Готовый перевод Его не звали, но он приперся / They never called, yet he is here: Маленькая слабость

Six days after the finale of Operation Misty.
* * *

The first thought I could think of when I came out of my feverish delirium was the usual regret for my stupidity. It would have been better for me to stay in the Eternal, to wait out the worst effects of my overstrain, and only then to go away. I wouldn't have had to risk leaving the city, and I wouldn't have had to risk being seen by the guards and the many vigilantes at the same time. Honestly, we'd almost gotten into trouble several times in a row!

Alas, but the eared tyrant of our group, who had taken upon herself the maintenance of all the disguises from all the third eyes and other bullshit, only having found out what exactly I had encountered in that ritual hall, right next to the snow-white altar, immediately drove us away from the capital, and almost with kicks. She would have kicked us too, but the rest of the group obeyed her willingly, and the only one who was against it was in a state of inkickness. A couple of kicks is enough to get me off to Valhalla. If, of course, they take the bedridden sick.

The frantic gathering, the rapid wiping of traces, and the minimal participation of my soul chewed up by my efforts proved successful. Fortune itself and His Majesty Random were on our side that evening and morning. The payment for the opportunity to activate the laid schemes and mechanisms of concealing traces, bringing mirror blanks to the desired state, was a sharply worsened condition. They took me out of the Eternal, already lying down, preparing to feed possible interested people a story about a sick relative who wanted to see his hometown before his death. It was not necessary because, despite all the fuss my performance had caused, I managed to get out of the city without any problems.

With some reservations, we managed to get a fair distance away from the capital despite the need to keep a relatively low pace. After a couple of weeks, when I had regained the ability to think without the risk of bursting like an overripe tomato, it was decided to stop in Charmkrond, a small town that was perceptibly off the beaten paths of trade and the main roads, but close enough to them that the appearance of strangers would not arouse suspicion. There were a couple of inns, a few inns, a few manufactories to feed the town, and Tia had found a convenient place to put me on my feet.

The small estate, owned by a small but wealthy noble House, had been visited by its owners only a handful of times in this century and was a suitcase without a handle. It was guarded by a trio of guards, whose families were servants who kept watch over the house and garden. One topless walk performed by a satisfied dancer was enough to ensure their loyalty and non-interference in our affairs. Then, however, we'd have to fill the pantries with food. There were supplies here, but there were more eaters, and a sudden purchase of food might be a clue no one needed. Not for any of us, I mean.

After getting settled into their new place, the team finally got to work on their commander's health.

It was bad but bearable. I was much more worried that this " bearable" would last for two or three months. The help in escaping, minimal participation in hiding the group, and other trifles, otherwise as natural as breathing, hit the body and shell with the force of a war hammer. The alchemical intoxication, barely within the non-life-threatening limits, was preventing me from taking new stimulant compounds, which would speed up my return to normalcy. In fact, right now, I could be slaughtered by a couple or three capital city guards at about level twenty without much trouble.

While the others slept on soft beds after the road, he had to sleep on the hard floor of the attic room, inside a ritual circle that was complicated to the point of headache, with only the name of the circle. An intricate and constantly updated figure, supplemented with new details, the whole complex of rituals was even more sophisticated than the camouflage scheme in the basement. Lying in that construct, especially in this helpless state, was a little unsettling, but if Tia wanted to do me harm, she could do it at any time, with no need for elaborate plans or clever tricks.

"Are you okay now?" Tia asks, reconfiguring my healing ritual. "Any headaches or back pain?"

A ritualist at work is a funny sight, even if it is an elf. The rolled up sleeves, bare feet, paint-stained shirt, and simple cloth pants borrowed from the local servants, hair tied back in a tight bun. She only lacked glasses to fit the "mad scientist" template. She occasionally used a special enchanted monocle from her stock, though, so the glasses weren't really necessary. According to Tia, she knew how to work the lines of the ritual even without the enhancing glass, checking only the most complicated knots with it. Any good mage could do it, even me, if I ever wanted to learn ritualism at a good level.

"A little tingling in my temples and a weird numbness," I complained, hoping the safety circuits would keep me from being fried in my juices. "It's like it's not my body that's numb. It's my brain. Thinking slower."

Her ritual had been having similar effects quite often lately. His mind, exhausted by the mirror battle, needs rest but can't get it because of the same mental traumas. That's why the elf tries different approaches to put me into a healing trance. In another situation, I could use such a method myself. Luckily, there is nothing complicated in it, nothing at all. But now I had to rely on outside help because I could injure myself with meditative relaxation. Taria had even offered her tits as help, and the fact Tia hadn't dismissed that option but had begun to make calculations with her gifted skill in mind was more than telling. Hopefully, if I'm going to be hypnotized by Taria's tits, someone will make sure she doesn't get too carried away with me temporarily in her power. Cause I know her too well, yeah.

In spite of my amusement and relaxation, I was a little nervous. It was unusual to find myself so powerless that I needed someone else's help even to meditate. Taria's comments about what she would have done to me if she'd been allowed to participate kept popping into my head.

At some point, I realized that consciousness had completely floated away, just a little more, and even awareness would disappear. The reflexive desire to resist, to break control, to throw off another's will... didn't occur to me. First, I trusted Tia enough, and second, that only works in the movies. In my case, I just hovered at the edge of self-consciousness, and after one eternity, I ceased to exist at all.

It was a strange state. There was no clear moment when I began to realize myself. I realized that I was still sitting in the ritual circle, sitting in a lotus-like posture, and Tia was sitting opposite me in a similar posture. My memory is empty. There are no traces of memories, thoughts, or decisions. And the general feeling is that I can't quite tell if I'm dreaming or awake. And it's me, someone whose class requires me to always keep track of such aspects.

