Potential Trigger Warning.

The slim, elven male kept his head down and his shoulders tight as he travelled through the dim halls of the manor. His face was covered by the large brim of his triangular hat, though his long white hair flowed down from beneath it to pool about his neck and over his shoulders in large curls. He glanced up only occasionally to navigate the long, dark corridors, averting his eyes deferentially to any of the female guards he passed.

A thick cloak covered his arms and shoulders, a slight rim sliding back into a hood along his spine. As he neared his destination he twisted his head about, looking down the sharply ornamented stone walls, checking for anyone who might be following him. Satisfying himself he was alone he took a sudden turn down another hall and then quietly pressed up to a doorway, raising one gloved hand from beneath his cloak to knock upon the thick door.

His knuckles banged out a light series of rhythmic knocks in a strange pattern, an edge of nervousness to his expression.

The door slid open quickly to the coded knock, Vierae having been waiting nearby, and she urged him in. Compared to the dark elven woman beside him, he was diminutive, easily sliding past him as his gaze darted about the room in a paranoid search before resting back upon her. She was dressed from head to toe in a flowing night robe, the material light and glistening in the eerie glow of the room.

He lingered on her night robe a mere split moment before he forced his gaze upwards to her, bending forward and setting one foot back as he gave an elaborate bow to her, his cloak flowing out about him. Her face was stern, almost sour, though she did look pleased to see him under her cascade of matching white hair and acknowledged the bow before moving to her couch.

He was a young male by dark elven accounting, and was considered still a part of the aristocratic house. As he rose back up he tilted his head to gaze up at her, “Is it safe?”

She sighed, “Had there been potential peril, I’d not have opened the door at all. If there is danger, it would have followed you.”

He nodded to her sharply, his soft boyish face washing away the concern to be replaced by an impish grin. The pale white of his teeth contrasted his dark, onyx skin as he pivoted on his heel and swayed into the room, nearing the sofa where she sat. “Elder Sister,” he said, his voice boyish and still a bit high pitched, “you would be surprised the things an unwanted boy hears and picks up while standing along the sidelines, face obediently downcast.” He gazed up at her, his eyes twinkling before he hid them beneath the brim of his hat, acting rather impertinent for a son of the household in a woman’s presence.

“Yes, well. Most do not mind their words when vermin are underfoot. Why would they? Then I trust you heard something devious this day?”

Ralen smirked, the corner of his lips curving high across his dark cheeks as he reached a hand out of his cloak through a narrow open slit to grasp at his hat, plucking it from his head and sweeping it downwards, letting his curled hair spill around his shoulders more freely.

“I always hear some deviousness, Elder Sister,” he stressed, coyly twisting away from her, watching her slyly from the corner of his view, “I understand you and our mutually elder sister, R’zara, are competing for the family’s remaining spot in the Academy. That who-so-ever produces the most impressive advantage for the family gets to stay and learn while the other becomes a mere House guard or some such.”

“My, my, some people simply don’t know when to hold their tongue, do they,” she mused as her slender legs crossed over one another.

He casually tossed his hat upon her desk, a brazen gesture for a male, especially one so young, though her reprimand was silenced by his next words.

“Oh, certainly,” he said, his voice holding some edge of excitement as he cocked an elbow out to his side beneath his cloak, “Like, for instance… a certain elder sister’s compulsive bragging about her find, which,” he paused again, his voice sounding impish “she so happens to have already procured.”

“You seem awful jovial,” she folded her arms over her chest in a dark pout.

Tiny and light, he spun about suddenly, his cloak flowing out around him, swishing in the air before slipping about to one side, leaving a single arm bare, showing his form beneath, hidden in a snug little dark velvet vest, sleeveless with a pair of gloves, pants and some thick boots. He stepped closer to her, licking his lips excitedly, “What would you say if I told you I knew where she kept it,” he added after, deferentially, “Elder Sister?”

Vierae stared at him, her ruby eyes hard, lips down turned in a scowl, “Why hasn’t she turned it in yet? Why is she hiding it away?”

“Because,” he said in a loud, excited voice, quieting himself quickly to the point of a near whisper, “she plans to embarrass you in front of the Matron tomorrow when you go to see her, already having gotten hers when you haven’t even left for your token.”

“Ah, well. I’ll have to dress for the occasion, I guess,” she stood from the couch, walking over to her desk and placing both hands atop it, her long nails making a light clacking noise as she sets them down, “Unless she decided to hide it somewhere in this room.” She sneered as she spoke the words, her mood having been effectively soured.

The exuberant boy’s expression faltered a bit, turning about to watch the taller woman bend over the table, looking quite upset. He lowered his head, obviously having expected a more positive response to begin his bargaining from. “What would you say then,” his voice a bit coy again, “if I told you I could get it for you this very eve?”

She tossed her head over her shoulder, white hair spilling over the back of her nightgown as she scrutinized him, taking a few steps towards him, “What do you want for it?”

Having to tip his head backwards to gaze up at her, his wavy hair fell back, revealing his dark, pointed ear tips, his boyish charms trying to work themselves through his smile, “Help me,” he said, his voice light and wispy, eyes flashing wide, “I want to study. I want to do something aside from…” He trailed off. He needn’t explain his lack of enthusiasm for not being a more valued male. He rose up, standing on his toes before her and still not reaching her eye level, “I need someone important to favour me.” He fell back to the balls of his feet, concluding “An ally.”

Her arms folded under her bust slowly, her chest narrow under her sleek gown, the tips of her breasts catching the modest light in the room and causing the fabric to shimmer as she considered his proposal, reluctantly bringing her gaze back towards him, “Bring it to me and we’ll discuss your offer.”

His soft, boyish face contorted into that of a slight frown, his soft lip bordering on a pout before rising back up onto his toes. Leaning in towards her, he seemed nearly ready to topple into her frame, though his slim, lean form held its balance well. As close as they now are, he tilted his head and his every soft word is a light breeze across her upper chest and neck, “I will help you rise up and up, as far as your ambitions would carry you, Elder Sister.”

Vierae stood statuesque, barely a single muscle twitching at his words, her breath held deep within her lungs as she watched his every movement, uncomfortable with the closeness. “Bring it to me, brother.” Her words were simple and gritty, demanding. Rocking back slightly, he slowly extended a gloved hand, wriggling his little fingers in the air before offering it in a shake, “Do we have a deal,” he questioned, his head tilted to the side, lashes batting as his voice takes on a cute, darling tone, “most lovely and cunning of my sisters?” He stared up at her, plying all of his boyish charms against her as best he can.

She scowled at him, not amused by her inability to convince him to bring back her side of the deal before making it official. “If you are able to do as you say, we have a deal. I will repay you in what ways I’m able.” The words fell out of her mouth, making her feel weak and small, precisely as a woman of the dark world she lived in hated to feel.

