Fourth Vector Ch. 20

Bancroft finally entered the emperor's box, bowing deeply before the slovenly form of Charles IX.

"Your Imperial Majesty, it's good to see you," said Bancroft humbly.

"There you are, Bancroft. Please sit," said Charles, gesturing to the chair beside him. "Would you like an appetizer?"

Bancroft looked over the assorted foods near the emperor's fat hand and shook his head. "Thank you, Your Majesty, but I ate before I came here. I'm quite sated."

"No matter. You're most likely wondering why I asked you here." Charles turned toward him and locked his gaze on him.

Bancroft swallowed heavily. "How can I be of service?"

Charles turned back to the crowd. "After all that's happened with the invasion, one thing has been made pointedly clear to me. Our soldiers would've been better protected had we more ships in the channel. Not just more transports, mind you. I mean battleships, cruisers, and destroyers. Real protection that we were obviously lacking in."

That I tried to tell you that you were lacking in, but you wouldn't hear anything of it, thought Bancroft.

"Henrik's force was strong but misused, as you know," continued the emperor. "If we'd have had more forces in that channel, we could have prevented the Occitanians from slipping around our flank."

"I agree fully, Your Majesty," said Bancroft humbly. "The more ships, the better as far as I'm concerned. Now that we have Henrik out of command and his heresy stamped out, we can concentrate on what we do best—finding the enemy on the high seas and defeating him."

"But you need ships to do that, Bancroft, and all of those are still in port at Aberdeen," said Charles. "No more. I want those ships to defeat the blockade that keeps them in port."

"I'd like nothing more than to see that happen, Your Majesty, but we are outnumbered right now," said Bancroft. "I have more ships coming off the lines in the south, but many won't be ready for another six to twelve months, and that's if we hustle. Only then can we change the balance of power."

"What about if we took the entire navy, every fighting vessel of size that we have, and threw it at the blockade all at once?" asked Charles.

"It would take a considerable degree of planning but—"

"But nothing, see to it," interrupted Charles while waving his hand. "This is what you wanted, Bancroft. You wanted your ships to come out to port to play with the Occitanians. Well, here is your chance. Get them free from Aberdeen, then you'll have free reign to conduct the type of naval war you want to run."

Now that sounds wholly promising.

"Free reign entirely, Your Majesty?"

Charles looked back over at him. "Within reason. If I need you to set up protection for another invasion force, then you'll be bound to do so but after the last time I asked your navy to do so, I lost two divisions out of it."

Bancroft nodded, not daring to speak anything to that particular charge.

"But I'm willing to bend on this subject," the emperor continued. "And I'm willing to admit when I'm wrong. We should never have attempted that invasion without the adequate naval support."

Bancroft looked out to the sky above them.Nope, the sky is still in place. Yet here it is that the emperor is admitting his own fault in this debacle.

"For that reason, you'll get what you've asked for. Just get your ships out. I don't care how you do it, but end that blockade of Aberdeen whatever the costs," said Charles.

"I will see to it that it gets done," replied Bancroft with a bowed head.

"Excellent," said Charles. "I want you to have a plan on my desk. You have one week to figure out how to do it. I don't want the Ruthenians in this war before we have another chance to knock out the Occitanians."

"Perhaps I should get started then," said Bancroft. "I can go back to my office at the palace now and get working on this. Something of this caliber is going to take a lot of time and work just to get a satisfactory plan in place."

Charles held up his hand. "No, I want you to stay. It's important that you witness what's about to happen."

Bancroft gulped heavily, knowing the full reason behind the emperor's words. Neither man offered much in the way of a response for the next ten minutes. Bancroft was too hesitant to do so, feeling as if his neck was still in the iron jaws of the emperor.

He probably thinks he can let me sit here and stew privately, thought Bancroft acidly.He knows I had something to do with it and wants to make sure I know the price of getting caught.

In the next moment, trumpets and whistles around the arena began to blow to gather the attention of the crowd. As Bancroft's eyes drifted around the stadium, he was surprised to see that it was nearly full. Several tens of thousands of Javans had gathered to witness the event taking place today, the event that had the sky so dark with anger.

Down in the main pit, Bancroft could make out clearly what was happening. Before then, several of the state executioners were setting up a guillotine on the main stage that dominated the arena, offering a commanding view from the emperor's box. Who the guillotine was for wasn't a secret for very long.

After a low whistle, several guards brought forth a line of about five men. The majority of them weren't recognizable to Bancroft's eyes, even though their tattered and destroyed uniforms signaled a naval background. Most of their faces were bloody, bruised or both, reminiscent of the torture that they suffered leading to this event.

The only person that Bancroft did recognize was the last man in line.

Admiral Gary Henrik had seen much better days, and his current fortunes remained in the mud. He was also the one that looked the most scared to be there.

"I didn't do anything! I told you that already! I've been set up! I'm innocent," protested Henrik, imploring anyone in the crowd who could so dare attempt to mount a rescue for him.

There were no partakers.

Instead, one of the guards slogged Henrik in the mouth before thrusting a dirty rag inside of it, muting him temporarily. It was then that the show began.

Bancroft watched one by one as Henrik's lieutenants were led to the guillotine, parting with their heads with a quick swish of the blade until the admiral was the only one left. He stared at the pile of heads that had accumulated on the ground before him, a sobbing, shivering mess of a man when the rag was finally pulled from his mouth.

"Don't do this, I beg of you," cried Henrik, falling to his knees before the executioner. "I would never betray my country!"

His protests failed to convince anyone in the crowd. One step at a time, Henrik was positioned within the killing machine until his head was poked through the little hole on the bottom. For a brief second, Bancroft could have sworn he saw Henrik's eyes locked on his, wondering if the man knew who'd really orchestrated his fall from grace.

Once the blade was raised over Henrik's head, the executioner started to whip up the crowd. Many of the Javans in the stands began to chant.

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Finally, the executioner turned to the emperor, pointing his arms directly to the box. Charles stood upon that motion, moving to the edge of the box where the entire arena could see him. One gesture was needed to kill Henrik, that of a thumbs-down. Henrik could still be saved if Charles flashed a thumbs-up to the executioner, and no doubt the poor man hoped upon hope to see that wonderful gesture from his sovereign.

It was never to come. Charles flashed the thumbs-down before returning to his seat. The crowd's roaring grew ever louder as the executioner grabbed the cord that controlled the blade.

For a split second, Bancroft shut his eyes, not wanting to watch the final result of his betrayal. With the roar of approval from the crowd, he opened them once more to find Henrik's head laying on the dirt floor of the arena, cleanly severed.

Henrik had paid the ultimate price. The only question was whether Bancroft could capitalize on the time that it bought him.

Charles turned to look at him, locking eyes once more. "Let it be known that this is the penalty for treason, Bancroft. I will suffer no more reversals in this war. Understood?"

Bancroft could only nod, not trusting his voice to speak.

*****

"Oh, right there, Heron! Right there! Keep going. I'm going to cum!"

Melora's screams of pleasure echoed throughout the royal bedchamber as their hips pistoned together with a gusto Heron hadn't felt in years. The younger woman arched her head back as her hips ground into his, and her hand placed his tightly against her exposed breast. The shock waves of passion reverberated through her body until she slowly collapsed against his chest.

It took a few minutes before she dared to crack an eyelid, looking at him with a playful grin. "You didn't cum, did you?" she asked in a tone that was both accusatory and devilish.

"I was too busy watchingyou cum, my love," replied Heron before capturing her nipple between his pliant lips. He sucked it until she purred and moved her body, a not-so-subtle reminder that he was still inside her and still flagrantly hard.

Melora rose up gently before she sat back down with much more force. The feeling served to goad him into action, and Heron grabbed her hips roughly which caused a delightful giggle to escape from her lips.

"There he is. He's ready for more, I take it?" she asked with an arched eyebrow.

"I never stopped being ready," he shot back while thrusting with his hips.

"Gods, that feels so good. Oh, I can't wait to have you fill me with your cum, Heron," she moaned.

They moved together with vigorous cohesion, a sweat-slicked tangle of body parts that flowed together in perfect motion. Being with the younger woman made Heron feel youthful again, reminding of him of passions and pleasures that he hadn't felt in years. Melora took years off his weary body and reminded him just how sweet life could be.

After a particularly erotic moan, Melora leaned down low, feeding her breast into his mouth. She wasn't satisfied until his lips once more locked around her nipple, sucking on them like his continued breathing depended on it. She always came the hardest from nipple play, and this time was no different. Melora was soon on the brink of pleasure once more.

"Damn you, you're going to be make me cum again!" she yelled before crashing over the edge. She squeezed his manhood with intensity, bringing him one step closer to losing his cool. Her body was too much for him sometimes, and he was grateful that she seemed to orgasm so easily from their lovemaking.

For now, he was truly ready to explode. As he grabbed her hips once more, the king pounded into her lithe body with a ferocity that couldn't be matched. As his large, powerful balls smacked against her ass with every thrust, he prepared to orgasm with intensity.

It came on suddenly. Heron pressed himself deeply into Melora as he came, flooding her womb with his seed. She let out a delightful giggle at the feeling and ground her hips against his before she collapsed against his chest, placing strategic kisses against his body.

"There's just something about sex with you that makes my whole day seem so much brighter," she purred finally, tracing her finger along his beard.

"I could say the same about you, but about my whole life," he chuckled as his softening member slipped out of her.

Melora kissed him. "There you go again being sweet, Your Majesty. I love it."

"What did I tell you about calling me that?" Heron smacked her ass playfully.

"Maybe I just wanted to roleplay a little? You can be the strapping, muscular king and I can be the poor servant girl who doesn't know any better."

Heron snorted. "I wonder what kind of young man you'll find who can be that strapping king you seek."

"You, silly," she said, pointing her finger against his chest. "Don't try to pretend like you're not the king to my poor servant girl."

"I have a hard time believing you're a poor servant girl," said Heron with a laugh.

Melora tried her best to put an innocent expression on her face, complete with pouty lips and doe eyes, but soon exploded into a fit of giggles. "Perhaps a servant girl on her first day. Just needs some training, maybe!"

"What kind of training is it that you seek, hmm?" Heron slapped her ass firmly.

Melora purred. "That is the most delightful kind of training." She reached between them, her hand already stroking his softening member back to life. Heron had to marvel at her abilities. For someone who hadn't so much as thought about sex in years, she certainly knew how to bring the animal out in him. It was almost like being a teenager again.

"You know, I was thinking about something," said Melora after a few moments of steady stroking. "This room could use a little work."

Heron looked around his simple bedchamber. "A little work? What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing major, it's just that it's such a man's room," said Melora with a giggle. "It's so bare. You live so simply, but I feel it hasn't had much of a spark in a long time."

"You know this isn't the actual royal bedchamber, right?" asked Heron.

"I didn't," she replied. "But it makes sense. It is a bit on the smaller side."

"I moved in here after Niamh passed away. It just didn't feel right being in our old room by myself. I always felt like something was missing in there, understandably so. I moved in here not long after, when it wasn't being used. I bought a new bed and some simple furnishings but it never progressed much further than that."

Melora made a sad face. "I'm sorry, my love."

"It's quite all right, but you do bring up a good point. It's not a bedchamber for two. It was the retreat of an old man who thought he'd die alone," said Heron. "But if you're content to bring it to life and to spruce it up a little, then I'll be content too."

Melora kissed him soundly. "I'll get started soon enough. I can't wait to see what you think of what I have in mind."

Before Heron had a chance to answer, there was a knock at the door. Both of them growled at the interruption, even though it was a common occurrence in the palace. After telling their guest to wait while they made themselves proper, the king and his woman quickly dressed to make themselves presentable.

After enough time, Heron permitted the visitor to enter.

Not so surprisingly, it was Nikias.

"Nikias, there you are, my old boy. Sorry, we would've let you in sooner. I thought it was one of the servants," said Heron.

Nikias smiled. "It's no matter whatsoever. I trust you're both having a delightful afternoon?"

Melora grinned. "Positively delightful."

It was enough to make the minister laugh. "I'm glad to hear it. Anyway, I've just learned of some most welcome news. There was a ship that just docked at the harbor."

"What kind of ship, Nikias?"

"A Javan ship," answered the minister with a grin.

Heron's mouth dropped open. "Is Jack back already?"

"I don't believe it to be him," replied Nikias. "It's not a military ship like we would expect from him. But it might be one of his men. Who knows?"

"Well, we can certainly greet them when they arrive," replied Heron. "Have they been invited to the palace?"

"I've already extended the invitation right before I came," said Nikias.

"Excellent work, my soon-to-be son-in-law! Perhaps we should get prepared to greet our guest!"

After about forty-five minutes, Heron, Melora, Nikias and Elektra assembled in the king's receiving hall for the arrival of their Javan guest. No one was prepared for the flashy entrance that was a direct contrast to how Heron first received Jack.

The Javan guest first entered the hall with an assembly of his own servants. All of them bore fancy livery with gold inlaid in the cuffs. The very first thing that Heron noticed was the gold dragon on a red background, the flag of the Javan Empire. He knew it from sight because it was carried on Jack's ships, and the symbol seemed to be front and center for the entire presentation.

Next came various handheld portraits of people that Heron knew nothing about. The first was a rather unkempt and portly older man with a bald head and dressed in fine robes. Heron could only guess that the remaining portraits were members of his own family based upon the similarities in the face and the size of the bodies.

Finally, the main guest arrived. It was easy to see why he was important based upon his dress. He wore a deep, dark blue robe that fit around his shoulders with an impressive cut and ended just above his knees. His pants were the same color, and his shoes shined so brightly that Heron almost had to shield his eyes.

The rest of him wasn't nearly as pleasant. He was an older man, perhaps a few years younger than Heron by the amount of gray in his hair. He had a high forehead, small, beady and expressionless eyes, and thin lips. Noticeably, he wasn't smiling.

"May I present, his lordship Lucius of the noble house of Grant. Viceroy of the country of Sorella," boomed one of his attendants. The man in front of them, Lucius, finally laid his dead eyes upon them.

The air in the room was thick with tension, but as the rest of the room looked on Heron expectantly, he put on his diplomatic face.

"We welcome the Viceroy to Sorella," he said proudly, arching his arm behind him. "I'm sure you had a long journey here—"

"I'm looking for the king here," interrupted the viceroy in an emotionless tone. "King Heron."

Heron smiled. "You've found him."

"Excellent," replied the Javan before he grabbed a note, soon examining it while the rest of the court waited in silence. Heron looked over to Melora, catching her eye for a brief minute while they waited for the viceroy to resume speaking. Her face spoke of the confusion that all of them felt in that moment.

"I'm here to inform you that I will be taking control of the Javan presence on this island," said the viceroy as he finally looked up from his scroll. "I'll be your main contact point for the Javan government as outlined in my orders here." The viceroy waved the document in front of his face.

"I take it that you'll be replacing Jack Easterbrook in that matter?" asked Heron.

"Precisely," answered the viceroy, emphasizing every syllable in the word as to make the moment profoundly uncomfortable for them all. He soon rolled up the document and looked at them.

"You'll address me as my lord while I'm in the country," said the viceroy. "Or viceroy. Never Lucius. Never Grant. Only my lord or viceroy. Am I to be understood?"

Heron arched an eyebrow before he looked over at Nikias.Where does he get the nerve?

"Furthermore, since I'll be in charge of the Sorellan colony, I'm here to direct the resources that you'll need to send back to the Javan Empire. Those resources of course include any products of your nation, foodstuffs or manufactured, and men to serve in our armed forces, including our navy. You may be asked to furnish ships or other vehicles of war as well," continued the viceroy.

"Hold on here, I'm a little confused," said Heron, holding up his hands.

"I'm a little confused,my lord," corrected Lucius.

"Just who do you think you are to talk this way to the king in his own country?" asked Heron indignantly. "Sorella is not a conquered nation nor is she a colony. We are our own land with our own rights."

"You are to be a partner of the Javan Empire," said the viceroy. "And as such, we will direct your involvement as a member of our greater commonwealth."

"I believe I signed up to be your ally. Not your minion," said Heron coldly.

"Perhaps you should've paid closer attention to what you agreed to," said Lucius acidly.

"I agreed to be an ally. That last time I checked, allies don't dictate terms to one another," replied the king.