The Conqueror's Prize; Art by Vlikmit Kovsh (Patreon)

I’d never seen the Empress angry before; not even once. Not through blood, battle, loss, or even laying an egg. It was truly a sight to behold. The dragonkin growled and snarled, whilst little flicks of purple fire escaped her with every angry heave.

“That FUCKING IDIOT!” she screamed with a burst of flame. As always, the dragoness was powerful without even trying.

Also as always, King Mizer had done another foolish thing in furtherance of the ‘War Factions’ violent agenda; and her imperial highness was livid. Personally, I’ve always thought she should have eaten him when he was young, like the furs always claim we lizardkin do; but that’s just me. I’ve never been a fan.

Mizer had recently deployed his ‘Shadow Stalkers’ into the disputed lands. Ostensibly to investigate a settlement of ‘Strayed’ believed to be a front for the Courtian military, but of course, that wasn’t his only aim.

Even the saber-rattlers in the imperial court couldn’t sell the idea of the Dalishkin setting up Safe Houses and forward operating stations in the disputed lands; so instead he convinced the Empress it was the Assyrians. Of course she agreed, given the implications and the obvious pressure the so-called ‘Lindwyrm Society’ was putting on the crown.

Mouthy bastards, always kicking up a fuss and terrifying the lizards in the south, screaming;

“The furs are plotting!”

It’s just speciesist bullshit and it ain’t even real. Half of them ‘War Faction’ fucks ain’t old enough to remember the war. Sure, the old heads and many of the dragon bloods go back that far, but most of the clan leaders have lived too long and prospered too much to hold a real grudge. Nah, it’s those religious zealots; the Amrunists. Constantly screaming about how Salamus promised the reptites the world and that the furs still need to be cleansed. That they are blessed by the Celestial Dragon of the East and we should fight to take our rightful dominion over Theria.

It’s all self-aggrandizing bunk. Most of them aren’t dragonkin at all, let alone the true ‘Children of Amrun’. Secondly, and most important to me, is that kobolds like me aren’t really in their grand plans for a glorious world of reptite dominion. Nope, just fodder for their never ending war machine. Who cares about us silly little kobolds.

Funny thing is, you never hear them scream about the Leverin or the middling settlements of roderen to the north. Those folks have encroached on our lands more times than I can count, but no ones all up in their scales about that. It’s almost like they’ve got an ancient axe to grind with Lioncourt or something.

As a lowly kobold, I’m often overlooked by the reptites of the court. My people are second class citizens in the best of circumstances. Usually the only avenues out of poverty and squalor are to indenture ourselves or our children to the clans of the greater lizards. A fate my Empress lifted me from, giving me direction and purpose. Something that has earned the dragonkin my undying loyalty.

So while everyone else slunk away from her furious rage, I just stood there shrugging; happy to be of service.

“Piece of wretched scale rot!” she snarled, slashing down a painting of the pair of them hanging to the left. Her claws cut through the picture, frame, and into the deep set stone of the wall. I could see a bit of the material melting in the grooves of the cut. She was absolutely emanating quintessence.

If I had known my report would cause the lady such fury, I might have done my best to arrive sooner. I wondered perhaps if she was angry enough, would she do us all a favor and bite off Mizer’s schemey little head. It’d certainly make my life easier. Half of my job these days has been putting out fires caused by that reckless fool.

Frankly, I too was upset. It’d been a shit day from the onset. Waking up before the dawn fire’s light and sneaking about like some common thief. I had to steal one of those damned jaculi and travel three days, riding hard to make it back in time for my report to even be useful. Heaven knows that was a harrowing ordeal. I’ve never been a fan of the musty snakelike creatures.

Only my duty and love for the Empress could get me to deal with the so-called ‘javelin snakes’. They’re a common enough mount in Sauria, just not one we kobolds are thrilled to deal with.

Imagine a large snake-like creature, with two weird little legs and small wings. They are usually mauve to dark purple in their scalage; with arrow shaped heads. topped with two rows of ridges, with a few pointy horns. Though the one I had to ride had a broad, flat face, and was a bit bigger than average.

They’re reasonably intelligent for a lesser beast and make speedy mounts, though their wings cannot give them flight whilst they have a rider; and I hear some species can be venomous. Though I’ve yet to encounter such a variant.

Jaculi are popular among the reptites for a variety of reasons, but we kobolds have never been a fan; and it’s not just because they stink.

Most kobolds hate and fear Jaculi because those that are poorly trained often attack and have even eaten our kind. It’s not a fear the greater lizardkin, even the diminutive skinks and gekko’s have.

With wyverns, drakes, and even the great ancient dragons unwilling to harm kobolds due to our ancient connection to the honored beasts, it’s a surprise the considerably diminutive jaculi think of us as prey. Hell, even the one I’d ridden back had needed to be kowed before he’d let me mount. I swear, had it made even the tiniest of aggressive hisses, I’d have been the one eating my fill. I’m not above walking home!

The Empress appreciated my efforts, requesting my presence right away. Though the news I bore had not made her happy; she was appreciative anyway. It was exactly the kind of account she was expecting.

Ætheria Asellas is many things. A sliver of divinity here on Elcrest? Absolutely! A great matriarch whose power is only rivaled by her beauty? Without a doubt! A fool? No, not even a little bit. So after approving the King’s little operation, the Empress ordered me to infiltrate the disputed lands and keep an eye on our people. You know, make sure they’re there doing what they say they are.

Of course neither of us were surprised when it turned out that that wasn’t the case.

As a kobold, even one who is ‘dragonwrought’, with beautiful dark violet horns, palatinate and blue scales that glitter in places, and a reasonably shapely body for my breed; I’m apparently beyond the notice of the so-called greater lizards. Not even my deep violet eyes or stylish head crest gets me much notice aside from the horny perverts looking to get their rocks off with someone who can’t really refuse them; so dressing down and hiding among the slew of kobolds who have been trying to make a better life in the disputed lands is incredibly simple.

The Strayed both greater lizards and furkin, don’t pay us much attention. Other kobolds, even those who might have an inkling of who or what I am, will not betray my presence. My people are accused of being many things. Useless, cowardly, weak, and comically enough, ungrateful to a group of kinling who treat us like fodder; but disloyalty is not among our apparent failings.

Strayed kinling have no masters and are beholden to no one but themselves, and the idea that the Disputed lands are free from the politics of Kingdoms. As long as I’m not there to disrupt such a thing, they are rather welcoming to other kobolds. Especially since the Empress has repeatedly shown no desire to vilify or persecute those who so choose to live the life of the ‘Strayed’.

I was welcomed by a nice family of kobolds who were very useful in my investigation. They’d noticed influential people going missing or falling victim to accidents over the last few months, as other new faces showed up. All of Saurian origin. Through contacts and careful inquiry, I got myself assigned to a work team fixing up some buildings for new residence. That is where things really took a turn.

Though most of the court does not recognize me, either my authority or person, I am very good with faces. I found many a reptite loyal to the ‘Society’ all around. Far more than the ‘Shadow Stalkers’ who were approved for clandestine operations. After ingratiating myself to a foreman through dubious means, I was able to keep an eye on their dealings. What I found I knew would cause my Empress grief and anger.

The War Faction had been so sure that someone was creating secret safe houses and forward operating stations in the disputed lands, because it was they who were doing so. A clear violation of the Treaty of Zamona!

It isn’t bad enough that those Lindwyrm idiots were trying to start another war with Lioncourt, but violating that particular treaty, which created the disputed lands in the first place, would bring the scrutiny of Drakon down upon us. And neither the War Faction, nor the Empress wanted that. Something would need to be done.

Unfortunately, that was not the only thing I’d found. It seems I wasn’t the only kinling investigating the oddities in the disputed lands.

I managed to encounter a Legion Scout doing much the same thing as I was. A little jerboa who had largely gone unnoticed by the lizards, due to her willingness to serve and satisfy them. I don’t know how much she’d learned, but I knew I needed to kill her to keep everything on the hush-hush. Sadly, the little rodent was more clever than I anticipated, having managed to evade my trap and escape with her life. That is what led to my flight right the hell out of there in the dead of night. Shit was about to hit the fan.

It’d only take her a day to get word back to her people, so I needed to act fast.

“It’ll take at least a week's time for the Dalish to mobilize a reasonable response. They’ll need more proof than just the word of one scout. They're going to send a Force Recon Team.” Ætheria stated matter of factly.

Looking around, I could see the hard choices my matriarch was going to have to make. Unlike the furkin, she would not need more proof than I to act. We both knew what had to happen.

“They’ll need to die...” she shrugged.

“Every ‘rat bastard’ one of them!”

It was true. The only way to maintain the peace was to destroy all evidence of the infraction. That meant any ‘Society’ fucks or loyalists hiding among the strayed needed to be killed before the furkin could confirm the scout’s account. Hell, we may need to kill any Strayed who had grown wise to the War Faction’s machinations. The Empress dispatched half of our number, eight dragon blades, with the explicit Orders to eliminate liabilities with extreme prejudice. So I was going back to the disputed lands.

Myself, Mauldovan, Isadora, Slade, Ky, Olesya, Kasshan, and even Arkant. Eight of the sixteen Dragon Blades were dispatched into the disputed lands on a mission of utmost importance. A minor incursion may result in political blowback, as well as penalties and harsh concession to Lioncourt, but it wouldn’t be war... and it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as if they could prove what the War Faction was up to.

It would also send a message to members of the court that were part of the ‘Society’; that the Empress’ Blades can reach them even in the shadows.

I was paired with Isadora, a tall, haughty dragonborn who herself has familial ties to the War Faction. Their attempt to get one of their own in the Empress’ circle of confidence, but Ætheria is very particular about who has the honor of being one of her ‘true’ Blades. Isadora may have Lindwyrm sympathies, but her loyalty is unquestioningly to the Empress.

“Damn, I hope I don’t know none of these folks!” Isadora shouted against the wind.