Her brother’s cherubic little face lit up in a bright, beaming grin before he spun about in a twirl. Giving a light boyish laugh he hopped up onto her couch in his boots, teetering on the edge as he loomed over her height. She opened her mouth in protest, watching with annoyance at his over the top antics, but when he finally began to retract his remaining hidden arm, rising it up out of his cloak, her mouth snapped shut with the chomp of teeth.

His face was marked by delighted mischievousness, “Then you shall adore me Elder Sister, as I adore you.” He twisted his hand about, unveiling in the palm of his glove a round crystal orb, alight with some reddish glow at its center that was hidden partially beneath the dark murky shadows that moved within it. An elaborately carved snake curled around the object, as though squeezing the life from it. He mouthed “ta da!” in silence to her.

When she spotted the crystal orb, her face slackened and she stepped in to better inspect it, her fingertips grazing over the object lightly. After a few moments of inspection, her eyes darted upwards to him, “What does it do?”

That deviously elated face broke into a wide, toothy grin, his rows of neat, clean teeth on display as he let his fingers peel back from the orb, offering it to her. Demurely he lowered his eyes, swaying his hips from side to side, “She says this belonged to the mighty Empress, lost to the ages. R’zara was certain that, if our house was to return the lost possession, we will be greatly rewarded,” he said, giving a soft little wispy sigh, his lips curving in the corners into a devilish grin once more, “But now it’s yours to offer.”

Vierae nodded as she listened to his tale, taking the ruby orb as a great prize, eyeing the carefully crafted scales, the gemmed eyes. She held it in her hands and inspected it, before looking to her small brother once more, her voice taking on a rushed tone of excitement, an edge of trepidation and suspicion marring her tone “You are positive? What else do you know of it?”

The boy shrugged his shoulders and leaned in nearer her face, nearly brushing his round little nose to hers, “Oh… just some tales about how the Empress was gifted it in the era before her deification. A memento of her lost mortality from a close relation or lover—the stories aren’t clear—that was lost to her during the great upheaval of myth and legend when she set foot on the world above to bring about final conquest” he added the last bit so flippantly and smoothly as to make it sound utterly unimportant.

She sounded breathless, throat closing with the final declaration. Her eyes dropped once more to the orb, her mouth pursing as a hint of excitement finally crept into her voice, “How did she ever find this? Where did she get it from? Tell me all you know, brother.”

He grinned slyly, slinking downwards and sprawling out atop her couch and makeshift bed, letting one leg stretch out, the other bent up at the knee to hold up his arm, the lean dark muscle between vest and glove showing as he peered up at her, reclining there like a lavish prince as his hair spilled about the cushions, “Well, now THAT’S another interesting tale, dear sister,” he replied, barely suppressing a giggling laugh.

She looked down at him, annoyed again, her tone losing all amusement as she watched him make himself so comfortable. “Spit it out.” She struggled to remain her calm, but if it hadn’t been for that game changing gift, her rage would have spilled over at the impertinent young man.

He reached an arm towards her, pressing his finger out and grazing against her nightgown, to which she immediately stepped back from. He folded the other arm behind his head to serve as a cushion, unbothered by her rejection of his touch, “You’ve much nicer living arrangements than I, dear sister. And working together, I dare say we could get you even better in time.”

She frowned at the compliment as she looked over the cramped room, not finding anything ‘nice’ about her small quarters. She was the seventh daughter, after all. Hardly basking in the lap of luxury, she thought bitterly. “You are wasti–” she bit her tongue in the most literal of manners.

“Why will you not answer my questions?” she asked after several long breaths.

He sighed somewhat dramatically, bringing his other hand around to behind his head with the other. Both elbows out, he peered up at the ceiling, letting his slender frame writhe a bit upon the couch in the tight velvet vest and pants that clung to his form. “I will not deny you anything, Elder Sister.” He tilted his head and peered to her seriously, “But I do enjoy basking in your comfortable room and beauteous presence.” He flashed a toothy grin again, thinking himself quite charming. “You know,” he added, “I have to sleep on some grimy little thing not worth calling a cot.”

“I don’t even have a bed of my own, and I’m not prepared to offer that to you.” She moved from his side, placing the orb within a thick magically imbued chest, outlined in a faint shimmering glow of silver magic as it opened, the magic fading from visibility as she let it clink shut with a magical shudder before turning back to look at him.

Spryly he lifted his feet up, swinging them around, bringing them to the floor as he perched upon the edge of the couch, leaning forward, his fists clenching the sofa’s cushions, “I could help you,” he said in that same voice, licking his lips excitedly, “If we embarrass our sister badly enough, the Matron will be so elated she will reward you with more than the spot amongst the priestesses.” He rocked back upon her couch, “You could move up a spot or two at least! Claim a larger room. A nice big bed and separate couch.”

His voice took on a sing song tone the further he carried on as she continued to stare, though she followed his train of thought with some enthusiasm, “I see….” she paused, thinking. “And I suppose, then, you’d have a plan,” she asked reluctantly.

Swinging his feet back up and to the side, Ralen rose up on his knees upon the couch, his lithe form pressed outwards as he smirked wryly at her, head tilted smugly, “I have it all planned out, as a matter of fact.” He turned his head back downwards, grinning at her deviously as he slowly ran his moist tongue across his dark lips, leaving them with a glistening streak, his hands perched upon his narrow hips.

Vierae kept staring, as though waiting for him to continue on, though she was at a loss over how to make him talk. She hated that he held something over her, some young, petulant male with his sweet and innocent guile. Seeing that she wouldn’t break the silence he folded his arms across his chest, flicking his head in a sharp gesture sending his long, wavy hair back over his shoulder, “And then… you could find room for your doting brother, perhaps? A couch to let him sleep upon?” He tilted his head, “A warm spot to rest in comfort?”

“You’re getting ahead of yourself, brother. I haven’t an idea if your plan will work at this point,” she said with a sneer before continuing. “However,” she stepped forward, looking down at him, “should your plan work, you will be rewarded in a manner befitting my new station.”

Wriggling himself from side to side he squirmed his body to crane upwards to near her level once more, “Of course,” he said casually, his smile returning then, “just think of it, most cunning sister.” He kept his pleasant smile, “two sets of eyes and ears are better than one. Even if one happens to be a lowly male. Your future is mine, your aspirations are my duties. Your safety…” he sucked his lower lip into his mouth before letting it pop back out, “is my life.”

She sighed with a great deal of agitation, her shoulders tense, her towering form rustling in her slinky nightgown as she folded her arms under her chest, “Will you tell me your idea, brother? Or am I to guess?”

