Fantasy Seed of the Void

Author's Notes

I told you all that chapter 3 wouldn't take too long. I had written this at the same time as Chapter 2 and decided to just split it in half. Lots of authors here swear by the long 10K+ word stories but I much prefer as both an author and reader digestible chunks. I hope as those who read my stories you feel the same. Chapter 4 may take a bit more, as I have not entirely started on it. But I do have the direction and ideas so it just takes me sitting down to do it.

Would love to hear your thoughts and feels in the comments.

All characters herein are 18+.

The Board and Bard

A cold, moist feeling ran across Isaen's brow when he awoke. His sudden consciousness and the feeling of someone near, jolted his senses, clutching him from the depths of sleep.

"Gah!" He shot up, a squeal echoing his exclamation as he gauged his surroundings. Looking around the room, he slowly cast off the drapery of sleep and realized none of it had been a dream. He was still in the room where the witch had given him his charge. But rather than being passed out on the table, drooling into the wood, he was in the soft bed near the wall.

Beside him, a rather startled tavern-maid held a wet cloth tossed back on her romp, against the creaky floor.

"I'm sorry, sire!" The tavern-maid Myla, the absent-minded girl who showed him to this room, looked scared as the alert face of Isaen scanned his surroundings in a daze of sleep.

"The woman bid me to ensure you were well after a time. You have been resting for nearly a half cycle."

"Shit." Isaen sat up from bed and put his feet on the floor. His whole body ached, no doubt from his time in the pit and the collective stamina spells of the mage and his witch daughter wearing off. He desperately found his footing and lunged for the table, Myla watching him with a very nervous expression.

"Sire, you must take it easy. I am told you were injured."

Isaen paid her no heed, desperately looking for the wooden chip with accounts of his embarkation off this rock in his daze.

The tools and implements had been neatly packed away in a sack on the table. As Isaen's eyes came into focus, he found both a bag of coins and the wooden chip lined up next to the sack. Struggling to focus his eyes to read the sliver of bark, he took a sigh of relief. He still had several hours.

Stepping back, he sat back down on the bed and lay back, hand on his head as the room spun around him.

"Isaen."

"Sire?"

"No, it's Isaen. Call me Isaen."

"Oh... I apologize, sir, I am not usually so familiar."

Isaen gave her a sardonic look.

The girl stood from the spot she sat on her rear against the floor. Her hands folded in front of her as she awaited further requests.

Feeling better, Isaen sat up on his elbows. Looking towards the lass and her body beneath the rose-colored dress and white apron, he struggled with the concept of discretion.

"How much did the woman give you to take care of me?"

"Two silvers..." she frowned. It was a good price to wipe a stranger's brow, but wouldn't get her far.

"Decent coin." He looked her over, the witch's voice repeating, "Discreet," over and over in his head.

Myla seemed keenly aware she was being admired, with a twitch of her eye and an awkward sway as she felt conscious of Isaen's leering.

"Is there anything else I can assist you with... sire?" Her cold eyes looked at him as she stood attentively, just as she did when Isaen had entered the inn.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you mute."

She hesitated, looking away from Isaen as she avoided eye contact. "I was simply instructed to care for your needs."

"What if I need a conversation?"

"There are drunks better at that downstairs."

Isaen laughed, for the first time in a long while. He felt a bit more confident with his situation, a bit more of a relaxed attitude as he eyed the sack of coins on the table and his bag of goodies issued to him.

"Their voices are not as easy to listen to." Isaen smiled at her, trying to reassure her, but his scarred and weathered face had little but intimidation to it. She had a sweet chirp about her tone. He could listen to her soft musings for hours.

A beautiful red tide flowed across her face as she looked at the floor.

"I have little to tell of."

"Everyone has a story, lass." Isaen sat up further and leaned into the conversation. "How did you come to be in a place as dark as this?" Isaen looked at the dimness of the room, just as dark as it was the night previous, the black ocean around them devoid of sunset or sunrise.

"My family fled the Aeonflux when I was little, our barge found us here, and we have remained ever since. Ona built this place with what we couldn't sell off the barge."

Isaen nodded solemnly. To have survived the Aeonflux, this girl and her family were lucky, even if it meant they were here. Many didn't make it away from that tragedy, some before they knew it had even begun.

"Hard place to grow up."