It was difficult to hear one another as we raced through the night sky on a wyvern’s back. I felt her heartbeat fast as she pressed her body against me, riding pillion in the twin saddle. The eight of us flew in pairs atop the feral lesser dragons, speeding to our destinations.

Each of us would arrive at a site before the dawn fire’s rising and began the bloody business of neutralizing Saurian infiltrators. If there was time, those blessed with dragon fire would ‘clean up’ the evidence. Orders to minimize casualties amongst the ‘Strayed’ was given only as a secondary objective. The purge was of the greatest priority.

“Worried you’re gonna have to put down a friend, Isa?” I teased. I couldn’t see her face, but her laugh echoed through the wind.

“Hah! Any enemy of the Empress is no friend of mine!” she guffawed.

“We all make our choices in this world. Those who chose to follow an order that has them sneaking around behind her imperial majesty’s back, is just committing suicide the long way around, and I’m happy to help them to it!” snarled the tall dragonborn. She seemed excited.

I knew her father, Dorian, had been a hero during the later years of the Baptism. She could trace her lineage back to Ziselaer the ‘Wings of Obsidian’. She was an eighth generation dragon’s blood and proud of it.

While her father was a respected war hero, her mother Isabella is what I refer to as a gold plated kelling. Sure, the woman’s a dragonborn and that alone is worthy of respect; but only so much. A celebutante who is only notable for being one of five children of Clan Kaghet; Isabella Kaghet, is the worst kind of ‘Lindi’; a friggin tross.

A relatively young dragonborn, she’d been fed that ‘Society’ bullshit from a young age. An Amrunist and a ‘camp follower’, as a young dragoness she was fascinated by the warriors and heroes of the Baptism, and managed to somehow earn a place as Lord Dorian’s second wife. When Isadora pursued the path of the Blade, many worried she’d be more like her mother than the father; fortunately, my rambunctious partner has enough of her father in her to keep her level headed.

“I ain’t burdened by the circumstance of my birth!” boasted Isadora proudly.

“Whatever nonsense my mother gets on with her ‘Lindi’ friends, ain’t got naught to with me! The Empress is the hand and I am the blade... I shall go forth and cut down her enemies; whomever they may be!”

I could feel her shiver with anticipation. She was always raring for a fight.

I tried reminding her that we were to strike with a rapier’s finesse, not the lumbering force of an axe; but she just dismissed me.

“Please,” she shrugged.

“If you think them flea bitten furs ain’t gonna be on this like lightning, you ain’t dealt with the Legion enough. I give it three days before their people are all over this, and it’ll take us at least two to get there. We’re going to encounter them...”

She could at least try to hide a little of her enthusiasm. I had no wish to go up against a Border Legion Force Recon Unit. Despite the furs' obvious arcane deficiencies compared to we lizardkin, the Dalish were masters of using magical talismans to negate that disadvantage. Force Recon tended to include veteran scouts and warriors with experience operating outside the companies they were attached to. Not even a dragon blade wanted to get caught off guard by a team of them.

The Empress had requested I accompany Isadora because of her tendency to cause massive collateral damage. We were friends, so the Lady hoped my words of reason could keep the dragonborn reeled in. The thought always puts my mind in a tizzy. What exactly could I do to stop a dragonborn as powerful as ‘Isa’.

We’re friends, for better or worse, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m a kobold and she’s of dragon’s blood. Oftentimes she flat out ignores any suggestions or orders I give her. There really isn’t a hierarchy within our little group, but the Empress does assign field leaders on missions such as this. In our pair that was me; much to my chagrin.

“Look at you,” Isadora interrupted.

“You’re not beholden to your parents path either...” she said as some kind of compliment.

It was true, but only because I was one of the rare kobolds born with enough source retention to become adept in the Æthereal artes. Until my awakening as ‘dragonwrought’, the term they use for kobolds who develop arcane talent, I was just like any other of my kind. I served a shit Clan, with a shit lord, who didn’t give two shits about the kobolds indentured to him.

My mother was of average breeding; not remarkable in any way. She’d had several clutches before mine. My older brothers and sisters all grew to be skirmishers like my father. All reasonably talented, but nothing special. You’d say the best of the mediocre.

Mine had been one of the eggs bought and sold to the highest bidder. Clan Koshka purchased my ‘youth contract’ for a mere two gold kellings. That was how much the first sixteen years of my life was worth. I guess I’m lucky though, at least I’ve met my parents. Though I wouldn’t say we have a strong relationship, I’m at least proud of them for various reasons.

Unlike Isadora’s mother, who apparently threw a goddamn week-long party when she became a Dragon Blade, and won’t shut up about it to anyone who’d listen. My mother was modest about my accomplishments; even as her status in society grew.

I won’t lie, the average kobold would have tried to use the fact that I was adept to climb a few more rungs up the ladder, but my mother instead declared that all of her children were accomplished; especially those who grew to be talented skirmishers. Given that she’d birthed ‘fine stock’ for years, along with my fathers accomplishments in battle, they both got their contracts bought out by a more influential clan. My father’s a breeding stud now.

I learned a lot from my father in the few instances I’d had with him. He was an amazing kobold. The survivor of over thirty campaigns, he was a front line skirmisher for nearly fifty years before I was born, and he’s still fighting fit. The man has lived through battles that killed dragonkin and common lizards alike.

Though many have accused him of cowardice, unwilling to believe a mere kobold could endure what others could not, those he’s served with all know the truth; he’s as skilled a warrior as a kobold can be. I didn’t know much about the man, having been sold before I was even born, but he sought me out, as he had with all his children; giving us something to know that we were his.

For some it was coin. Others, he granted rare items he’d pillaged during battles on fields far away. For me, I received a mana crystal and words of wisdom from his many engagements. All of this before it was even known that I was more than the average kobold. Hell, my horns hadn’t even grown in for the first time.

“Taandi...” he said to me; his eyes looking so much like my own.

“You need not fill a contract of your own when you come of age. Despite masterless kobolds often being poor and impoverished, it need not be this way.”

He held me in his arms and for the first time in my life I felt the warmth of kinship that I’d never known.

“You can travel, you can see all of Theria. You can go down south and live a life free in the disputed lands, or take your chances with the furs in Lioncourt, where our people are rumored to be treated a little better. Whatever you do, make sure it’s your choice!” insisted the older lizardkin.

When I asked him why he hadn’t pursued such a path, he simply laughed and answered;

“Can’t teach a hammer to love nails...” I wasn’t all too sure what he meant.

I’d told Isadora all that. She knew my story well. Her mother had bid high for my contract when it was found that I had the talent. I guess she wanted the novelty of being served by a kobold with magical prowess. Lucky for me Empress Ætheria wanted me for much more. My lady paid two platinum kellings for my service and spent considerably more on my education and training. She honed me into the capable Blade I am today. One she could trust with problematic situations such as this one.

“Yes, yes... you’re quite capable.” Isadora huffed. Though I could tell that she was rolling her eyes behind me.

“Then you understand why I was put in charge here?” I asked dubiously. Isadora sighed and leaned forward, bringing her huge head down to look at me as we flew.

“Yes, yes... finesse and all that.” she mocked.

I told her that I was serious and again reiterated the complexity of our mission. The other Blade’s would be dealing with the three other sites of interest, but we would be going back to the settlement I had infiltrated days earlier, Berrywick. It was further south than the other three settlements and would likely be the first place the Legion recon unit would investigate. We needed to get in, do our business, and get out quickly.

“And if we encounter the recon unit?” she coaxed. I groaned loudly.

“Then and only then do we fight...” I relented. I hoped we could avoid engaging the Dalish. Heaven knows we didn’t need that kind of heat. Unfortunately for me, hopes and dreams rarely ever come true. I already had one fulfilled in my lifetime, I guess the Goddess did not see fit to grant me another.

When we arrived in Berrywick we could already see something was amiss. The neighborhood where the ‘Society’s’ agents had been building their cover was on fire. The bodies of many furkin Strayed littered the streets and we could see some kind of battle raging in the outskirts. Things didn’t look good.

Isadora and I set down a few yards away, preferring to sneak into town rather than announce ourselves. We had to be careful, if Legionnaire scouts were around, they’d surely be watching the skies.

I took a back alley to the house I’d been staying in, side stepping trash, debris, and vermin. The only kin on the streets appeared to be town militia, and they seemed focused on something to the north. Despite Isadora’s 8’6” frame, we were not seen.

Isa’s a big gal, pretty too. Most of her scales are an unsaturated cold blue that runs over most of her body, though it’s darker at her shoulders where she has markings that look like blue fire. Her face, chest, and abdomen, down between her legs and tail, are a light cold azure that makes her thick scales pop, and her bright, cerulean horns stand out against her sapphire hair. She’s got crystal blue eyes and large dark scutes running down her tail. She certainly stands out in a crowd. Luckily, there weren’t any as we made our way.

“It’s me, Taandi...” I called from outside the back door; knocking softly. All the while I prayed that no harm befell those who’d hidden me. When the older kobold opened the door to receive us, I must have looked especially relieved, because she said;

“Oh don’t you worry about me now, child. I’ve lived eighty years, it’d take more than this to keep me from living eighty more.”

With a warm smile and not even a little hesitation, she invited us in and told us the score.

Things had gone from bad to worse very quickly at about two hours after the rising of the sun. A single Dalish Legionnaire had arrived in town requesting to speak to whomever was in charge, a lizardkin named Quelo. The two talked amiably in the town square for a time, before Quelo apparently agreed to allow the legionnaire to search the town. Everything was fine until they began making their way to the new neighborhood being built, that’s when all hell broke loose.

The mature kobold, Ulindi, said that lizardkin burst out of buildings and from the sides of alleyways, attacking everyone. Kin who had broken bread with them and lived among them for months were now flying the flag of a notorious band of disputed land cutthroats, claiming the town as their own and threatening to kill anyone who challenged their authority. A reasonable cover.

“What happened to the legionnaire?” Asked Isadora, interested. Ulindi's eyes grew wide as her hands became animated.