He let his shoulders slump, his head falling to the side as he seemed to deflate. “Very well,” he sunk back into the cushions of her couch, arms upon the back as he reclined in a casual, lounging manner, “You parade down there tomorrow in the most lavish of outfits you own, a full priestess’s regalia, dear sister. Presumptuous and overbearing, dressed in an outfit you don’t yet claim the right to. Take some moments to quietly revel in our sister’s smug mockery. Let her debase you in front of the Matron,” he smirked, “just a bit. Then, that cow of a sister will urge you to go first, as confident as she is, she will do just that.”

He cockily let his head swagger back and forth, “Then you sternly tell the Matron the story of the orb I told you, followed by the recanting of how it was recovered–which I will tell you!–and then, the big finale…” he clenched his teeth, grinning with supreme confidence up at his older sister. “You let our ignorant sister blurt out that you stole it from her. Ohhh, and she will. She will be in a rage, most beautiful sister!” He tossed back his head and laughed a while before looking at her again deviously, “And you tell the Matron you deviously led her upon the trail of the orb and allowed her to expend her finances and time getting it FOR you, only to retrieve it without personal cost.”

The young male licked at his black lips again, his mind so cunning and conniving. Her respect for him had grown so quickly. His head tilted down, his eyes remained glued to his sister’s face, “The Matron will cackle in glee at the nefarious beauty of it. The very act alone, let alone the orb itself, will be enough to warrant a boon from the Empress herself!”

Her lips curved into a scheming smile, eyes darkening with the deviousness of his words. She moved to sit herself down on the edge of the couch, perched there as she let it all unveil itself before her mind’s eye.

“Yessss” she hissed, all at once getting more excited, “Yes, that will work.”

Watching the realization dawn upon his sister’s face, his own joyful expression heightened, his mouth hanging open in his own personal glee at showing off his plan. “It’s a brilliant plan worthy of you, my cunning sister,” he let his form slink in towards her upon the couch, pressing his shoulder and arm against her as he grinned excitedly, “You will be the most favoured daughter of House Ra’th for years to come, at least. All the more because nobody expects the seventh daughter to do so well.”

“Will she not search for her prize before tomorrow, though?” she stopped, looking at him with some measure of concern. Ralen’s boyish grin only continued to grow at her inquiry, his white brows waggling up at her as he nestled himself into her chest and shoulder gazing up beneath her chin, “I took care of it,” he wriggled his fingers in the air, using his innate magical abilities to prestidigitate a mock orb in the air before them. It was identical to the genuine article in all appearances before he let it fall to the ground, the illusion shattering into nothingness.

“If this works, you will want for very little, brother…” she trailed off, returning her gaze to the locked chest. “If this works.”

Extending his arm outward, he rested his gloved hand upon her thigh in a gesture intended to be comforting, his voice soft and full of confidence, “Oh it will, sister. I have watched and observed all these years, and I know all the players well.” He let his hand stroke idly along her leg, shifting her nightgown slightly as he stared off just past her head, “You learn a lot when you listen.” He looked back to her face, “And it’s but the beginning.”

She seemed oblivious to the comforting hand upon her leg, far too distracted in her thoughts of what was to come and what the future may contain, her ruby eyes taking on a long-distance stare as she thought it all over, planning, barely hearing his words. Allowing his fingers to curl and ‘walk’ upon her thigh, he nudged up her nightgown, revealing some of her dark flesh as he watched. He very slowly and casually rested his head and its shiny, silken hair against her collar bone and neck, “Through guile, cunning and such plots, you could rise to a very high station indeed, sister. And I would be behind you every step.”

She startled as she felt his hair tickle at her collarbone and neck, “I’ve never been so good at the planning stage as I’d like,” she muttered bitterly, “it’s always held me back.” It was a loaded confession for a dark elf, especially from one of the aristocratic families, and immediately he had more ammunition against her.

His lips pursed, contorting into a sweet, even innocent smile, his pale lashes descending as he rested against her, letting her hand stroke over his shoulder, bare beneath his cloak up to his vest, the skin smooth and as ebon as the rest of him. He let his fingers slide over her skin, down around until they teased. along her inner thigh, “You are a powerful up and coming priestess of the God-Empress, dear sister. With the little extra edge I could add, you would be that and more. The final nudge to bring you to all the greatness you desire.”

“You will be aptly rewarded,” she smiled, her heart thudding faster under his head as she fantasized about the power that was to be hers.

He let his fingers grab at her thigh, clenching it as if for something to cling onto for support to prevent him from being carried away by the tidal waves of his dreams. “You will be a powerful priestess and Matron in your own right someday, and I…” he licked his lips then tilted his head, pressing in to place a light kiss to her jaw line, “shall be your loyal brother in the shadows.”

Her blood was pounding in her ears, “Sister will be quite angry with us. With me.” Quiet worship described his slender limbs movements, his tender little kisses that were but bare grazes of his lips, the soft rub of his fingertips upon her smooth inner-thigh flesh. He twisted himself about slightly, placing another light peck of his soft little lips to her neck beneath her jaw, “After tomorrow, our Matron Mother will have no objections to you eliminating her should she move against you. And I will watch your back, keep my eyes upon her for plots against you.”

“And should the other sisters decide to harbour a grudge, I will take them out as well,” she murmured in a dangerous voice, her body relaxing back into the couch as she let him fawn over her figure as males so often did to superior females they served.

Petting the soft pads of his fingers up higher along her inner thigh, he continued his slow, soft little reverential treatment, his voice wispy and quiet, sounding more like her own inner voice than an advising brother. “Careful, do not over step. The Matron Mother will not be happy with losing many strong children at her disposal.” He nuzzled his nose against her neck as his hand pet in along her inner thigh, “You must be careful not to draw too much envy upon you too soon. Make the other sisters believe you are content to triumph over that cow at last.”

Her shoulders slumped as her fantasies become more modest, though she remained contented, almost dreamlike as she nodded in acceptance, “Yes,” she hissed slowly, “One step at a time…” Her legs shifted, independently aware of the exploratory hand, “It will be better this way.”

“You will make all the other sisters step aside to make way for you, or take them out, in time,” he nuzzled his nose to her neck again, trailing up to her ear as he then kissed her throat softly, “You must just move your pieces well. Do not turn them all against you at once. We will remove them from your way one at a time, so that none of them realize it was you until it’s too late.”

She gave a lick of her lips as she stood suddenly, foiling any hopes he had of stroking further up her thigh, “You must go now,” she said with a bit of a rasp, “I must plan.”

Her words were final.

~~

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Tags: Forgotten Thrones, Ralen, Trigger Warning, Vierae, Wheel and Deal

The nation of Kray’agen was a motley mix of various islands in the ocean, a beautiful tropical region that was lush green and fertile. A rich and prosperous area, the rigid aristocracy controlled the peasantry and serfs, ensuring that wealth never left the hands of the already affluent.