Myla looked at him for the first time, as she sensed just the slightest bit of empathy, though for Isaen, it was laden with motive.

"Hard place to live."

"Your family not interested in leaving?"

"No... this place has become special to them. It's even special to me. Our shelter from the storm. But..."

"It's no life for a young, beautiful lass like you, even if it has meaning."

She blushed even further as he called her beautiful, though she receded a bit as she saw the intention in his gaze.

"Can I assist you with anything else, sire?" Her desire to be granted leave from the room was evident.

"Hmph... " Isaen scratched his chin where a scraggly bit of hair resided.

"Two silvers won't get you off this rock."

Myla gazed impassively at her patron.

"See that purse on the table." Isaen nodded to the second sack of gold he had been given by his 'associates'. He was impressed she had not run off with it while he was out cold; he certainly would have. An honest wench she was.

Her eyes wandered to it, she knew exactly where it was, surely, she had thought about it while tending to him that night.

"Yes."

"You can have it all; should get you far away from here and be able to start a nice new life elsewhere."

She swallowed; it was not lost on her what he was asking.

"A whole purse of gold?"

"A... whole... purse," Isaen said, in a tone oozing with desire.

"I'm... I'm not like that, at least not for coin." She shied away.

"I have no doubt." He sat watching her back away, even more enticed by her faltering integrity.

"And... that's a lot of coin, I don't do things... unnatural things that men pay such coin for."

"I assure you, lass; I wouldn't dream of defiling a beauty like you." Isaen lied, he could imagine a thousand-and-one ways to defile her. "I only ask for the most basic of things." He eyed her up and down, a look that made her bump her rear into the table as she stood back.

The purse full of gold fell over with the distinct jingle of coins as she hit the table. She keenly looked at the lump of cloth, imagining how much of the golden coins were within.

"Imagine how far away you could get. You could even take your family, or live handsomely somewhere else. Somewhere bright, somewhere with green." Isaen enticed her all the while sitting on the edge of the bed.

"The basic of things?" She blushed, looking at him once more.

Isaen had a self-assured grin as he nodded to Myla. "Yes, milady." He wove his tapestry of seduction to the final stitch.

Myla nodded, affirming their agreement, her eyes dashing around, as she took several shallow breaths standing in the middle of the room.

"Well?" Isaen nodded his head to her as if she knew what to do.

The tavern-maid reached behind her neck and back and loosened the apron, which fell away to the floor. Beneath was the beautiful form of a woman, tightly constrained by the rose dyes of a dress no doubt purchased from a faraway realm. Her family must care for her greatly to give her such a dress, accenting her beautiful nature all the more as it hugged every curve of her body. The skirt itself came only mid-calf, where a pair of long, white stockings took over protecting the beautiful visage of her thighs.

Everything about her was shapely, from hip to bust, it was all with ample feminine flesh. The more she began to reveal, the more Isaen could not wait to taste it.

This was truly Isaen's first taste of freedom and his new profession. Not a woman held to a table in a dark pit of a gloomy tower, but rather a maid of his choosing, stripping down under his command, in his own room.

A satisfied smirk and a new breath of life filled the vagabond's lungs. If he was about to get screwed over by whatever shady business, he had caught himself up in, at least he was going to do it having tasted this lass' flesh.

Having pulled her stockings off, she stood barelegged before Isaen, stepping ever closer as she was beckoned to. For her part, an innocent nervousness filled every action, but that was preferable in Isaen's mind, better the maiden than the tramp.

"Come closer." He waved his hands, Myla unconsciously keeping her distance, yet the promise of the purse pushed her before him. She came close enough that Isaen could place his hands on either of her thighs, raising them high and under her skirt to feel the soft flesh of her hips.

"Let's see," he said, pulling up her dress and clicking his tongue to signal that she should be rid of it. The rose-colored fabric gave way to blushing rose-colored flesh as Myla's body was given the air. Only a set of basic beige undergarments covered her nudity, yet her skin intoxicatingly drew him in.

"Lovely..." He planted a kiss just above her navel, as he held her arse and pulled her into him. His hands held tightly to whatever ounce of flesh he could, a shapely lass gave him plenty to play with and even more to kiss, as he smacked his lips against her stomach, sides, hips, and thighs. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he even bid her place a foot next to him, raising her leg so that her thigh was level with him, and he could have a good taste as if it were a leg of lamb. While he didn't bite like he intended to devour, he certainly took a nibble enough to get an idea of just how sweet she was.

