Chapter 0 - Dread Rising

Dread Rising
Decius III
 
              Decius was in the throes of pleasure when business found him again. In an upper salon of the Black Lotus, Torvuls' most famous and luxurious brothel, the sorcerer was fucking the tight young asshole of a slender girl that the madame had repeatedly assured him was fresh from the slave market. Between his legs was a high-priced courtesan with his balls in her mouth, and to his left, his page Cassio had mounted another whore from behind and was using her braids as reins to ride her tight young ass. 
              It was in the midst of all this, as Decius was concentrating on the blue bird of paradise that the girl had tattooed across her lower back, that a half-elf, clad in only a swordbelt, flopped himself down on the couch across from Decius with a whore under his arm. The half-elf looked the group of them over with glittering green eyes that made Decius’ spine tingle. Decius paused mid-stroke, fixing the stranger with an exasperated stare. 
              “We’re not taking additional partners,” he said brusquely in the Common trade tongue of Torvuls, slamming his cock back into the girl’s asshole. She squealed and quivered, the one leg she had planted on the floor shaking beneath her as her other foot flailed helplessly in the air. The stranger smiled, leaning back onto the couch and cupped his whore by her breast as his fingers pinched her rosy nipple between them.
              “Yes,” the half-elf replied in High Auric with a cool, lyrical voice that sent shivers up Decius’ spine, “you look to be quite occupied at the moment. However, I come looking not for partners in bed, or on the couch, as it were, but for a business proposition. You are Decius Sallax Capricius, are you not?”
              Decius did not immediately respond, for the courtesan between his legs had stopped her pleasuring. He looked down and met her warm green eyes with annoyance. She quickly returned her attention to his balls and only then did Decius return his attention to the stranger. 
              “I am,” he replied, deciding that the half-elf would not be convinced otherwise and so it was useless to pretend. “And you are?”
              “In Torvuls I am known as Draithan,” the half-elf replied. He wound his hand through the whore’s hair and lowered her head to his cock, which she obediently grabbed with her hands and put into her mouth. 
Decius’ mouth tightened. He was in the presence of one of the dreaded pirate lords, and without a stitch one him. Fortunately, Draithan was equally naked, but Decius felt painfully vulnerable all the same. The half-elf did not seem to notice Decius’ anxiousness and instead ran his hand through the whore’s hair, pulling it into a long ponytail that he wrapped around his hand. 
              “Your man,” he said, again in High Auric, and indicated Cassio, “he is reliable?”
              Decius mustered his wits and slammed his cock into the young girl’s ass again. Somehow, it proved to focus his mind. 
              “He is a loyal servant of my family.”
              “Good,” Draithan replied. “For my proposal must kept between us until the time is right.” He sat up on the couch, driving his cock deeper into the whore’s mouth. Decius twitched as the courtesan between his legs took both his balls in her mouth. He was growing tired of the interruption.
              “Now is hardly the time,” he growled, returning his attention to the young whore on his cock. He thrust into her again, his hips clapping against hers. The girl moaned and beside him, Cassio came in the other girl. The page withdrew his cock and lay it on her back, panting with exertion as he straddled the whore and looked to Decius in anticipation.
              “Your man is ready,” Draithan remarked with amusement. “Surely it behooves you to listen just for a moment. Unimaginable wealth passes through this city and some of it could be yours.”
              Decius groaned internally. All he had wanted during the long voyage here was to descend into drunken debauchery in the famous halls of the Black Lotus. After weeks with no amusement but Cassio and the captain’s plain-faced concubine, he had disembarked and headed straight for the world’s most famous pleasure palace with eager anticipation and a hard cock. The frustrations of the voyage had vanished from his mind when the madame trotted out a bevy of naked whores for him to choose from --- nubile or seasoned, pale, olive-skinned, or dark, blonde or redheaded… But now he was so cruelly wrenched from the throes of passion and forced to talk business again.
              “Could you just let me fucking finish?” Decius snapped in exasperation. The half-elf smiled a cruel smile and gestured. “Proceed.”
              It was little use for Decius, who had already been thrown from his saddle. He fucked the slender whore’s ass in angry silence, emitting only a few grunts as he listened to her performative wails. Cassio lay behind his whore and held her close, while the courtesan between Decius’ legs pleasured his balls with hand and mouth, undisturbed by all the conversation around her. Decius tried to imitate her professionalism, but could not ignore Draithan’s glittering green eyes that stared a hole in his soul.
              A nearly naked waitress appeared, wearing nothing but a pair of fishnet stockings and a coin pouch on her belt and carrying a tray of elven sweetwine in crystal goblets. The half-elf snapped his fingers and pointed to the table set between his couch and Decius. Her eyes servilely downcast, the waitress set the goblets down and retreated hurriedly, though all three men present watched her go with great interest.
              As she disappeared through a carved doorway, Decius turned his attention back to the two whores before him. Draithan picked up one of the goblets and swirled the wine in front of him. He sipped contentedly, the whore dutifully sucking him as his fingers plied her lips between her shapely white legs. 
              “The finest wines from Tirannion,” he proclaimed, “but just a taste of the luxury available in this great city.” For emphasis, he slapped the girl’s bare ass, and she squealed, muffled by a mouthful of his cock. Decius looked from the handprint showing on her ass to the reddening ass of his own whore where his hips continued to slap against hers as he fucked. The sight of it set him off again, and he clutched her slim waist in both hands and drove his cock deeper into her tight young ass. She moaned through gritted teeth, her small hands clutching the windowsill of the salon in a white-knuckled grip.
              The half-elf watched with the same crooked smile on his face, showing no acknowledgment of the girl sucking his cock. Decius put him out of mind again, his attention fixed on his cock and the girl on the end of it. As he withdrew each thrust, he could see the face of his courtesan below, staring up at him through her beautiful green eyes.
              The half-elf had drunk his wine and now had enough watching. He lifted his whore up from his cock and lay her next to him on the couch. With one arm around her lithe chest, he guided his cock inside her with the other hand and began to fuck. Decius heard her moan with delight and nearly finished himself. By the grace of many years of experience fucking tight young holes, he mastered his cock and held back his cum to kept thrusting into her. The courtesan beneath them worked her deft tongue over his cock and balls, and he could see the spittle dripping down onto her bare, voluptuous breasts. To his side, Cassio lay watching, with the third whore fondling his cock. 
              Alas, Decius’ experience could only keep his cock under control for so long under these conditions. The courtesan caressed and squeezed his balls in her soft hands, and he came at last. His toes curled and he shook, squirting a hot load of cum into the slender girl’s ass as he groaned in satisfaction. He stood over her, panting for a moment, then withdrew his slackening cock and stepped back.
              The courtesan smiled up at him, wiping her face clean where some of the dribble had fallen upon her. Decius held his cock in one hand as he smiled back, delighted and tired. Beside him, Draithan was merrily fucking away on the couch. The half-elf’s whore lay on her back with her legs spread, while Draithan lay on his side next to her, his long cock thrusting in between her upraised legs to reach her pink, shaven sex. Decius watched the whore’s tits bounce as Draithan fucked her and wondered if the half-elf would follow if he simply walked away?
              But now that his cock was satisfied, Decius found himself somewhat intrigued by the half-elf’s proposal. It was flattering that one of the dreaded pirate lords would seek him out to ask for anything, let alone an offer like the one he seemed to be preparing. And so, Decius seated himself on a padded footstool in the salon and settled his whore and courtesan by his side. Cassio watched with his own whore in his lap, caressing her naked belly and fondling her breasts as he watched the half-elf fuck. 
              Though he betrayed no interest in their presence, Draithan fucked harder and faster once Decius had finished. His hips worked in powerful strokes, clapping against those of his whore as she cried out in ecstasy and squeezed his arm in her hands. Her face contorted in delight and her whole body shook and shuddered. Draithan thrust hard into her one last time, then slowly withdrew his cock, trailing a line of cum. A solitary droplet fell to the floor as Draithan sat upright and laid the girl across his lap. She immediately took his cock between her hands and lips and set to stroking and kissing, preparing him for another turn.
              “Now that we are both finished,” the half-elf began after a moment, and Decius groaned internally. “Perhaps you would like to hear my proposal?”
              “It seems I have little choice, for you will not take no for an answer.” Decius settled himself onto a couch with the whore under one arm and the courtesan under another. He took some amusement in seeing a drop of his cum drip from the ass of the former to land on the polished wooden floor.
              “Indeed, I will not,” Draithan replied. “There is much to be gained for both of us.”
              “I am afraid that despite my victories, I am no sailor.”
              “Fear not that, my good man, for my victory will be earned on land.” The half-elf continued speaking in High Auric, casting sideways glances at the courtesan, who wore only a contended expression common to those of her profession. “I speak of victories to be earned within the boundaries of this city.”
              “A heist?” Decius inquired. “
              “Of sorts. Tell me, what do you know of this city and who rules it?”
              “Queen Lamira rules,” Decius replied. “And the pirate lords battle each other for the seats at her table.”
              “Aye, the queen rules, but not alone. She always has a consort, and now that consort is a dwarf---” 
              “Magnur Ironside, yes I know. But the consort rules only at the discretion of the queen.”
              “Indeed, though the rewards of the position are considerable. Not least of which is sharing her bed. Have you seen her? She is more beautiful than any woman in these pleasure palaces.”
              “And more terrible. I’ve heard the tales of what happens to those who run afoul of her. No whore here will flay the flesh from your bones and trap your mind in a gem to relieve your torment for eternity.”
              “Perhaps,” Draithan mused, running a hand along his whore’s chest and over her breasts. “Though there are whores who specialize in the delivery of exquisite pain to discerning clients. But no matter, that is not what I seek. Do you find yourself amenable to my proposal?”
              “You still have not proposed anything, half-elf. All I have heard is what I already know; the queen is powerful and beautiful.”
              “Very well, sorcerer. But we must be careful. The walls have ears, even in sacred places such as this one. Now, you surely know that Magnur Ironside is not the queen’s first consort. She has had six before him, and each of them overthrew their predecessor. They have then been allowed to sire a single child by the queen, sharing her bed and spoils as consort to the most powerful monarch of the sea.”
              “His Imperial Majesty would take slight at that. It is by the guns of his armada that Lamira’s security is maintained, and his spies work tirelessly keep her place.”
              “He would say as much, but Lamira has reigned here for a thousand years, your emperor has clung to his throne for what? Forty? She pays her tribute and enforces the guild charter, but the queen rules the sea and the emperor the land. It has always been so.”
              “The queen rules the seas? Her fleet numbers barely twenty vessels, none so grand as even the common warships of the Imperial Armada. The emperor could end her long reign with the flick of his wrist and the dispatch of a letter to his admirals.”
              “Aye, the queen rules. For the pirate lords could close off the sea and the spice route at a whim, and the queen rules the pirate lords. Torvuls is the grandest port in all the world, and to defy the queen’s will is to be exiled, a fate few can bear to endure.”
              Decius squeezed the slender young whore’s ass and nodded in understanding. Beside him, Cassio was stroking his cock as he exchanged kisses with his whore, brushing her light brown hair back from her shapely breasts. Decius sighed in contentment. 
              “You can see why,” Draithan continued with a smile, then slapped the girl in his lap across her bottom. She yelped in delighted surprise, then giggled around a mouthful of his cock. “This is the finest place in all the world to live. But it requires a great fortune to enjoy to its fullest, and one is always balanced on a knife’s edge.”
              “And you require a great fortune?” Decius inquired.
              “I have one already,” the pirate lord replied. “What I require is a higher station, and there is only one higher station than mine.”
              Decius’ eyes narrowed in understanding. He had not come here to shake up the city’s notoriously deadly politics and told the half-elf as much, but he merely laughed.
              “You have much to gain, do you not? I know why you have come, for I have spies in all ports. You need spice, as all sorcerers do, and the Guild has cut off your usual supply. After the Jade Circle’s demise and Magnur’s destruction of Iga’s smuggling ring, your black-market sources grow few, and the Guild’s stranglehold on the Collegium’s gold tightens like a serpent’s coils. You are here to find alternate sources. I know every smuggler in the city. The queen offers rich bounties for their heads, but I think you might pay more to keep them in business.”
Decius did not reply. The pirate’s spies were good, he had to concede. Everything the half-elf had said was true, and the Collegium’s concern grew thicker with each passing day. Their coffers and storehouses both withered, and to be without the fuel for their magics spelt disaster for the Collegium, but also the Empire itself. Not that the Spicers’ Guild would spare them, for the damnable merchants cared only for their own profits and would exploit their imperial charter to the hilt. 
              “You offer some proposal at last, then?” he asked calmly. Draithan smiled. 
