Готовый перевод История Королевы Эльфов / The story of the Elf Queen: 41. Недовольство королевы эльфов

The Dissatisfaction of the Elf Queen

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In the magical laboratory, located in the dungeons of the Secret Guard building, the queen was half-reclining in a comfortable lounge chair. She was completely naked, with her legs spread wide and bent at the knees, and her face completely devoid of any emotion. Around the queen a dozen complex magical symbols floated in the air. Some of them consisted of strictly straight lines forming complex geometric figures. The lines of others were smooth, curving like riverbeds or liana stems and forming complex figures as well. All of them glowed with varying degrees of intensity, illuminating Sivila's body. The light of some was bright and clear. The light of others was softer and diffused. But almost all of it was directed at the queen's breasts and pussy.

In front of her, between her spread legs, stood a tall elf with long, straight, light-blond hair, carefully combed back and gathered into a luxurious ponytail. He was dressed in a snow-white shirt with a high collar, a dark purple vest with numerous pockets, elegant pants of dark cloth, and magnificent shoes of patent leather of southern crocodile. He could be mistaken for a very skillful and obviously wealthy tailor. The pockets of his vest and belt were full of tools, from a few scissors to a whole set of needles and spokes of various lengths and thicknesses. In part, that was the way it was. Moreover, he sewed all his clothes, except for his leather shoes, by himself and only by himself. Except that his main trade was something else. And the tools, each of which cost a lot of money, were not for sewing clothes. The elf squinted his azure eyes, and touched the gold rim of his glasses with his fingertip.

A wave of light passed through the thin panes of enchanted glass, and their color changed from clear to dark red. Touching the frames a few more times and bringing the color of the glasses to bright scarlet, the elf looked closely at Sivila's naked right breast. Thanks to his glasses and the symbols glowing in the air, he could see the queen's subtle body rather than her material one. Her aura, energy channels, and energy nodes. In particular, his attention was focused on a relatively small energy node in the area of her right breast. To which a very fine thread-weave stretched straight through the center of her nipple, entangling it in a simple but elegant knot. Against the background of the queen's slender body, this delicate thread glistened with a golden color. In a calm and focused voice, the elf spoke:

"I'm starting to untangle. This is going to be painfully pleasant. Get ready."

The first phrase referred to the queen, who clutched the armrests of the chair with her hands and her bare feet on the special footrests. The second phrase referred to the young (by the standards of elves) assistant of the best master of the Silk Thread School in the whole Forest. He stood to the side of the teacher and gave a little forward, holding a short magical rod in one hand and a stone bowl like those used by alchemists in the other. Making sure he was heard, the impeccably dressed elf set to work. In his left hand, he held a thin rod of enchanted silver, on which was wound some of the finest thread woven into the queen's subtle body. In his right hand, the elf held a long and thin spokeshave of the same enchanted silver, with a small hook at the end. With this hook, he carefully hooked a thin golden thread almost at the very nipple. When this happened, a small part of the thread became visible to the naked eye. But most of it remained completely invisible, making it appear to an outside observer that the elf was just waving his tools in the air.

Slowly and very carefully, the master of the Silk Thread School pulled the very thin thread that was hooked on the hook of the needle. At the same time, barely noticeable waves of light ran through the elf's slender and dexterous fingers, passing on to the needle, and from it to the thread-weave. The tiny sparks traveled along it to the queen's nipple, penetrating through it into the depths of her breast. To where the thinnest thread wove itself into Sivila's subtle body, knotting around the energy knot in her right breast. Under the precise and filigree influence of the master of magic, the thin thread-weave began to unravel slowly, separating from the energy channels. He had to act very slowly and carefully, so that, God forbid, the First Tree would not entangle the thread or break it. This could lead to serious complications of all sorts. From loss or increase of sensitivity of erogenous zones to spontaneous enlargement or shrinkage of breasts.

The saving grace was that the knot with which the string was tied was relatively simple, and the pattern for unraveling it was clear. Otherwise, it would have been much harder. Both the magic master and the queen. Especially the queen. Although Ziltraen's effects were extremely weak, passing through the thread-weave they still caused a weak, but stimulation of the entangled part of the subtle body. This in turn affected the material body, causing various sensations, not all of which were pleasant. But there were enough pleasant ones too, which made the queen's nipple harden and her breasts blush. Her face, too, though it remained mostly impassive.

