Fourth Vector Ch. 14

"Oh my god," moaned Abigail, thrusting her butt into the air. "That wasso good."

"Yes, it was," agreed Jack before he gestured to the other side of the bed. "It looks like she's not done yet though."

They both focused on Kat as her mouth dropped open, her eyes closed as her furious fingers rubbed herself to fruition. Her other hand had slipped in between her shirt and your skin, no doubt teasing her nipple as her orgasm approached.

Jack and Abigail didn't have to wait long. Kat let out a low mewl of satisfaction as she came, slinking back against the bed as her mouth finally closed, only to be replaced by a small smile. With a shy gaze, she finally looked back to the two of them.

"Did that feel good?" he asked, watching her flushed cheeks and measured breathing.

"It was really nice," breathed Kat. "Just what I'd been needing."

Abigail giggled. "You can say that again."

Kat soon joined her, and the three of them let out some serious post-coital laughter. It was only after it died down that Kat looked over to the two of them again. "Now what?"

While the question was short, the meaning was much more intense. She wanted to know what the sleeping arrangements would be for tonight. For a split-second, Jack pondered what to do. The last thing he wanted to do was to ask anyone to sleep by themselves, but he didn't know if they would both be okay to sleep with him. Surely after what just happened, it wouldn't be a big deal, but what if it was?

In the end, he did what he wanted to do.

"Now, we sleep," said Jack firmly, gesturing for Kat to join him on the bed. Abigail didn't bat an eyelash as she scooted over to make room, taking the side against the wall while Jack took the middle. Kat smiled demurely as she laid down on his other side, soon cuddling up against his chest and laying her head against him. On the other side, Abigail did the same while he wrapped the both of them up in each arm.

Holding the two women just felt right, and Jack felt a sense of completeness that he'd never known before. The girls didn't seem to mind either, as their soft breathing a moment later seemed to indicate their content. In having the both of them, he had happiness.

Finally.

And he wasn't going to let anyone or anything take them from him.

*****

"And why exactly should I support you two?" asked the recalcitrant clan chief of thePurlovo. "The war is over. The fighting has ceased. There is a new king."

Berimund took a deep breath and looked over at Adalbert. Their meeting with Mahdi of thePurlovo was not going very well, and even now he could see the tension on his countryman's forehead. It wasn't completely unexpected—most of their meetings in the past two weeks had gone in a similar fashion.

They still had to try however. Their very lives depended on it.

In response to the question, Adalbert raised his arms. The Swabian gestured around the magnificent and opulent tent of the clan chief. "I see the partnership between our two countries has been going well for you, Clan Chief. Don't forget that it is only through getting Swabian slaves that all this opulence has been purchased. It is only through our investment that has made you a very wealthy man. All of that is now threatened by the new king."

"So you say, however, I've seen no evidence of that yet," said Mahdi with a raised eyebrow. The clan chief sat on a cushy seat as his beady eyes appraised the two men. "My payments have not ceased in the time that the new king has taken the throne, nor do I see reason for them to."

"Only because this new king hasn't yet figured out his ass from a hole in the ground," said Adalbert, seething through his teeth. "He's shown a remarkable amount of hostility toward the Swabian Empire. Enough for us to believe he won't be a friend to our country. Don't forget, he just fought an entire war against your own countrymen."

"And he came out on top," insisted Mahdi. "As is with our custom. Another war won't change that."

"Even still, we've had a good partnership over the last couple years, Clan Chief," said Adalbert, his frustration rising to alarming levels. "I would hate to see your . . . misguidance lead to a loss of slaves and revenue."

"My misguidance?" whispered Mahdi as his nostrils began to flare. "How dare you insult me in my own tent?"

Adalbert looked about ready to snarl. In response, Mahdi's guards tightened their hold on their weapons. The situation looked bound to disintegrate soon, causing Berimund to throw his hands up and get between the two men.

"Peace between both of you," said Berimund cautiously. "Clan Chief, my countryman should've held his tongue and expressed himself more wisely."

Mahdi switched his gaze over to Berimund as the tension remained thick in the room. "Yes, he should have. You don't threaten a clan chief of Andalucia lightly."