The local temple of one of the more agricultural regions was built atop what was once a volcanic opening in the world’s crust. A large stone dome that was crafted from solid volcanic lava so old that its source could never be apparent. The worshipers held fast to the old ways, despite the modern pressure of new beliefs and lack of trust in the Infernals.

The volcano it was originally built on was gone; however the design of the building left it a pocket of scorching heat, the inside of it as hot as an oven in keeping with tradition. Priests and acolytes sweated, sacrificed and prayed in the excruciating heat, day and night. It was not a particularly large temple and staffed relatively few, especially since the death of the former high priest had left it without any official master to tend to it.

The current administrator was a man who, until recently, was the groundskeeper of the temple. Not a religious man himself, he had the appearance of a tall, virile male. Grie had skin the colour of charcoal, eyes bright red and exotically shaped, with a lightly bulked musculature, giving him a rather powerfully masculine look. Two curved ram-horns stood out on either side of his head, and he sported angled back legs of his race like a pure-blood satyr that he was descended from, with pitch hooves. From around his horns came long, sleek black hair that then spilled around his shoulders.

At the back of the temple, he stood at one of the large sliding doors, looking out over the green and luscious garden he had spent so much time tending. Wearing one of the traditional outfits of the locals, a black and white one-piece robe that ended at the knees and tied about the waist, he kept it off his shoulders, hanging around his waist. It was the way he and most of the labourers wore it due to the heat, and a sign of his status as a lowly peasant in breeding, despite the auspicious role he now filled.

With the death of the high priest, there were no clergy for their dying faith to take over. They were officially on wait for more, but they were just another temple among hundreds that needed new priests that simply didn’t exist. The only other religiously trained people at the temple were the young students, and some workers–like himself–who had the barest of indoctrinations.

He mightn’t have been a religious man, but it was up to him to herd the last remaining few students and keep up the temple, at least for appearances sake.

Ilithya was a punctual girl just passing the cusp of womanhood; bright faced, with auburn haired, her flesh a smooth sandy colour and striking blue eyes. One of the many mixed breeds that filled the world, she had a look of exotic beauty, with a lovely pair of reddish brown wings that were as carefully preened as the rest of her.

Her approach was light on her feet, several bats of her wings keeping her somewhat lofted as she met with her new instructor.

Grie’s lightly pointed ears caught her approach and he turned around, hard hooves scraping on the volcanic stone flooring, arms folded across his dark, bare chest. “Alum-ka’vey,” he said in the traditional greeting of the temple, “you are punctual as always, acolyte Ilithya.” He wasn’t a very cheerful or emotive man, famed for his stoic reserve as he diligently went about his task of keeping the grounds in its tip-top shape.

The original dwellers of the island and its worshippers here were like the two of them, their blood and ancestry extending back to the ancient times. They were fitting inhabitants of the old and rarely used structure, even if their rankings and training didn’t quite fit them to it.

“I trust,” he began in his deep voice, a low sound that bespoke of his infernal heritage with its otherworldly edge, “you have given your prayers and made blood offering, if there was any to give.”

“Of course,” she responded in that girlish whisper of a voice. The way the girl held herself together it was obvious that, no matter how loudly she spoke, others would cling to her words. Ilithya gave him another low bow, her eyes tilted towards him, her auburn hair spilling in long, loose curls over her shoulders.

Turning back around, he gestured outside, “Come.”

He was quite tall, about seven feet in height, making him tower over most men, his hooves equally large, and made a loud sound as he took each step down to the grass below to the flower gardens outside.

She had hesitated to follow him out; leaving the temple for religious matters most unusual, but she was obedient enough not to linger behind him long. Catching up to him on her feathered wings, she settled her feet into the grass behind him, her arms lightly on her hips as she watched him.

“Your training is not yet complete, acolyte, but there is no replacement coming to take over. None available to take you on at this time either,” he stated in that infernal pitched voice, peering back at her.

“I understand,” her eerie blue eyes watched him carefully. She wasn’t as uncomfortable in the heat as he, though her body still held the tell tale shine of the inner temple, drawing more attention to her prominent cheekbones and the smooth curves of her legs.

Looking down at her, he unfurled his arms from across his chest, his shiny obsidian nails–neatly curving to points–showing for a moment before he clasped his large hands behind his back. When he spoke his dark lips gave way to show silverish-white fanged teeth, “You’re a competent woman, however, trained in the arts of the infernal. The priest had seen to your training in the essential forms, and all you had left were years of study in the esoteric nuance of the theological world. This is fortunate,” he said, pursing his lips and nodding, “for though it was a loss either way, your more practical skills and knowledge will serve you better as you seek out further enlightenment.”

“I live to serve,” she confirmed, a coyness to the words. She enjoyed the work within the temple, and had a real knack for it. She had a low body weight and the heat didn’t bother her so much, and all of the work came naturally to her with very little study or practice, but for the more extreme and taboo. She looked over his face, her head tilting thoughtfully, “Did you have something you required?”

He inclined his head to her slowly, “I have tasks for you. Many of them will not be in the nature of what the high priest would have delegated, but I have worked here for many long years and learned more than most would credit me for.” He peered up at a statue made of ebon volcanic stone of some infernal ancient goddess writhing in some carnal bliss.

Or the bliss of carnage; it was the same to the Infernals.

“You are a blessed one, your performance never failed to please and excite the hopes of the former high priest,” he said, that same imposing gaze somehow transmitting his approval, “he stayed up late after many a ritual to tell me of how proud he was of his apprentice, and his hopes for you.”

Her lips curled a little bit, pleased with the revelation and she took the praise with the grace and poise of a woman that was used to being appreciated, “Thank you, Temple Master.”

She followed after him rather closely, leaving an almost ethereal trail of feathers behind her.

“I can not teach you the names of the hundreds of theologians down through the millennia who thought on the Infernals, and their lessons. But I can pass on some of their wisdom. I know our rituals by heart, through long years of studying them, and I can aid you with those too, in all manners. And,” he said, turning down a corner in the hedge maze, the ripe scent of fruit and nectar in the air, “more important than that, when all is said and done, I hold the authority to make you a priestess of this temple, if not of the Order in its entirety.”

Her little ears perked up at his words, her spine straightening, as if she were already being bestowed such a grand title, “I would do anything to make it so, Temple Master.”

“I know you would,” he said with confidence, “you are a true child of the infernal, Ilithya. And you deserve to be the priestess of this temple, even should that mean you be the last to grace it so. Especially should you be the last, I think. Most fitting the last priestess be the finest to have come upon it in long memory.”

She smiled as she bowed her head, “With all due respect, Temple Master, I believe that were I in a position to do so, I could and would spread the faith and have it touch all once more, as it did in the old times,” she glanced up at him, just with her eyes, her hair framing her face, “I would do all I may to restore the faith to our people.”

Coming to a slow halt at a small fountain in the midst of the hedges, he turned upon his heavy hooves to look down at her, offering a rare smile to her. “The former high priest did not even dare to think as much, young acolyte. You truly are worthy of the position, dreaming so. Yes. You are precisely what the temple needs in these times.”

“Without the faithful,” she said in that soft, breezy voice, “the faith falls. I do not want it to die with me, and I’ll make it so it continues after I pass. I don’t see the point in dreaming small. Those that dream small achieve the same.”

He gave a light chuckle, something so low, deep and otherworldly one might swear he’d spew flames like an infernal immortal at any moment with the act. Reaching a hand out, he lightly touches her head with a pat, “Well said. On that, we think much alike.”

“As per your training, I will broaden your horizons, Acolyte. And show you more of the world beyond. Only like that might you hope to accomplish some of your goal.

“You will start off slowly. I will send you into the town to watch the people. Then you will return from studying them, their ways and how they live, to discuss with me what you have learned. We will determine how best you are to approach them. Then ultimately,” he said, peering back at her with his crimson gaze, “do acts of charity and faith that will win them over and bring them to us to revel in the faith of the Infernals.”

“And what if they approach me? How am I to proceed?”

“Act to the best of your abilities. You have learned much in your time here. Some of which will not appeal on its surface to the people, not to win them over. Your average peasant or serf will not be won over by notions of ritual and sacrifice. But you have learned other things while here that will appeal to them. The Passions of the Flame, for one.”

Ilithya nodded. Though she’d never attended a Passion of the Flame ceremony, she knew well of them. Carnal bliss. It would soon serve as her rite of passage. “Of course. I’ll be sure to instruct all in the benefits of the faith as they may see them,” she purred, for a moment playing with him in the most adult manner before returning to the visage of the devout girl.

The towering groundskeeper noted her look of adult mischief, and there was a slight glint of something in return in his eyes, “But for now, learning the ways and situations of the people. You can’t hope to convince them of something if you don’t know how to speak to them in a language that really grasps at them. Not everyone will be moved by the same pleas.”

“It is our solemn duty to bring others to our faith. If others aren’t being brought into our folds, then it’s our own failure,” she agreed.

His gaze was unflinching until finally a slight smile rose on his charcoal coloured face. He reached a hand out to her head, resting his large palm upon her crown as he spoke. “You are correct, acolyte. The temple has lost the dedication of the people because it is not dedicated to the people. Without even beginning your observations, you know much.”

She bowed her head tenderly, “Thank you.”

Turning his gaze back upon her he paused a moment, “I will send you out at first to observe and learn. You will take a basket of flowers grown here, dispense them to the people you see. If some offer donations, accept them and invite them to come to the temple for solace or guidance should they need it.”

“Of course, Temple Master,” she paused in a thoughtful manner, “When shall I go, then?”

He unfurled his arms from across his bare chest, “As soon as you are prepared to go, come see me in the flower gardens. I will give you the basket of flowers to hand out, acolyte. I place the rest in your capable hands.”

~~

If you enjoyed this, please think about purchasing it on Smashwords or Amazon. As well, reviews and word of mouth would be appreciated! New posts posted every Wednesday, and should we get a large amount in donations, we’ll be posting story parts more frequently.

Tags: Forgotten Thrones, Grie, Illithya, Kray'agen, Wheel and Deal

Potential Trigger Warnings.

It was an hour or two after day break. The light outside was bright, the time of day that even sheltered vampires found themselves weakened. She finally heard the faint sounds of his return, the hatch opening cautiously and revealing him to be standing back a safe distance.

Her eyes rose to him expectantly, bounds broken, her body curled up near the stone. Her posture and expression was lilted and lazy, her eyes a bit blurred with lack of sleep, but there were nicks and scrapes on her hands. She had struggled to find a way out, but feeling the bite of hunger and the vengefulness of the sun, she’d relented.

Hand hidden beneath his robes, spell readied in his palm, he stepped down into the dimly lit room. A lantern was clutched in his exposed hand as he quietly shut the hatch above. His footsteps were cautious as he stared at her sullen form, studying her. “I lied about the food. I’m not willing to sacrifice one of my guests for your pleasure. They’re good people, young and hopeful.”

“Not starving isn’t exactly the same as pleasure,” she contested, holding her ruby eyes on his, “And it needn’t be a sacrifice. Hell, more zan a few times zey’ve been far more pleasured than I,” she smirked, slumping back against the wall. “Just a few minutes with one of zem and zey’ll be feeling fine. Better zhan fine,” she licked over her lips, before tracing her eyes over his body and posture. Hau’glin simply shook his head.

“Vat do you think I’m going to do, ah? Break your neck and make a dash into the beautiful sunlight?”

Hau’glin gave a wry, almost sullen, smile to her. “Finish your job, perhaps? Or have you forgotten why you are here?”

She grinned in response, her expression almost cheerily, “Ah, I’d hoped you’d forgotten that,” she bit her lips, her eyes widening in a flirtatious manner that contrasted with her words.

He placed the lantern down on the table, near the heat-stone before stepping in nearer to her. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen one of your kind. Long since one of you has dared show your face in front of me without an army of slaves between us.” Anger roiled beneath his composed visage, his dislike for her people breathing fire into the words.

“Vat can I say. It’s zo hard to find good help now a day. And armies are zo expensive,” her words had their own edge, mixing with that wry little grin. He noted her confidence, her flirtatious behaviour. He wasn’t unaffected by her charms, but that well of anger kept him from acknowledging such things.

As quickly as she blinked, he’d shot out his free hand, her neck grasped directly beneath her jaw in that powerful grip, her eyes bulging in surprise as he tightened his fingers around that slender stalk of a throat.

Her back arched and her body shifted so that her neck was not totally choked off, her eyes turning hard, “No need,” she said, her voice hard. Vampires didn’t have a real need to breath, but it was a difficult habit to break, even after all these years.

Some long suppressed rage smouldered beneath his dark eyes as they narrowed at her. “I stopped my crusade against your lot long before I had my fair share of vengeance,” he muttered to her darkly, looming over her form, long dagger-like claws pinching out against her neck as they grew from his hands just slightly, “everyone I ever knew dead. And still you haunt me. As if you wish me to go back to slaughtering you until none are left.”

She winced a little at the claws, but there was no empathy in her gaze. Her tongue poked out and touching to her top lip, “Zey von’t stop. Vhy should you?” she choked out.

His rage was halted for a fleeting second; it was his turn to be surprised. Barely a heartbeat had passed before his grip on her neck tightened.