"Gayyah!" she yelped, as his teeth playfully sunk in.

"Apologies, you just looked tasty." He played her thigh and let her return her foot to the ground. Once she got her balance, he pointed downwards, beckoning to take her knees between his legs.

Her face was flush red and her breaths labored as she walked through this parade of her body. Then, it was time to get down to business, and Isaen's cock was ready to partake.

"I trust you know what a man wants with a beautiful lass' mouth?" He took a second to admire her soft black hair, no longer than past her ears with a bow tied upon it. He ran his fingers through the darkness on her head like they were ships in the void, taking a whiff as her odor filled the air around them.

Myla nodded, gulping as she began to undo the lacing of Isaen's trousers. Content that she could take it from here, he lay back on his hands and watched her pull his cock from his pants. Myla seemed a bit in awe of it, at first, the quiver of her lips making him twitch even more as he wondered if his was the biggest she had seen, or the biggest she had taken.

"Nice and easy then, lass." He encouraged her, gripping her hair as she placed her lips around the head of his cock. She slowly ingested him, gagging several times as it passed through her mouth. Not even halfway did she have to surface for air, hardly slobbering down his length and she was gasping.

"Tsk, tsk." Isaen patted her head. "I would assume the pretty boys on this rock would have broken you in."

The girl glared at him, there were no pretty boys on Tamberan.

Isaen ventured to guess she was, by far, the prettiest girl; though, no doubt, many offers had been made for her. She must be on her last straw to accept right then. As she suckled his cock up and down, nursing herself to greater depths, Isaen reflected on just how this little tryst with him would change her life. Aside from the money, the baby he would put in her would certainly be life-changing. Beyond raising a child, a mage at that would bring her some form of prosperity. That's, at least, how Isaen justified degrading her a bit.

Reaching behind, he unclasped the crude hooks of her bra and loosened it from her arms. Myla cooperated and allowed him to pull it off her, a beautiful set of breasts bounding beneath as she continued to suck and let her throat get used to the tension.

"Here, girl, let's see them." He grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her back. She whined, but followed suit, sitting up from her position on her knees and displaying proudly a woman's full chest. Her bosom was a pure-white milky color, with large pink nipples adorning each of the elastic mounds that jiggled with every move.

Feeling them, Isaen noted how fleshy they were, yet so good to look at. He toyed with the nipples that would one day feed his child, smiling as he tested their elasticity with a pull.

"Sorry, Myla... you just have a body that is beyond belief."

The girl blushed and looked away, letting him toy with her upper body unknowing that he had a purpose for her in mind.

"Come next to me." He pulled her up by the arm, beckoning her to sit. All she wore were her beige panties, but Isaen's hands didn't care. He leaned in to taste her breasts, tongue lapping at them as she whined, Isaen watching them bounce with each pass of his tongue. He soon pushed her down flat on the bed, suckling on her tits one after the other, enough to get a full feel of her nub in his mouth.

Her squealing got louder, enough that he grew concerned that her "Ona" would hear despite his many grey hairs.

"Sush, girl, I haven't even given you a reason to squeal yet." He put a soft hand over her mouth. She nodded, instead biting her lip to keep herself contained. Isaen enjoyed himself for a bit longer, slipping his hand down her abdomen and into her panties to feel her true prize.

Her thighs clenched up as his hand grazed her slit. Squeezing his hand there, she seemed to derive a zing of pleasure from the touching.

"Gods, girl, haven't you been toyed with before?" He laughed, as he sat up from her breast and looked down at her.

Myla, while bashful, bit her lip to hold back a grin. Clearly, she was a little less innocent than she claimed, though he believed her when she said that she had never done it for money before.

"Well then, I think you need to lose these." He sat above her, pulling her panties down her long legs. After tossing them across the room towards his sack, he pulled her legs apart in the air to give her an inspection. She had a well-built pussy, tightly kept with a wealth of hair coating its lips. Like a nice girl, she kept herself clean and well-trimmed. She seemed even proud to show herself off, as Myla got more and more into the act they were about to carry out.

"In the right places, you could earn a sack of gold per night on the night." He patted her moistened slit before sticking a full finger inside of her.

An empty gasp filled her lungs as she looked less and less put off by the idea of what was happening. Though in response to Isaen's assertion, she shook her head.

"I am not a whore to be bought..." she said very assertively, until the second it registered that tonight that fact was not true.

Isaen saw no need to cut her down anymore, he already had a finger, then two, inside of the girl.

"I believe you; you certainly don't look it."

She rested her head on the mattress as she felt his digits go in and out of her, holding her legs in the air.

"Yet, you propositioned me nonetheless." She glared between soft moans.

"Let's think of it as... providing you an opportunity." His thumb wiggled around her clitoral hood in a circular motion as her lower back arched upwards with pleasure. "You don't have to be a whore to take an opportunity, only ambitious..." He stared into Myla's eyes from above, as she looked on at him with a subtle satisfaction and wonder.

"Yeah..." she bought on to the idea, further grinding her lower half against his hand.

With a plop, Isaen released his hand from her cunt; wet and juicy, it dripped with her essence as he came between her legs with his cock and smacked her wet crop of hair with his thick rod.

"Easy now, lass, remember to keep it down." He gave her a few more smacks of his cock as the wet plops amused him, before leaning over and kissing her from breast to earlobe, sensually, as she cooed.

As he tasted her neck, he slipped his head inside of her, a moment that caused her to stir beneath him, as he slowly pushed himself forward.

"Eeeeeeeeyasahhh." Her gaspy exclamations only caused him to desire to push forward more, as he went past her horizons and forged new paths inside of her womanhood. Before long, he found his base at her wet lips and began to thrust his hips at his amusement.

Isaen was not here to pleasure her by any means. All of this was for him, and in small part, his new mission. He fucked her just how he pleased, whether it was low, fast, or inconsistently deep. It was so that Isaen's cock alone could feel the rumble of the maiden's deep passageway and the satisfaction of opening her up further than any man had. She didn't seem the girl to have much experience, but after this, he greedily wondered if she would be stuck with the thought of him throughout her life.

Of course, having his baby would have that effect.

He continued his fucking, her noises making no difference as he ran her through. Flipping her over, he even took her on all fours as he patted her ass for his own amusement. The creaking wood drowned out her pitiful whines as he neared his climax, Myla herself being denied it as he shifted pace time and time again.

"Are you... are you going to take it out?" she whined, as she could feel him throb.

Of course, Isaen had no intention to; grasping onto her fleshy hips, he drove himself in and out as deep as possible.

"I did say the most basic of things? There is nothing more basic than driving your cock deep into a maiden and planting your seeds," he whispered into her ear, as he held her hips tightly.

She looked a bit nervous then, looking back at him with a surprised expression.

"Don't worry, darling, it's better this way."

He drove himself deeply, letting loose a torrent of seed, just as he promised, into her womb.

"Ohhh!" she whined, feeling it swish around her and fill her to the brim. It was a natural pleasure, felt no other way. And Myla reveled in it momentarily, until she realized just what had happened.

"But, but, but, I can't, no, this isn't... hold on," she stammered, as Isaen left her cunt oozing with cum. He walked across the room to the sack of necklaces to grab one for her as she continued to stutter around the idea of what he had done to her.

"I can't get pregnant. This isn't how it suppose--" She flipped onto her back and looked between her legs to see the wet ooze continuing.

"Shhhh, darlin'. Hold still."

Isaen pushed on her shoulder to have her lie back as he loomed over her.

"What.... What are you doing?"

Jewel in hand, Isaen smiled at Myla with as much reassurance as he could give, running the cold jewel across her stomach in an X-formation, just as he was instructed.

Before long, the jewel flashed green, and Isaen smiled triumphantly at his first mark being bred. It was actually decently fun, though this one came easy. He didn't intend to hand out sacks of gold to every bitch he ran across.

"What was that? What was that light?" Myla still was in a panic, her eyes wide as he stood over her menacingly.

"Shhh, here, this is for you."

Isaen held the necklace out, holding the loop open above her dark head as he beckoned her to put it on.

"But I don't... want a necklace, why do I-- well.... I guess it is really pretty."

Her mood changed so quickly that Isaen was astonished. From a panic about being impregnated to suddenly calmer than a dove, Myla's mood had shifted entirely about the idea of what had happened. Even her affinity towards the necklace itself changed as she toyed with the white jewel in her hand, while her hand rubbed her stomach affectionately where his white ooze filled her.

The witch didn't lie after all. Perhaps there was something to all of this. He wouldn't have entirely believed it until he tried it. But just one look at the once reluctant t tavern-maid said something about the process.

"It is very beautiful, thank you."

Isaen cupped her chin in his hand and leaned in to give her a long kiss. She obliged, though her reservations about the act of sex itself were still there. He wondered just how far this jewel's magic went. Did it make her like the idea of sex? Or just the product?

There was only one way to find out.

As Myla fumbled with her new necklace, admiring the jewel as the slow gooey feeling between her legs settled, Isaen stood up from the bed and wandered to the table. He admired Myla's nude body as he parted with it, just how her feminine form looked relaxed and seeded, there on the mattress as she had little care for how far her legs were spread. It was enough to make any man happy for a lifetime, but Isaen had the auspicious fate of not being content with any one woman.

The thought crossed his mind long enough to dredge up a memory, which he quickly buried. No time to reminisce.

Opening his sack, he rifled through the neatly packed contents Calista had left for him. A few hidden pockets would surely be the perfect place to hide a few vials of Vitality. Of course, he had to be sure it was not the Sablevine, that would be an unfortunate mistake. Knowing the witch, she would have put them right next to each other in hopes Isaen made such an error.

Atop the contents of the sack was a parchment, a violet wax seal holding together its folds with the emblem of a star and staghorn to match Isaen's amulet which was conspicuously tied to the note.

Looking over to Myla, as she was still toying with her new necklace and rolled around in the bed, her womb baking with his seed, he tore open the seal of the note.

"Dusksire, I assume you didn't choose discretion. Don't linger for long, always remain on the move, less suspicion grows and our detractors find you.

-C"

Undignified, Isaen felt the parchment the note was written on begin to turn to ash as it stung his hand with flame. He quickly tossed the heated remnants to the floor and whipped his hand about to relieve the pain, shaking his head as he muttered his distaste for his new handler.

"Blasted witch." He grabbed the vial from the pack, carefully reading the label to ensure it was not the incredibly deadly poison. Of course, it was simple to tell, a portion of Vitality had an eerie green color and a much lighter consistency, while the Sablevine was like a black jelly.

Popping the cork from the small palm-sized vial, he debated just how much to take. Certainly, he didn't want to be walking around the tower and to his ship with an inconspicuously hard cock, but he certainly wanted to give Myla a bit more of a run-through for his money. In the end, he decided on a small sip, to test just how powerful it was.

The liquid, itself, had a rather salty taste and had a similar feeling to being jolted with the stamina rod by Calista or the stamina spell from that old coot Cicero. However, it was much more concentrated in his loins, and sure enough, he felt a tingle in his sack that radiated into his manhood as it began to grow stiff once more.

With a smile, he nodded his head and returned to the bed where Myla lay passively. Standing above her, cock erect, he waited for her to notice to test her reaction and just how much power the crystal had over her.

"Sire?" she squeaked, as soon as her eyes landed on the once again hard cock.

"Time for another round, lass." He grabbed onto her meaty thighs and pulled her to the edge of the bed.

Her face was dismayed as she was pulled towards him, eyes wide as she shook her head.

"But we have done the deed already!"

So, the jewel did not make her want it any more than she did before, it simply ensured her loyalty to the necklace and child it seemed.

"Oh Myla... I said we would only do the basics; I didn't say how many times. I have hours to spend 'til my ship leaves. I need a warm berth until then."

He spread her wide and plunged in deep as she yelped, his thrusting much less careful than before as she had already been warmed up. Isaen intended to experiment with this one as much as he could, and to derive as much enjoyment as he could.

"Bring the bow to the fourth opposition and steady until range."

Upon this command, the long-pointed ship approaching the lonely dark tower began to rotate upwards in the silent blackness of the void. It almost mimicked the position of the Voidhold, though in juxtaposition, it was small as it came to a stop vertical in orientation.

Elegant white curves and gold trimming formed into a long and sharp appeal made the Elvish fleet as much art as function. The simple curves of the hull were joined in such a clean fashion that never displayed a rivet or joint outwardly, unlike a dwarvish ship with a utilitarian ghastliness of bolts and joined metal about it. Engraved upon the stem of the ship was the word 'Blacktide' in Telerin, the language of the Ethereal Elvish Empire. The Blacktide was an elvish cruiser, a medium-sized warship often sent on expeditions alone.

"Estel-loch, we have arrived. We shall keep our orientation until you find it proper to do otherwise."

Dressed in a flowing red jacket with gold piping, a fair-skinned elf stood formally at attention before his superior and bowed his head.

"Very well, Fae-lon, prepare a barge." The superior elf, with a notable scowl about him, confirmed their arrival with the master of the Blacktide, by placing his hand across his heart. Looking down his pointed elvish nose, he sized up the elf's ability as Fae-lon, having been given purview over the Blacktide for the duration of his mandate as Inquisitor.

The features of the elvish face were much like their ships, sleek and refined. Their detractors might say something to the effect of 'seen one elf, seen them all'. But to the Elven kind, they were the superior form, standing a head taller than most other creatures in the void, and being renowned for their beauty and agelessness. Elves had a noted pinchiness about them, especially the Estel-Loch known as Marthion.

"It will be done, as you have declared it."

The Fae-lon bowed once more and spun around on his heels to address his orders to the crew.

"Harmonize our cycle with the tower, and prepare a barge for the Inquisitor."

All was done as was commanded on an Elvish ship. Their eternal nature meant that the elves had mastered their craft of void sailing through the centuries. Though the crew of the Blacktide would be young with respect to Elvish society, to a mortal crew they were ancient.

"Are you displeased, Estel-Loch?" The Fae-lon turned to his superior, with concern of his noted scowl.

"No," a nasally breath huffed out.

"Forgive me."

"No, no need. My displeasure is evident, but not with you or this vessel."

"Understood."

"It is simply that I loathe such places." He stared through the massive round window of the bridge at the Tamberan Voidhold ahead of them. "It reeks of mortal sin, of corruption and unwashed inferior creatures."

The Fae-lon nodded his agreement. "I don't envy your task."

"Our task, Fae-lon. You have loathed the misfortune of visiting such a place before long."

"Of course, Estel-Loch." He bowed his head once more.

"Masters, the barge is prepared." A lower Maethor (approximately a lieutenant) announced with a low bow.

"I take my leave then." Marthion placed a palm upon his heart and dismissed himself from the bridge.

With a streamlined dance of orders and actions, a barge was ready in the hold of the Blacktide for the Inquisitor, which he boarded without delay. Joining him, a troop of Rondirs were armed with elegant Elvish armor and weaponry as they prepared to escort the Inquisitor to the tower before them.

Like a white glint, it traveled the space between the belly of the Blacktide and the Tamberan Voidhold, oriented in a fashion that it could find the opening to the harbor at the top of the tower with little delay.

The black void of stars soon melted away to black stone as the tower engulfed them and the barge found a mooring. A welcoming party awaited their arrival as promised by the authorities of what was regarded as a ramshackle by the Elvish crew.

Disembarking the barge after it safely moored to the side of the rock amidst a magical field that kept the vacuum of the void at bay, Marthion exited first. He imposed himself on the welcoming party, much taller than their captain of the guard in his mundane red cap and his rotund body.

"Welcome, milord, to the Tamberan Voidhold, I am Captain Larbund, and I bring welcome from the Castellan, who is at this time otherwise occupied. He is most disturbed by these findings and wishes to express his full sup--" The captain gulped, as he looked up at the elf who loomed over him with a blank expression of disgust.

Bringing a cloth to his nose, Marthion took a whiff of the perfume he had laid upon it, a welcome distraction from the stench of these mortals.

"Enough pleasantries. Your report, captain." Marthon's guard, wielding their glowing sabers and spears encircled the small contingent of tower guards on the wharf, standing at attention as they collectively imposed themselves.

"Y-yes...after our initial report to you, milord, we uncovered a lab of sorts in the catacombs of the tower. It is a den of dark magic." The captain emphasized his find as if to take credit for a great deed.

"So, you have contaminated the scene with your filth."

The captain turned his eyes downward.

"What of the mage?"

"We found no such mage when we searched, it was abandoned."

"No doubt your clumsy nature alerted him."

The captain sputtered and tried to protest the harsh criticism of his work, but the Elvish Inquisitor simply raised his hand dismissively.

"What other news?"

"My men have discovered some of the mage's associates had visited an inn on the port level of the tower, the 'Board and Bard' as it is known. They are raiding the establishment to bring these vermin to justice as we speak."

A huff of his nose, Marthion knew it was his only lead.

"Take me."

Myla lay coated in sweat and cum, panting and exhausted on the bed as she clutched her new necklace. She had fallen asleep after their latest bout, the girl had been run through dozens of times, as Isaen tested just how far the potion of vitality would take him.

Isaen had noted that each time he came inside her, the necklace flashed green once more. He wasn't sure if that was extra points by any means, but if it were, then he was far ahead of the game with Myla.

She was a good lass, submissive, strong, and with her own energy. It was a shame he couldn't keep her; she would make a good woman to have around, no doubt. As he watched her sleep, still panting and murmuring lewd things, he wondered if he'd ever see any of these girls again during this job. Cicero's words about an empire, where he would be the forefather of, seemed so far-fetched and unrealistic. He didn't know what it meant, how that would look, or if he wanted to be a part of it.

Such a thing would most likely be way above his penchant for political intrigue. He was a simple wanderer, not a court-player. He pictured his mage children infighting and vying for some magical throne they would create. Such a world would be terrifying, as these magical beings held power and sway over the void.

Shaking his head, he stroked Myla's hair while listening to the soothing sound of her breath. Returning to reality, he felt it best not to think much of it, rather enjoy what he could before inevitably they tossed him out for being useless. He watched her sleeping in the nude next to him, her breasts and hips of particular interest as he ran his fingers along them.

He wanted to be as quiet as possible, letting her sleep all of this off in a rare vein of kindness from a normally cold man. But as he gave her some time, a different noise from outside of the room awoke her.

Many footsteps, hard ones, metal ones, began to sound against the floorboards of the Board and Bard as some shouting slipped through the cracks in the floor. Isaen's interest was piqued, instinct said to put his pants back on. Myla sat up; her face concerned as she pulled a sheet of the bed to cover her form.

"Isaen?"

It was the first time she had called him by name.

Lacing up his trousers, he cupped her chin in his hand and brought her face close enough to kiss softly. Their lips played a moment, Myla, to his surprise, very respectful to the affection.

"Fret not lass, it is time we part."

The sounds of hard footfalls came up the stairs of the inn. Several pairs of feet no less, and the clattering of chainmail sounded just outside their door.

Isaen had gathered his newfound horde of trinkets and donned his cloak. There were no windows in this room to escape, so his choices were few.

"Lass, which side of the room faces the street?" He stroked her dark black hair one last time.

Myla gripping her necklace in one hand and pointing with another, pointed to the wall perpendicular to the fireplace.

"Thank you, beautiful... for everything."

Myla swallowed nervously, as she watched Isaen pull out a contraption from his sack. Something blue and glowing was in a tube-like metal cylinder he inspected.

A fierce rapping on the door made Myla jump.

"Open up! By dictate of the Castellan!" a guard's raspy voice shouted, as he continued to bash on the door. There was little patience for either of the occupants to open the entryway, the guards seemed to be shoving themselves against it to force the barrier open.

Grabbing the purse of gold, Isaen looked at it one last time before tossing it to the girl bashfully covering herself with the bedsheet.

"Keep that close, lass, I wouldn't show them ya have it, either. Lawmen can be as much a thief as any."

The gold sack jingled into the lap of the naked girl, still spoiled from the fucking she had been dealt.

Myla nodded to Isaen, watching him cross the room and raise the odd-looking metal tube level with the ground, pointing it towards the wall adjacent to the street.

Before Myla could ask where he intended to go, a massive blast rocked the room. The girl screamed as the wall to which she had pointed, disappeared in a blue flash.

"Discreet, indeed." Isaen looked at the handcannon and the hole it had made in the Inn's wall, as he holstered it and looked back to Myla one last time.

A nod to the girl and a running start preempted the sudden entry of a half dozen guardsmen in red caps. Each was as surprised as the next to find half the room gone and a nude girl, blushing, on the bed. Isaen had cleared the opening and landed on an outcropping of rock that ran across the top of a herb merchant's emporium.

"Halt! Halt!" the guards cried from the opening, too intimidated, by the gap Isaen had cleared, to follow.

But Isaen had no intention of stopping, not until he was on a ship off this blasted rock.​