              “Aye, I do. The queen is a tributary of the emperor, so any attack against her or her consort is an attack against the emperor. Magnur himself is no fool and has ingratiated himself with the Guild’s representatives both here and in the Imperial City. I need someone in my camp who has the emperor’s ear. Someone who could smooth things over in the event of Magnur’s sudden death and replacement.”
              “The emperor listens to his curia officials, not to lesser sorcerers. But I do have highly placed relatives and I have spared him an expensive and tedious rebellion. So perhaps my word could sway him. Though I caution you that the Guild will raise an unholy racket should anything happen to their ally.”
              “I expect as much. But while the dwarf may be friends with the Guildsmen here, those in the Imperial City make the rules, and all they care about is coin. A few generous bribes and the waving of the emperor’s scepter ought to buy their acquiescence.”
              “Then I hope you have a galleon full of gold, for the greed of the Guild is beyond my ability to relate.”
              “Two galleons,” Draithan promised. “And the dwarf has fallen somewhat in their eyes. Oh, he destroyed a smugglers’ ring, to be sure. But he has neglected his alliance. They crave more gold, and his lieutenants have taken to plundering the Guild’s trade routes. Magnur has barely put to sea that past few years. His loyal captains are no longer so loyal, nor do they cluster about him in port. Two set sail for the Sapphire Sea last month, another went east through the Gates of Dawn. His faction is weak.”
              “I know your reputation for cunning, but it will take more than the two of us to effect such a coup,” Decius replied slowly. Intrigues were always fraught with danger, and those of Torvuls more so than usual, but the desperation of the Collegium and the promise of rich reward was too enticing to resist. Despite the half-elf’s rude manner of interruption, he found himself coming round to the plot. “But we will need accomplices.”
              “And we shall have them,” Draithan replied. Excitement was in his eyes, and his cock hardened in the whore’s mouth as she sucked. “I have not been idle while I waited for you to arrive. My web spreads throughout the city and its environs, I need only to snap my fingers and summon a gathering of luminaries who all want Magnur gone. Then it takes only a few words to set the plot in motion. I have lain in wait for many months, awaiting the last piece of my plan. And here you are.”
              Decius considered the offer. The Collegium would likely be furious about any unsanctioned actions, but if he returned with a hold full of spice, it would salve any wound. 
              “Then snap your fingers, and let us summon your plotters.”
              Draithan smiled with triumph. “It shall be as you say, but first,” he gave the whore in his lap another slap on her ass. “We should not squander our time here.”
              “Indeed, for I have waited many weeks aboard a cramped ship to experience the pleasures of the Lotus and once our business is concluded, I will be found here again in the arms of these beauties.”
              “There are more beauties under this roof than you hope to fuck in a month,” Draithan smiled, “So why should we fuck the same ones again? Lend me yours and I’ll lend you mine.” 
              “Very well,” Decius replied, for the girl in Draithan’s lap was pleasing to his eye. He raised up the slender whore and passed her over to Draithan. In return, Draithan lifted the girl from the couch and passed her to Decius, who took her in his arms with delight. She was young and slender, with blonde hair and shy green eyes that drank up every inch of his handsome body.
              “What’s her name?” the half-elf asked as he pulled Decius’ whore into his lap. Decius shrugged. When he had seen her standing naked before him, shoulders hunched shyly and eyes cast toward the showroom’s thick carpet, he had cared nothing for her name. His interest had been on her slender body, her little breasts, and her golden ringlets. 
              “What does it matter?”
              “I like to ask for them by name if they’re good.”
              “Her name is Alys, my lord,” the courtesan answered. “She was just acquired from the market the other day. I watched her auction from a suite with a patron.”
              “Ah, so the good sorcerer Decius was the one to break you in, my dear?” Draithan inquired, taking the girl by her waist and sliding her onto his cock. “You are fortunate, some of the new girls get broken in by the minotaur door guards.”
              “That is a story the madame loves to tell,” the courtesan continued, “but only happens as a special performance for discerning guests.”
              “You know all the ins and outs of the Black Lotus,” Draithan commented appreciatively. “What is your name?”
              “I am Jaya, my lord and this is my sixth year at the Lotus. I studied at the Temple of Nystra and worked at the House of Silk for three years until I earned a place here.”
              “You know all the girls here then?” Draithan asked. He pulled Alys into his lap and settled her on his cock. Her asshole still red and loose from the fucking, she shivered with delight as he slid into her purse. Jaya stood naked beside Decius and watched with a smile.
              “I do. This here is Charming,” she said, caressing the long blonde hair of the whore Draithan had surrendered to Decius. “She is a recent acquisition from the Bountiful Coast, as is Alys, but she has adjusted well to her life in the palace. And that,” she pointed to the girl in Cassio’s arms, “is Azura. She was taken from a coastal village in the Ghostwood earlier this year.”
              “Enough talk,” Decius interrupted. Draithan had already begun to fuck Alys and the sight of it made his cock hard. He knelt Charming and Jaya down on the couch, bent over its back to expose their sexes to him. The wet, pink orifices beckoned to him and he wasted little time in thrusting his cock inside.
              His hips slapped against Charming’s ass and he fell back into the familiar rhythm. Jaya knelt beside the girl, stroking her hair and kissing her soft red lips. The sight of the courtesan’s big tits swinging beneath her caught in Decius’ mind and he pulled his cock from the younger girl to thrust it into her companion. 
              He fucked vigorously, watching the ripples through her plump ass and the swinging of her breasts beneath her. Charming put a white arm around the courtesan’s chest and kissed her shyly. Decius responded with a slap on her ass that elicited a squeal. She turned her pretty green eyes toward him and he felt about to come. His thrusting slow for a moment, though he did not withdraw from Jaya.
              “Cassio,” he barked, “bring your girl up here next to the others. “
              The page obeyed and settled Azura onto the couch, bent over the back with her sex presented to his master. Cassio then put a knee on the couch himself, but Decius shook his head. 
              “I’ve enough holes to fuck, boy. Go around to the other side and get your cock sucked by this three-headed monster.”
              Cassio obeyed eagerly. He hurried to the far side of the couch and proudly presented his cock to the three women, who immediately set about pleasuring him with hands and mouths. Cassio’s eyes rolled back in his head and his hands fell limply to his sides. Decius feared the young man was about to fall to the floor. But he kept fucking, switching his cock from Jaya to Azura, then back to Jaya and finally to Charming again before starting over again. All the while he could hear the powerful slaps of Draithan’s hips behind him, along with the squeals of Alys as she went limp in his arms, overcome by the throes of orgasm. 
              Cassio came first out of the three of them. His whole body shuddered and he spurted his cum into Jaya’s mouth. The veteran courtesan smiled up at him and licked his cock clean. She turned toward Decius and smiled, showing a mouth full of cum. Decius smiled back and fucked her harder. From the other couch came a heavy groan, and Draithan’s fucking slowed. Decius turned to see Draithan stand up, the girl hanging from his shoulders with her feet in the air. Droplets of cum fell from her to the floor and the half-elf watched with pleasure. Then he slung the girl over his shoulder and stepped up to Decius’ side.
              “Well now isn’t that a beautiful sight,” he said, looking at the three backsides that Decius was fucking in turn. “This is what Torvuls is all about, my sorcerer friend.” He leaned forward and gave Jaya’s ass a hearty slap. The courtesan giggled in delight.
              Decius himself was close to finishing, and yanked his cock out of Azura’s purse. He came as he did, and the hot white seed fell across the backs of all three girls, some of it even landing on Cassio’s bare chest. The page stifled an awkward laugh and Decius shrugged.
              Ever eager to please, Jaya leaned forward to lick him clean and the other girls followed suit. Squeezing the last droplets from his cock, Decius stepped back from the couch. Alys hung over Draithan’s shoulder, her breathing coming slower as she came down from climax. Decius brushed an appreciative hand through her golden ringlets and smiled. 
              “Now, perhaps you are ready to leave?” Draithan said and Decius nodded, his breathing short. 
              “Just give me a moment to collect my things,” he replied. Cassio was already gathering their clothes and dressing himself, so Decius picked up his tunic from where it lay by the door and pulled it over his head. He knelt and strapped on his sandals, followed by his belt that hung his coin purse and personal supply of spice. He bid the girls farewell, Draithan set Alys down on a couch, and the three men departed.
              In the luxuriously carpeted hall, they could see through open doors into other salons. In the salon next door, a gaggle of sailors were crowded around a bed in the center of the room upon which lay a couple in heat. The man was dark-skinned and powerfully built, his lover a slender olive-skinned girl with a flat chest. She ley on her back with her legs open so that all gathered there could see the man’s cock diving deep inside her. Around the pair stood men stroking their cocks, though whether watching or waiting Decius did not know. 
              They passed by the room with only a short glance, but Cassio stopped to stare. Decius doubled back to grab his page by the arm and haul him along.
              “There will be plenty of time later, come along,” he chided.
              They had to navigate a small orgy on the stairs, where five women, whether whores or waitresses he did not know, were bent over and fucked roughly by a filthy gang of pirates. The pirates paid them little mind as they passed and from their bloodshot eyes and ruddy faces, Decius could see that they were heavily drunk. As he pushed past them, one pirate threw back his head and came with a roar, his seed splashing across the chest of his whore and nearly falling onto Decius’ robes. With a sneer of disgust, the sorcerer shoved past the naked girl and continued down the stairs.
              The next floor of the Black Lotus was much the same, though were more closed doors that hid the sights behind them. Only the sounds of fucking and the cries of ecstasy betrayed what was happening. Decius wasted little time in descending to the first-floor common room.
              A grand staircase connected the common room to the lowermost floor of private suites and salons. The common room’s ceiling was painted in a garish scene of gods and heroes fucking, the walls covered in frescoes showing more of the same. Scattered about the common room were a mismatched assortment of tables and chairs, filled with patrons and whores alike. Girls danced naked on the tables as others plied the rows between the seats in search of customers. Some men grabbed the first whore they saw as they entered, while others seated themselves to play a discerning customer and still others merely sat themselves down to watch the show.
              Draithan cut a path through the throngs with his mere presence. Whores and patrons alike stepped hurriedly out of his way and Decius and Cassio followed in his considerable wake. They exited the pleasure palace together into the famed Dolphin’s Square. The bustling expanse of cobbled street was ringed on all sides by shops and entertainment venues, from gambling parlors to winerooms and salons. Decius pulled his coat tighter around him and huffed in annoyance, for the half-elf hung just off his elbow, smirking to himself.
              “Very well,” he grumbled, “lead on to your home.”
              “Right this way,” Draithan replied smoothly, and started off across the square. The center was dominated by a great bronze fountain of leaping dolphins, around which were clustered peddlers, street entertainers, whores, and the ever-present sailors. Nearly avoiding being singed by an overeager firebreather, Decius forced a path through a knot of merchants blocking the end of the street, nearly upending a cart of tropical fruit. 
              As they passed the façade of a gambling parlor, an interior brawl spilled out into the street. Two dwarves hung round the neck of an enraged orc, who drove before him a human man with a battered face and broken hand. Draithan stopped his march to watch the brawlers careen across the street and disappear into an alley. The half-elf looked to Decius and laughed. 
              “Torvuls is chief of all the world’s dens of vice and villainy, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
              Decius could only smile. The city was a tenth the size of the Imperial City, yet packed twice as much color into itself. They wound through narrow streets and across a broad boulevard that crested Torvuls’ Palace Hill. On either side of the boulevard stood grand palaces, the homes of merchant princes and pirate lords. Decius stopped at the gate to one such home, where two guardsmen in polished cuirasses saluted. The wrought iron gate crawled open driven by unseen hands but affording Decius a chance to study its engraved elven runes. They wrote out powerful spells of protection over the gate and the grounds beyond, some in forms Decius had only read about. He had always known that the elven kindred was strong in sorcery, but had never glimpsed as much up close.
              The three of them passed through the gate in a beautifully manicured garden blooming with rare flowers, even in the late winter sun. Great oak trees loomed overhead, boughs forming a natural arbor over the approach to the main door of the mansion.
              Draithan pushed open a door of carved eldenwood to enter a marble-floored foyer.
              “Welcome to my humble abode,” he proclaimed, waving a hand at the tapestried walls, the polished ebony table in the middle, and the red marble staircase climbing to the next floor. “Come through to my garden,” he continued. “You can wait there while I summon my fellows.”
              He led them through a parlor lined with glass-fronted bookcases and then out onto a grand patio that overlooked a bathing pool and brilliantly colored flower garden. 
              “I’ll have some things brought up for you. I must take my leave now, but enjoy yourselves in my palace until I return.”
              The half-elf disappeared back into the parlor, leaving Decius and Cassio alone on the brick patio.
              “Master,” Cassio started, drawing conspiratorially close. “Are you quite sure about this? We are quite far from home. If the dwarf wants you dead, the emperor’s favor is not likely to save us in time.”