“You may have seen me with my guests,” he hissed through his own fangs with anger, “but I don’t reserve those kinds of soft feelings for murderers of the innocent.” He snatched out his other hand, grabbing for her black top, tearing it open with one sharp yank to reveal a tight bra clinging to her bust just as black as the silken cloth. It held a practical purpose, rather than seduction, harnessing her breasts to her chest, as if they were bandaged down.

Her laugh was garbled by the tightness of his hand around her throat, but even as her body jerked from his force, her eyes sparkled at him. She had misread him so much, the warnings her boss had given her having fallen on disinterested ears. When stalking him, he had seemed so passive and well adjusted. It had been a vital error on her part to assume that he’d been helpless as well.

He clawed at her flesh as he bared her to him. Jamming her head back to the table, he jabbed a finger into her naked skin, just above her heart as his upper lip curled just so, his lips pulling back in the beginning of a snarl that didn’t fully form. He pricked her with the sharp tip, “I could carve out your heart and feed it to the poor innocents upstairs, leech.” His breathing was hot and heavy against her skin, lunged up against her so closely as he was.

“Assuming ve have hearts,” she sneered.

Narrowing his eyes at her stubborn defiance, he twisted his finger into her, enough to draw dark blood from her onyx skin before he drew the elongated claw down the center of her chest. The sharp edge sawed through her bra with a brief pause before moving across her stomach.

She snarled as the tightness of her bra was cut away, her full upper form revealed to be much more impressive than it had looked in her full assassin’s gear. Her torso twisted under her assault, her fully rounded bust jiggling on top of her small ribs as she gave the first sign of a struggle.

The delightful present she held pressed beneath her clothing managed to steal his focus for another surprised moment. Even in his rage he couldn’t help but find himself transfixed upon her breasts. Perhaps it was the long seclusion at work. She squirmed beneath him, bringing him back to reality and his dark eyes shot back to hers. His hair and face shimmered almost silver in the pale light of the lantern, leaving him looking almost lupine before her as he snarled.

“Why do you taunt me? Do you yearn for death, parasite? Is that it? Do your memories haunt you that much?”

She tried to shift away from his anger. From her body it was easy to guess she wasn’t more than her late teens when she was turned, though it was notoriously difficult to tell with the dark elves. “Taunt you?” she let out a coarse bark, “You’ve obviously not been taunted by the overlords in a long time if you think zis is how zey’d do things!”

His hand at her neck, he pushed her back up over the table, “You know all about that, I suppose,” he nearly hissed, “how they taunt and take their sick pleasures upon victims and their families.”

“You can’t blame me for doing my job,” she crooned softly, trying to seduce him with her charms once more as her dark brown hair slowly fell out of her ponytail, her bangs pushed to the side above her ruby eyes. Her eyebrows pinched at the middle and her throat was quickly becoming raw with his force, words barely making it past the obstruction.

His eyes shot to hers, hardening, “When it’s being a murderer, I most definitely can,” he said, his words coming out on the brink of a snarl. “When I killed your kind it was in retaliation. Protection,” he sucked his front teeth, giving the impression that he was about to bite into and devour her flesh. “A job?” he sneered, “Really?”

There was no desire for pity or forgiveness in her hard, red eyes, “I wasn’t born,” she struggled out, moving to make room to talk, “zis way.”

Seemingly startled by her choking, he lightened up his grasp upon her, blinking as if surprised by his actions. Furrowing his brow he stared down at her, “Were you made by them, into this, just to be their assassin?”

She stared at him, that same, even stare, “Not ‘just’ to be zhere assassin. But vould you ask many questions,” she paused, shifting a bit, “if you vere me?” Her smirk returned. It was a small, almost shy action.

Pausing to consider her words, he finally loosened his grasp upon her throat, releasing her entirely and pulling back, no longer lunged over top of her, but looming at a more comfortable distance. Gesturing to her top he said, “I’m sorry I–” then caught himself, shaking his head a little, “I didn’t mean to get so carried away. Your kind just…” he faded off there, the effect ‘her kind’ had on him quite apparent.

She leaned back again, relaxing once more, her hand going to her throat and petting it, not seeming bothered by the blood dribbling at her chest. She let out a slow exhalation of dead air, “Yea, vell,” she swallowed, clearing her throat, “If I caught an assassin, I’d do vorse. So don’t beat yourself up.”

Though it hadn’t bothered him last night, with her true nature unhinging him somewhat, her cocksure behaviour did trouble him some. He narrowed his eyes at her, studying her half naked form with an intense curiosity. “Knowing your kind, I have no doubt of that,” he stated bluntly.

He pulled his hands back inside his old grey cloak, “I’ll leave you here a bit longer. I said I’d give you time before I left, and I mean it.” Licking along his lips, and over his own fangs, he added, “Perhaps it might please you to know I’m contemplating letting your compatriots come for me so that I can finish them off before I leave.”

She shrugged after a long pause, her ruby eyes moving back towards the black heated stone, “If they vere watching me, they’d likely be planning on killing me soon anyways,” she said with no hint of angst. She was still confident that she’d get out of this mess.

Studying her stoically for a moment before backing away, he climbed back up the steps, “Then you’re safest here,” he stated, leaving the lantern with her before disappearing out of the hatch once more.

~~

If you enjoyed this, please think about purchasing it on Smashwords or Amazon. As well, reviews and word of mouth would be appreciated! New posts posted every Wednesday, and should we get a large amount in donations, we’ll be posting story parts more frequently.

Tags: Forgotten Thrones, Hau'glin, Sexual Assault, Svelle, Trigger Warning, Wheel and Deal

The city was in the middle of a desert, large buildings cutting off the horizon in one direction and sand as far as one could see in every other. The market place was quaint and there were already a few early risers hawking wares, though relatively few whores compared to the evening before.

Two members of his crew were sitting and smoking while playing a game of cards as he approached the zeppelin dock. The female was the taller of the two with long brown hair and dark skin, a fiery woman, proud and boisterous, especially when drinking. The smaller man was, by no means, small, but compared to her he was thin and gaunt with papery white skin and dark black hair that reached past his neck.

Thumbs still in his belt, he jangled with each step closer to them, “What’s the story, morning glories?”

Arrant nodded to him respectfully, “Can’t work without the parts,” she said loudly before stuffed the cigar back in her mouth.

Garnt filled in the blanks for her, “The shipment we need won’t be in ’til noon,” he shrugged, in an apologetic manner before playing his hand of cards, “We did all we could with what we had.”

“Alright,” he responded, though he wasn’t pleased with it. The evening delight, however, perked him enough not to be cruel about it. Looking at the cigar in the woman’s mouth, his own desire was struck. Reaching into a pocket he plucked out one of his own, stepping in close and holding it out for a light which Garnt quickly offered.

“Well,” he began slowly, “I trust you two to see to this. I’ll check in on you in the morning. In the meantime, I’ll see about ensuring we’ve got some investment and cargo to take back with us once it’s all up and running again.”