"Sorry, not tonight," I reply, along with a slap on my thigh to move my legs and cover my tantalizing pгssy, getting to my feet and getting ready to leave. "That's a tempting offer, though."

"Sleep." Not ordering, but asking is no longer Mistress Tia.

And I'm falling asleep.

"Daaaaaaaamn...." I stretched out, simultaneously yawning widely and stretching in bed, barely suppressing a burst of laughter. "That's how I know I've been fucked."

The elf worked clearly within the framework of the practice of eared Seductress and Hypnomancers, for whom instilling foot fetish in pathetic 'ummies had already become a professional trait, a proverb and a racial stereotype. Because it is necessary to seduce somehow, and to overpower oneself every time to give foreigners access to elven body is not very desirable, but it is needed - the basis of control. So, yes, elves are considered the legislators of this fetish, and the image of elven fetishist has also become almost generally accepted in narrow circles (and there is a share of truth in it, though much less than it is considered among aristocrats with xenophilia symptoms), but it is better not to hint at it aloud. In general, Tia would have limited herself to feet and pussy licking as a special reward. Still, Taria happened, and her ideas showed an unbelievable rate of control improvement. At the terminal stage, I could use almost two-thirds of my power without jeopardizing the bookmarks.

And also knowledge.

A lot of knowledge. Tia wasn't kidding when she threatened to cram the basic minimum of an elite Eternal Forest liquidator into me for the last two and a half years, and she managed to fulfill her threat. This knowledge and skills. Potions with mirror artifacts are really useful, but, bitch, couldn't she ask me to sit down to the textbooks!!!? I would have talked off and not sat down. Sure. She could have asked... one more time. She already tried to teach me, but every time I found the task more important - no kidding more important - and more interesting. Apparently, when I'd nearly gone to the coffin after getting into a duel against the cultists in the Eternal Library's ritual hall, instead of quietly leaving with the information I'd already captured, she'd gotten serious. All those odes to human stupidity, as well as licking elven feet, were very helpful in controlling me, of course, but they weren't so necessary that I couldn't do without them.

The lesson came out amazingly demonstrative and effective but kick-ass hard.

Just for a moment.

For a brief second, I wanted to create a realistic fake of my body, make a noose out of the sheets, and hang it by the neck on the bar to evaluate the result. The Soul of Mocker, released after a long, long respite, gives out the most impactful idea possible, but alas, it is also excessive. Seeing such a result, Tia will simply break down in an instant if, of course, the moulage can convince her, if not going mad, then definitely going into depression. But she won't be allowed to fall into it - she'll be attacked the second it happens, and she won't fight back. Otherwise, I'd torture her for a couple of minutes, hours, twenty-four hours. She and I were too tightly mind-melded at work, so I'd gotten to know her pretty well.

She's not that into me, though she's decent too. I'm too imbued with planar power, making banal questioning of truthful answers under hypnosis even more effective. She wouldn't hesitate to create a simulation of my release (leaving hard bookmarks for no harm, no escape attempts, truthful answers, and, of course, instant trance triggers) to test how I'd behave in certain situations, but her control was too fragile for that (although it was a very cool and high-quality control - I created it myself and hung it on myself). She did not make it more rigid, almost permanent, acting in my best interest, even from her point of view, and not giving me the right to choose. She was also satisfying her ego, getting back at me for the excitement she had experienced when she thought that I would die when I escaped from the Eternal.

In any case, she would accept any response I gave her without even trying to resist, perhaps excluding only a request or even a plea not to touch her memory of her lover. If I had worked with that part of her personality, I would have been able to respond nicely, but that was too much even for me. What she had done, of course, made me vulnerable, but not to that extent. I'm still seriously considering whether to kill her or to caress her with a ring, but I can't even think about that side of it. I realized her confession too well when she asked to join my team.

The option of elections is wide.

And something has to be done...

"Tis such a problem, and this is only the first time I've gotten any sleep." I groaned under my breath and got out of bed, grabbing the clothes carefully left by the eared dictator, getting dressed, and going downstairs to solve conflicts in the team.

I wish I knew what decision I'd make.

* * *
Author's Notes:

Hooray, the gestalt is closed, and the hentai is written. It was not exactly what I wanted to write, or, to be more precise, not at all, but that's just the trifles.

I would have posted the dice. There were about 30 rolls, but I lost somewhere a sheet with records, and without them only in memory, without clear numbers, I will say. A couple of throws for Tin to break control did not pass, but they had a minimal chance. Tia has all the bonuses, starting from attacking at the moment of vulnerability, ending over uped (compared to the original) skill of Hypnosis and Seduction.

Tia rolled high, but Taria rolled even higher to join the fun. Hestia and Ygra also have over 50, but not as high as Taria does

Also, by the will of the spell of AU-ness in this world, the team doesn't have the threat from the Google-altar. Or they just don't know about it, for that matter - that's why Tia let herself set up a training camp because there's no hurry.

There are no plans to continue the omaku, although anything can be, but the status will hang "finished" for now. There are still very long-range plans for a second omake under the self-title "Big and Green". It is obvious to whom this omak will be dedicated - according to the plan MC will use, not from a great mind, the Repeated Corruption on Ygra and she will get a VERY strong gift.

On this that's it. - goodness to be good and kind to you, and an axe to give into the teeth of evil and brutally torture it if they are not kind to you.

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Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/80370/560745

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP