They had just completed yet another match of Valor Ball, a popular sport generally reserved for training NHA fleet personnel on how to effectively move within zero gravity. But for Trent, it had become an integral part of his rehabilitation; a way for his healing muscles to gradually regain their strength, since Valor Ball itself was, or was suppose to be, quite the simple game. On the surface, Valor Ball played like many of the sports of Earth. It required those participating to attempt to knock a prismatic ball, called the “valor”, past an opponent into varying sized “goals” worth points. But he’d come to learn it wasn’t without its “painful” challenges.
Valor Ball matches took place within a zero gravity arena shaped like an elongated octagon. The floor and walls were padded, thankfully, while being “rippled” to allow easier maneuvering within the zero-g environment. Though the ceiling didn’t share this same consideration, being smooth and transparent, allowing the audience seated above to clearly view the match taking place, while also providing those with little zero-g experience a painful lesson on momentum. But that painful lesson in no way matched another provided to players of Valor Ball.
The Valor Ball arena, much like a volleyball or tennis court, was split into two identical halves. But instead of a net separating the two sides, eight, half meter diameter rounded pillars, with two meters separating each, were lined, floor to ceiling, across the center. If, during the course of play, the “valor” struck one of these rounded pillars, it would erupt in blue flame. If a player chose to touch the “valor” in this state they would experience, or so had been inaccurately described to him as, an intense, but fleeting shock.
So the first time Donnlie ricocheted a shot off one of the central pillars, Trent didn’t think twice, already in constant pain, and returned the “valor” bathed in blue flame. The expected shock never materialized, nor was he burned. Instead, the flame itself seemed pass from “the valor” to his hand, seeping through his pours to transform his blood into river of searing magma that sent such debilitating pain through every inch of his flesh, he still couldn’t fathom how he’d stayed conscious.
“Sir Trent? Can you stand?” Donnlie questioned, pulling him clear of his thoughts.
“I think,” he nodded, trying to step forward, allowing the boy at his side, with reddish brown hair and freckles so dense you could hardly discern his true complexion, to support his weight. But the piercing pain returned, stronger than before, attacking his every muscle, forcing him back to one knee.
“Sir Trent? Sir Trent?” Donnlie's concerned queries sounded distant, muffled, being overwhelmed by a feeling of distress that flowed relentlessly into his mind, born from a person who he shared a special bond, and a special love: the Grand Duchess Sasha Alutia.
He glanced towards the arena entry, his pain forgotten at the sight of the woman hurrying through at the fore of a small group. She appeared like a goddess riding upon a wave of red roses, her informal silk gown ruffling at her feet while highlighting her 183 cm tall, hourglass figure. Wings of silky, jet black hair fluttered alongside, like she may fly into his arms at any moment, while also swaying over her partially exposed cleavage and shoulders; drawing his gaze for a moment, before they were pulled away by her emerald eyes, that pierced his very soul. They shined vibrantly under slender brows that matched perfectly her flowing nose, gentle jaw, and her soft, luscious lips of a gentle pink hue that beckoned constantly for his touch. A goddess even the master artists of Earth would have been powerless to recreate. But even beyond her stunning beauty, stood a woman of great strength, of warmth and kindness, of intelligence and wisdom, and of such depths of love he still thought himself, on occasion, stuck in an everlasting dream.
“My duke, are you alright?” Sasha kneeled at his side, wiping free the sweat pouring from his brow. “You were ever so brave. I still do not know what Medical Officer Quo'Moy is thinking, forcing you to endure such a sport in your current state,” she gushed, embracing him tenderly. He smiled, letting her rose scented perfume ease his mind as he rested his head upon her bosom.
“I was thinking, Your Grace, that he needed an intense workout so I could properly monitor how his system repairs have progressed...and I must say, I am quite pleased with the results. The pain should start subsiding before we reach Alutia'Earth...if, and only if, Sir Trent continues to follow my rehabilitation schedule precisely,” Medical Officer Quo'Moy responded as he kneeled opposite Sasha, studying a palm sized medical PDU displaying a projection of Trent with his vitals listed alongside. Sasha partially released him, turning to Quo'Moy, her expression pained.
