Queen Yavara Ch. 40

"How's the morale?" I asked.

"They still fight with passion. They fight for you."

The winter cold will wear on their spirit more than bloodshed. Zander said into my mind, Orcs can take agony with a light heart, but misery weighs on them. Stay the course.

Let's just hope the Noble Court's spirit is feebler. If I can't extract a diplomatic pound of flesh from the Highlands to offer my horde, they'll see me as weak, and weak queens don't last. Then an invasion will be my only option to prevent an all-out catastrophe. Tell me the seeds of rebellion are beginning to sprout in the Highlands.

They're already bearing fruit.

And Gorlok? Was that your doing?

He acted on his own.

I want him brought back to me, Zander. Alive.

"You two are talking to each other." Brock interrupted, "You do that a lot now. Talk in each other's heads, leave me in the dark."

"We're just discussing Lowland relations." I smiled placatingly, "Telepathic communication is much faster, and we wouldn't want to exclude you from a conversation you have no interest in."

"Of course." He said, mostly to himself.

Zander turned to me. "We have a contingent of goblins coming from the Willows. Five-thousand in total." He looked back at Brock, "They have knowledge of siege engineering. Perhaps they could duplicate the Highland ballista. Trenok's rope idea has merit, I think."

"It is a good idea." Brock said.

"We can use it to mitigate casualties summiting the wall, and the ballistae would be more effective at covering an advance than catapults and trebuchets." I said, "Then we wouldn't have to worry about trying to take Mid Fort. We could redouble our efforts wearing away at the sectors."

"No... no..." Brock muttered, "I think we should stick with the Mid Fort plan. It is Trenok's plan. It is a good plan."

"A siege of Mid Fort could cost us tens of thousands if it's not done perfectly, and nothing in war goes perfectly." Zander said.

"I know it's frustrating, but we are winning, Brock." I said, "The Highlands can't outlast us. I'll take an assured victory of attrition over a gamble."

"Attrition." Brock echoed.

"We can fill holes in the line. The enemy cannot."

"Holes." Brock mumbled, scratching at the beard he was growing, "Nameless numbers." He pondered the map, all those battle lines he'd drawn himself, all those notes he'd meticulously written about each sector. "Five-hundred men have died here." He said, pointing to one sector, then moving his finger up the line, "three-hundred here, seven-hundred here, a thousand here, four-hundred here, two-thousand here, six-hundred here, four-thousand here." His finger ended at South Fort. He looked up at me. "That's ten-thousand. Each of them was a man. Now they're just holes."

"There are always losses in war." Zander said.

"Yes. Of course." Brock looked at the map like he was confused by it, "There are always sacrifices. One man's life is worth no more than another's in the grand game of chance. It's a lottery, really. Nothing you can do."

"Brock?" I asked.

He suddenly seemed lost. He stared at me like he didn't recognize me at all. I peered into his mind, and was struck with the sinking emptiness that had caverned him hollow.

"Oh god..." I whispered.

He stumbled forward like he was drunk, knocking the table aside. Zander leapt to his feet, brandishing his staff, but Brock only dropped before me, catching himself on one knee. With shaking fingers, he reached into his pouch, and pulled out an enormous amber egg. He held it aloft, then it slipped from his hand, and splattered on the ground, red mixed with yellow. He stared at it, and mumbled, "I don't know what you imperials do when you... I don't know w-w-w-what you Highlanders do, b-b-but the Terdini give people... the Terdini... when a Terdini man... when a Terdini man loves a Terdini woman, he gives her an omelet—an egg—and it's an eagle, and it's... it's..."

"Oh, Brock!" I cried, and wrapped his enormous head in my arms, tears streaming down my cheeks. "Oh god, I'm sorry! I'm so, so sorry!"

"Will you have me?" He asked, his voice dead. I opened my lips to reply, but nothing came from them. He stayed motionless in my arms, then slowly rose to his feet. He pried himself away from me, not meeting my gaze, not letting me see his face, and he walked away. I let him go, and I hated myself for it.

Zander looked to me. "Trenok?"

I nodded.

He looked back at the shrinking figure of Brock, his massive shoulders sloped, his head low. "I'll talk to him."

"What will you say? What can you say?" I sniffled.

"I don't know," he said, and began to transform, "but Destiny might."

ADRIANNA

I finished the call with Leveria, and quickly changed my sigil back from the tulip to the eagle's beak. Leveria didn't seem too concerned about the assassin's mode of murder. She said she could spin it however she needed, just as long as the prince died. I felt no less guilty, but I did feel some relief. It was my last ever mirror call with Leveria. Thomas Adarian had completed his final mission. Now, it was time for Adrianna to start her first.

Twenty minutes later, I was in the middle of a magnificent marble hall designed by none other than Alexa Jenania. Great columns held a vaulted ceiling five stories above, the gargoyles at its apex depicting scenes of opulence and debauchery in kind, all bathed in the pale light of the dusk moon shining from the rotunda window. What else for the First Bank of Alkandra? Patrons walked by us, dignitaries of foreign nations smiled and bowed to us, investors from Ardeni and Drastin spied on us, waiting for an opportunity to broach us with an offer. I ignored them all, instead focused on the small box in Soraya Poneria's hands.

"That is a million gold pieces?" I asked incredulously.

"From the first bank of Ardeni, certified and valid for as long as the bank exists." Soraya explained, "The first bank of Ardeni is older than the line of Dreus, so this paper is gold."

"So... where's the money then?"

Soraya rolled her eyes. "Do I really have to explain banking to you? This paper is like a promise of gold, and since gold is intrinsically worthless except as a means of market rate-setting, this paper is a promise for the worth of gold, and therefore it is gold. The gold this represents is in a bank, and if you so desire, you can exchange this paper for actual gold."

I shook my head. "No way would this shit work in Alkandra. We're barely above trading corn seeds for beads."

"It takes time for society to gain trust in money. You can't eat it, you can't fuck it, and you can't kill with it, so beasts are understandably suspicious of it. Gold is shiny, and they understand that."

I snorted. "You're a cynical bitch when someone's not abusing you."

"Perhaps I'm always hoping someone will teach me a lesson." The infamous masochist grinned with a twinkle in her eye. It didn't matter that we were in the middle of a crowded bank. If anything, it only made her want it more. Today, Soraya wore leather straps for clothes, and the stitching that held them together were just piercings that linked her clit to her nipples, and her nipples to a collar around her throat. I hooked one finger around one strap, and pulled slowly until she was hissing.

"On your knees, Pet." I called her by her preferred name, and she put the strongbox on the ground, and knelt atop it. I kept the tension taut on her strap as she pulled back the curtains of my robe to reveal the lewd treats within. Yes, I had a plug in my ass; I always did these days. She withdrew it slowly, and while I tortured her nipples and clit with the exactness of a puppeteer pulling the strings, I mounted her face, and made a stool of her. Her tongue worked subserviently into my anus, swirling around my filthy channel to taste the decadence of my bowels. She moved to my pussy, and she lovingly kissed my netherlips, and tasted the ovule of my flower. People stopped and stared. The locals enjoyed the show for what it was, but the foreigners didn't know how to react. Surely, they'd heard legend of the hybrids of Alkandra, but seeing us in our element was something else entirely. It always aroused me to see their looks of comingled desire, amazement and fear. I moaned splendidly, and let my robe fall off my shoulder, giving everyone the view they wanted. The swell of my pregnancy was beginning to show on my belly, as was for Soraya's, and our breasts had ballooned with milk. My nipples leaked with it, my entire body opening and blossoming in its pleasured state, and the milk ran in delicious rivulets down my swollen belly.

"Adrianna?" Alexa queried, emerging from the crowd. I could think of no one else I'd rather see in that moment; she was always an excellent pairing with Soraya.

"Off work early?" I smiled easily to her.

She stepped before me, construction dust covering her forearms and shins, battered work boots adorning her feet. She wore nothing else. Her modest cock was rigid below her pregnant belly, and it seemed to ask me politely if it could slip inside me.

"I just came—" She moaned the word when I guided her by the hips to violate me, "...I just came... I just came to collect wages for my workers. It's payday."

"I'm afraid Alkandra's miser's feeling rather stingy today." I chuckled, grinding my ass on Soraya's face as she sucked my pussy lips into her mouth. I took Alexa by her wrists, and pulled her arms behind her back, just how she liked. "But don't worry, I'll do the negotiating for the both of us."

"You can be so persuasive." She smiled against my lips, and began thrusting gently into me, my hungry lower mouth drooling as it consumed her cock, the droplets dripping upon Soraya's chin. Alexa had small breasts, but they were swollen with milk, the pink nipples distended achingly. I brought one to my mouth, and sucked sensually. She groaned hedonistically, letting her head fall back, her hair draping over her arms that I held firmly, but gently behind her. Her warm milk filled my mouth, intoxicating from the source, sweet and rich on my tongue. I slurped with twisting lips, and she gasped violently. I tasted iron, and realized I must've accidentally let a little of my vampiric side out. I hadn't yet told the others I'd gone through my transformation, and I closed my eyes in resignation, preparing myself for Alexa's inevitable demand that I... but I hadn't bit her. My teeth were still elvish and dull. Alexa had gone rigid in my arms. She'd gone limp inside me. Someone was screaming. I pulled her upright. Blood was gushing from her nose and mouth. Her eyes were wide with panic. There were fletchers protruding from her neck. The butt of a half-bow bolt. I grabbed her by the neck, holding pressure on the wound, keeping her upright like I was choking her to elevate the puncture above her heart. It didn't matter. It was the aorta. She gurgled, her eyes bulging, begging me to do something, anything to save her. She mouthed around bubbles of red spit, then her eyes unfocused, and rolled back.

"No." I whimpered, trying to keep the blood inside her. In a last vain attempt, I grew fangs, and bit into Alexa, injecting my venom with both capillaries, but her heart would not take my poison. It had stopped beating. In the rafters above, a shadow moved, then disappeared out the high window five stories over its dying architect.

ELENA

I squatted over the chamber pot, and released the last volume of my enema. The liquid was clear, and the scented oils created an unmarred perfume. My now-bleached asshole was literally the cleanest part of my body. I douched my pussy, and inspected it in the mirror below me, making sure not an errant hair could be found. Yavara was right, it was hard work being a slut. I carefully washed my cock, then applied a fifth coat of lotion to it until the flesh was supple and moist. It was, without a doubt, the prettiest penis in the world. Feminizing a masculine organ was a difficult process, but I'd done the best that could be done. I slid the pink bow down its length, and applied a dusting of golden glitter. I was a gift, after all, and they could do whatever they wanted.

I eyed the two outfits I'd set out. One was a golden dress I'd tailored to fit the image a Highlander would have of Alkandran royalty. It had a neckline that plunged to the crotch, shoulders that fanned out aggressively, a cutout that exposed my back to the ass-crack, and a long elegant skirt that was slit down the sides. The other outfit was an opulent slave costume. A gold metal collar would adorn my neck, followed by scores of interwoven gold chain that would cover my breasts, but reveal everything. The fan of interwoven chain would end at my nipples, where two loops dangled for piercings. My panties were of the same material, the mesh chain links displaying everything, tailored to drape gently over my cock. Two golden cuffs would effect shackles that adorned my wrists, but I did not include a chain to complete their function. I would need use of my hands.

"Who should I be?" I asked myself, "The competitor, or the victim?"

Why not both? Came my answer, though my brain decided to speak it with Leveria's voice. She was right about Yavara. For all her limitless debauchery, the Dark Queen was not particularly creative. I did up my white hair in woven gold yarn, applied dark red lipstick and blue liner with a smattering of gilded glitter, and just a touch of blush to my freckled cheeks.

I walked out of my room, and into the parlor. Sofia was there, nervously wringing her hands. When she saw me, her jaw dropped. I couldn't help but grin.

"Elena!" She gasped, and hurried over to me. She stopped just before me, and looked me up and down with equal parts covetousness and reverence. When her teal eyes met mine, her expression was wholly worshipful. "I would get on my knees right now for you, but I fear that I'd be unworthy."

I laughed, and touched her cheek with my thumb. She blushed to the roots of her hair, her pupils dilating slightly. The reaction was nearly too enticing to deny, but I restrained myself. "Sofia, you need to compose yourself." I said, "You are the intermediary between me and the barons, and you'll do a poor job of it if you're drooling."

"You don't need me," She giggled, staring unabashedly at my glitter-dusted bosom, "you'll have them the moment they see you."

"You are an unwed bachelorette. You're supposed to be a virgin." I stroked her flushed cheek dotingly, "I would hate for you to ruin your reputation in the court just because you couldn't control your desires."

"The Noble Court!" She spat derisively, then looked pleadingly into my eyes, "Even the noblest of them don't hold a candle to what you are. The day cannot come soon enough when your queen becomes mine, and I join you in this flesh, for I feel like a worm in your presence!"

I took her firmly by the hair, and kissed her hard. She became butter in my mouth, her head tilting back to receive, her moist lips and tongue dancing subserviently to my lead. Her heart thundered against my breast, and I reached down, hoisted her skirt up until it draped on my wrist, and searched between her quivering legs with expert fingers. I found her blushing slit, and slid easily into its wet entrance with three fingers. She mewled into my mouth, sucking my face as I devoured hers, holding her away from me so that she did not dishevel me. I tormented her throbbing clit with my thumb, massaged her fluttering walls with my fingers, and I worked her insides until they were sweltering and saturated, and she was crying out muffled delight into my mouth. In under a minute, I'd brought her to a knee-buckling orgasm, and I palmed her crotch to keep the flood of juices from dampening her dress. She stayed frozen in the enslavement of ecstasy for a moment, then released into a languid posture. I carefully slid my hand out from her dress, and prompted her to clean it with her tongue. She did, staring thankfully up at me with half-mast eyes, her cute little tongue lapping her nectar like a kitten to milk.

"Better?" I asked with a smile.

"Yes." She giggled.

I brushed her hair away affectionately. "How you feel now is how I feel all the time. At ease, satisfied, but wanting more. It's what it means to be Alkandran. Don't become a slave to your desires; become an ally to them, and don't ever question your worth. You're not a worm, Sofia. Yavara wouldn't have you if you weren't already special."

She beamed up at me, and in that moment, I chose to believe my own lie just to enjoy her smile.

"Are you scared?" She asked me.

"No. I was made for this."

"I'm scared." She whispered, "Excited, but scared."

"You don't have to be in the room with me."

"You've been insisting that ever since I got here." She looked questioningly into my eyes, "You're always so dominant and masculine when we make love. Are you afraid of letting me see the other side of you?"

I chuckled, brushing her light hair affectionately. "The idea of you seeing what a filthy whore I can be is absolutely delightful." I touched brows with her, grinning wickedly, "I want to see that shocked look on your pretty face when your realize how low I'll go. I just don't want to traumatize you."

"Maybe I want to be a little traumatized." She grinned coyly.

"Oh, Sofia," I hissed, closing my eyes against my arousal, "if you saw the thoughts running through my head right now, you'd run as far as you could."

"But you're so much faster than me, Elena." She whispered on my lips, "You'd catch me and drag me down, and then I'd be helpless to you." She inhaled deeply, the breath shuddering from her on its way out, "Then you could show me yourself what disgusting, terrible things you would to do to me."

I forcefully separated our bodies, my cock so rigid that it hurt. "You, little Lady Droughtius," I said quietly, "are going to get me in a lot of trouble."

"Haven't I already?" She giggled, quite pleased with herself, "Shall we begin then?"

We reapplied our lipstick, then I sat in my chair, and Sofia went downstairs to summon our guests.

In my experience with nobles, barons were the worst breed. They were the top of the minor nobles, but the glass ceiling was ever-present right above their heads, and they could only stare with longing at the seat of power above them. Feractian's barons were all men in their twenties and thirties, fair of features as all high-elves were, their blonde hair and pale skin yet unmarred by age, their cheeks and jaws void of whiskers, giving them nearly an androgynous appeal. Being barons, their faces were twisted with expressions of perpetual contempt. That was, until they laid eyes on me.

"Lords Karlan, Glecian, Julian, Simian, Ralian, and Yenciata," Sofia introduced the men as they entered the parlor, "Lady Straltaira is pleased to make your acquaintances."

"My lords." I said with a broad smile as they gawked at me from the doorway. I gestured to the seats around me, "Will you not join me?"

They shuffled into their seats, unsure and trepid. The servants gave them their drinks and smokes, and Sofia positioned herself tactfully beside me.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to jettison the niceties and small talk and get right down to business." I said, "The aristocratic banter is... well, you all might find it scintillating, but it's wholly dull for someone of my tastes."

The six barons exchanged looks. Ralian, a slight and meager-looking man, was the first to speak. "My lady... uh, what is it exactly you want to discuss?"

"I believe Lady Droughtius informed you of the night's topic?"

"Yes, of course. The uh... the war." Julian said, struggling to keep his eyes off the thing moving beneath my dress. I crossed my legs, and his eyes widened. He was a rather effeminate man, and I could practically smell his bi-curiosity from across the room.