              “Fortune favors the bold, my dear boy,” Decius replied. He seated himself on a cushioned lounge chair overlooking the bathing pool. “The Collegium grows desperate for new sources of spice, and the Guild’s crackdown on smugglers grows tighter. They have planted their spies well, and cut our stocks to the bone.”
              “It is those same spies I am concerned about, master. What if this is another of their plots? The Guild is strong in Torvuls. If the half-elf knew you were coming here, then the Guild did, too.”
              “Why would they lure me to the half-elf’s palace to kill me? It could have been done with poisoned wine in the Lotus or a knife in a crowded street. No, I judge the half-elf’s intentions to be true. The strife between pirate lords is legendary, and the dwarf’s alliance with the Guild has been a thorn in our side for too long. Replacing the queen’s consort with our own man would be a major coup.”
              “Does it change enough? The queen will still enforce the spicers’ charter.”
              “I read the reports before I set sail. Enforcing the charter has been Magnur’s responsibility for ten years. The queen cares little for the monopoly, so long as the emperor’s armadas are kept away. It is him we need to assuage, not anyone here. In order to assuage the emperor, we must deal with the Guild.”
              “And you think a bribe will suffice?”
              “A bribe perhaps, but also some choice words to the emperor. He has surely noticed their rising wealth and avarice. I would bet that he will be happy to see them cut down to size.”
              “If there is anything the emperor hates more than seeing the Spicers’ rise, it is seeing the Collegium rise.”
              “It is a narrow path we walk, I will grant you, but the emperor always seeks to play his rivals in the curia off one another for as long as we quarrel among each other, we leave him on his throne.”
              “But the Guild will strike back against us,” Cassio complained. Decius could only shrug. 
              “Let them. With the allegiance of the pirate lords and a fresh supply of spice, we will put them in their place.”
              Three serving girls approached from the far side of the house, barefoot and bare-chested, wearing only strips of sheer silk between their legs suspended from golden girdles. Faces downcast, they offered crystal goblets of golden wine on a silver platter. Decius smiled as he picked up one such goblet, casting hungry looks toward the girls’ naked breasts. 
              “Is there anything else you desire?” asked the foremost of them, a pale, slender girl with long red hair that fell to her waist in waves. Decius admired the girl’s slim body and small breasts. She and her companions were each slender and pretty, with long hair that varied in color from red to blonde to dark brown. A perfect selection, he mused. But I have already enjoyed so many pleasures of the flesh today.
Yet the lounge chair beneath him was so comfortable, and Draithan had said to enjoy themselves…
 
              Decius wrapped his hand through the girl’s long red hair, pulling her head back to face the sky as he fucked her from below. Her mouth hung open, a low, rolling moan escaping it as he thrust his cock vigorously up between her legs, his other hand clutching at her small breasts. 
              Cassio lay on the lounge chair next to him, holding the blonde girl from behind as he fucked her. The brunette crouched to Decius’ side, showering kisses on his chest and face as her redheaded companion rode his cock. Feeling the lust for her, he pulled her close by her red hair and latched onto her soft pink nipples with his mouth. The girl cooed softly, her delicate hands brushing his chest, then clutching at her brunette companion’s hair. They kissed above him, barely noticed as he suckled and bit at her little nipples in his mouth. Decius slapped her ass with both hands and cried out in exultation. 
              The girl stared down the length of her aquiline nose at him, her face a mask of pleasure and her little breasts bouncing with each stroke of his cock. She shuddered, her nipples standing out in his mouth as he sucked on them. Decius clutched at her ass while, next to him, Cassio made the blonde girl squeal and shudder.
              Decius felt the girl on his cock quiver with orgasm and could contain himself no longer. He came inside her, thrusting his cock up into her purse as deep as he could and soon felt the cum drip down the shaft of his cock. 
              The girl sat back up, her long hair flowing over her shoulder to obscure her naked nipple, and smiled down at Decius. He sank back on the lounge chair and smiled.
              “Is this your every day in Torvuls?” he asked lazily. Beside him, Cassio finished on the girl’s little breasts, milking his cock for every drop he could get.
              “This is life in Master Draithan’s palace,” the girl replied with an envious look at her companion’s cum-covered breasts. “He brings all kinds of men and women for us to fuck.”
              “Speaking of,” the raven-haired girl sitting by Decius’ side said, “here he comes again. I wonder if he has brought anyone for us.”
              Decius turned his head to see Draithan emerging from the palace. He was accompanied by a servant to whom he was giving instructions over his shoulder as he walked. Shortly before reaching the chairs, the servant nodded with finality and turned back toward the house.
              “I trust you have enjoyed yourselves?” Draithan asked, smiling broadly as his eyes passed over the five of them. Decius nodded and gave the girl sitting on his cock a slap on her ass. “Good, because this little diversion has given me time to summon my fellows. Get dressed, they await us in the parlor.”
              Decius pushed the girl off his cock, though he allowed her and her raven-haired companion to suck it clean, then dressed himself.
              “Cassio, stay here and entertain yourself with these lovely girls. I must attend to some business with our host.” The page nodded eagerly and as Decius turned away, he slid himself across the gap between the chairs to lie in between all three naked girls.
              “We are gathered in the grand salon,” Draithan announced. “Follow me.”
              Draithan turned toward the house, but Decius caught him by the arm.
              “Before we get into the wider discussion, I want to make my terms clear.” Draithan nodded and gestured for him to proceed. “First, the Collegium needs a return to the previous supply levels, before the Jade Circle’s collapse. And we cannot be robbed blind over it.”
              “I know many smugglers, but not that many. Once I have control over the city, it should prove easy to recruit more smugglers. It may take some time, but the spice will flow again. On this, you have my word.”
              “Very well. Additionally, I need something for myself, personally. I am after all taking a significant risk participating in your plot. If I am going to chance ending up face down in a Torvuls gutter, I must stand to gain something. So I demand a shipment of spice regularly delivered to me, personally. Perhaps twenty pounds will suffice.”
              Draithan’s mouth crooked up at one end and he visibly equivocated. “Twenty pounds of spice is a lot for one man.”
              “That is my price. There is always use for the stuff.”
              “It comes at no inconsiderable cost to myself, not merely to procure but also to transport to you.”
              “Getting my head chopped off by the dwarf’s thugs will prove pricey as well.”
              “Perhaps fifteen will do? There is only so much of the stuff after all, and the Collegium will be rife with it.”
              “Twenty. Not all my plans are shared with the Collegium.”
              “This is your price for participating?”
              “This is my price for writing a glowing letter to the emperor.”
              “Very well then. Twenty pounds of spice delivered yearly. We will work out the details of it later. For now, there is a council waiting.”
              Draithan led him now into the depths of the house, which was even vaster and grander than the exterior and gardens had let on. They passed back through the foyer and then a long hall lined with mirrors until Draithan eventually threw open a pair of tall, carved eldenwood doors to admit Decius to a parlor. The room was carpeted in a black and white-striped hide and topped by a crystal chandelier. The floor beneath the animal skin rug was polished hardwood from the jungles of Zatalan and the stuffed chairs gleamed in the sunlight that streamed through a wall of windows.
              The two of them were not alone in the room, for a convocation of pirate lords occupied the hardwood thrones, accompanied by their servants, guards, and of course their concubines. Draithan’s own slave girls plied the room with drinks and exotic fruits, their naked bodies scrutinized by his voracious guests. 
Draithan seated himself in a grand, high-backed chair carved with scenes from elven myths. He was flanked by two other elf-blooded men he pointed out to Decius by way of introduction. He pointed to a black-haired half-elf on his right, then to the fair-haired elf on the other side.
              “This is Gilgabraith, my second, and Lomirran, my long-time companion at sea. Lomirran commands the Firebrand, while Gilgabraith commands the Veil of Spirits in my absence.” 
              “Pleased to meet you,” Decius said, though the two elderbloods spared Decius only a curt nod each in reply. He turned to survey the others gathered in the parlor. There was a tall, broad-shouldered orc, his bare chest scarred by blades and teeth. About his neck he wore an iron collar and a matching pair of bracers on his wrists. 
              Beside the orc sat a richly dressed man, his embroidered tunic flashing in the afternoon sun and his wrists jangling with gold and jewels each time he reached to claim a piece of fruit or glass of wine from the servants. His black-haired head was ringed in gem-studded silver, his olive-skinned whitened by face powder that gave him a dandyish appearance. But from the way he speared sliced fruit with his knife, Decius could tell the man was handy with a blade. The man showed little concern for the sorcerer, cheerfully plucking fruit from a tray as his servants chattered in his ear about numbers, cargoes, and the comings and goings of ships.
              Next to the man was a dwarf, his long black bearded braided and woven into his wide belt. The dwarf scowled at his neighbor from underneath an orange headscarf, narrow eyes searching the room for signs of trouble until they alit on Decius. The dwarf chewed a fat, unlit cigar in his mouth and scoffed quietly. 
              To the dwarf’s left was a bronze-skinned visling wearing a black leather vest and a smug smile. Decius instantly found the creature’s cruel, haughty gaze infuriating, and though the visling noticed, heresponded with a dismissive laugh and a playful snap of his fingers. Plucking idly at his stylish cape of blue velvet, the visling leered at the bust of a passing slave girl, exaggeratedly following her progress past with his craning head. 
              The girl vanished through the door out of the chamber and the visling turned to the dwarf by his side and elbowed him teasingly in the ribs. Foreign words flowed from his forked tongue and the dwarf cracked a cruel smile in response. Laughing between themselves, the dwarf and visling settled back into their thrones, only to start again as the doors to the parlor flew open. 
              In swept a tall, fair elf in a glittering cuirass and robes of blue silk. A silvery band bound his brow, set with an intricately cut sapphire the size of a hen’s egg that seemed to glow with its own light. His arms and shins were armored like his chest, and he wore by his side a gilt-inlaid pistol of ivory and a basket-hilted broadsword of silversteel. He was trailed by three more elves close enough in appearance and dress that Decius reckoned them his kin. 
              The elf strode far enough into the parlor for the doors to boom shut behind him and looked around.
              “Such caution, such suspicion,” Draithan chided him. “Come now, dear friend. You have no treachery to fear from me.”
              “Even with the gift of prophecy I could not be sure. I would call you a snake, Draithan, though even vipers have not done enough to deserve such insult.”
              The half-elf laughed uproariously, and by his side Lomirran brought out into an arrogant smirk. Gilgabraith for his part merely smiled cordially at the barb. Decius calmed himself and pointed the elven newcomer toward a chair. He towered over the other guests in the parlor and Decius could feel himself shrink in the elf’s presence.
              “Be seated, Caeruthir. We are all assembled now.” Decius and the elf seated themselves across from one another and Draithan banished the servants toward the rear of the chamber with a wave. “Now then, I trust that this is a suitably luminous assembly for our conversation? Is there anyone I have left out?”
              “Just the one who will soon be breathing sand,” the dwarf rumbled, and the man to his side nodded sagely. The orc smiled a seawolf’s smile, his fists tightening in anticipation of the kill.
              “You have forgotten the queen,” Caeruthir declared in an icy voice. “If you think to rise to her side, spare a moment’s consideration for your sovereign or she will force you to do so.”
              “Now, now,” Gilgabraith soothed, “We have not forgotten Her Grace. But Draithan thought it poor form to invite her to a meeting plotting her husband’s murder.”
              “Wouldn’t be the first time,” cackled the visling with an arrogant sneer. “I’d fuck a kraken before I got into bed with that one, but if Draithan wants to take the risk, I’ll happily reap the spoils!”
              “The reward is worth it,” Draithan replied, fixing his elven counterpart with a knowing stare. “Lomirran has read the signs, and they portend good fortune for us all.”
              “Well then, what are we waiting for?” the orc boomed, leaning forward in his chair. “If we are discovered, the dwarf will have us killed without a second thought. Time’s wasting as we sit here drinking wine and devouring fruit!”
              “I agree with the big man,” the visling purred, “There will be time for wine and girls once our work is done.”
              “Grab hold of your reins, Vaelar,” Draithan cautioned. “Ironside sits at the center of a web and to rush in carelessly will get us trapped like flies. We must pry apart his web first.”
              “Or set it all on fire,” the orc rumbled.
              “Oh, I should hope not,” the man protested. “I have much money wrapped up in this city, Ramuvar, and if you go burning it all down, I’ll be destitute. Try to keep the pillaging to distant shores, and the trading to our own, hm?”
              “Damn you, merchant,” snapped the orc, Ramuvar. “I liked you better when you were an honest pirate.”
              “So did I. But I wore cotton as a pirate and silk as a merchant, so it is as a merchant I must live.”
              “You bear your curse well, Halakar,” teased Vaelar, and Halakar shrugged. 
              “Nothing would get sold in this city without me, so you all have nothing to complain about.”