“He drew his sword and cut a few down like they weren’t nothing. They had cast spells on him, but he just shrugged ‘em off and kept coming. They had numbers, but soon he was joined by other furs that were hiding all around. He wasn’t nothing like any fur I’d ever seen, and that flaming sword of his!” she exclaimed.

Growing ever more concerned, I looked at Isadora and then back to Ulindi, asking her to tell me what the legionnaire looked like.

“Was one of them caracals. Young fella, handsome too. Had short red hair and red armor, looked pretty important from where I stood.” she answered before pausing a bit. Then she said the words that made my blood run cold.

“Didn’t catch his name, but he said he was from the 15th.” she added. Behind me Isadora whistled.

“The famous 15th Company, guess they’re taking this seriously.” she laughed. Not even bothering to hide her excitement.

I shot her a look that could wither plants and asked if she knew what that meant. Of course, she didn’t. Isadora never paid too much attention to the reports and paperwork. Wasn’t really her style.

“Adolyn Valenrow...” I sighed, and Isadora grew giddy with anticipation.

“Oh...” she smiled, wringing her hands.

“Looks like things are going to be more interesting than I thought!”

Of course that was an understatement.

I’ve met Adolyn Valenrow a number of times on the battlefield. He’s the kin the Leverin have been calling the new ‘Hero of Ages’, on account that he was able to retrieve the sword ‘Durendal’ from the depths of some Leverin tomb, where it’d slept for three hundred years.

Some call it the ‘First Blade’, others call it the ‘Firebrand’, for obvious reasons. However we in Sauria know the weapon by a different name... ‘Dragon’s Bane’.

Once wielded by the Leverin hero, Canton, it’s a talisman well known all across Sauria. Known as the sword that slayed one hundred dragons, it’s very existence is anathema to every being of dragon's blood; for it is said that the wielder is immune to the element of fire.

I am not sure the validity of that claim, nor do I believe the weapon has ‘slayed a hundred dragons’, but history is clear on one thing; the sword certainly allowed the rabbit to punch above his weight! It is an undisputed fact that Canton was able to slay the Ancient High Dragon Garvos, the dragonborn Eternian Helus, and even wounded the Celestial Dragon Forod at the Battle of Harimal. It’s kind of a big fucking deal.

“Yeah, but that kid ain’t no Canton. The Leverin and the Caprini are the only furs blessed by the flow. He may have himself a fancy pig sticker, but I doubt he’s all that.” she shrugged. I wanted to stab her in the ankle.

“Take this seriously, he isn’t your average furkin!” I demanded. Isadora snickered. Her azure scales deepened in pigment as she blushed a bit.

“Oh I know you think that, I’ve read those reports!” Isadora’s words were made in playful jest, but I wasn’t offended. I knew what she was referring to.

Adolyn and I had crossed swords multiple times. The first when he was a mere squire under the tutelage of some prissy Pandorican. The second and third, in the course of the Empress’ business. Each time the boy impressed. Each time I was defeated and summarily allowed to retreat. I knew first hand how powerful the young Dalishkin was. I wasn’t about to underestimate him.

“From what I hear, you’ve got quite the glowing opinion of the kitten.” she winked.

“Called him an ‘exceptional exemplar of his kin’, in your report...”

I felt the heat within me rise as the scales upon my face changed color; darkening as I blushed profusely.

“I’ve faced him thrice before and he’s shown himself to be an honorable warrior.” I argued. Isadora laughed.

“You mean he beat you and decided to let you go...” she chuckled, her implication obvious to both me and the mature kobold. She gave me a knowing smile, understanding right away that the dragonborn was referring to the barbaric practice of the ‘Conqueror’s Prize’.

Among most kin, especially among lizardkin, it is the females, not the males who are usually bigger and stronger. Gender means very little on the battlefield between we reptites and even many furs. Though Courtian male lions tend to be bigger and heartier than their female counterparts, still the prowess both physical and arcane of their ladykin cannot be understated. Unlike many of the small kin, among most of the greater felines there is no distinction between males and female warriors in skill and power, but that does not make them equal.

A woman is a woman, and a man is a man... and between them there will always be desire. Hell, even between the same gender in some cases. Thus, when one is defeated in war it is still customary for the victor to demand a ‘Conqueror’s Prize’ in exchange for sparing the life of the vanquished. And yes, it is as it sounds; a defeated warrior can exchange his or her dignity for their life.

“He did not demand such a thing!” I protested, a little embarrassed. Not because I felt the least bit abashed to offer my femininity to a talented warrior who could defeat me in single combat, no; but because Isadora was implying that I as a kobold welcomed such a thing.

It is true that we kobolds are known to flee, cower, submit, and yes, lay on our backs if it’ll ensure our survival. My kin has to do whatever it takes to endure in a world that sees us as fodder, but I am ‘dragonwrought’, and I didn’t appreciate the idea that I’d just turn my head, lift my tail, and let any old asshole rut me like a breeding mare just to survive. I did have my pride as a Blade. Even still, I’ll admit that pride only goes so far.

Mercifully, Ulindi said what I was too proud or embarrassed to admit.

“Shit... iffin it was that boy doing the asking, I would be genuinely proud to offer my sheath to a swordsman like that! Not every day a man of such fine stock wants to rut around with the likes of us!” she laughed, nudging me. Isadora could barely contain her mirth.

“Of course you’d say that! You’re a damn strayed, out her living and fraternizing with the furs. It ain’t a thing for you to catch a couple of fleas...” Isador gibbed, with a snicker. Ulindi did not look offended.

“Guilty as charged. I’ve had many a furkin lover, exalted one. I am not ashamed. Furkin can be quite tender and attentive lovers. I rather enjoy their company.” she admitted. She then smiled at me.

“And that one is especially exceptional, you should not feel ashamed to have given your prize to him.” she assured me. Now I was embarrassed.

I looked away, eyes shifting left to right as I tried to find a way to word it. I was hoping to soften the blow. You know, for my own sense of self worth; but the ever perceptive Isadora was able to pick up on my trepidation and suss out what was really bothering me.

“By the wings of the Goddess!” she shouted out, unable to contain her amusement.

I scowled as she began to laugh in earnest.

“You did... and he didn’t, did he?” she guffawed.

Her laughter was like a pickaxe against my ears. If only it could kill me, then I wouldn’t have to die so slowly from embarrassment.

Yes, thrice I had fought Adolyn Valenrow; and thrice I had been utterly defeated. Rather than die, I did offer myself to the handsome caracal in exchange for my life; and thrice he respectfully declined. The first time I was thankful, if not a little disappointed. The second time I felt a bit rejected.

I didn’t know much about Adolyn as a person before our first encounter, only his reputation. Despite our spies confirming many of the tall tales surrounding the furkin lordling, it was hard to believe he was anything more than a talented upstart.

Rumor had it that the man himself often downplayed or outright dismissed some of the more fantastical claims about his adventures and prowess. Many of us thought the truth was somewhere in between, given our history with Clan Valenrow. His mother was the ‘Death Dealer’ afterall, so there was cause to believe he was at least an exceptional warrior, if not a ‘Champion’ that needed to be watched. I learned the truth the hard way, and despite my best efforts, it seemed Isadora would as well.

We did not speak on my past encounters with the Dalish lordling. Isadora was too excited to face him to listen to reason. She had got it in her head that we could simply observe the fighting from a rooftop afar, keeping an eye on the Border Legion’s progress. If they killed the infiltration team down to the last man, then great, we’d sneak off mission accomplished. If not, we’d take action to make sure there were no survivors. We’d engage the furkin only if necessary, if not, we’d simply claim to be executing our own orders to rid the town of Saurian criminals. It was a decent plan, if not uninspired. It of course failed spectacularly.

Ulindi agreed to speak on our behalf with the village head, while other kobolds in town would keep an eye on the furs and report back. As I said before, we tend to support each other, especially if it’s not going to be too dangerous.

In spite of our duty, we were disheartened to learn that the infiltrators did not fare well in their battle with the 15th. A young, grey scaled saury named Khanti, informed us that the battle had been short and brutal, with the furkin completely overwhelming the ‘bandits’. The furkin suffered only minor casualties, whereas the bandits had been decimated.

It sounded like bittersweet news until it was revealed that the furs had managed to take the bandits leader alive. The young kobold was animated when she described how the bandits had tried to kill themselves rather than be captured, but their leader was not so lucky.

“He tried to flee, but then something stepped out of the light like a ghost and then ZAP, he was down.” The way she described it, it seemed like some kind of simulacrum or perhaps even a conjured elemental. Though summoners were rare in the south, simple conjurations of elemental wisps were not too uncommon.

I could conjure water sprites temporarily, though I didn’t often employ such arcana without severe need. I knew not only the difficulty of such spells, but the rarity of those who could control them with any level of mastery. Adolyn hadn’t employed such a thing in battles with me in the past, and I doubted a common Saurian warrior, even a Shadow Stalker, could cause him to use such a technique.

It was a curiosity that nagged at me all the while we made our approach. Something about the situation didn’t seem right, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Adolyn seemed to prefer fire and wind arcana when we’d fought in the past; though I wasn’t sure if either was his affinity.

Fire was probably his affinity, given his strength and predisposition to its use... and of course all the red he liked to wear. With lightning being synergistic with fire, it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for him to have two affinities; but he also favored wind spells.

Most furkin you encounter aren’t learned mages, they’re either mancers or quintist. The average dalish is some kind of quintist with considerable talent at wielding magical artifacts and talismans. Sure, no one’s limited to just one of the three ‘Æthereal Artes’, and most can manage a spell or a bit of mancery, but generally you don’t expect too much of ‘the talent’ in furs.

Most kinling in general have one elemental affinity. Two if they’re lucky. I myself have a primary affinity for water and a secondary for wind. It doesn’t limit my conjuration abilities to those elements, it just simply means I have a powerful inherent connection to those elements and the attributes they represent.