“I understand...but is there no other exercise that would be less painful to Sir Trent?” she asked honestly. Trent couldn’t help but blush as a certain “exercise” came to mind, being glad Sasha’s salacious lady-in-waiting, Vickie, wasn't present.
“Oh my, Your Grace,” a familiar, sultry voice floated from the arena entry, “I can think of one such exercise that would fit that description perfectly, along with being ever so pleasurable. In fact, I'd be more than happy to monitor Sir Trent personally for the good doctor during this particular exercise,” Trent glanced over his shoulder, finding who he expected, Lady Vickie, sauntering closer, a mischievous smirk flashing across lips freshly dampened. She was flanked by a blushing Tiana and a confused Regalia, Sasha's other two ladies-in-waiting.
Vickie was the definition of sensuality, both in appearance and manners, and she was quite clearly aware of this fact. Her swaying hips and roaming hands drew the gaze of all those present to her feminine curves that begged to be set free of the wispy purple gown that strained to contain them. The gown itself seemed to implore the thigh length brunette braid that hung across her bosom to assist should it fail in its task. Her gaze fell upon him, revealing eyes that burned with an amethyst blaze, seeming made for the sharp features that provided her a menacing look, like a predator always on the hunt, and he her helpless prey.
Tiana, though just as gorgeous as Vickie, had little of the same sensual beauty. She stood tense, almost ridged, running her fingers through her wavy, almost curly blond hair that contrasted exotically with her olive skin. Her soft features and button nose matched impeccably her large, baby blue eyes that sat under curving lashes which she would bat innocently to hide the playfully devious woman living within. This look was made all the more potent by her pouty lips, which seemed to be created just for the trained pouts she had so mastered.
Regalia, the youngest of the three ladies, hid partially behind Vickie’s hip. She looked like a porcelain doll, her straight blond hair, silky soft skin, and grey, crystal clear eyes a sight to behold, while her mannerisms and speech told of a worldliness that in no way matched her tender 10 years of age.
Sasha glared up at Vickie, the crowd of Tidelia nobles and ABF officers seated above the Valor Ball arena breaking into a sea of chuckles and whispers.
“That has already been taken into consideration, Lady Vickie,” Quo’Moy responded first, “and is a major component of Sir Trent’s rehabilitation schedule. The Program that accompanies Grand Duchess Sasha was kind enough to offer to monitor Sir Trent during these periods of activity and is the reason I found that he could, indeed, begin his formal rehabilitation. I do appreciate your offer, however, and if I deem direct supervision is required, I will contact you first, Lady Vickie,” Quo'Moy replied seriously, having not sensed the playful humor in Vickie's offer. Laughter erupted throughout the arena as Quo'Moy's expression turned to confusion, or what Trent thought was confusion. He still having difficulty reading the man who looked to have not eaten a meal in years.
Sasha's nails dug into his shoulders. “Medical Officer Quo'Moy,” she growled through clenched teeth, “I would appreciate discretion when discussing Trent's rehabilitation in front of a crowd!” She barely kept from shouting, having flushed a dark crimson, almost the exact color as her gown.
“Of course, Your Grace, but since you asked me directly about other methods, I thought it only prudent to respond in
kind.” No humor or rancor touched Quo'Moy's words. Sasha noticed this as well, letting a muffled grunt of frustration escape her lips as she stood, pulling Trent to his feet alongside her. He winced, his sore muscles complaining about the unexpected movement.
“We are leaving, Sir Trent. I've had enough of this company,” she grabbed Trent's hand with a huff, flicking her hair over her shoulder before storming out of the Valor Ball arena. Trent pushed himself to keep up, but the pain was just too great.
“Sasha...please...” he pleaded, voice ragged. Sasha froze just outside the entry, turning to him with sudden concern, obvious by both her expression and the feelings leaking through their special bond.
“Oh Trent! I'm so sorry, I let my frustration get to me,” she apologized, moving back to his side to slide an arm around his waist, supporting his weight.
“I don't mind, my love,” he wheezed, “I know you were just concerned about m-,” Sasha didn't let him finish, leaning in to plant a kiss upon his chapped lips. After a moment, a polite cough rose from behind. Sasha pulled away and Trent turned to find the entire room had followed them out, plus Alutia Guard Commander Usa'Pol, who was currently their lone escort as Alutia Guard Captain Seb'Losh was off-duty.