              “Indeed,” Draithan broke in before the plotters could get off track again. “And it is your market I have need of. Magnur is deep in bed with the commercial consortiums of the city. A few words from you about lowered fees and the like would get them to overlook his untimely demise, don’t you think? Otherwise, I should hate to deal with a mob of angry shopkeepers.” 
              “And what would my recompense be for these fees I will be remitting?” the merchant mused. He slouched back in his chair, his fingers playing idly with a last bit of mango between them. Draithan sighed. 
              “I know you’ve had your eye on his tenements on Bridge Street. In all the chaos likely to follow his death, I suppose the deed to it might find its way to your office.”
              Halakar made a show of thinking and then shrugged. “I find your terms acceptable.”
              The others burst into a frenzy as Magnur’s business empire was marked for dismemberment. A collection of jewelers’ shops went to the dwarf, Gunnar. Caeruthir claimed a dye plantation and three of the dwarf’s galleons. The orc secured the transfer of Magnur’s foundry in exchange for trading his own dyeworks to Caeruthir. Vaelar won himself a weaving house and the dwarf’s prized racing sloop while Halakar secured the transfer of Magnur’s infamous slave pens. 
              As the mad scramble subsided, Caeruthir turned to Decius, his green eyes glittering with eldritch light. 
              “And you, sorcerer. You have traveled far to join our conspiracy. What is it that you demand?”
              Decius swallowed hard as the alien eyes penetrated deep into his soul, seeming to search his mind with their cold, emerald light. “I have secured my own reward from Draithan already, but I serve the Collegium, and they require vast quantities of spice. With the smugglers gone, the Spicers’ Guild tightens its grip. Break it again, and you have my aid.”
              “Is that all?” the visling sneered. “Just break the Spicers’ Guild and we get, what? The aid of a lone sorcerer?”
              “The aid of a sorcerer with the emperor’s ear. Unless you think your little fishing boat could stand in a line against the emperor’s fleet?”
              “Pirates don’t form a line of battle,” the visling shot back, “we head for safer waters with a speed no warship can match.”
              “Damned fool visling,” Caeruthir snapped, “the Armada comes not for your ship, but for the port. Seize the port, put his legions ashore, and it won’t matter where you run. Breaking the Spicers’ Guild benefits all of us.”
              “Aye, the Guild is the dwarf’s strongest ally here.”
              “And the queen’s,” the elf went on. “You would cross them at your own peril.” 
              “Leave them to me,” Draithan replied. “Decius and I will handle the Spicers’ Guild. The rest of you have other targets. Vaelar, find the dwarf’s moneychanger. Gunnar, seize his armory. Halakar, can I count on you to dispose of his captains in port? Caeruthir, take Ramuvar and seize his ships at anchor. You can claim your galleons then, but see that the sloop is kept safe.”
              “What of the captains not in port?” Ramuvar demanded. “Varith, Miemiri, Ujaz, Gonnsar, Myrdad… what will you tell them when they return?”
              “I will tell them that I had consort to the queen,” Draithan replied. He looked to his companions to either side, who nodded in agreement. “They have no more love for Magnur than any of us.”
              “But they benefit from him,” Halakar reminded him, “They have longstanding contracts with the dwarf.”
              “Contracts I will honor if I have to. We must strike quickly and seize control of the city. Once it is in our hands, what can they do? Sorcerer, what say you to this?”
              “It is a good plan,” Decius replied, “But spare their belongings. When they return, it must be as if nothing has changed, except that Magnur has grown taller and more handsome.”
              Draithan smiled, and a chuckle ran around the room. “And changed his friends. Indeed, all Magnur’s captains in port must be done away with. His man in the Thieves’ Guild as well, for he uses the Guild as spies. Find Shadow and offer him whatever he wants to take over the Guild for us.”
              Caeruthir broke in, “Before anything happens, we must kill his warlock. I will send my sons to do the deed before any auguries are performed. But we must be sure. Are we committed to this?” the elf cast a stern glance around the room. Draithan nodded, then his lieutenants did the same. Caeruthir looked to each of them in turn, securing their assent. He then turned to the elves behind him and nodded. With grim faces, the three of them turned and left without a word.  Caeruthir turned back to the council. “It is done, we are committed now.”
              Decius felt the tension in the room ratchet up, like a catapult being wound up toward release.
              “Once the warlock is dead, we will move to the next stage.” Draithan tapped his armrest impatiently. “Once all is done, I will go to the palace and reach an accord with Lamira. Then there will be a grand celebration, with wine, music, whores, and enough lotus drink to make your fathers stupid!”
              That brought a smile to the lips of all present.
              “A new era dawns,” Ramuvar declared, leaping to his feet. He thrust a clenched fist into the air. “The era of Draithan the Dreaded!”
 
              It was barely two hours later when Caeruthir’s sons returned carrying a bloody sack. They strode up to the pirate lords practicing archery on the patio and dumped the contents of the sack onto the bricks. A shaven head splattered to the ground; its green eyes dull with dead surprise. 
              “We caught him in a spice den,” said the foremost of the three sons. “He never woke from his stupor.”
              “A good death,” murmured Vaelar. 
              “There’s no turning back now,” muttered Gunnar. He clapped his hands and two servants rushed forward to arm him with a bandolier and two falchions. “I go to seize Magnur’s armory.”
              The others armed themselves and set off with eager purpose, leaving only Decius, Draithan, and his two lieutenants in the garden. Lomirran and Gilgabraith each armed themselves with swords and knives before Gilgabraith strapped on a bandolier with a pistol hanging from it. Draithan armed himself similarly. He held out a sword to Decius. 
              “You know what you’re doing with this, sorcerer?”
              Decius took the blade from him and studied it. It was a basket-hilted broadsword like those common among infantrymen in the empire. The blade was good quality steel and the hilt inlaid with silver. He drew it from its scabbard and slashed the air, testing the balance. While not the finest blade he had held, it was a cut above the usual. Satisfied, he sheathed it and tied the scabbard to his belt. 
              “And yes, I do know what to do with this,” he replied. “Whatever you have heard about the decadence in the empire, aristocrats are still trained for war. And thus far, none have been able to best us in war. Look to the battlefields of Armannais for evidence enough of that.”
              “Very well. Now, our assigned task is the Spicers’ Guild, specifically the death of the local head, Barbatio Marcellinus.”
              “So do you have a plan?” Decius inquired. “Or are we just to kill everyone in the guildhouse and let them sort it out later?”
              “No, I have a plan. You are familiar with Claudius Nevitta?”
              “I know of him by reputation. He is a clever trader and good diplomat.”
              “He is well-positioned here in Torvuls. Should his superior Marcellinus meet with an unfortunate end, Nevitta is almost certain to replace him.”
              “There is that word ‘almost’ that makes men quake with fear,” Decius remarked dryly. “Define ‘almost.’”
              “He is well-liked among the guildsmen in Torvuls. He will certainly be master of the guildhouse for as long as it takes the news to reach the Imperial City and return. Would your emperor send a replacement when the man on the spot is reliable and capable?”
              “Most likely not, but predicting curia politics is not easy. There are deadly undercurrents in both the curia and the Guild.”
              “Nothing in life is certain,” Draithan countered, “but Marcellinus’ accession is as certain as they come. Surely, your family could put their thumb on the scales. I am informed that your father is not merely rich, but well-respected.”
              “Indeed he is,” Decius sighed. “Though he is careful to wade into the arena of politics only when he is prepared and has something to gain. What is the gain here? Surely, you do not mean to have me replace one friend of Magnur’s with another?”
              “No, don’t be absurd. Marcellinus is no great friend of Magnur’s. They quarreled not long ago over a whore in the Lotus, and then over a boat race not long before that. Marcellinus is also an avid gambler. Cards, horses, boats, dice… he loves a thrill, and loses as often as he wins. He could stand to do with a bit of cash.”
              “How substantial a bribe? He is highly placed in the Spicers’ Guild, he surely does not lack for money.”
              “Substantial enough. It will require some persuasion. If you could promise him your family’s support, he would be swayed, for surely he looks to rise higher in the Guild that Torvuls.”
Decius sighed. There were few higher places for a spicer than Torvuls’ guildhouse, but it would not be terrible to have an ally in the Guild.
              “Very well, though my fellows in the Collegium would be apoplectic to see me make a friend of a spicer. Prepare your bribe and let us be quick about this. It is only a matter of time before the warlock’s death becomes news.”
              “The servants will have it ready in just a moment. But come, let us make for his house in the western quarter, post-haste.”
              Draithan and his companions started off for the palace gate and Decius fell in behind them. They passed a fountain where Cassio was bathing with Draithan’s concubines, including two new girls who had not joined them earlier on the patio. 
              “Master,” Cassio called as Decius passed by, “Give me just a moment to get dressed.”
              “Worry not, boy. We will not need you, so enjoy the half-elf’s hospitality until I return.”
              Cassio looked at once disappointed and pleased as Decius went by without breaking stride, but then one of the girls embraced him from behind and kissed his neck. Any concern for Decius vanished from his mind and he turned to kiss her lips. Decius smiled to himself. Once the dwarf and the spicers were dealt with, he planned to fuck every girl in the palace.
              They exited Draithan’s palace grounds through a smaller gate than they had entered, moving swiftly across the narrow street into a winding warren crowded with the city’s poor. Beggars held out rude bowls of clay or wood, pleading for alms in strained voices, but the four plotters ignored them. The local cutpurses gave them a wide berth, conscious both of their fine dress but also the swords at their hips. Two topless streetwalkers watched them go by from the door of a bakery, at once curious and concerned. As they wound across Palace Hill toward the western part of the city, Decius could feel murmured rumors radiating out from them. Curious onlookers peered from doorways and windows, whispers followed them, and Decius felt the hair rising on the back of his neck.
              “They know,” he hissed to Draithan. 
              “They suspect,” the half-elf countered. “Rumors move faster than the wind in this city, but they will whisper a thousand things. We are not revealed yet, though sloth is not our ally.”
              They emerged now into the wide street along the west edge of the hill. Ahead of them, the land dropped away over a white chalky cliff, affording them a sweeping vista over the western quarter. Not far away, Decius spied the indigo and gold dome of the Spicers’ Guildhouse. 
              Into the cliff had been cut a winding stair that descended to the streets below. Though Decius saw it as an ideal place for an ambush, Draithan forged ahead without delay, shoving past a knot of Nezzaruni traders who smelled of incense and oil. They shouted after him, cursing in their strange tongue, but of the four only Lomirran responded, silencing them with a cold, glitter-eyed glare. The men fell silent behind them, and the conspirators descended the sandstone steps unmolested.
              At the bottom, they fanned out onto the brick streets of the western quarter. Here all the corners of the world came together. Leiyani street vendors in their cotton robes hawked dumplings across the street from Mandakans in their brilliantly colored kaftans and short caps, while longbearded men from the cold north carted a load of furs toward the market. An Armanniase merchant with his powdered face stared coldly from his lacquered carriage as it clattered by, two pages clinging to the coach’s rear. 
              “This way,” Draithan signaled, turning down a side street. He checked in all directions, though what he was looking for, Decius could not know. On a street like this, anyone could be a spy, or no one might be. It was impossible to tell what was out of place, for everything looked strange. Even the streets of the Imperial City, bursting with color from all the thousand places under the emperor’s dominion, looked monochrome compared to Torvuls’ diversity.
              The four of them cut across the busy street and were soon swallowed up by towering townhouses on either side. The buildings crowded together close enough that Decius thought he could cross from one balcony overhead to another without jumping. 
              Draithan stopped at the façade of a townhouse that looked exactly like all the others. 
              “Here,” he said, and wrapped on the door three times. After a long pause, a small portal slipped out and two elderly eyes peered out at him. “I am here to see your master,” the half-elf told the eyes. “Tell him ‘Red Raven.’”
              The eyes stared stoically back at him for a moment, then the portal shut again. Draithan leaned against the wall casually. 
              “Now what?” Decius demanded. He looked back up the way they had come. Between them and the busy intersection was only a work crew from the Temple of Askallon, moving slowly along the street in their white robes, sweeping and collecting refuse. But their familiar presence did little to calm Decius, who impatiently drummed his fingers against a wooden post. 
              “The servant will relay the signal phrase to our friend, and we will be admitted soon enough.”
              “This is all a bit trite, isn’t it? Wasn’t this in an opera?”
              “If it delivers us Marcellinus and his aid, it will make a fine opera. The Rise of Draithan the Dreaded. I think I like that. I’ll have the work commissioned once Magnur is dead.”
              Decius tried not to roll his eyes and leaned against the wall to wait. This street was quiet, and as he waited only the Askallonite work crew and two house slaves passed by, barely sparing his party a glance. But the wait began to grow long, and Decius grew impatient. He cast suspicious looks up and down the street, fingers on the hilt of his sword. 
              “What’s taking so long?” he hissed. “Rumors swirl about this city as we lean against a wall and soon enough, they will make it back to Magnur.”
              “Calm yourself, sorcerer. The dwarf is indolent. And arrogant. He grows fat and soft in his palace. Even if he hears the rumors, he will not stir from his seat for some time. The long years of his reign have made him complacent.”
              Gilgabraith looked unconvinced, but said nothing. Decius studied the half-elf, looking for some clue to his inner thoughts, but it was of no use. Lomirran stepped back into the street and looked up toward the windows over the door. 
              “What does he wait for?”
              “To close off either end of the street and trap us,” Decius growled. He cast another look toward the end of the street, but nothing about the traffic there foretold danger.
              “Perhaps we should break down the door and ask our questions face to face,” Lomirran snarled. 
              “Ever the firebrand,” Draithan teased. “Have some patience. Marcellinus is a cautious man.”
              “But are we?” Decius wondered aloud. The street was still, but the sudden quiet and the long wait sat unwell in his mind. He turned over in his head, running his mind through all the possibilities, until at last his thoughts were disturbed by the door unlatching. 
              And elderly servant stood before them, clad in bright livery of indigo and green, the scent of spice thick about him. 
              “My master will see you now. Follow me.”
              They followed him into the hall, which was lit only by a pair of weak lanterns and a single window over the door. It was dim and dusty, and Decius’ hand crept to his broadsword. The servant paid them no mind, his back inscrutable as he stiffly led them down the hall. The doors to either side were shut, and Decius waited for them to fling open and disgorge assassins to kill them. 
              But they reached the far end of the hall without incident, and the servant pushed open the door to a large atrium. Here Decius could see that the townhouse they had entered was joined at the back with another, much grander house that faced onto the main street by the simple expedient of knocking a doorway into the shared wall. The result was that they had been able to conceal their entry into the spicers’ house from the busy street and its prying eyes.
              The roof above the atrium was open to allow rainwater to pool in the courtyard fountain, a common fixture of homes in the Empire. Decius suddenly felt like he was back home. To one side of the fountain sat a man, perhaps fifty, though he looked younger. He reclined on a divan beside a low table were five glasses of wine sat around a plate of steamed clams. He smiled at them as they entered.
              “Come, sit. We have business to discuss.” Draithan and the others did, the servant vanished, and Decius cautiously seated himself across from the man. The smell of the clams wafted up to his nose and he suddenly found himself very hungry. 
              “It is good to meet again,” Draithan began. The half-elf picked up a glass of wine and swirled it before him, peering into its dark depths. Seemingly satisfied that it was not poisoned, he took a long draw. Decius did the same.
              “You always have the good stuff,” Draithan pronounced with great satisfaction. “But I won’t waste any more time. Word is surely spreading across the city that something is afoot. I have come to make the final arrangements.”
              “I see,” Marcellinus said, considering his wine. “Well, then I suppose I should make my terms clear. I want the names of your smugglers, their ships, their bases, their contacts, all of them. If I have a month atop the guild, I can clean out every smuggler in this city. Not even the emperor would dare replace me then. After a few years of this, I’ll be headed back to Indigo Forum and a seat on the Charter Council.”
              “Hmm,” Draithan replied, touching a finger to his temple. He looked to the others of his kindred, then to Decius. “It seems we have a problem then. This is Decius Capricius Sallax, of the Collegium. He has come here to secure new sources of spice, seeing as how your Guild has close off many as of late. And I have promised him the names of those smugglers as compensation for his part in our plot. The names of the smugglers won’t do him much good if they’re all dead, will they?”
              “You brought a sorcerer into this plot?” Marcellinus hissed through clenched teeth. “Why should you not consider my aid forfeit right now?”
              “Perhaps we can come to an agreement,” Decius interjected. “Though I confess that agreements between our two organizations that do not include violence are quite rare.”
              “Speak quickly,” Marcellinus snapped, his eyes cold. 
              “Our interests need not be at odds. My family can offer you support in your rise. Clandestinely, if you so desire. It would doubtlessly raise suspicions for a long-standing Collegium family to throw in with the Spicers. Draithan has come to offer you a substantial bribe that will take some of the sting out of allowing the smugglers to continue to operate. However, it is imperative that the Collegium have access to those smugglers.”
              “Then I fear we are at odds in the end. I could not ignore enforcement of the Charter even if I wanted to. Those criminals are cutting into my share of the profits. Why should I let them continue? What does your help bring me that putting heads on spikes would not?”
              “The friendship of a sorcerer is a card your fellows in the Guild cannot play, is it? You can compel sorcerers with bribery or blackmail, but they will always look to stab you in the back. You cannot safely hold a viper, and no viper can match the venom of a sorcerer. How many of your fellow spicers have played that game and lost?”
              “And why should you be any different?” Marcellinus demanded. Behind him, two burly servants crept into the room, cudgels held by their sides.
              “Have you grabbed me by the tail?” Decius asked, ignoring the two goons. “Or have we sat down at a table laden with wine and clams to plot our own mutual benefit? Let me sweeten the deal. Through means that are largely unimportant, the Collegium has identified six men and women in the Guild that the emperor has turned. In exchange for lax enforcement of your Charter, I will give these names to you, and you may do as you wish with them.”
              “Six names,” Marcellinus replied suspiciously. “These must be names of importance.”
              “They are. I would not trouble you with clerks or longshoremen in the emperor’s pay. You look concerned. Did you think the emperor blind to the Guild’s wealth and ambition?”
              “Of course not.” The spicer shifted uncomfortably. “There are always traitors in the Guild, and they are always dealt with. As they deserve!”
              Decius now wondered if there was perhaps another list of traitors with Marcellinus’ name on it. Amused, and leaned back in his seat.
              “Six names, in exchange for a blind eye to my future business associates.”
              “Six names for six names,” Marcellinus replied. “You give me the six traitors and I will give you six smugglers to exempt from enforcement. Choose wisely, for there will be only six.”
              “I find the terms of your deal acceptable. A written contract seems counter to our aims of secrecy, but you and I no doubt have little trust in one another still. An oath before the gods, then? Let them keep our secret with their own.”
              Marcellinus nodded and stood up. They went across the room to the house’s altar and laid their hands upon it.
              “Here, in sight of the gods, Decius Capricius Sallax, sorcerer of the Collegium, solemnly swears to provide Barbatio Marcellinus with the names of the six spies known to the Collegium, in exchange for his protection of six smugglers, to be named later. Should I fail in this, may the gods take my eyes, my tongue, my ears, and condemn me to forever walk the world blind, deaf, and dumb.”
              Marcellinus nodded, satisfied and swore a matching oath. Decius summoned a servant with pen and paper and inscribed the names of the six traitors for Marcellinus. 
“Draithan and I must go now,” he said. “We will return later once we have the names of our smugglers, but time is of the essence now, and there’s killing to be done.”
              “I must not be seen to be involved,” Marcellinus cautioned, raising his hands. “Give me a head start. I’ll make for the casino or the Lotus, some place where I can be seen decidedly not murdering Nevitta. Then you four make your move and none will be the wiser.”
 
              They exited the spicers’ house through the way they had entered. Decius moved quickly toward the end of the street with the elves following in his wake. Once back onto the busy thoroughfare, they pulled into a doorway to converse.
              “We should give Marcellinus time to get somewhere public,” Draithan said, but Decius shook his head. “He’ll be public enough leaving the house in his sedan chair. We cannot afford to waste more time; I spent enough bargaining with him already. Who knows what Magnur knows by now? We should go directly to wherever Nevitta is and deal with him. Where is he?”
              “At his home, surely,” Draithan answered with a shrug. “If not there, then at the guildhouse.”
              “How well guarded is his home?”
              “Very. Both guards and wards, but if you can dispel the wards, I can find a spot for us to enter.”
              “You can’t do it? Aren’t you elves supposed to be gifted with sorcery?” Decius asked.
              “I live here. Of course Nevitta found a sorcerer better than me. I just hope he didn’t find one better than you.”
              Decius sighed. “Lead the way, then.” Draithan did with a smile. They started back up the way they had come along the boulevard. The street meandered a bit before they broke out onto a wide square rimmed by tall buildings tiled in terracotta. The afternoon was waning, and long shadows played across the square to shade the facades of the eastern buildings. Somehow, the crowds grew even thicker this late in the day. At last, after much press, they turned onto another, quieter street and Draithan stopped. He indicated the stone wall on the western side.
              “This is the back of Nevitta’s house.” Decius’ eyes climbed the wall to the sharpened ridge at its top, serrated like crenellations. The gaps in between the stones were plastered to eliminate gaps where an intruder might find purchase for climbing, and the wall even seemed to slope outwards to further complicate the matter. Yet Decius knew it was the unseen obstacles that would prove most difficult. He drew from his pockets a crystal monocle and set it over his eye.
              Through the faintly blue crystal, all the secrets of Nevitta’s wards were revealed to him. Like a great tent, sorcerous strands were laid over the entire house and draped over the exterior wall. Decius could see arcane energies running along the strands, coursing with enough powerful to cook alive anyone careless enough to set them off. He took a deep breath and swallowed a pinch of spice from his belt pouch. The magic shot through his veins, sparks burst before his eyes, and he felt his vision sharpen. The elf-blooded ones watched him carefully, though Decius tried to ignore them.
              Instead, he conjured a blade of white fire before him and, grasping it in his hand, thrust it forward and through the arcane shroud. The strands sizzled and popped, sparks flew, and the severed strands fell to the earth, snapping and coiling about themselves until they simply faded away into nothingness. Decius slashed to either side, cutting away more strands to carve a portal through Nevitta’s defensive shroud. Were he slower, or were his conjured blade less powerful, the severed strands would light up with sorcerous energy and trigger an alarm. But as it was, he severed them before they could realize they were under attack, and the alarm remained inert.
              “Now for the wall itself,” he breathed. He dismissed his blade and drew from his belt pouch a piece of pale green chalk. Swiftly he drew a circle on the stone before him. With whispered words of command, and quickly, for they were now noticed by those on the street with them, he invoked an ancient spell of passage he had deciphered in a long-lost ruin. The stone crinkled away like paper in an open flame. Decius reached out and pulled open a portal in the wall as easily as molding wet clay. The elf-blooded ones dashed through, even as the passersby gasped in awe, and Decius followed quickly behind. 
              “They’ll know we’re here in a moment,” Draithan cried, blade in hand. Lomirran bolted ahead.
              “Head for the garden!” he shouted, “That’s where he’s most likely to be!” Drawing his own broadsword, Decius moved to follow the elf, but Draithan caught him by the wrist.
              “Lomirran will need no help if he finds him, but we must guard against the possibility that he will not. Into the house!”
              His blade flashing in the late afternoon sun, the half-elf charged forward toward the house’s nearest backdoor. As Lomirran and Gilgabraith disappeared round the corner, Decius could do little but follow Draithan. 
              The half-elf burst through the portal with his shoulder lowered, and Decius followed hot on his heels. They found themselves alone in a storeroom, with sacks of flour and casks of wine piled to the ceilings. Draithan paid them little heed, and barged through the opposite door into the kitchen. 
              Servants screamed in surprise, fleeing at the sight of his drawn blade. Draithan caught one of them and threw the woman against the wall, his blade at her throat.
              “Where is your master?!” Shaking with fear, the woman extended a trembling finger toward the far wall.
              “In the salon,” she stammered, “Don’t hurt me…”
              Draithan let her fall and charged toward the door, vaulting over a butcher’s table in the process. Decius followed him with only a pitying look towards the frightened woman. The door to the hall flung open with a bang, startling yet another servant in the hall. The man dropped a tray of fine silver with a yelp, a lifetime of his wages went crashing to the floor. He turned tail and fled, soft slippers slapping on the polished wooden floor. 
              Draithan kicked open the first door with Decius right behind him. Inside was a richly appointed salon, fitted with overstuffed furniture and bronze candelabra for light. A fat man was in the process of rising from the couch, his silken robes thick about him. He faced away from them, but his balding head turned on heavy shoulders, his jowls flapping as he rumbled in anger.
              “What has gotten into the lot of you?! That had better not be my good silver…” he turned and saw the two of them. “Oh… I—” Draithan darted forward, blade at the ready. The man squealed in fright and ran for the far door. He was surprisingly quick on his feet for someone so fat, though he lacked the grace to match it. He bowled over a low end table and went crashing to the floor in a lumpy heap of silk and fat. Draithan pounced.
              He leapt over the couch, blade in hand and poised for the kill. But Nevitta’s flailing hand closed about a heavy silken ashtray and he whipped it at Draithan without a moment’s consideration. The item struck Draithan in the temple, drawing blood. The half-elf cried out, grabbing the injured area as he staggered back a half-step. Nevitta wasted no time in rising and running for the far door. Decius went after him. 
              The fat spicer burst out into a foyer, holding his long robes up from his feet.