As the knot unraveled more and more, Ziltraen pulled the thread towards himself. Very carefully, so as not to tear it in any way. But along with the thread, he unwittingly pulled on his nipple and the queen's breast. Sivila's face remained absolutely impassive. Only her lips turned into a thin stripe, and the pupils in her emerald eyes dilated. Not so much from the pain, but from the agonizingly pleasurable pleasure of the thread-weave that was slowly separating from her slender body. When it had almost completely left the nipple, the master of magic spoke briefly:

"Get ready."

His assistant nodded silently, and Sivila held her breath and tensed. But when the string-like thread silently detached from her nipple, the queen couldn't help but inhale sharply, sucking in air through clenched teeth. And from her breasts spurted thin streams of milk, but instead of soiling the master of magic and his apprentice, it gathered in the air into a small ball of droplets, directed into a stone bowl. Winding a thread invisible without special glasses on a silver rod, Ziltraen nodded to his apprentice-assistant, turned to the queen, and warned:

"The third node will be more difficult."

Sivila only responded laconically to this:

"Do it."

Settling on the small stool that his apprentice had set up for him, right in front of the queen's pussy, the master of magic again carefully hooked the thread with a needle near her clit and got to work. The third knot was more difficult. It was tied more cunningly, tightly entangling the lower energy knot responsible for reproductive function. It was also responsible for pleasure and urination. The action had to be even slower and more careful. And not only because of the fact that the bindings were more cunning, but also because this node was more powerful and through it passed twice as many energy channels than through the thoracic ones. Accordingly, Ziltraen's influences were felt by the queen much more strongly. But it was impossible to do without it, any intervention by magic or alchemy that could dampen them would make the process easier for Sivila, but would complicate it many times for Ziltraen. As the thread-weave would become much more difficult to discern among the subtle bodies. So the queen endured, keeping as indifferent an expression on her face as possible. To the best of her ability.

But by the time the magic master had almost finished carefully unraveling the threads, Sivila's face was flushed, her breathing was heavy, and sweat was beading on her skin, even though the air in the lab was comfortable and ventilated. Intercepting the needle with which he was hooking the thin thread-weave, Ziltraen said in a concentrated voice:

"Get ready. I'm pulling it out."

Biting her lip, the queen nodded briefly, and the assistant magic master prepared the short magic wand and the new stone bowl again. Ziltraen began to slowly pull out the last centimeters of the weaving thread. From the outside, it looked as if he was pulling the queen by her flushed and swollen clit, to which a golden thread-weave was attached. Hooked into the armrests of the chair, Sivila tried her best to keep an unperturbed expression on her face. But the moment the stringy thread separated from her clit, the queen couldn't help but let out a loud moo through tightly compressed lips. At the same time, she gripped the armrests and tilted her head as far back as the lounge chair would allow. Love juices spurted from her flushed pussy, caught in the air, and collected in a stone alchemical bowl.

Ziltraen and his assistant tactfully ignored Sivila's orgasm. Instead, the master of magic carefully wound the rest of the thread-weave onto a silver rod, carefully secured it to it, and placed it in a special case. After carefully closing and sealing it, he turned to the queen who was recovering her breath, and said politely:

"The subtle bodies stimulated during the operation will fully return to normal within a few days. Until then, I strongly recommend that you refrain from anything that could irritate the affected energy nodes and the energy channels associated with them. Otherwise, this could lead to a short-term increase in sensitivity, which will then be replaced by a long-term decrease."

“I heard you, venerable Ziltraen,” the queen said slowly, “Do you really guarantee me that there are no more serious consequences left?”

"Guaranteed. This thread, while having many advantages, also has a number of disadvantages stemming directly from them. Due to its thinness, it is extremely invisible and very easy to weave into the subtle bodies of the victim. But because of it, it also has an extremely low throughput. For serious consequences, you would have to be actively influenced through it for at least a few months. Or you should have been entangled much more densely, at least in the frame of a full-fledged cocoon, touching the main parts of thin bodies."

"I heard you. And once again, thank you for your masterful work."

With a silent nod, the magic master and his apprentice left the laboratory, extinguishing the magic symbols floating in the air. In their place, Astra came inside with a pile of clothes for the queen. With the help of her bodyguard, Sivila took an ostentatiously leisurely time to dress in clean undergarments and the good training suit with which she practiced archery. The reason for this unusual choice of clothing became clear after the queen had cleaned herself up and left the laboratory accompanied by her bodyguard. Clicking the heels of high boots made of soft leather, she deliberately took her time and walked to the door of the meeting room, where she was already waiting. Around the long table were gathered the agents of the Secret Guard, its leader, and the masters of magic involved in the investigation. Including Ziltraen, who had been partially briefed and sworn to secrecy. Sivila looked around the table with her green eyes slowly walked over to the free chair at the head of the table and slowly lowered herself into it. With her arms folded across her chest, she ostentatiously threw one leg over the table and then the other, tapping the tabletop with her heels. It wouldn't have been as comfortable or impressive in a dress.

Of course, such a thing was a blatant violation of etiquette and the most banal decency. It was literally an open insult to everyone at the table. And Sivila knew it very well. Once again, she slowly looked at the elves and elven women gathered at the table and threw a single phrase in a voice devoid of emotion:

"You can start making excuses."

Many of the masters of magic twitched the tips of their ears, and some twitched their whole ears. But no one dared to object to the queen, or even to resent her behavior. Instead, Mirael spoke in a calm and polite voice:

"Sivila, I understand your dissatisfaction..."

"Dissatisfaction?!" The Queen sharply interrupted the Elder Enchantress, breaking the rules of decorum once again.

Squinting her emerald eyes, Sivila continued in an icy voice:

What are you talking about, Mirael? I was dissatisfied when I found out that Zitrael had been kidnapped during the Morgrave raid by a desert whore who loves and knows how to fuck not only the bodies of her victims but their brains. I was displeased when I learned that she was carrying a child with the blood of a direct descendant of Raistar. Blood free of the curse. I was dissatisfied then. Now I'm furious. I was well aware of the risk I was taking in negotiating with this thrice-damned Master. But I'd had a little, like, this little hope that a whole assembly of the best magic masters in the entire Forest would be able to keep me safe. Instead, the bastard first defiantly humiliated me twice, despite all my defenses. And you too, by the way, Mirael! And then I find out by accident that he didn't just slap me on the nose, or rather on my tits and pussy, he also entangled me with a weaving thread. And who did I hear that from? From the demon slut who had to be released back to Inferno because of this knowledge, instead of being sealed in a suitable dungeon-vessel until the end of eternity!

Having finished speaking, the queen, whose emerald eyes were flashing angrily, took a deep breath and said in a slightly calmer voice:

"So, as I already said, you can start making excuses."

The masters of magic and the Elder Enchantress' ears twitched again, but no one dared to object or even look into Sivila's eyes, knowing well the depth of their failure. Only Third looked at the queen, but the queen kept her gaze perfectly still, still defiantly keeping her feet on the table. Coughing, Mirael spoke politely:

"We did not even imagine the possibility that we might encounter such a rare and difficult-to-master magic school as the Silk Thread School."

The queen raised her eyebrows theatrically and asked in a deliberately surprised and uncomprehending voice, eyeing the Elder Enchantress with a grim stare:

"Why didn't you expect this, even after everything we witnessed? And performed by the same Tiantrel?"

The magic masters at the table twitched their ears again. This time it was almost synchronized. Coughing delicately again, Mirael ignored another jab from the queen. Instead, she answered in the same calm and polite voice:

"Venerable Ziltraen, I give you the floor as a recognized master of this very complex school."

The Master of the Silk Thread School nodded in reply and gracefully placed before him on the table a securely sealed case with a silver rod on which was wound the finest weaving thread. Adjusting the high collar of his immaculate white shirt, he began his report in a confident lecturing tone, pointing to the case:

"This thread is, without exaggeration, a real masterpiece of magical art. It is very difficult to create such a thin thread, it is literally filigree work. But already created thread, because of the peculiarities of its weave, it is relatively easy to manage even a non-specialist of the Silk Thread School. To direct it in the right direction and weave it into the subtle body of the victim requires a minimum of energy and manipulation. Which, in addition, is very easy to hide behind the most innocuous actions. A simple twiddling of the fingers, the smallest tensions of the subtle bodies, which cannot even be mistaken for preparation for the effect."

