“So about sleeping in that bed tonight...” I said. “Your place or mine?”
“Yours. Your room’s warmer.” Suri’s high heels struck the floor as she sashayed ahead. “Is your big black dragon buttplug old enough for me to do naughty things to you without traumatizing her?”
“She should be. Admittedly, I’m not thinking very clearly right now, because I’m mesmerized by dat ass.”
Suri laughed, and put a little extra sway into her walk. It was only when she almost stumbled on one of her heels that I realized she wasn’t just in a good mood. She was drunk.
The Writing Room was a small parlor off-side the Grand Hall, where the Raven Throne brooded at the end of the cathedral-like chamber. The court was bustling: nobles and other courtiers were gathered round large trestle tables, picking at finger food and drinking in celebration of the Dark Moon Festival. Many people curtsied or bowed to us on our way to the parlor door, which was guarded by a pair of heavily armored knights of the Order of the Dragon, Vlachia’s Kingsguard.
“His Majesty awaits.” The one on the right gave us a short nod, then opened the door ahead.
Ignas was seated in the same overstuffed scarlet armchair that his younger brother had once occupied. Andrik had a habit of putting his feet up with a bottle of wine and a glass alongside his elbow, but Ignas did not. He had both feet on the floor, a glass of water resting in one hand and an open letter in the other. He looked up as we entered, smiled, and set both down on a table next to his seat before standing. “Welcome, lord and lady. Veela’s Grace, Suri: you are a vision of loveliness tonight.”
“Thank you.” She smiled back pleasantly as we bowed. “Can’t live in armor all the time.”
“Indeed.” The Volod motioned us to the seats he’d set up for us, a pair of gilt golden chairs he’d arranged on an angle to his own seat. “Please, sit. Do you want a drink?”
“Sure,” Suri said. “Slivovitz, if you’ve got it.”
“Same again,” I said.
“Naturally.” There were no servants here, so Ignas just went to the cabinet on the other side of the room and poured the drinks himself. “It’s late, so I won’t waste your time with pleasantries. If you’re wondering why I summoned you, the short answer is that I must ask for a great boon in order to obtain great reward. It has to do with the politics of the outer provinces.”
“Nothing like a bit of politics before bed. Gets the blood flowing.” While his back was turned, I let a hand hover over Suri’s leg and arched an eyebrow. She nodded. I rested it down, fighting the urge to work my fingers under the hem of her dress.
“It gets the bile flowing, more like it.” Ignas snorted, bringing back two little glasses of clear, sweet liquor. “But that is why we have liquor. Well, I’ll try to keep it as simple as possible. Your quest should update with the essential details after the fact.”
It was still weird to listen to NPCs - like Ignas - so readily fall into metagaming.
“I’ve only just realized how far Andrik let the Crown’s authority slip,” he continued, setting the glasses down on the small table between Suri and me. “Do you understand the essential structure of Vlachia? Politically, that is?”
“Something about Voivodes ruling provinces,” Suri recounted. She threw her slivovitz back like a shot.
“Yes. Eleven of our twelve provinces are ruled by a Voivode, save for this province. I am both the sovereign of Vlachia and the Voivode of Taltos, though the administrative role is relegated to my Castelleny, my governors.” Ignas resumed his seat, and had a sip of water. “A Voivode is a vassal the Crown appoints to administer the affairs of an individual province. They also serve as judges in the Royal Court. Every province is divided into counties, and every county has its own ruling lord: A Satrap, which is a rank equivalent to a Count. Voivodes are also Counts. This means that Satraps, while deferring to the Voivode as their governor, are not lower in terms of their peerage. This is important to know and understand.”
“Okay. So Provinces are ruled-“
“Governed.”
“Sorry, governed by Voivodes, who oversees counties run by Satraps,” I said. “Both have the rank of Count.”
He nodded. “Correct. The fact that the Voivode and his Satraps are peers is a vital balance against the Voivode’s power. There is a historical precedent of ambitious Voivodes bullying their Satraps into fealty, usurping the royal dues, and even fomenting rebellion against the Crown. The further the province from the capitol, the more readily this kind of rotten behavior sets in. My dynasty has endured for almost a thousand years because we manage our outer provinces firmly and fairly. Our airships link the East and West, and nothing commands loyalty from a Voivode quite like their monarch paying a friendly call with an armada of Hussar-class destroyers at his or her back.”
“Right.” Suri reached down and lay her hand over mine. A small thrill passed through my chest.
“Andrik rarely left Taltos, and he never did a royal tour of Myszno.” Ignas motioned toward the east. “Without strong central leadership, the regional nobility took on more and more authority. They’ve had five years to get used to it. The Voivode of Myszno, Lord Jozef Bolza, was a conservative loyalist and my father’s contemporary. He did the best job he could, despite retaining a strong dislike of my brother. But then the Demon attacked, and Andrik saw that as a chance to ‘get back’ at the Voivode who ‘snubbed’ him.”
I made a face. “Fuck. You said Lord Bolza is probably dead. Who’s in charge now?”
“Good question,” the Volod replied wryly. “The Satrap of Vastil County, Count Lorenzo Soma, has taken it upon himself to assume control of the province in Bolza’s absence.”
Suri’s eyebrows lifted. “Did he petition you before deciding he was taking charge?”
“Not a word,” Ignas said. “Apparently he nurses some conspiracy theory that I am in fact a doppelganger, bred by Mercurion organized criminals in a vat so that they might rule from the shadows.”
“You’re saying you weren’t?” I grinned at him.
He demurely rested a hand over his heart. “The vat is a private matter.”
Once we finished laughing, he made a gesture and continued. “Vastil County is currently the wealthiest county in Myszno. The Pass the county is named for is a major shipping route between Vlachia and Jeun. This is also somewhat confidential information, but our military airships are manufactured in Litvy’s hangars. Let us say that our young Lord Soma possesses a sense of entitlement beyond his station.”
“Ambitious, huh?” I sat back in my seat and drained the rest of my glass.
“Oh, it gets better. You see, when the Voivode fell, it was Bolza’s loyal Castellan, Captain Istvan Arshak, who took command of his lord’s banners. Captain Arshak is everything anyone could want in a military commander. He is competent, inspiring, brave and intelligent. His troops love him. There is one problem: he’s a bastard of mixed Yanik and Vlachian heritage, which means he shall never have Vlachian peerage. His father is a Yanik prince.”
“Who are the Yanik?” Suri asked.
“They are a native people who dwell in the Endlar. They are known to be fierce warriors and dinosaur tamers. However, in Vlachia, being the son of Yanik royalty is about as worthy as my title of ‘the King of Cats’.” The Volod made an irritable gesture. “Personally, I couldn’t give a rat’s arse if a man has foreign blood in his veins: once a knight has been sworn in, he’s been sworn in. Many of Myszno’s best cavalrymen and scouts are Yanik. However, a lot of the provincial noblemen have nothing better to do with their time than fuck their sisters and draw figure eights on their family trees, and Lord Soma in particular takes great offense to this ‘swamp rat’ taking control of ‘his’ army.”
“Then tell him to quit it, or you’ll bring down the royal hammer,” I said.
“I have. But there must be action to back up the royal decree. Provincial lords are masters at making messengers disappear in the woods, or accidentally dropping their parchments
in the kitchen hearth.” Ignas gave us a thin smile. “And that is where both of you come in. Your titles were, up to this point, an honorary peerage. But I rather fancy the idea of having immortal, loyal vassals in a strong position in Myszno, for reasons that should be obvious… and so I am considering extending that title into a true peerage, and specifically giving you the title of Count and Countess of Racsa, Voivode and Voivodzina of Myszno. This will establish you as a House and make you the reigning lord and lady of the province.”
I coughed as a slight pressure built behind my eyes. Suri blinked several times, as stupefied as I was.
Ignas waved his hand. “You will have to fight for the position, but if you succeed, then I will be glad to deed the ducal castle to you. You can either be Voivode and Voivodzina together, or one can rule and the other can willingly accept the position of Castellan or Castellana in its stead. The position comes with great responsibilities, of course, but provincial Voivodes reap most of the wealth of their domain, minus taxes and the king’s due. What do you say?”
“I...” I looked at Suri. “Uh... what kind of responsibilities?”
“A lot of rebuilding and replanting.” Ignas shrugged. “Resolving disputes, making appointments, acting as a judge for both local and national causes. You must deal with the Satraps and their intrigues. Your peers and subjects will both test you and reward you. The normal burdens and privileges of power, in other words.”
“I need a bonded spawn point,” Suri said. “I don’t wanna be a Vulvazela or whatever, but I need somewhere to revive when I die. I’d be happy to become Castellana of an estate. Count me in.”
[You have gained new Knowledge: Politics of Vlachia (C-grade)]
[Quest Updated: Unto Death]
Despite the urge to stand up and scream ‘yes!’, I hesitated. The AI was supposed to only offer quests within my capacity… but I didn’t feel capable of looking after two million people. Hell, I could barely take care of myself and Karalti.
Ignas cocked his head expectantly.
“I’ll need to think about it,” I stammered. “Your Majesty, I already have a lot of responsibility weighing on me, between Myszno, my duties to Matir, then Karalti and the Spear and now Rutha. I’ll think about it and make a decision after that.”
The Volod stood up from his seat. “As well you should. My father always said it was better to plan twice and act once. It can wait until the Demon has been defeated… but there is foolishness to be found in thinking too much, as well. Will I see the pair of you at the sendoff in the morning?”
I rose and saluted out of habit. To my surprise, so did Suri – in the Pacific Alliance style, with the straight right hand beside her eye, the left arm crossed in front of her torso. “Yes sir.”
“Good.” He gave us both a tired smile. “In light of this morning’s debacle, you have no idea how relieved I am to know we have our own Starborn to aid us.”
Chapter 9
The gravity of the Volod’s words hung over us as we walked back to my suite. When we entered, Suri locked the door as we fell on each other as soon as the bolt turned: me kissing her with my fingers woven through her hair, her hands roaming over my chest, sliding down my belly to my belt.
“So how was the festival?” I managed to gasp against her mouth.
“Good. Real good.” She was struggling to unbuckle it. Her breath was boozy and sweet. “I missed you.”
“You ready to hit that bed?” I stopped her for a moment. “I need a yes.”
“Yes. Less think. More naked.” She leaned against me, tugging my shirt out of my pants.
Suri’s dress was like a smooth second skin. I unhooked the straps over her shoulders, pressing her down onto the bed and straddling her hips. Despite being such a big woman, a Tank class who maxed out her Strength every level, she folded down easily beneath my weight. When I took her nipple in my mouth, she pressed her chest up against my lips. And when I accidentally pinned one of her wrists, she arched her back, moaning open-mouthed.
“You okay?” I looked up at her from just below her sternum.
Suri nodded, but she was tongue-tied, her face flushed with heat.
“Come on now, yay or nay?” I drummed my fingers on her trapped hand.
She nodded again, more vigorously this time. “More.”
I leaned up over her, caught her wrists, and put them over her head. She stared up at me, panting. I’d hardly even touched her, but her eyes were dark, her thighs were shaking... and not only with pleasure. There was something else there, too. Fear? Or just intensity? It was something I hadn’t seen before in my limited experience with women. She must have sensed my hesitancy, because she gasped: “I’m okay.”
I slid a hand down along the deep curves of her waist, her belly, and worked my hand under her dress. My fingers found soft skin, a short, soft dusting of hair... then a hot slickness that told me she was more than ready. I gently explored with my fingers, keeping her wrists to the bed with the other hand. Suri writhed, hips jerking when I slid one, then two fingers inside her. There was something about the way she was acting - something she was doing - that drove me nuts. It was the way the dark, predatory energy built in my muscles and my cock.
Jaws clenched, I roughly knocked her knees apart. She drew a sharp breath with a strange, heady cocktail of desire and apprehension as I knelt up between her legs and undressed. When I was nude, I crawled over her and leaned down to kiss her neck. She bared the side of her throat to me, hands loosely balled against my chest, and I bit down.
“Hector!” She gasped my name, arching, clawing weakly against my arms. Her voice was high-pitched and girlish, thrilling along my skin as I rubbed against the wetness clinging to the inside of her thighs. But as I did, I realized something. Suri did sound girlish. Young. And she was tense, despite her submissive body language. Very tense. And even though she was gasping, writhing and wet, there were moments where it felt a lot more like struggling.
“Look at me.” I backed off, grinding down the bestial urge to thrust into her. Instead, I caught her by the chin, gently guiding her face up. She was sweating now, shaking like a leaf. There were half-formed tears in her eyes. Her breath was shuddering, and still smelled heavy with liquor. “Suri... hang on. We need to slow down.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I d-don’t know what’s wrong.”
“It’s okay. Hey…” But my body was not in agreement with my head. The testosterone was pumping, and it took a moment to rein in the pure, bestial lust. My nostrils flared as I fought for control. Suri audibly flinched at the sound. That alone told me that I was making the right choice.
I backed up, put her legs together, and rolled to the side. I gathered the woman into my arms and pulled her into a tight embrace.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She kept chanting it as she buried her head against my chest. “I’m sorry, Hector, I thought I could do it. It’s been so long, I thought...”
“Hey now. You don’t owe me shit.” I rocked her a little, trying not to rub against her skin. The slightest touch was like a shock that lit up my nerves. “Was it the pressing you down, was it the biting...?”
Suri shook her head, and a small, high sob tore from her throat. The sound was an instant boner-killer. I was grateful for that. For several minutes, I just held her, feeling her silently weep against my chest. After a while, she shook her head and leaned away enough to sniff and dash at her eyes. “Hector, I’m so sorry. Please… it’s not you.”
“It’s okay.” At a loss, I reached up to stroke her hair, her neck, her shoulders. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. Hang on... I’m going to put my pants on, okay?”
“No... no. Please, don’t.” She clasped my arm, pressing her nails in.
“It’s okay.” I felt like a broken record, but those words were the best I had. “You’re safe with me, alright?”
Suri’s eyes reddened, and she nuzzled at me urgently. “It’s so frustrating. Hector. I was a hundred and ten percent into it. Everything
felt amazing, but then... then I... I flashed back to those motherfucking Architects dragging me down to the Hole when I was a girl, and... it just...”
I kissed her. Her cheeks, her neck, the backs of her hands. “It’s okay.”
“I thought I was stronger than this.” The muscles of her jaws bunched as she ground her teeth. “I thought... we’d already fooled around, right? Maybe if I just had a drink, I could relax enough to go through with it. I wouldn’t think about those bastards or that place. But I can smell it. I can smell the room where they used to torture us.”
I was cooling off now. The frustration and the blue balls were under control. “That’s what trauma does, right?”
“Yeah. I guess.” Suri sniffed, and looked up at me again. “It’s just fucking humiliating. And frustrating. I’m rearing to go, and so are you.”
“Then we cool off and try again. That’s the first time we tried all clothes off… we just have to go a bit slower.” I pressed my lips to her forehead - a gentle, chaste kiss. She shuddered, some of the tension leaving her body. “And right now, we’re stressed. We just came out of a meeting with a king about the biggest quest either of us have ever taken.”
“I know. And I don’t know about you, but I’m scared shitless. I don’t want to die and go back to Al-Asad, Hector. I can’t.”
“Then you should stay here,” I said. “The game system doesn’t know that you can’t set a respawn point, and we’ve been given a quest where we can expect to die at least once. Probably more than once. I’ll go and you can join us when we retake the castle.”
She lifted her head, the muscles of her jaws working. “No. I can’t do that, either. Even if I was chickenshit enough to skip a quest where my friends are at risk, the quest could switch up and exclude me from the reward, and then nothing changes. Andrik promised me a title and land in return for catching Kanzo. Once we threw in with Ignas, nothin’ ever came of it.”
Kingdom Come Page 9