"Agreed," said Berimund with a nod. "However, our point does stand. All we ask is support on your behalf. Already we have two clans willing to march behind us, clans that are becoming rich with support from Swabia against the foreign usurper. These clans are congregating to the north of this country in a show of strength against Jack Easterbrook. Can we count on your support?"

Mahdi shook his head all too quickly. "I will not support an uprising against a sovereign of Andalucia, especially given this man's status as the long-awaitedTur'hava. You do not have my support, and I ask that you leave my lands."

Adalbert made a move to protest however Berimund quickly silenced him. "It's fine," he whispered to the man, before looking back at the clan chief. "Then we will take our leave. I only ask that you keep our requests between us and yourself, Clan Chief. As a symbol of the respect between our two countries."

Mahdi regarded the question for a few moments before giving a reluctant nod. "Fine. I will not speak of this. Consider that the final courtesy you will have from thePurlovo. Now, you must leave. Be out of our territory by nightfall."

Berimund managed a short bow only for propriety's sake, however, it was Adalbert that stormed out of the tent, not waiting for him to catch up. The man took too many liberties with these primitive peoples, so much so that it was only because of who his cousin was that could explain why someone hadn't killed him yet.

"Can you believe these desert rats?" complained Adalbert loudly as they made their way out of camp. "I'll make all of them pay for their treatment of us."

"Keep your voice down, will you," hissed Berimund. "We're not even out of camp yet."

"Or else what? What will they do?" sneered Adalbert. In the next moment, he launched a small bucket of water that had been left near someone's tent. The bucket hit one of the slaves as he went by, the older man falling to his feet with a yell.

Berimund grabbed his countryman by the shoulder and began to pull him, his legs moving at a quicker pace. "You're going to get both of us killed if you keep that up!"

"My cousin will—"

"Your cousin isn't in this country," interrupted Berimund. "Not to mention, if he saw how you were acting right now, he'd just as much have your head as well. Calm yourself."

"Easier said than done, Berimund. He's likely to have our heads regardless. This entire country has fallen apart due to this Easterbrook nuisance. If my cousin gets word that the situation has spiraled out of control, we're dead men anyway!"

"Then let's work to turn it around," said Berimund carefully, as they walked out of the inner part of the camp. The two men came to the post where they'd tied up their horses, quickly readying them to get back on the main path. It was midafternoon, and if they rode hard, they might be able to make the next clan by tomorrow.

"What's the next clan in our path?" asked Adalbert after they had left the camp of thePurlovo.

"According to this map, theTurvada," said Berimund while waving it around.

"Why the hell do all these clan names sound the same? You'd think they'd come up with a little more originality in this forsaken country?"

Berimund started to chuckle. "I'm told it has to do with the history of their kings. Important ones in past history got entire clans named after them. Besides, do you really expect a lot of creativity to come out of a barren desert like this one?"

Adalbert grunted in response. "The only thing I expect of them is to do what they're told. And not to turn away gold." He gave a patting to the small container that rode directly behind him in the saddle, containing their entire spend. It was filled to the brim with Swabian gold coins, originally their cut from the slavery operation that had benefited the two countries for so long.

Yet, their portion of the cut was in jeopardy. Shortly after Jack Easterbrook took the throne, their payments quit coming. Not to mention, with the war being over, the country was starting to go back to normal. A normal that didn't involve the hard-fought deal they'd ironed out two years ago that made their Lord Avila much richer.

And just like anyone who lost a source of income, their lord was bound to be furious to see that revenue dry up. That's where their current orders came from. They had to remove Easterbrook from his newly-acquired throne as soon as possible. They needed payment for all the slaves that were being brought to Andalucia.

In short, they needed things to go back to how they were before the foreigner ever set foot in the country.

Adalbert let out a low sigh once they'd stopped for a brief meal. The path here was narrow, winding through the desert as they reached the northeastern part of the island. From the top of the highest dunes, the ocean could be seen, a bright, shimmering-blue surface that stood out in stark contrast to the ocean of grit around them. It was enough to drive anyone miserable with enough time.