In confirmation of Ziltraen's words, an image of the recording of the conversation between Sivila and Master who had taken over Tiantrel's body appeared in the air above the table. Extending his hand, the master of the Silk Thread School was illuminated with red light the moment the naked elf thoughtfully moved her fingers, folded on her chest. In particular, the index finger of her right hand.

"As we have already discovered, the thread-weave was hidden in one of the individual elements of its so-called “structure” on the fingertips. In passive mode, when the thread is not energized or does not conduct energy, it is extremely difficult to notice it. The most optimal way is the use of directed magic light of a special spectrum. Which still needs to be matched to this particular thread. Add to this the fact that in passive mode it is immaterial and literally transparent in magical vision, and it becomes clear why its presence and use were not detected by my colleagues."

Looking the queen in the eye, Ziltraen said with some pride:

"This is what the School of Silk Thread, or, as it is rightly called by our dark kin, the Silk Web, is famous for. It is very difficult to notice really thin threads like this, woven by a real master."

For a few seconds, Sivila considered what she had heard, and then asked in a slightly calmer tone:

"Then how did this infernal slut manage to notice it?"

"Demons see our material world differently than we do. Their vision is much closer to magic. And the stronger they are, the more they can see. And this demoness wasn't weak. In addition, she was clearly developing her eyes. If you've been paying attention to them, you should have noticed the not-so-typical shape and color."

"I noticed that. And by the way, while we're on the subject, I hope you've taken every possible aura and subtle body imprint off that demon slut."

"Of course."

"At least it's a good thing."

After a few more seconds of silence, the queen slowly looked around the magic masters gathered at the table, then slowly took her feet off the table and sat down normally. Looking at Ziltraen attentively, she asked:

"What is your professional verdict on this thread?"

"The creation of such a fine thread requires a great deal of skill and knowledge. It also requires a workshop of a very high level and not the cheapest consumables. The creation of such a thread can be considered a successful examination for the title of magister."

"Can you create such a thread?"

After thinking for a few moments, Ziltraen nodded slowly:

"Given enough time and the right materials, I believe I can create a thread like this. Maybe not on the first try, but I can."

"Who else can create a thread like this?"

"So thin and strong? There are only two practitioners of the Silk Thread School I know of. The first is Venerable Master Wu Shien of the Xiang Lao Clan, also known as the Silk Weaver. The second is the Matriarch of the Great House of Shaalas, Qialana, also known as the Silk Spider. But I have seen examples of their work, and I can say with certainty that our thread is nothing like them. This one has a different type of... weave. A different structure, if you will."

"I see..."

There was silence in the office. Quite dark and tense. Everyone was pondering Ziltraen's words. Mirael was the first to break the silence, shaking her head and saying in a detached voice:

"I don't understand... It's just impossible..."

Seeing the Silk Thread School master's questioning look, the Elder Enchantress tiredly explained:

"School of Classical Mind Magic. School of Puppets. School of Branding. School of Tattooing…"

"A previously unknown variation of the School of Tattooing,” Ziandar corrected the Elder Enchantress.

Nodding to him, Mirael continued:

"An unknown variation of the School of Tattooing. The Blink Technique is one of the very complex branches of the School of Spatial Magic. And now the School of Silk Thread. And all of them are at the level of Magister, or even Archmagister! That's just impossible! It's just not possible!"

Third, who was nonchalantly listening to the Elder Enchantress, replied:

"So, it does happen after all."

"How?! Your analysts have calculated everything several times and we have heard their conclusions."

Turning to one of the Secret Guard agents sitting at the table, the Elder Enchantress asked:

"Remind me how long it would take for one gifted person to master so many schools at such a level?"

One of Third's assistants, who headed the analytical group, immediately snapped:

"If we assume that the gifted person has been trained and practiced by the outstanding masters of these schools, then, depending on many variables, it would take at least six hundred years under the most optimal conditions. A thousand years is more realistic. I emphasize this is on condition that a certain gifted, very talented person would be trained by the masters of the mentioned schools one by one, not lower than the magister level."