Both understood his orders and intentions even before he voiced them. They had been under his employ for years, and the small crew worked well together.

Jren popped the cigar into his mouth, rolling it to the corner as he began to puff on it lightly. “Very well you two. If anything comes up that needs my attention, I’m staying at the Lajulian Rose, so leave a message for me there. Otherwise, I’ll be off making sure our next pay off is a fat one.” He turned and began to walk off, a hand raised over his shoulder to the pair in a silent farewell.

The streets were familiar to him after so many years of dealing his business here, and he moved towards the jewellery store along the most direct path. He was one of their biggest suppliers and Celestia, the manager, was a fairly well to do woman. For a non-immortal human, she was practically royalty in this city.

His clothes held their newly bought lustre, having spent most of his time in the air or away instead of on the dirty sand of the land here, so he looked quite upper crust as he made his way on in through the heavy, wooden door.

It was a rather large shop, with glass cases stood up everywhere, displaying extravagant necklaces and bracelets, the light specially pointed to make sure they sparkled as much as possible. All three of the employees were dressed in rather well to do clothing, their hair all expertly coifed.

The woman on his right caught his immediate attention. A bright faced elven woman with angular features that contrasted with the happy smile she gave him, “Welcome to Demoitre’s!” He recognized her from previous trips to the city, and even though Celestia was giving him an unpleasant look over from the other side of the room, he couldn’t resist Janite’s cheerful greeting.

“And what a lovely welcome it is!” he declared, moving on up to the counter next to her. Tracing his fingertips along the edge of the glass, “Might I say, you sparkle almost as brightly as the jewels you do sell, madam.” He punctuated that statement with a tap of his fingers on the glass ever so gently.

She laughed, haughtily, her hand flittering to the white blouse of her outfit in a practiced, noble manner, “Oh, you,” she flushed, looking down at the glass case she stood by where the expensive, beautiful necklace sparkled in the light, “Is there a special woman you’re shopping for today?”

Pulling back from the counter a bit, he gave her a curious, nearly incredulous once over, “Are you propositioning me, madam?” His expression melted a bit into a good natured smile, some white teeth breathing through the soft lips, “If so, I should warn you: I am quite susceptible to the come-ons of beautiful women.”

Janite returned his smile, her sharp cheeks raising in a teasing manner, “I wouldn’t refuse this right here,” she said, motioning to the necklace, “from any man so charming as you,” she said in a amiable tone.

Puckering his lips a little, he gave a soft “oooh,” sound as he looked at the necklace she pointed at before raising his azure eyes back to her. Tracing his gloved finger tip around the necklace on the glass he leaned towards her, “How exquisite,” he declared, “both the necklace and the woman that should be wearing it at this very moment. And how much is that then, hm?”

She was enthusiastic at his request for a price, eagerly naming the amount. “It’s actually marked down for a limited time sale. You’re in good fortune to have checked in today,” her hand instinctively traced along the hollow of her throat where the necklace would lay. A sales woman through and through, she had a tendency to come on a little strong.

He tilted his head a bit as he watched her hand trace along her neck, his eyelids descending. “My my, aren’t you the sly saleswoman,” he managed out softly. Raising a hand, he wagged his finger at her, “You are too good, madam.”

He flashed a grin, “I’d say I should keep my eye upon you, but I fear that might be the problem. I can see why you work here. This shop must owe you quite a lot in commissions.”

Her eyelashes fluttered down modestly, her head shaking, “Oh, you’re being too kind,” she purred, holding onto as much kindness as she could muster, “Would you like some time to think it over? We’re open until five this evening, though I’ll be out for lunch for an hour. I cannot hold it for you, though, so if another is more interested in it and ready to purchase, I’ll have course have to take the sale.”

Smiling at her he leaned both hands upon the glass counter, “Of course, but,” he paused, “how would you like to join me for that hour then? I’m sure you could help me come to my conclusion. As convincing a sales woman as you are, I’d be surprised if you couldn’t make me see the merits in doing so, truthfully,” he flashed that charming smile at her, tracing his finger around the outline of the necklace again.

Her expression fell, uncertainty creasing the lines in her face. “Well,” she drawled out the word before giving a brief glance to the two other clerks, “I’m sure I could give you more information on the cut, at the very least, if you like.”

Pursing his lips he smiled and nodded to her, “Jren Shimmerdart. Captain of the Shimmerdart, and proprietor of Shimmerdart Imports/Exports. And I shall see you at lunch, miss…?” He tilted his head a bit, looking to her expectantly with a light bat of his own lashes, handsomely devious.

“Janite Crux. I’ll be leaving at noon,” she said, looking him over with a mixture of interest and confusion.

His dapper clothes, in such fine condition–and obviously exquisitely pricy–mixed with his healthy, high elven blood, gave him quite the flawless air of nobility and wealth. Certainly, it was a visage he carefully nurtured to be so. With a press of his hand to his chest, he dipped forward in half-bow to her, “I’ll await you at noon, sharply, madam Crux.” He rose back up and smiled confidently, “I have a feeling about it all, don’t you?” he added with another quick wink.

“I’m sure you’ll see the benefit of the purchase before long, Mister Shimmerdart,” she assured him with another quick glance to her coworkers.

Touching his gloved hand to his hat, he tipped it ever so slightly before backing away, “Till then.”

Now that his pleasure had been taken care of, he turned back to business. The stern woman behind to opposing counter was pale, dangerously so for the middle of a desert. “Ahh, and how are you today?” Resting his hands casually upon the edge of the counter he gave her a bright smile.

Celestia met him with her typical severe expression. Her style of dress, her posture, and her mannerisms all gave her the impression of being a tight laced woman. She wore a high collared shirt and the too-long skirt that was far prettier than her face, lips quirked into a haughty look of disdain.

“I didn’t realize you were in town yet. We hadn’t expected you for another couple of days.”

Nodding slowly he said to her softly, “Just got in last night, dear lady.” He treated her with no less of a beaming, handsome smile than the more affable elven woman, despite her demeanour. With a slight tip of his head back towards the storage room he enquired, “We could discuss some shipment issues, perhaps. If you’ve the time, milady,” he added respectfully.

Her body tensed as he spoke, her hands fisting for a brief moment before she moved quickly towards the back room, pulling out a ring of keys and unlocking the door as he followed after her, boots jingling with each step.

The room was small, just a simple staff break room with a worn in couch, a wooden table in the middle, and a small cold-box for food. She motioned for him to sit as she shut and locked the door, affording them privacy.

“What are these shipment issues?”

She wore high heels to compensate for her short stature, but even still she was of average height. Her hair was piled high on her crown in an elaborate bun, held together with various sparkly gems. A heavy broach at her shoulder and a beautiful bracelet on her wrist completed the look.