Those of my affinity tend to be good at quintistry or at least have an easier time manipulating their own quintessence if they are learned in magic or mancery. Those of the water affinity tend to excel at things associated with the attribute of wisdom; like perception, insight, general sense and awareness. Hell, some tend to consider traits like compassion, virtue and good judgement to it; but it’s only an influence, not a given. I’ve met some very unwise kin who share my affinity.

Valenrow shows very little of the common signs of someone with an affinity for fire. Hell, we can’t even determine whether he’s some kind of hybrid mage, quintist, or mancer. I’ve witnessed him display high proficiency in all three Æthereal Artes, and though he seems to favor fire; I’d seen him unleash the full breath of the elemental circuit. But somehow, ‘lightning affinity’ just didn’t fit.

I wish I'd thought more about it before the encounter. Perhaps if I would’ve followed my course of thought, we `wouldn’t have been caught so unawares. That however was not the case, as Isadora decided on the direct approach when she saw the young caracal marching his bound prisoner down the street, heading back to the market square.

Her voice was like thunder as she shouted;

“Hoy! Hoy there!” she called out to him.

He was at least a hundred yards away, but I’m sure they could hear her all the way back in Sauria, the way her voice boomed. With my superior sight, I could see the expression on his face change from a rather nonchalant smile, to something like surprise and confusion. Then he looked in my direction, and between the distance I could tell he too was using a sight enhancement of some kind, cause our eyes met and he smiled.

He did not say anything. He just waved amicably and continued his walk. Though there seemed to be a little more ‘pep’ in his step as he switched directions and began to head our way.

Immediately I called upon my kirlian eye, as well as cast two quick divination spells I knew. One to detect the presence of æthereal energy, the other to extend my senses out past their natural limits.

There had been a huge battle and I could vaguely sense the other dalishkin to the north, but they weren’t close enough for me to discern any useful information from my current enchantments. Frustratingly, the same could be said of Adolyn, as he too was a mystery.

I didn’t know whether he’s got a powerful abjuration spell that resisted divination or if it  was some kind of enchanted talisman he wore, but even my kirlian eye could never tell much about the guy.

Normally, the enhanced sight allows you to see the aura or soul body of a person. You can tell a lot from color, intensity, volume, and the way it ‘swirls’ around someone. Paired with other divinations you can get a good sense of the size of someone's spirit well, bucket capacity, or density of their quintessence. You can tell how much quintessence they’ve left within them or even things about their physical condition if you’re strong enough.

Since the width and breadth of a person's experience is written in the language of æthereal energy, more powerful diviners can even tell things like a person's name, temperament, and other key details that are strongly associated with their core being. It’s not as if it appears in our sight written out like language, you just kind of discern it through your connection with the flow. I could discern very little about Adolyn, even as he grew closer.

A quick look at Isadora and I could tell there was nothing wrong with my spells or sight. The woman's aura was practicality pulsing with æthereal might. Her aura was intense and deep blue, but burned like fire. It was immediately obvious that she had a deep spirit well and a wealth of dense, powerful quintessence, that flowed through her and around her like a maelstrom.

Isadora, like most dragon blooded kin, had a primary affinity for fire. It was obvious. Though the little flecks of lightning coursing around her was a telltale sign that her secondary was lightning. Given her ancient Dragon ancestor, this wasn’t really a surprise; though I often wish she wasn’t quite so stereotypically attuned to her element.

Fire tends to hold the attribute of power and strength, both physical and arcane. As well as a tendency for aggression and brashness. Whereas my secondary affinity gets credited for things associated with the attribute of agility. Dexterity, balance, coordination, and even a bit of reflexes are associated with wind affinity; though reflex in general tends to be considered a ‘lightning thing’.

As far as its influence on personality, some believe it lends to innovation, intuition, and imagination. Aeromancers in particular are known for being quite dynamic and creative. Something I’ve often prided myself on, though my mancery abilities with the element pale in comparison to my magical training and aquatic attunement. Still, I’ve got a few of the textbook signs. Unfortunately for me, the attributes of intelligence; reasoning, logic, rationality... all the good ones associated with lightning, seemed to be lost on Isa. The woman was a firebrand through and through.

“Hoy there boy, you dumb or just deaf! You hear me talking to you, don’t ya?!” she asked, sounding as confident and hostile as a dragoness could be. For his part, Adolyn didn’t respond at first, just casually walking toward us. I wasn’t surprised when he stopped a mere forty feet back, just out of the range of my divination spells. He gave me a knowing grin and winked.

“Good morning, Taandi; seems you’ve been well.” He began in an easy tone. His steel grey eyes were bright and attentive, while his posture was relaxed. He held his sword in one hand, down at his side coolly, and didn’t seem the least bit put off by the presence of two Dragon’s Blades.

“I see the Empress has some interest in this unfortunate business, perhaps you’d care to explain?” coaxed the red headed caracal. His tone was friendly and nonchalant, but I could sense the air seriousness beneath the surface. It was obvious we needed to tread lightly given the volatility of the situation.

I tried to speak, but Isadora beat me to it.

“That piece of festering scale rot is wanted by decree of Empress Ætheria! You are hereby ordered to release him and any of his co-conspirators into our custody!” she demanded, sounding official.

I was impressed. It was rude and brash, but a well thought out stratagem. If we could convince him that we were merely there to help or, in Isa’s case, apprehend a criminal, then we might be able to bluff the Legion and make it out without incident.

I’d almost let out a sigh of relief, when she added;

“Either submit him to our authority or we will have quarrel, boy!”

It took every fiber of my being not to scream; ‘What the Hell’, as I turned and looked at her like a tree had suddenly sprouted from her face.

Isadora’s hands gripped the handles of her twin dragonbone blades, ‘Nox Ignis’ and ‘Nox Levina’, as she stared intensely at him. A confident grin on her face.

Like my own weapon; Xiphias, they were a gift from the Empress and created from the remains of an ancient dragon. Blessed weapons that are worth more than the kellings it would cost to forge them.

I held mine, born of the remnant of Vritra the tsunami, in proper deference. Isa treated her blades, born of Maevnussut the Red Comet and Rhiainfelt the Zephyr Volt respectively, like they were mere tools. No deference, no respect, and certainly no consideration on when and where to wield them. Even with little exertion, I could see her pressing her quintessence into the weapons, as they reacted to the æthereal energy.

To my surprise, Adolyn didn’t even flinch. He turned his head to her casually and gave her a disarming smile.

“And who is your feisty friend here, Taandi.” he asked, looking her right in her eyes. The two did not blink as Isadora’s lips curled in a smile. Intentionally showing her teeth to Adolyn.

“I am Isadora Sendrix of Clan (e-tore-rear) Etoirir! An Imperial Dragon Blade and descendant of the ‘Wings of Obsidian!” she announced proudly.

“My orders are to secure that criminal, deal with his conspirators, and return him to the Empress for inquisition.”

She then drew her weapons as she added;

“By whatever means necessary...”

It was Adolyn who whistled this time. His expression looking genuinely impressed.

“My, my, the scion of Clan Etoirir. So you’re the ‘Azure Flames’ daughter!” he exclaimed.

“Your father has quite the reputation, Blade Isadora. I can see why you’re so proud of your lineage.”

Isadora looked confident and maybe a little proud. She was always happy to have her family acknowledged for their greatness. The look on her face lasted all of five seconds though, when her scowl returned as Adolyn turned his attention back to me-, not even reacting to the threat she posed.

“So Taandi, what is the Empress' interest in this rogue? I might be inclined to give him to you, but I’m gonna need some information.” He informed me amicably.

I did my best not to look at Isadora again, not wanting to undermine my own authority. Instead I stepped forward, hoping to get him within range of my divination; and also buying myself a little time.

“Well...” I began, making a point to look like I was thinking.

“We weren’t made aware of ‘all of his crimes’ and there are others that we simply cannot share with you...” I continued.

When I took two steps, I noticed Adolyn’s body move almost imperceptibly; but definitely his posture changed. He was just outside my range, but I could tell no more about him. I had been hoping to see whether or not he’d exerted himself in the earlier battle. If he’d been fatigued, I could probably appeal to the idea that he wouldn’t want to battle the likes of us in that state. If he was low on quintessence, we might have even been able to press such an advantage. Neither option was available to me however; cause Adolyn wouldn’t allow it.

He gave me a look that made it clear he was aware of what I was attempting, and he simply grinned as he wordlessly dissuaded me from moving closer. Looking to Isadora, then back to me, I could see him postulating a witty response.

“Let me guess,” he began, his voice taking a playful tone.

“Some of your Lindwyrm compatriots have been committing mischief out here in the disputed lands. Perhaps, I don’t know... paying deplorables to commit acts of villainy through proxy?” he guessed.

It wasn’t correct, but it wasn’t far off. I needed to speak carefully if I didn’t want to give up the game. Despite his friendly outward demeanor, Adolyn was a very shrewd man. He would be able to tell an outright lie if it wasn’t believable.

“There may be some truth to that...” I admitted, eyes carefully gauging him for a reaction.

“The Empress wishes to deal with the matter of this criminal herself, without furkin entanglements. We would be willing to share information after our interrogation if that would please you.” I offered diplomatically.

It looked as if he was considering it for a moment, then he turned to look at the prisoner, his eyes betraying our intentions.

Among the look of anger, fear, resignation, and indignity, there was also a look of spite that was unmistakable on his brow. An expression I’ve grown incredibly used to seeing from Amrunist xealots when they lay eyes on a Dragon’s Blade. The Empress and her rule was in direct opposition to their beliefs. In his hateful stare I could see him come to the realization that he only had one card left to play, and wasn’t a very good one.

“You lie, Dragon Blade! And even this flea ridden mongrel can tell!” he scoffed through what seemed to be a broken jaw.

“No matter what your traitor Empress believes, I am no criminal, I am a patriot!” he announced loudly.

He certainly wanted to say more, perhaps even reveal his allegiance and mission. He was certainly going to implicate the Saurian Court, that was for sure. The lousy lizard didn’t have a prayer of living if we got our hands on him, he knew that. If we got a hold of him, we’d probably execute him the second we got a chance!

Though it would be foolish to reveal himself to Adolyn before Sauria was ready for war, thus putting our people in a terrible position for such a conflict, war was indeed what the ‘War Faction’ wanted. Could he be so damn foolish to kick off such a thing just out of spite? Isa certainly didn’t want to find out.

I saw her flash past me in a blur of blue light. Her blades drawn and her eyes glowing with arcane light. She meant to kill the damn lizardkin outright, and maybe even attack Adolyn if she could.

It was a reckless and brash decision, but one I was forced to agree with. The fucker needed to be silenced.

As I watched, my eye caught a flicker. Something odd in the light near Adolyn and the prisoner. I moved forward, within range of my divination spells, but could only tell that something was amiss. There was something moving, nearly unseen right next to Adolyn.

Before I could warn Isadora, it darted forward, little flicks of lightning indicating it’s speedy movement. Then, as the light cloaking the figure peeled back, I saw the flowing auburn hair of a short, athletic looking, servalkin appear out of nowhere right in front of Isa. The dragoness blade was maybe an inch from it’s target, with the female feline wrapped her seemingly thin arms around Isadora’s and stepped into her, breaking her balance. My partner gasped in surprise as the much shorter furkin used her own weight and momentum to redirect her off her feet and toss her back high into the sky.

Now revealed in the range of my spells, I could see the serval’s powerful aura clearly, and it looked to be burning with fire, pulsing with lighting, and lit up like the dawn fire's light. I didn’t need to see her freckled face and lavender eyes clearly to identify the attacker. By her abilities and her proximity to Adolyn, I knew for sure that I was finally going to meet his ‘Sworn Sword’, Soven Kellen, the Omnimancer.

The air swirled around her as embers sparked from within. I’d seen pyromancers and mages use the arte before; ‘Soul’s Ignition’, it’s called. An enchantment to increase physical strength. Along with calling upon her ‘Lightning Aspect’ to increase speed and reflexes, as well as some kind of wind manipulation to aid her in giving Isadora lift; the fearless feline put on quite a display of Æthereal might. It was rare to see so many different forms of mancery used in conjunction. I’d seen maybe one or two in my day, but three coming right out of a fourth was impressive.

Isa was not similarly impressed. I felt her fury without even seeing it. The air around us grew stale with heat as she drew in a large breath while controlling her tumble through the air. I’ve been around dragon bloods enough to know what was coming, and showed a bit of prowess of my own casting two spells in succession. First a wind barrier, then a sphere of rushing water to reinforce it, creating a hybrid elemental shield; and even with that I worried about ‘splash damage’.

With three spells active I felt the drain on my quintessence, but had little time to let it concern me. I had to be quick to take advantage of the increased movement speed of my wind barrier to get out of the direct line of fire between Isadora and the furkin. The dragoness would not let the little serval’s counterattack stand without retribution.

Flipping end over end, Isadora landed on the ground with a thud that shook the ground. She’d managed to gracefully turn herself upright and land in a predatory position, crouched on all fours, with her blades stabbed into the ground. Barely a moment passed between the time she hit the ground and her lifting her head up to face her foes. I felt the unmistakable shuttered in the flaw as she opened her maw and spewed a beam of azure dragon fire.

I could see the magic circle form in arcane light beneath Isadora as she enhanced her attack with a spell. She must have begun the casting the second she’d been thrown. I could maintain three, maybe four spells at once if pressed, but not while sustaining two powerful barriers, so I didn’t know what kind of magic she’d cast to enhance her dragon’s breath, but it was clear she’d intended to take both Legionaire’s out in one shot.

With the ground ripping itself apart and debris catching fire by just being within her vicinity, I almost believed she would do it. The amount of mana gathered for that one attack was insane, but ultimately not enough to get the job done.

I didn’t see just what Adolyn had done to defend himself and his guardian from the attack. I was too busy with my head over my hands concentrating on drawing in mana to feed my barriers; but I felt it. A massive protection spell fueled by a powerful source of wild mana.

Isadora kept up her attack for the span of about twenty heart beats; an eternity as far as such attacks go. I could feel as her control wavered and her mana bucket ran dry. Impressive as it was, it was not infinite and she’d given everything she could muster in a single attack. Something I wouldn’t dare to attempt myself, but dragonborn like her tended to have quintessence to burn. She’d just dip right back to the well when her cup runneth dry.

“Well that was uncalled for.” I heard Adolyn’s voice from behind me. He sounded slightly breathy, but no worse for wear. I got a glimpse of him holding his hand in front of his blade in a warding gesture, as a luminescent shield around him shattered after withstanding Isadora’s attack.

“A light barrier?” I asked, curiously. Genuinely surprised to see such a thing.

Most adepts can master the terrestrial elements easily enough; fire, terra, water, and air. The compound elements; ice and lightning, were more difficult; but out of the seven, light and shadow were definitely the hardest to control.

Light and shadow were considered two sides of the same element, represented by Mercurius the twins. Two bodies, two entities, one soul. To know light is to know shadow, but to spells and artes that call upon either require skill and talent. It isn’t so rare that every mage doesn’t know at least one or two spells of that type; but it is rare enough that I’d hardly ever seen anyone call upon them by simply name invocation or gesture magic. They are among the most complex manipulations of mana.

Adolyn had called upon a light shield instantly. He’d have had to defend against Isadora’s attack. Either he too was either an omnimancer, or at the very least a photomancer, like his compatriot; or the lordling was one of the rare individuals with a light affinity.

“Three affinities...” I muttered out loud, placing the pieces together.

“Light, fire, and wind...” It seemed to fit the pattern, but the caracal was quick to dismiss my assertion.

“Close, but no, honey. I’ve not got a wind affinity...” he chuckled, resting his sword on his shoulder.

Now that the smoke had cleared, I could see that no one was any worse for wear. Adolyn had protected the ‘Lindi’ with his ‘light shield’. The twitch fuck and Soven were still alive; with the young serval now brandishing what looked to be an enchanted bow. She had an arrow knocked and aimed at Isa. Smiling, she boastfully claimed;

“It’s pretty obvious if you think about it,”

It was, given what I’d just witnessed, but I wasn’t ready to admit to the truth just yet. It was too absurd. Having three affinities for anyone was insane, but having one of them be a straight up mana affinity; well that was just unheard of for a furkin. I’d only ever seen such a thing in dragonkin like the Empress and maybe once in a Leverin.

“Well there you go, Taandi!” Isadora’s mocking voice sounded from behind me.

“Your boyfriend here does indeed piss gold!” she spat.

Soven’s aim never wavered as she tracked the dragonborn’s movement.

“The kids got a primary affinity for mana, a secondary for light, and third for fire... pretty fucking special.” she sneered taking a place at my side. Adolyn shrugged, looking quite unmoved by her assessment.

“Perhaps, though that doesn’t answer the most important question that needs to be answered...” he started. Not knowing Adolyn as I did, Isadora took the bait.

“And what is that, my redheaded friend?” questioned Isadora, haughtily. Adolyn smiled brightly as he turned his gaze back upon me.

“Just what is the Empress’ interest in a mouthy friend here?” he repeated his earlier question. Only this time, we both knew no answer would be forthcoming.

Isadora answered by launching another attack; casting two quick firebolts through spells of conjuration. Both were shot down by the mancer with elemental infused arrows.

From behind Adolyn, his ‘Sworn Sword’ went on the offensive; peppering the dragoness with attacks. Launching arrows like her quiver was bottomless. The two began circling each other, beginning a deadly dance of death that would have seemed unlikely to me just a few hours earlier. You never see archers close in on their opponents, but the omnimancer was using her arcane abilities to augment her speed, agility, and reflexes. Try as she might, Isadora had a problem landing a blow on the valley cat, no matter how hard she tried.

Shrugging off attacks and barrelling forward, the angry dragon born used blade, claw, teeth and tail to strike at the swift serval. Though her attacks were impressive, they weren’t enough to catch the quick little molly. Luckily for her, she was smart enough not to give the dalishkin time to focus much mana into each attack, so they lacked enough power to do any real damage. The two danced their deadly dance off to the right and began their battle in earnest, while I was left to face off with Adolyn once more.

Readying myself into my sword stance, I gestured to the captive.

“This need not be so complicated, Sir Valenrow. We just want him dead.” I muttered, urging him to reconsider releasing the reptite to our custody. The caracal looked down at him and then back at me.

“I still might do that, but I need to know who really is and what he’s doing here.” he countered, not seeming the least bit phased.

“You know I can’t tell you that.” I replied, sighing. Genuinely exasperated at the situation, but the caracal simply laughed.

“Then I guess I will get the honor of another duel with you...” he beamed, taking his own stance. We both knew I couldn’t beat him, but I had to try. Perhaps I could get lucky. All I really needed to do was kill that scaly idiot he was protecting. If I could distract him long enough, surely Isadora might tear herself away from her fun long enough to complete the job... given the maniacal laughter, cursing, and sounds of destruction from behind me, I wasn’t too confident that would happen.

As always, I didn’t have to wait to know what Adolyn would do. Though the Dalish are considered a ‘defensive’ people, having prided themselves for repelling invaders for over a thousand years, they aren’t exactly ‘passive’. When threatened, they attack fiercely and without hesitation. It was fortunate for me that the young lordling wasn’t seriously after my head.

He was on me in a flash, raising his blade and striking upwards at my chest. I hadn’t a prayer of deflecting the attack, so I dodged. His height and long stride made it nearly impossible to keep my distance, but I had the food work to play around within his guard making it uncomfortable to strike at me.

“They tried to hide it, but they fought like ‘Shadow Stalkers’...” conversed Adolyn, pressing my guard. I claimed to not know what he was talking about, but he simply continued.

“I’ve fought quite a few bandits and none have ever been quite so organized... or fanatical.” he mused, parrying my attack and casting my blade aside. When he pressed forward, I darted through his legs. He turned quickly, washing his body with his blade to defend the minor magics I’d casted in offense. A simple volley of concentrated ætheric energy, a ‘magic missile’, he’d turned it away with little effort.

I tried a little wind quintistry, calling upon my air affinity to control my breathing, calm my mind, and enhance the flow of oxygen through me. It was a minor manipulation that granted me focus and helped keep me level as I attempted a more complicated series of arcane techniques.

First, I released both of my divination spells, releasing their hold on the quintessence I could bring to bear for a single spell. I then, through name invocation, called upon both the “Protection of Arethusa” and the “Breath of Nephele”; powerful water and wind barriers respectively. Both would put a massive strain on my quintessence, but also enhance any artes of similar elemental affinity. A little trick that if I chose the right spell combinations, would mean increase defense and attack power, despite the drain on my æthereal resources.

Immediately I called out; “Djinn’s Fury!”, evoking a whirling tornado of wind that forced Adolyn to retreat.

The spell ripped through the ground and roared like an angry beast as it billowed high into the sky. It was far more powerful than it ought to be, with the enhancement granted by the ‘Breath of Nephele’, and I was just getting started.

Focusing my quintessence I slammed my hands to the ground and began to draw wild mana into my being; I would need it for what came next.

“Swimming in the sea of stars... crystal goddess of the infinite ocean,” I began to incant.

“I beseech thee and pledge my power to thee! Grant me the blessing of creation, life, and destruction!”

My voice cried out to the heavens as the liquid forming my water barrier began to sparkle and glow. Around me the precipitation formed and drew around me in a flowing circuit of pure blue energy.

To his credit, Adolyn had quickly dissipated my whirlwind, using the air to fuel fire for some kind of wave of fire, but he was too late. I’d invoked the fury of Levinian, casting the spell ‘Surge of the Sea Serpent’, in an instant, a torrent of azure lifted me from the ground and filled the immediate area with rushing water.

Unlike most spells, this one did not break connection with the ‘source’ instantly upon casting. The link to Akashic lingered, allowing me full knowledge of the arcana over a period of time. With that comprehension I was able to control and manipulate the powerful wave as I crashed around trying my very best to crush Adolyn under the pressure of my waves.

I later found out that mine was not the only epic battle going on in the square, as Adolyn’s ‘Sworn Sword’, Soven, was proving just how frustrating it was to fight an omnimancer. Though I suspect Isadora was thoroughly enjoying herself.

For starters, the little serval was quick as a whip. Moving and dodging at speeds Isadora claimed to be almost faster than the eye could see. Her use of the ‘Lightning Aspect’ in her mancery kept her reflexes sharp and she was apparently able to react to everything Isa threw at her.

Although my partner was mostly focused on trying to eviscerate her opponent, she did take note of some of the æthereal artes being used against her. Soven's little ‘infinite arrows’ trick, for instance, was the result of an innovative use of geomancy. Isadora had noticed small seeds falling from her quiver from time to time as she dodged attacks.

In a startling display of deductive reasoning, Isadora realized that the omnimancer was manipulating the flow to grow the seeds rapidly in a particular way, creating the shaft and even the fletching of the arrows. Small stones were in the satchel as well, and their form was bent and manipulated to form the heads and tips of the arrows. She need only reach behind her, transmogrify the materials, and ‘boom’ new arrow.

It was a fascinating bit of mancery I hadn’t even imagined could be possible. One that we’d definitely need to try to emulate in the future.

Isadora sounded begrudgingly impressed by how quickly Soven could create the new arrows. I imagine such a complicated series of manipulations of the flow could not have been easy, and it was insane that it seemed to take up very little of her own quintessence to be used as a catalyst as she seemed to be drawing that from a mana stone embedded in the quiver. The furkin were indeed ingenious in finding methods to negate their natural deficiencies.

For her part Isa tried to stay on the valley cat; pressing her at every moment and trying to deny her the time to gather enough mana, anything more powerful than minor infused arrow shots. She’d gotten close enough to exchange a few strikes with her blades, hoping maybe to damage the archer’s bow; but it turned out to be made of Gerian Wood. One of the divine organics. It caused burning and blistering to the scales on Isadora’s arm when the serval turned deftly and slapped her across the bicep with it.

Furious, Isa began to press her æthereal advantage. Casting quick name evocation spells she knew like ‘Zephyr and Fire Bolt’. She brought down lightning and charged her weapons with their elemental affinities, working hard to overwhelm the frustrating rascal with her arcane superiority.

Soven was impressive, but she certainly didn’t have the spirit well to win a war of arcane attrition with the likes of Isadora. And though she’d landed a few choice shots from her elemental arrows, she just didn’t have time to unleash anything substantial enough to break the dragonborns defenses. With her strong scales, soul’s defense, and racial resistance to most minor magics, Isadora simply took everything the serval had to throw at her and kept coming.

My partner felt confident of hever victory when fatigue and the signs of ‘mana burn’ began to manifest themselves in her opponent. Using one's body as a conduit for the flow may be the best way to make strong connections for ameliorative manipulations, but the link can overwhelm over time, ‘burning’ the mancer. Prolonged abuse can damage a kinlings physical body, as well as their soul’s defense and even their Spirit Well as the energy consumes you from the inside. It’s something every mancer trains to avoid.

Leaning heavily on several sources of Mana to augment her own quintessence, Soven seemed to be ready to face the issue with ingenuity, but Isadora’s unbrittled strength and ferocity pushed her to her limits. When the omnimancer took to the wind, gaining distance to try to gain a brief reprieve, she played right into Isadora’s talons.

With little effort Isadora began doing what she did best, unleashing fiery hell upon her foes! She opened her mouth and began to pepper the arrow around Soven with short, concentrated bursts of lightning infused dragon fire. The small volleys of energy hit with staggering force and caused small explosions wherever they landed. I didn’t see this for myself, mind you; but you never forget the sounds of multiple ætheric detonations.

When Soven proved nimble enough to dodge that, Isadora unleashed another breath attack; a beam of concentrated energy. Behind her a magic circle appeared as she drew in more and more mana to fuel her racial ability.

With reckless abandon she began laying down a glittering torrent of sapphire, rending the tops of buildings, obliterating structures, and causing massive collateral damage. I honestly have no idea how the recon scout survived the intense attack, Isa, wasn’t sure. All she would say is that ‘she fucking missed the mongrel’, and that when she had to stop to avoid suffering her own case of ‘mana burn’, ‘the little shit’ hit her with a volley of ‘light arrows’ that broke her defenses and put her on her ass.

My fight hadn’t gone too well. I’d thrown everything I had at Adolyn and it just wasn’t enough. He’d barely even drawn upon the power of his sword as he masterfully worked around my spells and artes, to press me to one side of the field.

Multiple times I’d attempted to distract the carcal and make a play for the prisoner. Firing water bullets, and even calling upon the few lightning spells I knew to try to take him unawares. Despite only light and shadow spells being faster than lightning, Adolyn was able to erect an ice barrier around his captive, protecting him from my assault.

Eventually I ran out of options. My quintessence was low, my endurance running out, and my mind bereft of ideas. With little to no chance of beating him in a straight sword duel, I decided to do what we kobolds do best; survive.

“I concede the duel...” I announced, lowering my weapon.

Adolyn, who was advancing at the time, stopped immediately, looking at me with bemusement.

“Really, after all that. You certainly fought more ferociously than in the past.” He remarked, looking at the dings and damage to his armor.

“I can’t imagine you’d want to quit when you’re doing so well.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to hide my own amusement. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I couldn’t help but be enamored with the man. I’d really been trying to kill him and yet he was still so very polite and cordial to me. I doubted he even took offense to my actions.

“Would it help?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“It might, you’ve certainly improved...” he shrugged. I didn’t think so.

He then stepped closer to me and for a moment, I thought he might attack. Instead he sheathed his blade and leaned forward, taking my chin between his finger and thumb. Lifting my face up to meet his he again queried;

“What is the Empress’ interest in this town?”

At first I looked away, unable to meet his eyes. His steely gaze was penetrating and not a little alluring. I felt myself squirm under his scrutiny. Like a little lass under the perusing gaze of a school yard crush. I’m not ashamed to admit that Ulindi was right, the furkin was attractive, and I’d totally lift my tail for him, even if my life wasn’t on the line.

His grasp was gentle, but stern. A little force to let me know he was serious, but still the tenderness of someone who did not wish to hurt me. Would he hurt me to get what he wanted? Would he subject me to violent torture to steel the answers I kept? Looking into his eyes, I didn’t think so; but there was always the possibility. If I was ashamed of anything, it would have been how excited the danger had made me. I’m not one to get aroused by pain or mistreatment, but the fine line between sensuality and danger was certainly having an effect on me.

“I’m afraid I would rather die,” I lied. Truth was, it certainly would not lay down my life to hide the mistakes of my King. Mizer was a cad and a caitiff. I wasn’t going to lose my life so he could go on making my Empress’ life harder, but I would not betray her either. So we were at an impasse.

The caracal chuckled before telling me that he didn’t believe me. I wanted to argue, but it was a moot point. He knew I was bluffing.

Gingerly he ran his hand over my head, folding down the crest of my head and petting me like a child. Briefly I thought to run him through as I still held my sword in hand, but I was pretty sure that would be a foolish idea. Though he seemed relaxed, I could tell his guard was still up. My eyes still held the glow of the kirlian sight, and though I still couldn’t tell much, I did see the current of voltaic energy rushing about his body. I strongly doubted I could attack faster than he could react. Plus, it was dishonorable as hell... and I really didn’t want to.

After a long pause he finally suggested;

“Just tell me what you can tell me so we can prevent whatever ‘is’ happening, from happening again.” He did not stop stroking me.

For a second, I lost myself in his attention. Chirping softly under my breath. His gloved hands were so soft and warm. The pads of his paw tips felt nice against my scales and his scent was so comforting. If I hadn’t sworn myself to a master as generous and admirable as Ætheria, I might have submitted right then and there. The man’s easy charm was that palpable. Still, bewitched as I was, I would not betray her majesty.

“I can tell you nothing, sir.” I lamented with a sigh.

“Either strike me down, torture me, claim your prize or turn me loose; betrayal is just not one of the options.”

Adolyn grinned then, something different than before. The gears turning in his darling little head. Before long reached down and kissed me on the snout, thanking me.

“Then I release you. Your silence tells me enough.” he concluded. I looked back at him curiously, then back at the wall of ice that secured the prisoner.

“My silence?” I asked, a little alarm. He nodded and stood back, the swirl of ætheric energy around him lessening.

“Dragon Blades here means the Empress’ hand is in this, but Ætheria Asellas is not one to run an operation this sloppy. I doubt she’d trust the likes of him with anything that would drag our peoples into conflict.” he began.

He then rightly guessed that whatever was happening, it was the machinations of our idiot King, and that the Empress was trying to sterilize the situation.

“If she’s sent you all to kill these kin, then I think it’s much more serious than just causing trouble in the disputed lands.” he deduced.

I wanted to argue with him, but I doubted I could come up with anything reasonable to break his chain of thoughts. Groaning, I decided to try to appeal to the Dalish’s legendary sense of pragmatism.

Gesturing over to the captive I urged him to consider his path.

“That bastard represents two things, Valenrow.” I began

“The first is war! Full and total war between our two peoples.”

Adolyn folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. He didn’t quite look disbelieving, but his expression bore the signs of a man expecting a bit more from me. With a sigh I added;

“The second is a failure of our Empress to keep control of her idiot husband. It’s not ideal, but we’re trying to fix it. I don’t think you want to see more people die just for that.”

For the first time, Adolyn had a look on his face that was less than friendly. He wasn’t angry, but he wasn’t happy. His eyes casted around to the carnage left in the wake of the infiltrators earlier attack. He informed me that people had already died, and many lives, furkin lives here in the disputed lands had been irrevocably changed.

“What about them? Don’t they deserve justice?” he asked pointedly.

I mirrored his appraisal of the square and made note of the many infiltrators slain by him and his Legionaries.

“You’ve slain those responsible. What more justice do you want?” I asked, again already knowing the answer.

Adolyn wanted someone to be held accountable. Someone who mattered. He wanted Queen Empress to string up someone! Anyone in the High Court from the ‘War Faction’ and make a real example out of them, or at the very least, give them over to the Dalish to stand for their crimes.

“But they are dragonborn, so you know that won’t happen.” he scoffed, looking genuinely disgusted. I too felt his disdain for the lack of integrity in Court politics.

The ‘Society’ would offer reparations for the acts of a ‘rogue lizardkin’ under one of the great clans. A sacrifice would be made. A xealot would be punished in the place of his lord and the ‘Strayed’ would be paid a penance. All the while the real masterminds would get off scot free, and whomever they got to take the fall would die with a smile, thinking himself a great martyr for the cause. It was sickening.

Then out of nowhere, he stunned me.

“I will give you a life for a life.” offered Adolyn. His voice was so serious it could crack rocks.

At first, I thought he was demanding my life. Was I going to have to trade myself to complete the mission? It was definitely something I would consider, but I wasn’t sure what it would mean to give my life away for such a trivial thing.

Why me? He certainly had several capable kin sworn to the service of his family and the deals. I dare not believe he’d want me for simply attraction or sex. There are more than enough pretty little kobold defectors who would afll all over each other to impale themselves on his fuck stick. I’ll admit my mind was awash with the possibilities of belonging to Adolyn Valenrow. I must say, my thoughts on the matter were quite lewd, but thankfully I wasn’t fool enough to voice my misunderstanding and embarrass myself.

“Tell the Empress one of them must pay with their lives! I don’t care which one of those scheming mint munchers it is, but if she has any honor at all, someone will answer!” he demanded.

“You have submitted to me and this I claim as my conqueror’s prize. Do you accept?”

I looked him in his eyes and nodded. Now that was something that could be arranged.

Between us I felt the flow of mana as our agreement was bound in magic. It seemed a small price to pay to complete my mission, and I need only present his terms to the Empress. Whether or not ‘she’ accepted them was not my problem. Though I’m pretty sure she would.

We looked each other in the eye and grasped wrist and I felt his energy flow into me. In a moment of intense magic, the pact was formed and the deal was struck. My mission was apparently a success.

“And now you’ll elease him into our custody?” I asked, hopefully; my face bright with anticipation. Unfortunately Adolyn dashed those hopes quite carelessly when he shook his head and smiled.

“I cannot,” he answered, his voice full of faux regret. He then placed his hand back on my head and began to run his finger over the mound where my horn protruded from my head. I was ready to get all indignant before he calmed me.

“Unfortunately, I fear the kin has caught his death from cold. Seems I underestimate the temperature of my spell. I sometimes forget how susceptible simple lizards are to the elements.” He shrugged.

Let me tell you, my eyes almost bulged out of my head when he said that. I instantly called upon my superior sight to look through the shield of ice surrounding the captured stalker. I could not see within, not really, but also could not see the aura of his individual essence either. What I could see was the glow of intense arctic energy wafting off the large pillars of ice. I doubt any reptite could have survived in those conditions for long. I imagine he had ice crystals forming in his lungs while we spoke.

Looking back sharply at Adolyn I couldn’t find words.

“Wah.... huh?” I managed to gibber out.

“Was this what you wanted all along? Did you ever have any intention of taking him?” I demanded, almost impressed by his play. It seems he was playing with crowns, while I was just skipping stones.

I asked about his ‘Sworn Sword’ and the other legionnaires. I’d been so busy I hadn’t noticed that no one had come to see about all the ruckus we’d been kicking up. He informed me that he could feel Soven was alright through their connection in the flow.

Isadora had been led right out of town chasing down Soven whose job was simply to lead her away so Adolyn could talk to me. With the help of others in the unit, she was probably chasing shadows in the dead forest to the west. Obliterating phantoms and growing more furious by the second. It was a dangerous task, but apparently wasn’t the first time he’d employed the crazy tactic.

I asked how he even knew I’d be here, but that too turned out to be an obvious answer. Seems the jerboa I’d seen the other day was a Scout from the 15th and a member of his Force Recon Unit. He’d known of my involvement from the start from her description of me.

“You’re not as forgettable as you think, Taandi.” he joked.

“I mean, look at this cute little head crest and those adorable little horns.” I flushed as he caressed them gently.

“So that’s it, you’ve got what you want?” I asked, a bit disappointed. He nodded and took a step back.

“All we want is for Sauria to keep their scaly hides far from our Borders, and for those breaking treaties to pay dearly for their transgressions.” he answered with another shrug.

“Beyond that, I’d prefer peace...”

I would too, but that wasn’t all I preferred.

Grabbing my courage and swallowing down a considerable amount of pride I took a step forward.

“I’ll do as I’ve sworn, of that you can be sure...” I started. My hands fidgeted around the guard of my ivory blade.

“But as far as I can tell, your little scheme relied solely on me being the Dragon Blade sent back to Berrywick. Had it been another...”

“Had it been another I may not have been quite so cordial,” he admitted. Of that I was certain.

“Then I ask you to grant me a request. For I believe it is as reasonable as your own.” I continued, sheathing my blade. He gave me a curious look, but I knew he could tell what I wanted. The scent of my arousal was fragrant enough that it could barely be mistaken.

“Thrice I’ve offered you your ‘Conqueror's Prize’, and thrice you’ve rejected me.” I began. Turning a salacious smile upon him I promised;

“I will not be jilted a fourth time. I may not be able to break an oath I’ve made in magic, but I assure you, if you wish for your request to come to pass you will have to fulfill my demands as well.”

I tried to sound confident, but I was anything but. The handsome caracal had no reason to break from tradition and fulfill my not so private desires. There were several practical reasons why he should have refused, not the least of which was that his people were out playing a dangerous game of tag with a powerful dragonborn warrior.

The man was Dalish however, and as I’d mentioned earlier, pragmatism seemed to be a cultural trait. In order to see justice done, and according to him, maintain an ‘amicable acquaintance’ between us; he would accept my terms. All I was asking for after all, was a little ‘Take and Give’.

“Isn’t the idiom supposed to be ‘Give and Take?” he asked as I took his hand in mine.

Grinning like a jackass eating briars, I kindly answered;

“I’m expecting you to do a little of both.”

It didn’t take me long to lead Adolyn back to Ulindi’s. The housemother didn’t say a word as she opened the door and saw whom I was leading hand and hand; she simply gave me a knowing smile and bowed respectfully to Adolyn. Later, the two of us would gossip and giggle about the event like common school girls, but just then, she decided she had some business to attend outside her home. Though she did stop to assure me that my ‘negotiations’ would not be disturbed.

I did not bother to try to make it to the communal bedroom. There was perfectly comfortable furniture in the main room of the house; a large couch that also doubled as a bed for guests. Kobolds tend to sleep and congregate in large groups wherever we go. The comfy daybed was more than adequate to accommodate the comparably tall furkin.

“My, aren’t we eager,” he chuckled as I began to remove the buckles of his belts. There were three, one above his tunic, the other about his abdomen, which held the sheath of his blade to his back, and finally the one I most cared about, the one on his belt.

I’d carefully set my blade aside on the table when we entered; giving it all the esteem such a weapon was due. Adolyn simply tossed his weapons, ‘Durendal’ and some kind of enchanted dagger he wore on the back of his waist, off to the side, belts and all. I spared only a moment to admonish him for his thoughtlessness, but it soon passed as his pants dropped down, revealing a pair of well stitched briefs.

Ignoring his protests to at least allow him to remove his boots, I playfully pushed him at the waist, sitting him on the sofa. It was immediately gratifying to see the bulge in his knickers as I moved forward to take in his redolence.

I rather enjoy the scent of strong males. LIzardkin, furkin, it didn’t matter to me. Something about the strong odor of masculinity drives me wild! I couldn’t help but lean forward and run my snout over the soft fabric of his knickers. It was such a pleasant odor.

As he worked to extricate himself from his weighty cuirass and the stylish crimson pauldrons he wore, I busied myself with freeing his ‘other sword’ from beneath the confines of it’s clothy prison. It popped up like a mushroom suddenly sprouting in the dark of a cave.

The flesh was a pretty shade of pink. Something not too vibrant, but very light, warm and a little pale, like the flesh of lyserod berries freshly ripe. It looked tasty and fit; and I couldn’t wait to get it in my mouth.

Adolyn exhaled deeply as I ran my long tongue along the underside of the shaft, causing it to twitch and harden. He shifted and squirmed when I did it a second time; trying his best to control his reaction.

My years serving the despots of Clan Koshka taught me many things. Some I’d rather have not known, others however, proved useful to this very day. How to perfectly please the turgid flesh of a man’s fuck stick; well that was a skill I was happy to have.

It felt great to have his soft, now gloveless hands running along my head crest as I took him full in my mouth. I was sure that the feel of a long, smooth lizard tongue was a rare treat compared to the bumpy mess he was used to. They say feline tongues were once as rough and unpleasant as sandpaper. A bit of folklore for the crowd that believes we all evolved from feral beasts. I’ve kissed my share of kitties in my lifetime and their bumpy tongues aren’t really all that unpleasant; but I doubted they could compare to what a repetition could do to a penis; and I aimed to prove it.

First I wrapped the full length of my tongue down his shaft. I was able to curl around it twice, despite its girth. Masterfully I was able to pull and unwind it around him while I navigated the soft scales of my lips down his cock. The shuddering murmurs of his deep breathing was all the encouragement I needed that my efforts were successful.

Up and down I bobbed my little head, mouth full of furkin flesh. I enjoyed everything about the experience from the smells and the taste, to the way his hips bucked a bit when the head of his penis hit the back of my throat. I even took special care to fondle his balls in that way I knew men enjoyed! Very gently, but with a little bit of force and a great deal of care. The soft furry orbs felt good in my hands, and it wasn’t long before I felt the satisfying force of his hand in the act of gripping my head. Closing my eyes, I readied myself for his creamy treat.

Furkin cum is unlike the seed of lizardkin. The taste, the smell, the delectable mouthfill. It was like a hit of heavy cream that was both bitter and savory. I relish the flavor. Adolyn was a heavy cummer. His first shot nearly choked me, as a thick glob of his piquant ejaculate suddenly filled the back of my throat. Favorably for me, this was what I was used to serving under large dragonborn my entire life. It took only a minor adjustment to roll my tongue back, and slide it under the head to guide his jizm to flow where I wanted it to. I planned to savor his full flavor before swallowing as much as I could.

I made a show of slurping and suckling, messily licking his seed all around my maw. The whole time I looked up at him, not breaking eye contact. My reward for my salacious show was one final forceful spurt right onto my lips.

It too got the sultry treatment as I lapped it up, cleaning my maw and cooing;

“Mmmm... tasty.”

The Dalishkin was dazzled by my skills, I could tell. His cock did not soften as he started at me, sighing in appreciation. Taking a page from my esteemed Empress, I decided to be aggressive; crawling up his body slowly and positioning myself in his lap.

Surprising him with my playful impertinence, I wrapped my arms around his neck and gave him a deep passionate kiss. It was everything I’d always fantasized it would be.

Kissing is an arte, just like magic and the martial disciplines. You can imitate what you’ve seen, but you need practice to be good at it. Each species in Elcrest is different and kissing them with any degree of competence requires a little bit of talent. I doubt the Goddess thought we’d all be smooching one another once we grew tall and sentient. It’s easier to kiss a horsekin with a snout like mine than the stubby maws of a feline, but I’ve had practice. Seems he had too.

Ten out of ten, one of the most vigorous and passionate kisses of my life.

I wrapped my long tongue around his as we both explored each other's mouths. He tasted like cardamom and fennel, with a little hint of cinnamon that was definitely pleasant. Jostling my tongue against his, I managed to work what passed for panties beneath my loan cloth to the side, and line my moistened muf against the tip of his ‘spear’. The sensation caused me to moan into our kiss as the fires of desire threaten to burn me alive. Impatient to feel his warm girth inside me, I sat down, filling myself to the brim.

Oh what a magical feeling it was to have his cock swell inside of my crevice. The sensation caused me to cry out unabashed! Moaning indignantly as I squirmed and writhed on his pole. My entire body shuddered with the thrill of it all. My honey flowed freely; coating his cock and the space between us with a viscus flood of my womanly arousal. I could barely control my breathing. It felt so damn good... and when he gripped my ass, I knew there was only one thing I could do to keep my excitement; I started to ride him.

With carefully practiced ease my ass rose and fell over his lap. My pussy gripped his member tightly as I bounced up and down. The flesh under the fur of his shoulders must have ached terribly, because I gripped him so tightly my claws dug into his flesh. The moment was magical and I could focus on little else but pleasure. I smiled both outwardly and inside as the soft echoes of my buttocks slapping against his thighs was like the rhythm of a lovely song. One I hoped I’d get to enjoy for quite some time.

I thought I did a good job on top; playing the role of the little aggressor. I’d certainly appreciated my performance. It all felt great! But my lover seemed to have other ideas. Apparently he’d taken my earlier statements to heart. I’d done a lot of taking and quite a great deal of giving too. Now it was his turn to give me something and I was certainly ready to bend over and take it.

Without effort lifted me by my eyes and turned me around. I had but a moment to lament the loss of his warm incredible cock before I was pushed head first down into the pillowy fabric of the daybed. Behind me, the captivating caracal lifted my tail and spread the cheeks of my arse.

I cooed;

“Take your prize!” Encouraging him to do with me what he willed... and to my great gratification, he did just that.

Without word or warning I felt his virile manhood pierce to the heart of my femininity. I cried out like a bitch in heat, unashamed of my need for him. Reality kind of just fell away when he gripped my thighs and began plowing me like some kind of nightwalker.

There was no banter, no clever witticisms or words; just the feral growls of dominant kin ready and willing to rutt a willing female. And willing I really was. Even with my mind in the thick fog of fervid pleasure, I was still able to push back hard against the rhythm of his mighty thrusts.

He fucked me for what seemed like hours, but only about  a half-hour passed before he filled my womb with his sticky seed. If only our species were compatible. I wouldn't mind laying an egg for that man.

The finish was spectacular! He managed to hold out until just after he’d brought me to the peak of ecstasy three times. On my third, I screamed my climax. My body was hot and sensitive, it was almost more than I could bear for him to slam deep into me a few more times before finally releasing his load. The cozy feeling of his tepid juice sloshing inside of me made me murmur and chirp happily. I was in heaven and I didn’t particularly want the encounter to end. But I knew we didn’t have time for a good cuddle and sleep.

We talked then; there was little else to do while we cleaned ourselves with towels and water from a pitcher on the table. I assured Adolyn that I would not only pass his demands to the Empress, but act as an advocate for the justice he sought for the strayed furkin who had been cut down by the infiltrators. I still did not let on that they were anything but bandits, but I’m sure he knew.

We encountered Isadora as we left the building and headed back to the street. She was grumpy and high-strung, ready to jump at anything. She almost took off my head with the swing of her tail when she attacked Adolyn instantly upon seeing him. Thankfully he was fast enough to dodge out of the way and I was able to talk her down.

She seemed angry, having been played for a fool in the diminished forest outside the settlement. It seems she was never able to catch the omnimancer once she took flight; but when she got close enough to take a whiff of us both, her angry scowl turned into a mocking smile.

“I guess you lost again?” she teased, eyeing me with a knowing grin.

Unwilling to get into it infront of Adolyn, I informed her that our mission had been a success and I had ‘settled’ the matter with the dalishkin.

“I’m sure you did...” she nudged me. I would endure her taunts and torments the entire way home.

The other Blades had less of an eventful adventure than we had. The settlements they’d visited had few infiltrators, who were easily and discreetly dealt with. The Legion hadn’t had time to deploy anyone further north than Berrywick, so at least that went according to plan.

Unsurprisingly, the Empress had assumed the 15th would be the Company to send a recon unit into the disputed lands. Her spies had been keeping track of activity around the border and they were rumored to be the closest. Of course she’d sent me back their knowing of my past history with Adolyn.

“I figured Olesya or Keshern would not have managed a peaceful resolution to our problem...” she mused, sitting on her throne.

The Empress was indeed a shrewd woman and I wonder just how much she kept from us.

Though she was surprised by Valenrow’s grave demands, she agreed that someone of substance would have to answer for the debacle in Berrywick. She lamented the senseless loss of life, but the furkins were not chief among her grievances. Ætheria was outraged that the ‘Society’ had tried such a thing right under her nose. She would not be able to execute one publicly without political backlash;

“But if someone were to meet an untimely accident...” she mused, leaving the statement hanging in the air between us. I knew exactly what the Empress wanted.

All and all, it was actually an exciting mission. Things were a bit touch and go for a while, but I cannot complain about the outcome. I was praised by my Empress and rewarded for my service. I finally got to fill the tantalizing touch of the Dalish’s heir, and it was everything I could have imagined; and my next mission was to dole out justice to whichever member of the ‘Lindwyrm Society’ I so chose. On the whole not a bad outcome.

I thought of it all fondly as I made my way through the familiar halls and servant corridors of the Keep I’d traversed since the time I could walk. None of the other lizards or kobolds paid me any attention as I made my way, tray in hand up to the master's chambers. That night, I’d pay a visit to the Lord of house Koshka; let him know how little I appreciated my time in his service. Bringing the Empress’ dark tidings, I went about my duty as I always did. This time knowing I at least would offer my vanquished no quarter.