"And the probability of such a thing is zero,” Mirael summed up in a gloomy voice, ”since no magister, much less an archmagister, would reveal his secrets and mysteries to a stranger. They are carefully passed on to the student-heir, who in nine cases out of ten is a close relative of the teacher, usually a son or daughter."

"If we assume,” continued the head of the analysts, ”that the gifted individual was learning all these schools on his own, then, taking into account all the variables, it would have taken at least three thousand years under the best, most optimal conditions. Under more realistic conditions, such self-training would have to begin at the time of the Exodus, and continue to the present."

"And the likelihood of that is also zero,” Mirael summarized again, ”not to mention the fact that such a self-taught man would definitely be on our radar. At the very least, we would have heard of him. It's impossible to excel in magic if you're always in the shadows. You're bound to leave traces. You need rare materials for practice, a power source, a laboratory."

Nodding to the Elder Enchantress, the head of the analytics team continued:

"It was a calculation if we assume that our mystery opponent is the same person. We have some circumstantial indications. But only circumstantial. Having analyzed the possibility that against us acts a collective of gifted, each of whom has reached the rank of at least a magister, and mastered from one to two of the above schools ..."

After a meaningful pause, the head of the analysts looked around at those gathered with an attentive gaze:

"We've concluded that the probability of that is also zero. We are dealing with too specific schools of magic. Their masters must a priori see their visions as rival enemies. Or at least a threat. Not to mention the fact they should be unknown to us masters of these schools, because of the known ones we will not be able to form such an alliance even in theory. Too different interests, often just physically do not overlap."

Silence fell in the office again. The imperturbable Third broke it:

"Completely logical and reasonable conclusions. And yet, despite the impossibility of such a thing, we are dealing with someone who possesses the listed schools of magic at the magister level. And that's a fact. Which means we're missing something. And we need to figure out what it is."

Leaning back in his chair, the Head of the Secret Guard said thoughtfully:

"We'll start from what we know for sure. Our mysterious Master, or Masters, possesses several specific schools of magic at a very high level. At least a magister's. Until very recently, he or they have not come to our attention. How could that be? Suggestions. I emphasize any options. We'll consider them all."

There was silence in the office for a few seconds, this time thoughtful. Ziandar was the first to speak up, suggesting:

"A deal with a demon? One of the more powerful Infernal Lords, with a large collection of captive souls, could, in theory, bestow the necessary knowledge."

The School of Branding's master's guess was immediately written down by Third's assistant on a separate scroll. The Head of the Secret Guard himself said thoughtfully:

"The price for such a quantity of such valuable knowledge must be enormous. One school – perhaps. But several at once…"

One of the analysts quickly picked up his boss's idea and elaborated:

"Is it possible that each school was taught by a different gifted person? And all of them together are part of the same cult serving one of the Infernal Lords, which rules out internal squabbles..."

The faces of the elves immediately became extremely serious. The threat from Inferno, unfortunately, was permanent and deadly. The fight against it has never stopped and is unlikely to ever stop. If somewhere demons had managed to form such a powerful cult.....

"It's highly unlikely,” said Third, pondering the assumption, ”knowledge alone is not enough. You can put any knowledge into the head of a gifted student, but without the appropriate level of development of his gift, he simply will not be able to use it. What is the use of knowing how to weave a destructive spell that can wipe out an entire fortress, if you can not even begin to weave it without falling senseless from magical exhaustion? Thus, the demons would need a few gifted people who were at least close to the rank of master."

But after a second's silence, he added thoughtfully:

"But in theory... In theory, it's possible. Think it through and work on it. If it's true, we're all in big trouble, and we've missed a demonic cult that hasn't been seen since the last Infernal Invasion. Any other options?"

"An artifact giver, like the Great Manuscript at Neirat Academy or our Annals of Eternity?" Mirael suggested.

"It is also extremely unlikely,” Third shook his head, ”One such artifact, which contains the knowledge of a separate school, I can still allow. Two. But five or six at once... Very unlikely. But theoretically possible. Pull up the archives and analyze the possibility of similar artifacts for each school. Any other possibilities?"