              “Help!” he wailed, his voice echoing off the marble walls of his empty foyer. “Assassins! Help!”
              The front door burst open and a man in servant’s livery fell through it. He struck the marble floor, dead. Behind him, Lomirran stood in the doorway, a bloody blade held aloft. Nevitta screamed again and ran for the stairs. From above came two men with swords, rushing down the stairs toward the spicer. Draithan surged toward them, his sword at the ready. 
              From a room on the first floor burst a man with a pistol. He crashed through a door into the hall and his eyes immediately fixed on Draithan, obliviously charging up the stairs. The man leveled his pistol.
              Forgoing a warning cry to Draithan, Decius summoned a bolt of lightning from his hand. It arced across the foyer and struck the man in the chest. His limbs spasmed, his fingers pulled the trigger. But it was a spark from the lightning that ignited the powder in his flashpan. The pistol cracked, a blast of white smoke erupting from its muzzle, and Decius heard the shot ricochet off the marble wall somewhere in the great, echoey foyer. The unfortunate gunman was thrown backwards where he crashed against the doorjamb he had just passed through and lay still in a broken heap. 
              Above him, Draithan cut a bloody path through Nevitta’s guards as Lomirran and Gilgabraith stepped inside the house. Nevitta fled deeper into the upper floor of the house with the four assassins in pursuit. Doors slammed open and shut as the spicer tried in his panic to find a place to hide. At last, he slammed a heavy teak door in their face, and Decius heard a thud as a locking bar fell into place behind it, but another bolt of lightning blasted the door to splinters and Draithan surged through the portal after his quarry. On the other side, they found Nevitta collapsed in a heap, his escape routes exhausted.
              “Please,” he pleaded, a hand raised in surrender, “Don’t kill me…”
              “It’s not personal,” Draithan reassured him as he approached. “But you are standing between me and quite a lot of money.”
              “Money!” the spicer blurted. “I have lots of it! Let me live and I will make you a very rich man! Elf! Half-elf!”
              “Sorry, but there’s nothing you could offer me that your death won’t provide. Give my regards to Kanaron.” The spicer wailed in protest, but it was no use. Draithan ran his blade through the man’s fat breast and tore it out. A spray of blood painted the wall and Nevitta slumped to the side. His eyes slipped closed, and blood ran down his chest to pool on the floor.
              “Well, that’s done.” Draithan pronounced cheerily. “Let’s get on to the next one.”
              “We should go,” said Gilgabraith. “There will be more of them soon.”
              They raced back out the way they had come. Servants in the halls fled in confused terror as they crossed their path. Two men in cuirasses found themselves barring their way, but fled before blades could be crossed. Draithan led them back into the rear garden and through Decius’ portal. They found the street abandoned, though shouts of alarm could be heard from either direction.
              “Hold here,” Decius called. “I will close the portal and erase any artifacts of our presence. There is still a chance we might be able to conceal our involvement.”
              He pulled the sorcerous threads that held open his portal and the circle in stone contracted, cracking and creaking as it did. The portal collapsed on itself and soon enough all that remained before them was an unblemished stone wall.
              “Good,” Draithan pronounced. “No one will know we were here.”
              “I wouldn’t say so,” said a voice, and all four of them turned with a start. Appearing from nowhere were a short, dark-skinned man with long, thick dreadlocks of black hair and his companion, an equally dark-furred minotaur standing nearly eight feet in height. Both wore armor and a badge with a saltire argent on sable. Decius’ heart fell.
              “Get ‘em, boys!” the man proclaimed and a score of similarly attired guardsmen stepped from the doors on the opposite side of the street, halberds and firelocks in hand. The minotaur hefted a huge, two-handed poleaxe and slapped it against his open palm. “The Queen wants you alive,” it boomed, “but it’s all the same to me.”
              Decius raised his broadsword, but he suddenly saw sorcerous strands falling over them from above. One touched him, cold and dark, and he felt the energies of the indigo spice drain away. More strands fell on the four of them, even as they struggled against them, and Decius felt a blackness creeping in from the edge of his vision. He tried to fight it, tried to summon his strength to cast a counterspell, but it was no use. He fell to the cobblestone and the light went out.
 
              Decius came to in a dark chamber, the only light filtering in from a narrow slot high in the wall. He still wore the clothes he had been captured in, though his jewelry, belt pouches, and broadsword had all been stripped away. He was not chained, but this brought him no comfort for he could not summon any magic to aid him. Decius fumbled about in the dark chamber in search of anything to aid in his escape.
              The floor was smooth and featureless, as if made of glass. The walls were made of brick, but he could not scratch the mortar between them with just his fingernails. He ran his hands around all four walls, but could not make out the edge of a door. Frustrated, he sat down again, staring up at the single source of light in the cell.
              To his surprise, the slot opened. In fact, in entire wall began to retract into the floor, and from the opposite side came a wall of blinding light. Decius raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sudden brightness. Through his fingers, he saw a silhouette emerge from behind the retreating door, and then a woman stepped into his cell.
              She was tall, pale-skinned, and regal in her bearing. Raven hair fell to her waist in perfectly coiffed locks bound with gem-studded golden chains, and she wore a long dress of dark velvet that dove from her white shoulders to nearly bare her ample breasts before cutting low toward her waist. The trim of her dress was white silk, the outline of her neckline meeting the white trim on her legs to form a saltire. 
              Decius swallowed hard. The queen was more beautiful than he had imagined, but the brilliant green eyes that stared down at him with cruel amusement chilled him to his core. Lamira raised a hand, laden with jeweled rings, to her red lips and tapped them pensively. 
              “Decius Capricius Sallax,” she mused. “I’ve heard much about you.”
              “And I have heard more about you, Your Majesty. I regret that our meeting comes under such circumstances.”
              ‘Indeed, I am sure you do. However, it could be worse. You could have been caught killing my husband, instead of some spicer.”
              Decius swallowed again. The queen’s eyes were everywhere, the sayings went, and now he found them boring a hole through his soul. Another woman stepped up behind the queen, this one was also tall and raven haired, dressed in a similar black gown, though her bodice was not nearly so revealing. 
              “Mother,” the newcomer whispered in the Common tongue before she continued in another tongue that Decius could not recognize. He strained to discern if not its identity then at least its family of origin, but came up with nothing. Lamira’s daughter stopped, and the queen smiled. Her green eyes returned to Decius.
              “You were meeting with Marcellinus,” she accused mildly. “What did you promise him for his aid?”
              Decius shifted uncomfortably on the floor. The queen’s daughter stared down at him and raised a pair of manacles in her hand, her face cold.
              “If my mother asks too politely, I could ask instead.” In the chamber behind them, Decius saw the short man and the minotaur who had captured them. The minotaur was hauling a wooden rack into the middle of the room.
              “Very well,” Decius sighed, “You seem to know everything anyway. We offered him an alliance, and the names of all the emperor’s men in the Guild.”
              “And for this, he will give you the loyalty of the Guild?” the queen asked. 
              “Aye,” Decius replied.
              “And you will use your family’s influence to avoid any rupture with the Curia?”
              “Indeed. A mutually beneficial arrangement for us, until you got involved.”
              “So it would seem. I admit I thought it unlikely that a sorcerer and a spicer could find common ground, but you showed uncommon cunning. The emperor would be wise to keep an eye on the two of you, and to hope that this alliance does not go further than spice and spies. Friendship between the two bitterest foes in the empire would be a sea change.”
“That was the plan, yes,” Decius admitted.
              “Good. Then there is little for me to fear, and you may go.”
              “I’m sorry?” Decius was shocked. The queen turned to her guards behind her. 
              “Put it back, Guwinka. We won’t need it today.”
              The guard and his minotaur companion looked crestfallen but did as ordered. Decius stood up.
              “I am free to go?” he asked.
              “That is what I said. I just had to be sure that I need not fear the Armada come calling. If you and Draithan the Dreaded can get the Curia to ignore your little coup, then it matters little to me. Magnur has overstayed his welcome in my halls. It is time someone new arose, and I like the look of this half-elf.”
              “You would abandon your husband?” Decius asked in surprise.
              “What is he to me?” the queen replied. “He brought me the loyalty of many captains when we married, but now they have died, retired, or become fat and lazy. His strength wanes, his treasure hoard gathers dust, and he has neglected his duties. The city always needs fresh blood.”
              “Where is Draithan?” Decius demanded.
              “He will be waiting outside when you get there. And, to speed you along, Magnur will be at the baths on Tower Street with four guards, still oblivious to what has already happened, thanks to Fethira here.” Her daughter nodded with a slim smile, then retreated from the chamber through another door. “And when you’re finished, return to me.” She smiled again, her eyes hungry. “I should hate to see you walk away untasted.”
              Then she was gone, sweeping through the door after her daughter and vanishing into the dark hall. Guwinka and the minotaur leaned against the rack, arms crossed. 
              “You and I won’t get acquainted today, sorcerer,” he said with mild disappointment. “Perhaps another time.”
              Decius scowled at him. “Which way to Draithan?” he demanded. Slowly, Guwinka raised a hand and pointed to the door opposite where Lamira had exited. Decius wasted little time in leaving. He shoved his way through the door impatiently and found himself in a small antechamber, where all his things had been laid out on a table, from his spice capsules to his broadsword. Quickly, he rearmed himself, then followed the hall to the exit.
              He found Draithan waiting, along with Lomirran and Gilgabraith, all armed again and unharmed. The sun was low in the sky behind them, its last rays creeping over the rooftops as the city turned from day to night. The crowds were thick in the streets again. 
              “Welcome back, sorcerer,” Draithan said as Decius appeared, his face excited. “We have royal sanction now.”
              “So I have heard. Does it not change your plan that she would throw away her husband so easily? Would you want to marry her now?”
              Draithan snorted. “Of course! The dwarf has fallen from favor because he became soft and lazy. His captains have grown old. These are my captains,” he pointed to his elf-kin. “They will never grow old. Their edge will not dull. I foresee a long reign for myself, and a long friendship between you and I.”
              “So be it,” Decius replied. After all, it’s not my neck on the block. “Lead the way to the baths on Tower Street, for I don’t even know where we are.”
              Draithan laughed and pointed up. Stepping forward, Decius saw that they were at the base of the cliff and atop it was Lamira’s palace. “We’ll be at the baths in no time at all.”
              He spoke true enough. They made their way across the city quickly even as its streets choked with crowds in search of evening entertainment. The rumor mill was still swirling, fresh with news of Nevitta’s brazen murder. Decius kept his head down as they walked but could still hear the street chatter. The city was excited but also nervous. More than one person foretold blood running through the streets during the night.
              Draithan pulled to a halt. He signaled toward the next corner. “There are the baths.”
              “Is there another exit?” Decius asked, and Draithan nodded.
              “There’s one on the opposite side as well as servants’ exits.”
              “Then Gilgabraith and I will take one exit while you and Lomirran go in the other and do the deed.”
              “No,” Draithan said, shaking his head. “I want you with me. I won’t have you running off to leave me holding the bag. Lomirran will cover the back and Gilgabraith the front. You and I will go in and kill the dwarf.”
              “As you wish,” Decius sighed. “Let’s get this done.”
              Decius started off toward the door without waiting for a response. Draithan and Gilgabraith fell in behind, while Lomirran moved off toward the far side of the bath house. They pressed their way through the crowd to reach the front door just as a throng of tradesmen emerged from the baths, still damp and smelling of fresh oil. Trailing behind them were a trio of satisfied and sweaty harlots who smiled and waved them farewell at the threshold. The women turned their gaze to Decius and his companions as they approached.
              “Evening, gentlemen. Fancy a private bath?”
              “Not tonight, ladies,” Gilgabraith replied. “We’re here on business.”
              “So are we,” one of them giggled. They turned and headed inside, tossing interested looks over their shoulders. Decius ignored them and looked through the long hall to the opposite door, waiting for Lomirran to signal he was ready. 
              A group of sailors passed by, allowing Decius to hear their conversation.
              “Aye, they’re all over the ship now. Says that the Sapphire Lord owns them now. The dwarf won’t like that.”
              “Best be indoors tonight. Things will get bloody before the sun rises.”
              “Let’s make for the Sailor’s Purse. This night will be over faster if we’ve got whores and wine!”
              Draithan smiled as they walked off to the west. 
              “Caeruthir works fast.”
              “We had better do the same. If Magnur finds out his galleons have been seized—”
              “He won’t. He’s half-asleep in a bath while pretty girls braid his beard and ride his cock. I know his habits, don’t worry.”
              Decius scowled. The half-elf’s confidence had not failed them so far, but his judgment regarding the queen and his future position made Decius wary of his caution.
              “What did the queen ask you?” Draithan asked. 
              “She wanted to know what we promised the spicer. I told her, since she already knew everything. Her men were waiting for us. She knew we were going to go after Nevitta before we even arrived.”
              “She reads the stars better than anyone,” Draithan replied. “It is why Caeruthir was wrong to ask whether we had her blessing. If not, we never would have succeeded.”
              “Then why did she drag us in?”
              “To remind us that she controls everything in this city. It is as I told you; the queen rules this city herself. She cares little for the emperor’s fleets.”
              “Well, she asked about them, too. Look, Lomirran is in position.”
              “Then let’s go. I’ve waited a long time for this.”
              Draithan took the lead, leaving Gilgabraith to guard the door as Decius followed. The entrance to the bath house was a grand stone arch, the floors rough tile. Brass lanterns burned overhead, casting flickering shadows in the evening light. The interior was thick with steam, even in the antechamber where attendants waited to take their things. One woman stepped forward to meet them.
              “Private room, sirs?” she asked. Draithan shook his head.
              “Magnur Ironside. Where is he?”
              “I’m afraid I don’t know, sir.”
              “Of course you do. He’s in a private room, but which one.”
              “We respect the privacy of our patrons, sir.”
              Draithan smiled derisively. Drawing his sword, he shoved her aside and made for the door to the main chamber. The woman cried out for him to stop, the other attendants cowered or ran. Decius drew his own blade.
              Draithan threw open the doors to the main bath chamber. The room was a long pool lined with benches and alcoves on one wall, and doors to the private baths on the other. Barely ten bathers were within, the evening rush had just ended and the night crowd had yet to arrive. But they all recognized the situation immediately and naked bathers ran for the doors. Draithan ignored them, heading for the private chambers. 
              The half-elf kicked open the first door to find the room empty. His lips curled into a sneer and he moved on. The next door flew open and three men inside turned at a start. They were seated around the edge of a circular bathing pool, steam wafting upwards to the ceiling, while a platter of stuffed game hens floated in the middle. 
              “What in the name of Eldrin are you doing?” one man shouted. “Waving a sword around in here…”
              “Shut your mouth,” Draithan snapped and slammed the door shut. “Impudent swine,” he hissed under his breath. 
              “On we go,” Decius whispered to himself. The half-elf overheard and smiled a wolf’s smile.
              “On until the end,” he replied. They moved to the third door together. Draithan paused a moment, then breathed deep. His boot snapped forward and smashed open the door. Their quarry lay inside.
              Magnur Ironside reclined naked in the bath, his arms resting on the brickwork rim of the pool, eyes closed, and his head tilted back toward the ceiling. His wet beard was unbound, though its ornaments lay on the rim of the columned tub behind him and his clothes in an alcove behind them. Two naked slave girls sat to his sides, one pouring bathwater from a jug over his broad, hairy chest, and the other preparing a tray of perfumes and oils. Between his legs knelt a third girl, her soft white hands wrapped around his cock as she kissed it. The three girls were all pale, blonde, and slender. Decius envied the dwarf.
              Between himself and the dwarf were four guards, two short, stocky dwarves, and two powerful, hulking minotaurs. They each carried a broad-bladed messer, a short knife, and two pistols. The guards turned at the sound of the door, having been engaged watching the girls pleasure their master, and their faces dropped in alarm. They went for their weapons, but the nearest dwarf was too slow. Draithan was on him in an instant and his long blade slashed through the dwarf’s neck. His head lolled back and thudded wetly to the ground before his body slumped forward.
              The girls screamed. Magnur opened his eyes and shouted in alarm. He bolted to his feet, his knees striking the girl between her legs as he flailed in the water. A minotaur lunged at Draithan, who ducked beneath the blow and slashed at its thighs. The half-elf danced past it to engage the other minotaur as he made for Magnur at the rear of the room. 
              Decius cast a spell of ironskin over himself and darted in to join the melee. He clashed swords with the remaining dwarf, the heavy blows of his smaller opponent sending shocks through his poor swordarm. He winced, despite the ironskin, and skittered back to avoid the heavy blade of a minotaur.
              Magnur scrambled over the tiled floor, making for his weapons against the far wall. The girls ran for the door, their bare feet leaving wet footprints on the tile, except for the girl in the bath, who held her bloody nose and cowered in the water.
              Draithan dodged aside as a minotaur cut at him, then turned his blade and drove it into the monster’s flank. It howled in pain, flailing about in a vain attempt to wound his attacker. Instead, its fist connected with one of the fleeing slave girls, knocking her back into the bath with a great splash. Decius dodged the attack of the other minotaur, pressed on the other side by the dwarf. He conjured a veil of black ash to shield him from the minotaur, then turned violently on the dwarf. 
              From his left hand flew a spray of blazing light that struck the dwarf in the face. He howled and flailed about, blinded and singed as locks of his beard caught flame. Decius lunged and plunged his broadsword into the dwarf’s chest. He cried out in strangled pain, his messer clattering to the floor, and Decius twisted the blade. The dwarf staggered a half step back, then slid off the sword and struck the floor with a wet thud. 
              Decius turned as the minotaur, still staggering from the leg wound Draithan had dealt it, lumbered its way through the veil, slashing blindly with its sword. Decius thrust out his hand, and a bolt of lightning leapt forward. It struck the minotaur square in its chest and the beast snapped back, its limbs dancing wildly and its hair standing on end. The messer clanged to the floor and splashed into the bath. 
              There was a loud crack, and Decius felt something strike off his back. He heard it clatter off the ceiling and splash into the water. Turning, he saw Magnur standing naked, a pistol in his hand and his wet cock waving before him. Fuming, the dwarf readied his second pistol. Decius charged forward. 
              Behind him, there was another howl as Draithan slew the minotaur. It toppled forward into the bath, nearly crushing the two screaming slave girls beneath its bulk. A great gout of water went up in the splash, raining down on Magnur before his pistol could spark. The flint struck the frizzen and sparks flew, but the wet powder in the flashpan would not light. The furious dwarf hurled the useless pistol at Decius, only for it to clang off his iron skin and crash to the floor. 
              Instead, the dwarf drew his sword, a curved saber that glowed a sickly green in the room’s lantern light. The metal seethed with a malice that Decius could feel, a cold hatred that permeated his every fiber. He felt his ironskin rust and melt away. The sorcerous energies that coursed through his veins stilled themselves, and he swallowed hard in fear.
              The dwarf rushed at Decius, his blade hissing and crackling as he swung. Decius backed away, parrying as best he could manage. The dwarf was strong, but most surprisingly, he was fast. Decius could barely keep up with his strokes and soon found himself backing toward the bath. Behind him, he heard the clangs of Draithan and the minotaur as they battled. 
              Magnur stabbed low, and Decius hopped back from the strike, only to realize it was a feint. The dwarf turned his blade and stabbed high, a mortal blow that Decius only just turned aside. Roaring with fury, Magnur lowered his shoulder and tackled him into the bath. They went down in a heap, the hot water swallowing them both up. The roar of the water filled Decius’ ears, muffling the slave girls’ screams. Decius flailed about, trying to find his balance and footing, and felt his blade strike something. Through the water, he could see the green blade glimmer. He realized it was held just overhead, poised for a finishing strike. 
              He kicked off the tub floor, propelling himself backwards as the blade descended. It plunged through the water and crashed into the tile below, cracking it in half. Tendrils of fel energy lashed out, searing Decius’ leg that had just avoided the blade itself. Decius cried out, his mouth filling with hot water, and felt his back hit the far rim of the tub. 
              Struggling to the surface, he swept the water from his eyes and looked about frantically. Draithan stood beside the minotaur, his blade buried in its flank up to the hilt. Triumph in his eyes, the half-elf tore it out, spilling a gout of dark red blood to the floor. The minotaur slumped to the side and cracked its horn on the floor as it fell. Blood rushed from its open wound onto the floor, where it streamed toward the bath. Red rivulets ran between the tiles to drip into the hot, clear water.
              To his surprise, Decius realized there was already blood in the bathwater. To the other side, he saw the slave girls. One lay on her back in the water, blood pouring from her open throat. Her companion held her in her arms, pleading with her to stay alive, to no avail. Decius felt his face turn pale as he realized what his sword had struck while flailing about in the water. 
              But there was no time to dwell on it. Magnur stood before him, holding his fel green blade in both hands as he advanced naked through the water. Blood swirled about him in the water, curling about his bare legs as he waded forward. Decius propped himself up against the far wall, his clothes clinging to his skin, heavy with wetness. He tried to pull himself from the tub, but his wet hands slipped on the rim. 
              Magnur lunged forward, his blade slicing downward in a cruel arc that threatened to slice Decius in twain. He got his broadsword up to parry, but the impact ran through his shoulder, jarring him to the bone. His blade cracked under the force and Magnur sheared right through it. Decius fell to the side as the green blade came down to crash against the stone rim. He had only barely avoided a terrible death, but the dwarf was still there. 
              Decius scrabbled away, pushing himself along the edge of the tub as Magnur advanced.
              “I don’t know who you are,” the dwarf snarled, “But I’ll have you screaming for death before I’m done with you.” He sliced at Decius again, and it was all he could do to dive beneath the blade again and submerge himself underwater. He heard the blade crack against the stone and shoved off the water to escape into open water. 
              He felt a hand close about his shoulder and Magnur hauled him out of the water to face him.
              “I’ve got you now!” the dwarf roared. The terrible blade rose above his shoulder, and Decius raised a hand to shield his face from the killing stroke. 
              Magnur’s grip loosened, and the dwarf grunted in surprise. Lowering his hand, Decius saw a sword point emerge from the dwarf’s throat. His eyes wide, Magnur turned slowly to regard Draithan, standing behind him. The green blade fell into the bath, vanishing quickly into the dark red waters, and the dwarf’s posture slackened.
              “Drai… than?” he asked. The half-elf nodded.
              “It’s time for fresh blood,” Draithan whispered. He tore the blade out of Magnur’s throat and a fresh geyser of blood rushed forth. 
 
              They left the crying girl with her dead companion, for Decius could not move her even as the whole bath turned red. Lomirran and Gilgabraith joined them in the main bath chamber delighted at their success.
              “It’s done,” Draithan reported with a smile. “The dwarf is dead, my ascension is assured. Come, we must celebrate. Back to the Lotus, and we’ll empty their wine cellars!”
              Decius paused, looking back at the scene of carnage behind them. 
              “I will find you later,” he said. “The queen summoned me to her palace once the dwarf was dead.”
              “Oh? What for?”
              “No doubt she wishes to send a message to the emperor on my person,” Decius lied smoothly. “Despite her power, the appearance of the Armada would be a great inconvenience for her.”
              “Very well. We’ll save you a few girls,” Draithan said with a smile and a hearty clap on the back.
              “I won’t,” Lomirran glowered. Draithan shook his head. 
              “Ignore him. We’ll see you soon. Oh, what a day!”
              They left the bathhouse together, passing through a gaggle of frightened by curious patrons and servants to reach the street, where a crowd was forming. Men peered past them into the bathhouse and whispers ran through the crowd. The four of them pushed their way through quickly, and stopped in an alley on the far side, where they split up. No soon had Decius turned away from them than a cry went up from behind.
              “Magnur Ironside is dead!” the crowd erupted into cheers and cries. Decius lowered his head and pushed on through the alley and out the other side onto a wide street. 
              Word of the dwarf’s death spread quickly. Decius had made it no more than a block up the street before a man went by shouting the news. The city erupted into chaos. While the common folk fled indoors, sailors broke into brawls in the streets. Decius spied a mob descending on a tavern, where they seized and beat any wearing Magnur’s colors, even cutting the throats of men in the streets. Near the Chained Market, a jewelers’ shop was stormed by the mob, its wares quickly disappearing into the throngs even as its owner was hanged from his own sign. 
              As he neared the queen’s palace, three men came running down the street toward him, pursued by a mob of sailors. The three men wore the dwarf’s sigil and terrified expressions on their faces. Pistols cracked behind them, one staggered and fell. He was abandoned by his companions who did not break stride nor even look back at him. Decius stepped into a doorway, out of the way of the mob.
              The mob stampeded past, a few of them stopping to beat the downed man to death before chasing after their fellows. Decius spared the dead man a brief glance before he moved on. 
              All over the city, he could hear shouts and sounds of battle. As he climbed the hill to Lamira’s front gate, he could see the glow of flames to the east. Hopefully they don’t burn the whole city down, Decius thought to himself. But such concerns fell away as he approached the massive, gilded and gem-studded gate to the queen’s palace. A thousand precious gemstones adorned its face, glittering in the lantern light of the evening. 
              He was greeted by two guardsmen in gleaming cuirasses and black livery emblazoned with a white saltire. 
              “The palace is closed,” the older of the two declared.
              “I was invited by the queen,” Decius replied. “My name is Decius Capricius Sallax.”
              The guard nodded. “We’ve been expecting you. Open the gate!”