"What are we to do if this next clan turns us down as well?" asked Berimund as their food cooked. "Most of them have turned us down."

"We keep pressing on, that's what we do," said Adalbert with a haughty expression. "We already have two clans with us. More will come."

"We have two of the largest and the furthest away from Septhada," said Berimund. It was technically correct. TheGartala and theLapusa had been largely shielded from the recent war. Their ranks of warriors were large, and their clan chiefs were greedy men. It wasn't hard to set them to rebellion, yet they remained their only allies in a country that seemed bound to embrace peace.

"Others will swell to our ranks once they get the measure of this man. I'm sure of it. Either way, I won't lose my head for a lack of trying," said Adalbert.

"I don't think you would, regardless," said Berimund. "I think familial ties will shield you from Lord Avila's wrath. I won't be as lucky."

Adalbert didn't respond to that, long confirming Berimund's thoughts. He knew the crumbling of the Andalucian situation would fall on his shoulders, and he was desperate to turn it around. He rather enjoyed living, and would prefer to keep it that way.

Adalbert had the luxury of getting away with deeper transgresses. Lord Avila would not so willingly shed blood of those within the same family line, no matter the number of screw-ups. It was a good reason why Berimund suspected Adalbert was the way that he was. He could afford to be careless with his actions and his words.

Berimund could not.

"Part of me thinks we should expand our reports back to Swabia. Let them know the real measure of what we're dealing with here," suggested Berimund. "Even though I don't like the idea, it may be necessary to prevent a complete collapse of our position here."

Adalbert shook his head. "I don't care for that idea. You know how my cousin is liable to react to that. There's been too many disturbances in this part of the world recently. One more may cause him to froth at the mouth."

"And if we lose the country altogether? Then what? Don't you think his reaction would be much worse?"

"We won't lose the country, Berimund. More clans will join us soon, and with a large enough force, we'll be able to overthrow Jack Easterbrook. We just need to keep funding the willing clan chiefs in the meantime."

"You're forgetting something though, Adalbert. Easterbrook has advanced weaponry. I saw what they carry myself back when I was placed with theMuthada. Their rifles are more advanced than what even our best soldiers carry. I'm afraid that any battle that should happen between the forces we're assembling and theirs will be a repeat of the last war. Even with the high numbers of theLapusa and theGartala."

"You worry too much, Berimund," said Adalbert with a chuckle.

"Of course I worry. I'd rather like it if my head remained with my shoulders."

"No one is losing their head. Except perhaps Easterbrook. And don't worry about the weaponry, all right? I have one more card that I still have to play."

Berimund arched an eyebrow. "And what card was that? Were you ever going to tell me or were you just going to keep it a secret?"

Adalbert laughed. "Patience, Berimund. It would've been revealed in time. But let's just say that should we join battle with Easterbrook, his forces won't be the only ones with modern weaponry. I've secured a loan of an advanced fighting force. So calm yourself. Reinforcements will be here very soon."

*****

About a week after Abigail and the rest of the army arrived in Septhada, Jack had largely settled into his new role as king. With only a few exceptions, the country had begun to quiet down, and some semblance of a routine had started to take hold. Every day he had his briefings with Bazu, his meals with Vera, his weapons training with Greg (which had largely resumed even if absent from theDestiny) and at night, his bed was shared with both Abigail and Kat.

It was a life that would satisfy just about any man, even if part of him was still uneasy about his newfound status. For one, he had to remember that he was a Javan first, and for that matter, he was a naval officer before he was a king. The last thing he could do was pretend to play king for too long while forgetting about his formal duties to his country, especially during wartime.

That wasn't to say that Andalucia wasn't without its owns problems, and chief among them was the question of slavery. Even after his first meeting once everyone had arrived in Septhada, Jack had taken no such actions to end it, despite his objection to it. He just wasn't sure the best wayhow to do it without further compromising Andalucian society. There was no easy answer to it, especially when he considered how many thousands of them toiled away every day. Even still, he had to figure something out, especially if he was to move on eventually from Andalucia. There was no way he could leave the island with the current status quo.

It was a little after breakfast that morning, and Jack was preparing to get his morning report from Bazu. He had taken a detour to the grounds behind the palace when he heard quite the commotion coming from the area where he knew the kitchens to be. His curiosity stoked, Jack approached the kitchens to see what the uproar was about.

This portion of the palace was usually opened up during the day, a release for the intense heat that tended to build up throughout the day as the meals were prepared. Yet, as Jack stepped through one of the openings, his mouth fell open at the sight in front of him.

TwoSciavo could be seen beating a man on the ground in front of them. The man wore the metal clasp of the slave around his neck, even though it was hard to see at the current time. The rest of him was covered in blood. Jack could see he had a busted lip and a swollen jawline when he raised his head, only for the guards to once more beat him down.

"What's the meaning of this?" demanded Jack, scaring theSciavo and forcing them to cease their movements instantly.

"Your Majesty," said the guard nearest to him. "We're just punishing this slave."

"Punishing? It looks like you were about to kill him!" That wasn't too far off the mark. Even though the beating had stopped, the man was still struggling to push himself back up. He wasn't in the best shape to begin with, and Jack could almost count the notches in his spine with how emaciated he looked.

"He should be used to it by now," said the other guard. "This is the third time this month we've had to beat him."

Jack could only retain his rage so much. He took two steps closer to the guard, getting in his face. "And what was his crime? Why in the world did you need to beat him to within an inch of his life?"

The guard gulped heavily. "S-stealing, sire! He's been caught stealing from the kitchen stores. We retrieved that loaf of bread that he had stuffed down his pants!"

Jack turned to look at the loaf. No more miserly loaf of bread could be found anywhere. It was barely greater than the size of his fist, and it looked moldy to boot.

"You were going to kill him for stealing a small loaf of moldy bread?" snarled Jack.

"Stealing is stealing, sire. We can't condone it, especially from a slave!"

"Look at the man," yelled Jack. "He hasn't had a proper thing to eat in days. You think it's worth killing him for this? Why didn't you just move him to another area of the palace?"

"Because he's a kitchen slave," muttered the other guard.

"No more," said Jack firmly. "You two go back to your post. This man is to receive no more beatings. Are we understood?"

"Y-yes, sire," said the guards quickly before making a hasty exit.

Jack then bent down to check on the wounded man. He had managed to push his way up from the ground, but he was still sitting on it, watching the entire interaction.

Jack looked around the kitchen to find most of the staff still watching him. He moved to the stores and grabbed a much larger loaf of bread and brought it back to the man.

"Here you go," said Jack as he handed it over. "This one will go a lot further than the last one."

The slave looked up at him as he nursed his busted lips. "T-thank you, Your Majesty."

"You haven't had anything to eat in a while, have you?"

The man shook his head. "I was hoping to bring that back to my wife."

"Where is your wife?"

"She works down in the city. She's a house slave for one of the families down there."

Jack grabbed a cloth so that the man could wipe his face of the blood. He started to sob a few moments later. "I'm sorry, sire. I k-know I'm not supposed to steal but I can't help it. My wife is sick, and she's not doing too good. I've been hoping to get her extra food to help her pull through, but I know I'm not allowed, and I don't have any type of real money. I deserved to get beaten."

Jack shook his head firmly. "No man deserves this treatment just for trying to take care of his family. How long have you served the palace?"

"Eight years, sire."

"Especially after so long in service to this place," said Jack. "I'll tell you what. Take this." Jack pulled his name tag off his uniform and offered it to the man. "This is proof that you know me. I want you to present it to the guard each day when you go back home, and we'll make sure you have enough food to feed your family, all right? I'll make sure all the guards know so that you're not questioned on it."

The man looked up into his eyes as tears started to flow from them. "Your Majesty, I can't tell you how thankful I am for this."

Jack put his hand on the man's shoulders. "Changes are coming to this country soon. I'm going to help correct the wrongs that are in place here. Just keep holding on, and if you need something from me, you know here to find me."

The man nodded his head quickly, not being able to hold in his smile.