“Perhaps,” one of Third’s assistants asked cautiously, “we should ask First for advice?”

There was an immediate silence in the office. Turning to the assistant, the head of the Secret Guard looked at him carefully, then nodded and said:

"Yes, you can. Go and ask."

His assistant almost jumped up from his seat at this answer:

"Why me?!"

Realizing what he had just said, and how, the Secret Guard agent staggered but quickly regained his imperturbable expression and tactfully replied:

"I just suggested it as an option."

"I see. I've considered it. But I put it off until the last resort. First explained very clearly to my predecessor that he had retired and asked not to be disturbed without a really important reason. So, for now, I'd rather not bother him."

Everyone in the study involuntarily shivered. Except for Sivila. The queen, who had been silent and thinking intensely, suddenly uttered a single word:

"Soulcatcher?"

For the second time in a minute, the office was dead silent. A dwarf-made chronometer ticked almost silently in the corner. Slowly, everyone sitting at the table turned first to Sivila, then looked at each other. The usually perfectly unflappable Third darkened sharply. Pressing his lips together, he slowly said:

"Now this one... In theory... Possibly....."

Throwing a glance first at Sivila and then at Third, Mirael said in a strained voice carefully:

It's very unlikely. Very unlikely. Even the simplest work with souls is extremely difficult. Working with the mind is several times easier. The highest work with the soul, with very few exceptions and reservations - the domain of almost only the celestials. Even demons can draw power from the captured souls, but to use them in this way ... At best there will be a one-time impact, which will burn the captured soul.

Ziandar, who was sitting across from the Elder Enchantress, nodded slowly:

" I agree with the honorable Mirael. Working with the soul is incredibly difficult. With the right skill and knowledge, it can be captured and used as a source of power. It is possible, though very difficult, to tear away all the shells, completely exposing and purifying the core. It is even possible to split it and destroy it. But to use the soul as a source of knowledge and skills... Practically impossible. I can't even imagine how this is even possible?"

"Not just you,” the Elder Enchantress nodded, ”No one has any idea. If my memory serves me correctly, the last vague mention of adepts of this very powerful and dangerous magic, the Soulcrafters or Soulsweaver, dates from before the Exodus of our people."

Third, still as grim, nodded in agreement and confirmed:

"The most reliable mention of Soulcatchers in our chronicles dates from about the fifth century before the Exodus. And is in turn an account, albeit according to the chronicles and trustworthy, of an eyewitness. Who, in his turn, long before that was a witness of some war or terrible cataclysm, in which the adept of this dangerous magic took the most active part. It is impossible to understand from the surviving chronicles neither where this war or cataclysm took place, nor who exactly this eyewitness was."

After a brief pause, during which most of those gathered around the table involuntarily calmed down and exhaled, the Third added with a grim face:

"But Soulcantcher would be the one who could pull this kind of stunt. So, work on this version and start working on countermeasures in case of the worst...."

The head of the Secret Guard did not have time to finish, for there was a persistent knock on the door of the office where the meeting was taking place. Interrupting, Third took a glance at his personal communication amulet, determined who was knocking on the door, deactivated the office's defenses, and ordered:

"Come in."

The doors swung open, and one of the Secret Guard agents who was one of the analysts assigned to the Master's case entered the room with a quick step. With a brief nod to the crowd, he immediately blurted out:

"I apologize for interrupting your meeting. But I have urgent information. I think I've managed to figure out when our opponents plan to carry out their plan in Iyastar, whatever it is."

Everyone immediately turned serious and looked at him. Third, who had regained his composure, came forward and asked:

"So when?"

"During a solar eclipse. Yes, the Lesser Sun will shine over Iyastar, but the eclipse will still inevitably weaken the Sun-Face's ability to control and observe what is happening in the city. And with it, his flock, including priests and paladins, will be weakened. According to our calculations, they will lose from half to a third of their forces. The youngest ministers, up to a quarter."

Third, looking gloomy again, said thoughtfully:

"It is quite possible… When will this eclipse occur?"

"Tomorrow at noon."

* * *

"Are you all set?"