Casually he lifted his hand, beginning to slowly pluck his gloves from his fingers, one by one, “Ahh, just a bit of a hold up, my dear,” he said, with a charming smile on his face. “The Shimmerdart suffered a bit of damage on the way here–heavy storm–and so we need a bit of time to do some repairs.”

She bristled at his statement about delays and damages, her mind obviously reeling with concern.

Pulling the glove from his hand, he reached out to brush his fingertips along her bun just slightly, “But my, aren’t you looking more lovely than even the last time I saw you. Such care and finesse in tending your beauty,” he mused with such genuine sounding reverence.

She shrunk away from his tender fingers, giving him an incredulous stare, ignoring his compliments, “And what am I supposed to do until then? My customers don’t wait. They’d just go to another store, and we might lose their business for good! And don’t get me started on what I could possibly tell the owner.”

“I know, dear lady. I know. It’s not the kind of news I care to deliver either,” he frowned, genuinely sullen. “However,” he added, stepping in a bit closer, lowering his voice, “I will be in town while repairs are ongoing. And…” he leaned in, tilting his head to the side, just a couple inches from her, “available to conduct any work that needs doing…” he gave her a slow once-over before snapping his blue eyes back upon her, “Stymieing your competitions efforts, perhaps? Or whatever,” he said with a shrug and a bright smile, “I could be your tool.” He emphasized that last word.

She refused to raise any more than her eyes to him, even though the man towered over her. She folded her arms beneath her slim bust, her slender fingers tapping along the fluffed arms of her white blouse, considering his offer. She gave him a nod, “Yes, you will,” her eyes narrowed seriously, “You’ll be starting rumours of a shipment of counterfeit jewels that recently arrived and were accepted by all jewellers except for this one. Our cunning and demand for perfection for our customers has reduced our stock slightly, but ensured our value.”

His soft lips curled back into a devious grin of appreciation for the woman’s cunning, “My my,” he said, placing his hand over his chest, “I think you just made my heart skip a beat, madam.” Shutting his eyes he shivered a moment, quite genuine in his actions. “You should own this whole place already,” he stated with a smile, “and I’d love to kiss you, but I fear sullying your flesh with the press of lips anywhere but your hand.”

“Yes, well, that’s not how it works here,” she said with a bit of a scowl. Despite her aristocratic facade and the paleness of her skin, she was no immortal, and would never attain the status of owner anywhere in this town. Not in this life time. “What’s your estimate of when your next shipment will be in?”

“In?” he asked, brushing his fingers along the brim of his hat, “Oh, a week, perhaps. It will depend on how quickly repairs can be completed, of course,” he smiled warmly to her. Leaning in slyly he spoke to her in soft tones again, “And if you ever wish a bit of… help, defying how things work around here and making your own manner of profits,” he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, “I’m a man for hire. And you’re a woman I’d like to be on the side of.”

She tried to suppress the thrill that ran up her spine, but the shiver was noticeable. People didn’t defy the status quo in New Azoth. It was widely known to be the quickest way to pain and death. And yet, that momentary lapse in control spoke of her true desires.

Her eyes averted to the side for a moment before returning to him, finally giving a dismissive nod, “That will be all for now, Shimmerdart,” she ordered briskly. She was ruffled by his daring offer, and her words were much more crisp, “Report back to me with any vital information. And don’t get caught.”

He smiled casually to her, “Of course,” though he added on a brief but lascivious look at her, his dark blue eyes moving over her as if this prissy woman were the most desirable thing on two legs. Slipping his glove back on he said, “And for the service against your competitors I won’t even charge much. A couple hundred or some baubles from your store you could spare if you prefer. And I will even tack on some extras,” he added with a faint grin.

She tightened that hold on her arms under her bust, eyebrows furrowed, “And what of my compensation for the lack of your deliveries for a week – or more!? All you are doing is ensuring our business partnership will continue once your zeppelin is up and running once more.”

Frowning with almost a pout to his lips he finished putting on the glove, “Ohh, such brilliant business acumen…” he gave a sigh, “how I do hate to see it turned against me.” With a wistful air he brushed the backs of his fingers along his chin, thinking, “Just a little something, then. An incentive to take your plan and push it just a bit further. A trivial little thing that maybe slips off the ledger of inventory, hmm?”

With a bat of his lashes he continued, “A cunning woman like you no doubt recognizes the value of such work and what a bargain I’m offering it at.”

“That woman you were speaking with. Are you interested in that necklace? Or her?”

Jren laughed softly, stepping in near her, though not touching as he leaned in a few inches from her ear, “I am interested in profit and power first and foremost. Girls like her are amusements. Women such as you, however,” he added on with another brief, but truly appreciative, appraisal, “well, I do think that’s a conversation to be had some time.”

“Some other time,” she stressed, giving him a stern scowl, “Perhaps when you’re not ship wrecked and pleading for my help,” she paused, “You’ll do your work and something may fall into your hands if you’re successful in maintaining our current clients. If we gain extra clients, then with all that inventory moving around, more things might find their way onto a missing list.”

He gave another shiver, as if titillated by her stern words quite genuinely, “Dear lady,” he said in such formal but soft and doting words, “at this rate you shall stoke the flames of my passion and greed to such heights I should nary be able to contain myself before long.” With a low bow and a flourish of his hand to the side, he dipped to her as if she were some princess of great repute.

“Don’t push me, Shimmerdart,” she replied briskly, changing the subject, “don’t burst her confidence. A saleswoman without confidence will be finding herself on the street before long.”

He tipped his head in acquiescence to her, “As you wish, m’lady. I shall hurry to endeavour on our mutual benefit,” he said, emphasizing the word ‘mutual’.

“Good fortunes to you in your transactions, and do remember; I am here in the city and available to you for all your needs or wants, should you need a capable and clever hand. Or something more still.” He gave her a pursed-lip smile, the subtleness of the smarmy tone making it no less obvious.

“Until you have something to report, then, Shimmerdart,” she saw him to the door, seeming unaffected or uninterested in his compliments. She was no young girl; she wouldn’t be so easily lied to and manipulated, and whether she felt the swell in her heart or her loins for him, it wasn’t told on her face.

Reaching up with a gloved hand he gripped the brim of his hat and tipped it just so before making his way past her and out into the store. Hand still at his hat he repeated the slight tip of the brim to the elven saleswoman, followed by a secretive wink, “I shall see you soon, dear woman.”

~~

If you enjoyed this, please think about purchasing it on Smashwords or Amazon. As well, reviews and word of mouth would be appreciated! New posts posted every Wednesday, and should we get a large amount in donations, we’ll be posting story parts more frequently.

Tags: Arrant, Celestia, Forgotten Thrones, Garnt, Janite Crux, Jren, New Azoth City, Wheel and Deal