“I am sorry, Your Grace. I did not mean to offend,” apologized Quo'Moy with a bow, his words filled with honest remorse, the rest of the small crowd nodding their agreement. Trent looked to Sasha, who stood tall, preparing to respond.
“It is alright,” he stated clearly before she could speak, knowing he was responsible, “Grand Duchess Sasha is just very concerned for my well being. She is not angry with any of you,” he paused, trying to catch his breath, glancing to the still grinning Vickie. “Well...maybe angry at Lady Vickie, but that's nothing new,” a round of laughter broke the tension as Vickie feigned a look of shock.
“Sir Trent has spoken true,” Sasha looked to him with eyes that would melt any man. “I am not mad and must apologize for my actions that made it appear that way. But for now, if you will excuse us, we must return to our apartment,” Sasha curtsied as he tried to bow, but had little luck. They turned, exiting into the main concourse of the recreation complex and started the short trip to the transport tube station that would deliver them to their private apartment onboard the NHA Super-Capital ABF Alutia.
Sasha's private starship, the NHA Shuttle ABF Princess One, had been destroyed when the majority of the Alutia Guard, Sasha’s personal protectors, had turned traitor, attempting an assassination. This heinous act was ordered by none other than the Duke of Hulk'Zif, Duke Zehman, who had planted the majority of the founding members of the Alutia Guard, taking their friends and family hostage as to guarantee the planted guards loyalty. But the assassination attempt was thwarted by Sasha's 10 year old lady-in-waiting, Regalia, who, due to growing up within hostile NHA noble courts, had learned to easily detect the slightest of changes in behavior. However, during the ensuing struggle to regain control from the traitorous Alutia Guards, the starship itself was destroyed. So for the time being, the flagship of the Alutia Battle Fleet, the 40 km long, Super-Capital Class starship, the ABF Alutia, would have to suffice for the journey to their new home. He didn't mind, of course, except that it was enormous, housing 80,000 and all the amenities they required, like a small city, and even a short trip through its interior seemed to take an eternity.
Trent continued to shuffle slowly down the busy concourse, unable to move much faster than a crawl. Sasha didn't appear to mind, seeming to actually enjoy supporting him, based on the feeling of joyous content leaking through their bond. Eventually, they reached a transport tube station and after a short ride within a tube transport, a device similar to an elevator, but able to move independently amongst the transport tubes that weaved throughout the entire starship, arrived at their destination.
Two Alutia Battle Fleet, or ABF Battleguards, the standard fleet and ground soldier of the NHA, stood at attention outside their apartment’s entrance. They saluted in unison, crossing their arms before their chest, before sliding open the door with a bow. Trent nodded his thanks, allowing Sasha to lead him into the entry of their apartment’s lone noble sitting room.
A noble sitting room, as it had been explained to him, was a place for noble ladies and gentlemen to lounge, socialize, work, and, when formal dining was not required, dine. As such, sitting rooms were generally designed to accommodate each of these functions. To the left and right of the entry, beyond half-walls with exotic flowers lining their carved lips stood two seating areas. In the center of each could be found a low, black oval table with a mirror shine, similar to a coffee table, with a semi-spherical, particle display unit, or PDU, sunk into its core. A single, crimson, oversized couch of modest design, and two cushioned chairs, similar in size and make to loveseats, encircled both. Though Trent would have never guessed it, these seating areas were meant for work, a place to hold informal meetings or discussions when privacy wasn’t an issue.
Beyond the entryway, down a short stone walkway, stood a much larger seating area set upon thick carpets of crimson with embroidered black vines swirling along its edge. Upon the rugs center stood another low oval table of black, similar to the others, but of a much larger size. On one side of this table curved two of the oversized couches, while four of the loveseats lined the other. He’d learned this seating area was considered a place to lounge and socialize about matters of little consequence. Though Trent had found most conversations held within still revolved around important matters of state.
The stone walkway split when it reached the lounge area, flowing around it like a river to intersect two small dining areas set to both sides. The one on the left held a rectangular dining table, ten high-back chairs running down its sides, while to the right stood a circular dining table, surrounded by six chairs of modest make.
