without aid. So, very carefully, he focused on his own thoughts. His own passions and desires. The need that was growing for her and drew it into his mind’s eye. With effort he made those desires into his will and that will into power. He drew upon his spirit well, and like Monette had taught him, put the ‘tingle’ into his fingers. As he gently massaged her, he could feel her own ‘soul’s defense’ reach out to stop the intrusion of inner energies. But it was only a small resistance. Understanding what he was trying to do, the Empress relaxed and the satisfying gasp of pleasure that came from her mouth, was nothing short of gratifying. She began to breath heavily, messing his hair with every silent breath.

“Very well,” she breathed.

“I will return the symbol of your Crown’s legitimacy, but then I want more. I want wings and what remains of his organs.” Her words were in a huff and when he slipped his fingers inside of her, she squealed like hatchling and began to softly chitter in his ear.

“Magically embalmed I’m guessing. You’ll provide the canopic jars I take it?” the Count mused, beforel wetting his thumb and getting a taste of Ætheria’s womanly honey.

Chittering again, the Empress' eyes fluttered a bit as he placed his thumb down on her clit and began to trace circles. You could see her legs shake as her tail began to sway behind her, the dragoness’ ass all a quiver.  This time, it was a lower, guttural noise; that sounded a little feverish and intimidating.

“I’ve made ready the necessary vessels to honor him.” she breathed, unable to completely stay focused.

“And your personal favor, borderman?” she moaned. Looking up, Adolyn licked the front of her muzzle and another bout of sensual kissing began. This time, she fairly throttled him as her arms wrapped around his body and her claws gripped his back. She tried not to hurt the caracal, but Ætheria’s grip was complete. The Primus simply continued his assault. Kissing her with all the affection of a long lost lover. His attentions on her pussy were skilled and practiced. He knew just the way to touch her. Much more strength in his caress than he was used to. He knew dragonkin were quite a great deal heartier than furkin women.

A lengthy silence followed, with only the heavy breathing of the Empress audible. Adolyn had ended their kiss, much to Ætheria's obvious disappointment, but she kept the embrace. He stared into her golden eyes as his ‘magic’ hand did it’s dance, bringing the Empress to the edge of elation before he pulled back. Grinning, he leaned back in on the throne breaking their embrace and Taandi could hear an unbecoming whine from her Empress

Adolyn, unmoved by her discontent, simply lifted his hand to his lips and began casually cleaning his fingers. He said nothing as the Empress watched him, annoyance plain on her face for the first time. He was not subtle in his actions; licking and slurping his digits as if he’d been eating a particularly juicy fruit.

“Not yet...” the Empress thought, a bit chagrined. Before she lost her patience, and any advantage she’d gained in their little dance, Adolyn threw her a bone and answered her question.

“I will ask of you a favor. One for my personal benefit. Something between you and I.” he started. Looking at his fingers he then added.

“I do not know what that will be, but I know it will be granted. I will want your word on it.” he stated simply. The Dragoness reared back for a moment, taken aback by his audacity. Or maybe she was impressed.

“I can name what I will and will not do before agreeing to this.” she asked, speculatively. The handsome feline nodded unconcerned.

“Of course! Your womanly prerogative, your majesty. I would not ask something uncouth of you.” he promised. Ætheria laughed.

“You would not need such a promise to ask something uncouth of me. We lizardkin aren’t as prudish as you furs.” teased the tall dragoness. Adolyn nodded. He knew that all too well.

“Very well, I agree. But for me I will ask something of you as well.” revealed the Empress.

“I have not seen my daughter in nearly a century. I know she yet lives and I know she shares a predilection for bedding powerful males, be the lizard or furkin. I imagine you would be the kind of kin she could not resist.” she informed. Adolyn looked shocked.

He had heard of the Empress’ other child, the dragonkin Ashurei. Ashurei was said to be the son of a Drakon Lord, not the child of Mizer like her son Phaldak. The rumors say that she was raised in Drakon and eschewed politics and her Royal lineage to become a Ruin Hunter, but not much was known about her other than that. Well, except for the fact that she shared her mothers insatiable lust for life that is.

“I imagine you wish me to find her, to convince her to come and see you?” he asked skeptically. The Empress nodded, her hand reaching out and brushing through his hair. Gently she played with his ears and then traced her clawed fingers down to his cheek.

“See that my child comes to visit her mother. I believe you can.” she confided. Adolyn shrugged and looked away.

“I assume you’ve sent Dragon Blades and Trackers to find her. I can’t imagine any of that lot not finding her, she’s not exactly hiding from you. How do you expect me to convince her where they could not?” he queried. The Empress’ wolfish smile returned. More predatory and feverish than when first she was seen. Forcefully she took Adolyn by his hair and thrust his muzzle forward in between her legs. His cold wet nose tickled her bulb as she shifted to push her ladies lips to his.

“You can start with something like this...” she cooed.