              The gate swung open on oiled hinges, making not even a whisper. Decius stepped through to the palace’s inner grounds. A brick walk led from the gate to the grand marble façade of the palace, which glowed in the late evening light. Gilded lanterns hung from its walls while flowering vines climbed to the copper roof. To either side of the walk were exotic plants from all corners of the world. Decius recognized some of them only from old manuals in the Collegium’s libraries. 
              A servant in the queen’s colors emerged from beneath the grand façade. “This way, messere,” he beckoned. He led Decius off through the garden, toward the sound of ethereal music. They passed along a tall hedge studded with bright purple flowers, and Decius could hear the music playing from the other side. But try as he might, he could not peer through the hedge to discover the source of the sound. 
              The man in front of him paid him no mind, instead leading him to a bathing pool beneath an arbor that extended from the side of the house. The pool ran up against the wall, and Decius could see a current flowing outward from the wall. The servant stepped past him and opened a door to the house. He pointed the way in, and Decius followed. 
              Inside, he found an indoor bath, much like the one he had left Magnur’s corpse in, but far grander. Finely-tiled mosaics alternated with lapis lazuli tiling on the walls while the ceiling was a brilliant colored fresco showing heroes and nymphs at play in the waters of a mystical pool. Tall columns of red marble rose from the stone floor to meet the vaulted ceiling, golden lanterns hanging from them and casting a warm glow about the room. Beneath the central piece of the fresco was a steaming bath at the head of a long channel that ran out and into a tunnel connecting to the outer pool.
              Within that bath sat Queen Lamira, naked. Her pale, wet skin glistened with the bath’s moisture, her raven hair splayed out behind her in an arc. She rested her head on a pillow of black velvet, her hands outstretched as she was tended to by five beautiful handmaidens, all equally naked. Decius felt his cock stand up beneath his tunic. Lamira opened her eyes as he entered, the lamplight catching in her striking emeralds. Her maids paid him no mind, unconcerned that he viewed them and their queen in the nude.
              “You, ah, you summoned me?” Decius managed. Through the steaming bath, he could see the queen’s bare body, and she was every bit as well formed as the many nude statues of Nystra, Goddess of Pleasure. She looked like one of them come to life, her hair made of onyx and her eyes cut from emeralds. 
              “So I did,” she purred. She raised a white hand from her handmaid’s grasp and bid them stop their ministrations with a wave. “I assume the deed is done?”
              “Indeed, Your Majesty. I regret to report that you are a widow.”
              “Oh dear,” she sighed. “Alone at the top once again.”
              “Draithan believes that he is to take Magnur’s place.”
              “And so he will, for that is the way of things. In time, he will himself be replaced, but that is for another time. For now, I must decide what is to be done with you.”
              She stood up, the water cascading from her naked body in waves. Droplets clung to her wide hips, her ample breasts, and her long legs. Decius bit his lip. Lamira held out her arms, eyes focused on him, and her handmaidens wrapped her in a sheer dress of rich green silk, though which Decius could still make out every detail of her magnificent form. The queen seated herself on a cushioned bench as her naked handmaids began to brush and pleat her hair. 
              “You come to me with quite the reputation, Sallax,” she went on, heedless of her exposed state. She lifted her feet and two maids knelt to dry them. “I would list your accomplishments, but the night is only so long.”
              “You flatter me, Your Majesty, though I try to keep my star low in the sky. There are always enemies out there looking to cut the tall poppies of their foes.”
              She raised her head to look him over. “Let us hope that your poppy remains tall still.” She waved her maids away and stood up. “The night grows late, and yet it is still young.”
              She swept past her maids toward the door at the opposite end of the room. It opened before she reached it; two guards stood at the ready. “Come along, Sallax,” the queen bade over her shoulder, then vanished through the door. Her maids dressed quickly, pulling thin night dresses of silk over their heads, then followed the queen out of the chamber. Decius took a moment to catch his breath and went after them.
              He passed through a short hallway and then followed the maids into what he discovered was the queen’s bedchamber. The queen sat on her bed, her silken robe open. Decius could see her exposed breasts, pale orbs glowing in the candlelight. She sat back, her robe falling further open. 
              “How do you find me, Sallax?” she asked. Her handmaidens lit a pair of braziers against the far wall, fanning smoke across the chamber toward him. The scent of spice and perfume swirled about him, inducing within him a lustful stupor.
              “I find you as beautiful as a queen should be, Your Majesty.” She smiled.  
              Lamira put a foot up on the bed, her robe falling open to reveal her bare sex. The pinkness beckoned to Decius, who felt his cock stand at full attention beneath his tunic. Then queen beckoned to a handmaiden, a tall, willowy, half-elven woman. The woman crawled onto the red silken sheets with her mistress, her long blonde hair spilling down her back. Decius could see the outline of her every curve beneath the white silken nightdress. 
              The queen spread her legs wide and the handmaiden obediently slipped two fingers into her mistress’ wet sex. Lamira rested her head on embroidered pillows, her lower lip clenched between her teeth. 
              “Do you like what you see?” she asked Decius, who could only nod. The queen motioned to one of her other servants. “See that he is ready.”
              The woman stepped close to Decius and reached for his belt. Decius was faster, unlooping it and casting it off before her hand even touched him. His empty scabbard clanged against the feet of a brass candelabra, but all present ignored it. The three idle handmaidens cracked a smile in unison as Decius yanked his trousers down, his hard cock flopping out from them.
              “I had thought to order her to put some wind in your sails, Sallax, but you have enough to sail clear across the seas,” the queen mused. Her breath was coming harder to her, her gorgeous chest rising and falling faster as her handmaiden fingered her womanhood. The queen sighed with pleasure and shooed the girl away. “Come here. Lay upon the bed beside me,” she commanded, and Decius did as he was told, throwing away his last pieces of clothing.
              He lay himself out naked before her, the silken sheets cool against his bare skin. The queen stood up, towering over his prone form, and shed her robe. The half-elven woman snatched it up and bore it away, barely noticed by Decius. Instead, his attention was fixed upon the queen’s beauteous form, looming over him like a goddess looking down on a throng of worshippers. Her robe shed, she knelt beside him and took his cock in her hand, stroking him with one delicate hand while the other caressed his toned chest. 
              “I have heard so much about you,” she said softly. “I hope you will not disappoint.”
              “I will always offer myself completely to any service I rendered,” Decius replied. 
              Her eyes, outlined in black paint, seemed to pop at him in the warm light of the room. Behind her, the braziers flickered, their dark, wispy smoke blown across the bedchamber by a cool breeze from the open windows. Outside, the city was quiet, though Decius wondered if the sounds could penetrate the queen’s private sanctum. His mind went to Draithan, who would soon be wedded to the woman stroking Decius’ cock. Yet he banished any guilt, confident that Draithan and his friends were currently waist deep in pretty girls, celebrating his rise.
              The queen threw one leg over him, straddling his balls. He felt the warmth of her naked body against his thighs and his breath caught. She gave his cock one more stroke, then mounted it. He shuddered as his cock slid between the lips of her soft flesh and the queen did the same. She leaned over him, planting her hands on his shoulders as her hips began to rise and fall on his cock. Decius clasped her hips, thrusting into her in time with her own motions. 
              Lamira lowered herself to kiss him, her pale face growing in his vision until he could see nothing but her stunning green eyes, flickering in the firelight. Her lips pressed against his and his hands climbed her body, sliding around her as he wrapped her in a tight embrace. She kissed him with great desire, her tongue slipping into his mouth to intertwine with his. Decius thrust his cock into her harder, his hips clapping against hers.
              The queen laughed softly to herself in delight, her hands going to his chest, where she pinched his nipples. She broke from his embrace and sat back, taking command of his cock as she rode it. Her hands tweaked his nipples, pinching and twisting them in her long, delicate fingers whose nails were painted black. Decius’ toes curled. 
              “One good pinch deserves another,” he whispered, and reached up to seize her great breasts in his hands. He lifted his head to suck and kiss them, her soft skin an exultation in his mouth. The queen smiled, her head lolling backwards as she stared up at the ceiling, and a low moan of pleasure rumbled in her throat. Her big breasts bounced in his hands as she rose and fell, their motion hypnotizing even as he squeezed them. 
              She leaned forward again and this time her long black hair cascaded forward to wrap her body in a raven cloak. Hungrily, Decius pulled her closer and brushed her hair back that he might see her in all her naked glory again. He pulled her into his arms and held her close, his cock now slamming into her purse. Lamira’s arms wrapped around his shoulders again and she kissed his neck, his jaw, then his lips. Decius kissed back with all the passion he could muster, his hands grabbing at her plump ass as he did. 
              Then he grasped her tight and rolled her onto her back, her legs pinned by her sides and her feet waving about in the air. A delighted smile cracked her face, then narrowed into a hungry glare.
              “Harder,” she hissed. Decius obeyed, rising up onto his feet and fucking down into her voracious sex. The queen grabbed at him, pulling him closer even as he struggled for footing from which to fuck her. Her breast heaved under the blows, her bare feet swaying above her head. Her long hair covered the red sheets beneath them like a cloak. 
              From the side came a rash of giggling, and Decius’ mind was at once torn away from the queen beneath him. Lamira’s handmaidens waited patiently against the wall, hands clasped before them as they watched. Their eyes drank up the sight before them, hands and expertly manicured fingers surreptitiously caressed their own bodies as they admired both queen and sorcerer. The blonde half-elf who had prepared her queen met Decius’ eyes and the corners of her mouth quirked upward in salacious amusement. Decius could only smile dumbly back at her.
              Already tired of the distraction, the queen reached up and seized Decius by his hair, wrenching his head around to stare into her eyes again. She pulled him close, holding him by the back of the neck. 
              Her breath was coming short and hard now, her teeth gritted and her jaw set. “Harder!” she hissed again, and her nails dug into his neck. Decius obeyed, fucking with every bit of stamina he had left after his escapades at the Lotus and Draithan’s palace earlier in the way. Pinning her legs back with one hand, Decius seized her by the throat in the other. She grabbed his wrist, but he continued fucking and instead of tearing his hand away, her eyes rolled back in her head. She moaned in delight, her grip about his wrist turning to iron. 
              “Don’t stop,” she growled at him through gritted teeth. He did not. “Oh, Nystra’s Tits, don’t you stop!”
              The queen came, her body convulsing in a mighty shudder that curled her toes and she squealed in delight, a girlish sound that Decius found erotically incongruous with her lofty station, but it set his heart racing all the same. He drove his cock into her pale body with a lust that surprise even himself, drinking in her fragrant perfume and the indigo scent of the room as he did. From the edge of his vision, he could see her handmaids nodding in approval.
              Lamira shuddered again, her back arching on the bed, and she reached up to grab his cock in one hand.
              “Oh, gods, I’m close!” Decius gasped.
              “Pull out,” the queen hissed, “Come on my belly, for the siring of an heir is not for you.”
              “Just as I would have it,” Decius replied, and yanked his cock from her just as he came. He shot a long line of hot cum across her belly, reaching as far up her body as her chin, where it hung in a sticky white droplet. He spurted a second time, lay two lines of cum across her full breasts, then a third, weak shot across her belly that dribbled into her navel. 
              Her handmaidens approached, bearing a crystal carafe of water and cloth to clean her body of sweat and cum.
              “Was he everything you hoped for, mistress?” the half-elf asked. Lamira stretched languidly on her sheets as the half-elf wiped her chest.
              “Oh, indeed,” she murmured. “I should hope you pay me many visits here in Torvuls. We could make an embassy for you, to come and fuck and come whenever the fancy strikes me. Or us.”
              “I am always happy to serve, Your Majesty,” Decius breathed. He sat back on the bed, sweat dripping down his body as he stretched himself out. Lamira sat herself up on silken pillows and caressed her beautiful breasts. Decius thought his cock might get hard again already.
              “That was quite a night,” the queen went on, her chest rising and falling with each word. “I am not ready to let go of you yet, but I must rest for now. Reyne, take him to a chamber. In the morning, he may find his way back to Draithan, or,” she rolled over on the bed, showing him her luscious backside, “perhaps back to me for another turn. But away with you now.” She waved a dismissive hand and laid her head upon a thick pillow.
              The blonde half-elf stepped forward and scooped up his clothes from the floor. Decius sheepishly dismounted from the bed, his limp cock swinging before him, perilously close to the half-elf. She paid it little mind. The half-elf thrust his clothes into his arms and beckoned. “Follow me to your chamber.” Without waiting for a reply, she strode out into the hall and Decius had to follow in the nude. They entered a hall empty of servants or guards, running along the edge of the palace and looking out over the city’s harbor through latticed windows. 
A breeze floated in through the hall’s open windows, carrying with it the distant sound of battle. Somewhere out in the deepening night, Draithan the Dreaded’s purge carried on. 