The curving walls of the sitting room were painted a gentle crimson, with black trim running along the edge of a slightly domed ceiling. A jewel encrusted Alutia Crest, rose vines wrapped around tiara with a red rose blooming on its three peaks, at the ceiling’s crown. Three additional doors adjoined the room, one to the left that led to his and Sasha's private bedchamber, and two on the right, one leading to Sasha's ladies-in-waiting's bedchamber and the other, to the servant quarters, workrooms, and kitchen areas.
Countess Liana, the lone noble who didn't witness his embarrassment, sat upon one of the couches in the lounge area, quietly sipping Etique, a sweet, aromatic beverage from Planet Tidelia, capital of the Tidelia Earldom in which Countess Liana ruled. The older woman, who looked almost identical to Tiana, but with dark brown skin and the piercing eyes of a ruler, had decided to accompany Sasha back to Alutia'Earth, along with the majority of the nobles who had initially accompanied her from Tidelia, to help with the particulars of forming Alutia’s new administration. The countess, Trent had found, was very kind, but also very stubborn, having become extremely overprotective of Sasha and Tiana since her arrival. This fact was driven home by the presence of 12 of her Tidelia Guard's standing at attention against the walls, Gil'Da and Til'Ma, Sasha's servants, working quietly around their ranks.
“My dearest Sasha, how did the match go? Did your future husband send your heart aflutter with his athletic skill?” Liana asked, a slight bit of mocking in her tone. But Trent sensed only honesty as gentle warmth flowed from the Eye of the Emperor, telling him of her kind soul.
“He was most dashing, Liana. It was a shame he lost, but he tried his very best,” Sasha explained honestly, and Trent couldn’t help but smile. He had lost...horribly. The final score had been twenty-one to one, his lone point when he struck the flame engulfed “valor”, which Donnlie had not dared to block.
“That is well to hear, dear...but you do look awful, Sir Trent, and I believe I can smell you from across the room,” she covered her nose, waving her hand to repel the stink.
He blushed his embarrassment. “I'm sorry, Countess Liana, I will bath right away.” He tried to pull himself free of Sasha
's grasp, but she wouldn't release him.
“I must freshen up as well. If you'll excuse me, Liana, I'll join you shortly for our promised chat,” Sasha's voice seemed to tremble ever so slightly.
Liana's eyes narrowed as she sipped her beverage, a smirk appearing on her noble lips. “Very well...I'm sure my daughter will be arriving at any moment...but do not take too long, my dear,” Liana placed her empty cup on the table, waving Gil'Da over. Sasha sighed, then turned her attention to Alutia Guard Commander Usa'Pol.
“Could you see to it that we are not disturbed?” Sasha asked more than commanded.
“Of course, Your Grace,” Usa’Pol responded with a salute.
Sasha nodded to Countess Liana, who nodded ever so slightly back, before leading Trent into the bedchamber. As the door slid shut behind him, he caught a glimpse of Tiana entering the sitting room, her eyes narrowing as she noticed their escape.
Trent allowed Sasha to escort him into their bathchamber, where she unceremoniously stripped off his sweaty jumpsuit, forcing him into the shower room within. She dropped her gown, allowing it to pool on the floor, before quickly removing her undergarments. Trent’s heart raced as she moved to the wash basin, allowing Terra, her pet catillian, to hop to the counter while she tapped the simulate rainfall icon from the list of shower room settings being projected by the adjacent PDU. Warm water started trickling from tiny holes hidden in the shower room’s ceiling while a gentle mist rose from below.
With eyes of a lioness ready to pounce on her prey, Sasha leapt into the shower, embracing him fully and stealing a deep, passionate kiss. Their bond ripped open as Sasha's bracelet, the Arm of the Emperor, transmitted her emotions of love and lust to his chocker, the Eye of the Emperor, which fed it directly into his mind. His own passion came ablaze, jolted free of its slumber by Sasha's yearning, the pain and exhaustion of moments before vanishing without a trace. He pressed his lips to her, kissing her like a long lost lover finally reunited, enjoying the double sensation of her contact through his skin and through their bond.
The Noble Petty, Complete Edition (Alutia Rising Series, Book 2) Page 3