"More than that, we have calculated and thought through everything!"

"I really hope so. Otherwise, you know the consequences will be for all of us."

"Of course, we all understand perfectly well what is at stake! I assure you, we have thought through and calculated everything."

"In that case, I dare not detain you any longer. I have done all I could on my part. The rest is up to you."

After waiting for the door to close behind the hastily departing Curator, Master leaned back in his desk chair and folded his hands thoughtfully in front of him. Too many sudden and unforeseen problems had happened lately, and he didn't like it at all. Just as he didn't like the methods of solving them. Just the demoness alone. And what was most annoying was that it had all started now. No, before there were also problems, but they were solved in advance and without much noise and dust. And now...

Well, it'll be settled tomorrow. He's done everything he can on his end. And he's not the only one. There was a good chance of success, but if... If... If... If... Damn if... With a grimace, the Master flicked his fingers at one of his favorite dolls. A slanting beauty with hair as long and dark as tar, wearing a silk robe, silently stepped on the marble slabs, approached him, and, bowing silently stood motionless. A lovely creature that had fallen into his hands quite by accident when she had tried to cut short the life of one of his partners. The funny thing was, that she had every chance to fulfill her plan and get away. But watching the future victim, she noticed something strange in his behavior and decided to find out what was behind it. As a result, her curiosity led her first to his partner's safe haven, and from there straight to Master's laboratory.

It was interesting to work with her, the first time he'd ever encountered such exotic material as an assassin from the Clan of the Unseen. His patterns perfectly complemented her own skills and abilities, making her even more deadly. And far more attractive. Though it took her a while to get used to the increased size of her breasts and buttocks. After admiring her handiwork for a moment, Master said:

"Saya, prepare everything with the other girls in case of failure. If they fail, immediately inform everyone via special communication to act according to the "Two Sixes" protocol and..."

A loud trill cut Master off at half a word, leaving him with his mouth hanging open. His eyes widened. He grabbed a small amulet, stared at it for a second, then rushed to one of the back rooms. Where a motionless naked body hovered over a white stone bed. When the massive doors opened, Master ran into one of the most secure areas of his laboratory and stood motionless. The body was still floating in the air, naked and motionless. Just as it had been floating for a very long time. But now several dozen complex magical symbols were glowing around it. Symbols that finally formed a single and complete magical figure, designed to find something hidden. Something that had been here all these years, very close by, but which had persistently eluded him.

Still unable to believe his eyes, Master slowly approached the body floating in the air, looking both at the figures surrounding him and the full projection of his thin body above him. A projection where now, at last, he could clearly see what he had been looking for for so long. Realizing that he had stopped breathing the moment he saw the result of his long search, Master exhaled slowly and carefully. His heart was pounding like a madman, and there was even sweat on his forehead. He even had to take direct control of his emotions and body to calm himself down. Finally. Finally! But why now?!

Biting his lip, Master stared at the body floating in the air for a few seconds, frantically considering what to do next. He had waited so long for this, he could wait a little longer... No! No! This was more important! And he would not delay it! Turning sharply to his slanted doll, Master blurted out in a strained voice:

"Don't disturb me! Only in the most, most extreme cases! If they call me, say that I'm busy and it's very important. Let them sort it out without me. Otherwise, do as I told you. Got it?"

The former assassin of the Unseen Clan nodded silently and bowed. When the doors closed behind her and the room's defenses were activated again, Master began to undress hurriedly. Licking his parched lips, he activated a pre-prepared weave of a magic spell, which immediately formed an energy bed next to the body floating in the air. Climbing onto it and making himself comfortable, Master closed his eyes, concentrating on the pre-prepared and formed weaves of complex spells. As they came to life, a similar figure made up of various magical symbols slowly began to form around Master's naked body.

* * *
Author's Note:

13 Pages. Once again a lor-ish chapter, with almost no lemons, but this is probably the last such chapter. Because the denouement is coming. I'll try to keep it up as usual, but I can't guarantee it.

A huge thank you to everyone who comments, asks questions and likes. I know, I say this after each chapter, but it does not lose its relevance.

Внимание! Этот перевод, возможно, ещё не готов.
Его статус: идёт перевод

Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/86674/577365

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP