Готовый перевод История Королевы Эльфов / The story of the Elf Queen: 42. Слишком солнечный день для агентов королевы эльфов

Too sunny a day for the Agents of the Elf Queen.

* * *

The meeting room, which at the same time served as an operational headquarters, was bustling with activity. Someone was calculating the possibility of certain actions, someone was urgently raising or requesting archival reports, reports, and summaries. The simplest way to characterize the whole meaning of the movements of the gathered elves was to search for an answer to one of the fundamental questions of the universe: “What to do?” And the question was not an idle one. Sivila and Third stood frozen in front of a very detailed and elaborate map of Iyastar. And also the portrait of a somewhat well-fed man, with dark, slightly curly hair slicked back and oiled, a well-groomed short beard, and a keen gaze in his dark eyes. All in all, quite a good-looking man, looking about thirty-five years old. But his real age was three times that. The head of a large and successful trading house could afford high-quality rejuvenating alchemy, as well as skillful mage healers. And, as of late, this man had been receiving the closest attention from the Forest Secret Guard.
Кто виноват и что делать - два главных вопроса русской культуры.

Dormian Le Faler. The current head of the Le Faler Trading House, who had been in his position for almost half a century. And a very successful one at that. The House of Le Faler was not one of the ten richest Houses in the Confederation, but it was in the middle fifty, with branches in many cities along the Mid-Sea, including Sahib-Nere. Under its current head, it managed to open a branch in Iyastar as well, somehow managing to trade successfully with the sun-worshippers while avoiding their religious influence. The House of Le Faler did not deal directly with the Forest, although they had contacts with the elves. Most of the contacts went through the Forest's representative office in Iyastar. The official reason why House Le Faler did not establish closer ties with the Forest was that Dormian did not want to meddle in foreign territory, because due to geography, the main trade contractors of the elves were the Houses whose main branches were located in Morgrave. The House of Le Faler was not represented in the Duke of Mont Ros's fiefdom and was of no particular interest to the Forest. Until not too long ago.

The information the demoness had given them made them look at the honorable merchant and negociant in a whole new light. As well as recent events related to his activities in Iyastar and beyond. Folding her hands on her unpleasantly sensitive chest, Sivila stared intently into the merchant's eyes and said slowly:

"An interesting picture emerges if your assumption is correct."

The Head of the Secret Guard, always unperturbed, answered in a calm voice:

"Given what we've learned, events are beginning to make new sense. A successful attack by raiders from the Ice Islands on the Northern Border Monastery of the Theocracy has made it into our bulletins. This is not an ordinary event. After all, the Theocracy fortifies its border monasteries well, and they are more fortresses than monasteries. And they've rarely been ravaged, especially in a raid. But we didn't pay much attention to it, writing it off to the luck and talent of Arstein the Raider, who had earned his nickname for a reason. The more so because it was far away from us, and, as always, we had other things to do."

Pausing for a second to answer someone on the personal communication amulet, Third continued:

"Now Arstein's good fortune appears in a very different light. As well as his death at the hands of two Daughters of the Reverend Mother, one of whom is guaranteed to be a puppet of the Master, and the other, if not “structured”, then definitely processed."

"And all this effort was so that Dormian could ransom a considerable portion of the prisoners captured by the raiders and bring them to Iyastar? Why?"

"Officially, it is for trade preferences, which seems quite understandable. In the long run, it pays for the cost of ransoming the prisoners and bringing them home. But given what we have learned about him... Such a generous gift will not go unnoticed by the High Hierarchs of the Theocracy. He will surely be honored with a personal meeting. Especially, since Dormian is already in relatively good standing with them for a non-believer. And here is such an occasion... In addition, I am sure that among the rescued prisoners, some already believe in something other than the cause of the Eternal Sun. The journey to Iyastar was long, and they had plenty of time to process."

Third was silent for a few seconds, looking at the map of Iyastar and the portraits of humans and nonhumans around it. The queen pressed her lips together and forced herself to ignore the tingling nipples and clit that were literally demanding Fiorel's skillful tongue. In her mind, she wished Master all the best, but aloud Sivila asked:

"But we still don't know what they're planning. Speculation?"

"Based on what we know about Master and his assistants, we can assume with a high degree of certainty that their goal is to take control of one of the High Hierarchs of the Theocracy. Or maybe all of them."

Turning to Third, Sivila frowned incredulously, then looked at the portraits of the said Hierarchs pinned in a row and shook her head incredulously:

"Is that even possible?"

The head of the Secret Guard allowed himself a tired sigh:

"After all that we've witnessed, I can't say for sure what we can and can't expect from this Master. Besides, if your assumption is correct, and this is indeed an empowered Soulcatcher or Soulweaver, then in theory he is quite capable of doing such a thing. Even if all our chronicles about the adepts of this magic are half true."

Pressing her lips together, Sivila still said incredulously:

"In my opinion, it's still too unlikely. A Soulcatcher or Soulweaver could really pull something like this off, especially if he's strong enough. Except for one thing! We're talking about God's servants and the highest. Their souls are in the palm of his hand. Souls, not minds or subtle bodies, although they're there too. And all the time. Specifically with the Highest Hierarchs to work discreetly using magic that affects the soul... and even in the walls of the First Temple, where the power and influence of the Sun-face is maximum... I doubt it."

Barely refraining from starting to massage her breasts right through the fabric of her tracksuit, the queen continued:

"I can still imagine that they might try to quickly subdue one of the High Hierarchs of the Theocracy, using the more familiar mind-affecting schools of magic. Let's say even Arnuil himself, or him and another of the High Hierarchs, the same Aurora, Mayer, or Dragn. But the question still remained. How to hide such influence from their patron? Even taking into account the solar eclipse, the Sun Face would notice such traces on the first of his servants as soon as it stopped. Because the speed of processing would not allow it to be done surreptitiously. This is the basics of such magical manipulation if we are talking about such strong and well-protected targets. Either quickly and harshly, breaking through all the defenses and barriers, leaving many visible traces in thin bodies, or slowly, gradually, carefully selecting the keys to the defense or bypassing it, but without being noticed."

After thinking for a few seconds, the queen added grimly:

"If we're really dealing with a Soulcatcher or Soulweaver, and he's reached such power that he can pull off such a subjugation of the first of God's servants without their patron noticing... Then we should sound the alarm, declare a general mobilization, and put the Forest under siege. And start preparing a new Exodus in case we can't handle it."

After these words, everyone in the office froze, turning to Sivila in amazement, sincerely hoping that the queen was exaggerating. But Third only nodded grimly and said:

"If it does turn out to be a Soulcatcher or Soulweaver that has achieved such power, then that's what we'll do. Though, if it were, I think it would be too late for us to sound the alarm. Therefore, I suggest we leave the preparation for the Exodus to the very last resort. Even if we set aside all the innumerable problems associated with it, we must take into account that this world will be very difficult to leave because of its peculiarities. In fact, that's why it was chosen for resettlement at one time. So, for now, I suggest not to draw too radical conclusions."

Turning to the still incredulous magic masters looking at him and the queen, the Head of the Secret Guard asked:

"How, at least in theory, could they quickly take control of someone of the Sun-Face's High Hierarchy? Any scenario."

Ziandar scratched his chin and said thoughtfully:

"Perhaps the most likely option would be a Branding Artifact. If we are talking about a really good and strong artifact, the level of work of an archmagister... and if it is well prepared, matching it to a particular victim and his defense... calculating all the subtle bodies and the right point of influence... Then in theory, yes, it is possible. But that kind of branding would be impossible to hide. At least, I don't see how it could be. Any branding is a major invasion of the victim's subtle body. In fact, the School of Branding is not designed for subtle influences. Or rather, subtle influences,” Ziandar corrected quickly.

"But the School of Silk Thread,” Ziltraen picked up the discussion, ”allows it. A fine enough web, woven of threads similar to those that entangled the Queen's pussy and breasts...."

At these words, Sivila's eyes sparkled and the tips of her ears twitched slightly.

" ...is quite capable of doing this. If the web is properly cast on the victim, entangling key areas of the subtle bodies, it can work. Particularly if the victim's defenses and subtle bodies are keyed in advance. But I must say that to weave such a net-web... It is very difficult and will require a lot of time and resources. Even for an Archmagister. But, given all that I have learned about this Master of yours... I would guess that he might have such a web. Perhaps even more than one, though I doubt that very much."

After listening to the master of the Silk Thread School, Third thoughtfully said:

"This option seems the most plausible. Are there any other options?"

After a few seconds of hesitation, one of the summoned masters of magic suggested:

"In theory, a sufficiently well-prepared artifact puppet, maximally attuned to the victim.... something like this could work, too. Only the doll would have to be really well-tuned and saturated with the victim's energy. To create such a puppet you will need, at the very least, hair, blood, and even better a detailed mold of thin bodies imprinted in a crystal or amulet. It is true that personal contact is not necessary to use such a doll. The whole point of the Puppet School is to influence the victim without personal, and even more so without direct contact with the victim."

"Hmm... In that case, the silk web is the most likely option for now,” concluded Third.

Turning back to the city map, he asked thoughtfully:

"But the big question is: how should we respond? And should we respond at all?"

A thoughtful silence fell over the conference room again.

* * *

"We are in complete order, Your Eminence... Complete!"

The leader of the small band of adventurers, who had been drinking heavily, was standing in the doorway only because of a pair of inn maids. A couple of the prettiest of the inn maids were dressed in nothing but shirts that barely covered their privates. Not without effort, they held him upright on both sides. The leader of the adventurers was also dressed in an undershirt and could hardly focus his eyes on the sudden guests. Behind him, he could see the living quarters, with clothes scattered everywhere and the remains of dinner on the table. Among which stood out were a couple of jugs of fine wine. The High Priest of the Sun, a middle-aged man in immaculate white and gold robes, leaning on a white wood staff with an amber head, squinted. His gray eyes literally glowed with sunlight, as did the staff's shaft. The eyes of the priest's companion, a pair of paladins of the Order of the Light, wearing full armor and holding their weapons at the ready, glowed with the same light.

The sunlight illuminated a drunken foreigner who could barely stand on his feet and a couple of embarrassed maids who were blushing. They were also a little tipsy. It wasn't hard to guess what the three were doing when they were interrupted by a demanding knock at the door. Of course, it was outrageous, but as long as it was going on behind closed doors and bringing in money for the good of the Eternal Sun's cause, they could turn a blind eye to it. The more so because the innkeeper spoke positively about his wintering guests. They paid well and had no problems. All wintering guests should be like that. Having once again scrutinized the drunken fortune-seeker with glowing eyes, without seeing or sensing anything red, the priest nodded briefly to his companions and said:

"Eternal Sun and a good winter to you."

With considerable difficulty, the adventurer tried to assume a strictly vertical position and, with a slurred voice, said:

"And the same to you, Your Eminence..."

Then, in the company of giggling maids, he hurried out the door and returned to his pleasant pastime. The priest and his companions moved on. A full inspection of the inn revealed nothing suspicious. Not the slightest trace of infernal magic or the wanted demoness' servant and her accomplices. After a few words with the manager, he and the paladins left the inn and moved on. There were still many places to check in this sector, and even though everyone they could find had been involved in the search, there were still not enough people. Because they couldn't send just anyone against the demoness's servants, and the terrible deaths of the unfortunate brothers and sisters were the best proof of that.

As the priest and the paladins left the inn, the living quarters occupied by the diminished band of adventurers were filled with the exhalations of all the guests. Who were not adventurers at all. Twilight collapsed in his chair, wiped the sweat on his forehead, and said in a tired voice:

"It was close…"

Equally exhausted from the previous day, Luaval collapsed onto one of the empty beds, dragging a pair of bewitched maids with him. Staring at the ceiling, he nodded in agreement:

"It's lucky that they were looking for traces of Inferno first. Otherwise, they might have noticed our disguise."

"It was hard to keep the illusion and hide all the magical emanations. It was a good thing that we had a lot of reinsurance, just in case of such checks."

"Yeah. They were really in trouble after yesterday. What a day it was..."

The dark elf yawned tiredly and put his palms into the necklines of the shirts of the still giggling girls and began to squeeze them. They weren't bad Humans, but only by the standards of their kin. Luaval would only share a bed with them if there were no other options. But they could be groped, and so he did, ignoring the disapproving glances of his colleagues. True, some of them hid a slight envy behind the disapproval. With a wry grin, Luaval said:

"Well, I'm gonna get some rest, at least for a while. Before they send me to storm the First Temple or something."

Darendil, no less exhausted, merely waved goodbye to his old acquaintance and colleague. The commander of the squad of Secret Guard agents himself was only dreaming of rest in the near future. The commotion after they had literally snatched the demoness from the dungeons of the Inquisitorium had been great. The entire city was put on the ears and in fact, blocked. All the gates were closed, as well as the passages between sectors. And the light of the Lesser Sun became especially dazzling and hot, seeking to illuminate everything hidden. Any gloom, any illusion or disguise. It was hard to get to the inn and the cost of losing almost all the cloaking amulets to zero. And so a couple of times they almost flashed in the literal sense of the word.

But instead of resting, they had to urgently prepare for the inevitable inspections and searches. Which began soon enough. And if the first inspectors, a group of temple guards led by the Junior Priest and a couple of novices, managed to deceive without any problems. The second inspection became a serious test. Fortunately, in the time between them, the agents were able to prepare themselves properly. Experience is a great thing. Everything that could be removed, everything that needed to be hidden under camouflage amulets and double-checked. And still, it was barely enough. The Light was perfect for searching for hidden things, and the High Priest who tested them was filled to the brim with power. In many ways, the quality of the prepared legend saved them, which did not raise any questions, and therefore, no desire to scrutinize particularly carefully. No sign of Inferno? The inn has not been abandoned? Nothing suspicious felt or seen? Dismissed, rest, and spend your money.

Rest, indeed. Taking a few sips of cool water from his personal flask, Twilight began to give commands to his subordinates, who were as exhausted as he was:

"Sunset, you are to check and restore your cloak and defenses. Ensure there's no slippage or other rough spots after this priest's lumen. They may come again."

"I will,” the on-staff magic master nodded, once again scolding himself for his indiscreet thoughts on the boring routine.

Given that their squad had been halved, they had to work for three now. And the work was no longer routine.

"Rustle, go check on the amulets for now. Check everyone's storage crystals, and send any you need to recharge. Start with the cloaking ones first, we've depleted them to zero."

"I'll,” nodded the agent in charge of maintaining secret communication with the Forest.

"Then we'll need to..."

"We have an urgent call!" In a sudden interruption of the commander, Rustle was at the table where a set of amulets for secret communication and an artifact mirror were located.

With a flick of her fingers, she extinguished the illusion that had sheltered them for the duration of the inspection, then sat down at the table and quickly placed the magical tiara on her head. Her gems immediately flashed, and the agentess closed her eyes and tuned in to the incoming call. For a moment she sat motionless, listening to the silent words. Then she extinguished all the amulets, sighed heavily, and turned to the commander:

"We have a new task. Urgent."

Silently accepting the thought image from his subordinate, Twilight realized it for a few seconds, then also sighed heavily and only whispered:

"Holy shit... Luaval! Get up! Rest is over."

* * *

In a spacious circular room, brightly lit by a huge ceiling mosaic of the Sun, the High Hierarchs of the Theocracy along with their first assistants were gathered around a wide round table. Despite the early hour, they had all been up for a long time. And some of them had not even gone to bed. However, almost none felt tired, saved by the generous infusion of the Sun's power, which their patron had not spared them.

"We have not found any trace of the fugitive. Most likely, she has already left the city and its surroundings and is now heading towards the borderlands,” the Archilictor finished his report on the work done in a tired and gloomy voice.

Frowning and squinting unkindly, King-Priest Arnuil the First said in an equally gloomy voice:

"Send word and warnings to all our villages and to the cities of the Confederacy. Make them vigilant and cautious. Also, spread the word to all the orders and guilds that have chosen to hunt the Spawn of Inferno. If necessary, we are prepared to assist them in any way we can to capture or destroy her. Or reward them generously."

"It's already done. We sent word of her on the very first day when we first discovered our dead brothers and sisters on the ship."

"Okay. What about those who came into contact with her?"

"Checking and calculating. Unfortunately, there are a lot of them, and some of her clients have already left Iyastar. We're currently compiling information on all the ships she's been stationed on. Most of them are Confederate ships. We have also notified the councils or rulers of their cities. So far, no tainted among her clients, but a few dozen humans and a couple of non-humans have shown signs of life force drainage. Minimal, and thus imperceptible. All the victims are sent to our temple hospitals on a mandatory basis. No one has expressed displeasure about this, although most of those sent for treatment are non-believers."

"Okay. We've dealt with this whore who sold herself to Inferno."

Wincing, the King-Priest asked the most painful question:

"What about the demoness herself? How did she escape?"

The Archilictor pursed his lips and said through gritted teeth:

"It would be more accurate to say she was stolen from us. My men managed to locate the place where she was ripped from our dungeon. Exactly ripped. The infernal thing paid for that escape with some of its remaining strength and lost at least half a dozen souls. Maybe more, but it was harder to say for sure."

Placing the scroll with the report in front of him, the Head of the Inquisitorium continued:

"The place where the ritual of summoning the demoness took place was the basement of one of the dormitory houses where the families of the workers of one of the workshops in Iyastar live. It was made and equipped with a secret room. None of the residents even knew about it, we've already checked that. Apparently, it was equipped quite a long time ago and quite skillfully, because even during the active phase of the draft, we were not immediately able to find it. Most likely, a complex of masking amulets of high quality, multiplied by a powerful illusion-weave. It's hard to say more precisely, as the ritualists who ran away hid all their traces with the help of negator magic and alchemical fire. Almost all traces."

Placing a small crystal with imprinted images on the table Mayer activated it, and three-dimensional images from the scene appeared in the air. In particular, the remains of a human body are almost completely burned to ashes.

"We were able to determine that the demoness' puppet, the former healer Liana, was the basis of the ritual. We had to spend a lot of effort to establish that, literally scraping together what little was left of her. And I'm not just talking about her physical body. Her soul was also literally burned during the ritual of summoning her mistress. In fact, it became the basis for the demoness to be ripped from our hands, despite all the precautions. We can assume that in the case of Liana, there was a voluntary contract. Otherwise, there wouldn't have been such a powerful connection."

The Archilictor grimaced and continued:

"Unfortunately, we couldn't find any trace of the demoness or those who had torn her out of our dungeon. They were very thorough in their preparations. They probably left in disguise. Probably through a local portal to the suburbs of Iyastar. Our search of the city was also unsuccessful."

A mighty orc in the casual robes of a paladin of the Bright Order grinned his powerful fangs and slammed his big fist on the table:

"I warned you that you can't do anything with the spawn of Inferno! We should have destroyed this abomination as soon as we captured it! That way there would have been much less trouble!"

Sitting opposite the green-skinned giant, the Reverend Mother raised her open palm in a conciliatory gesture and said in a calm voice:

"I understand your anger, Brother Dragn. I admit we all underestimated the cunning of the demoness and her accomplices. This is a terrible lesson for us all. And for the sake of the memory of those who died, we must learn all we can from it. And the conclusions, as far as I can tell, are quite interesting,” Aurora added, looking at her colleague carefully.

The Archilictor nodded in agreement and continued his report:

"Both of the demoness's puppets had been helped into hiding by someone, there was no doubt about that. The real question is, who? The most obvious and simple answer is that it's whoever is behind Arendal's kidnapping. But there's an inconsistency. In the first case, the Inquisitorium agents who tried to capture the puppet were killed. And not just killed, they were captured, after which the Infernal underling squeezed them to the bone before escaping. It was done defiantly. Ostentatiously."

A shadow passed over Mayer's face, and he continued, emphasizing each word:

"She couldn't have done it on her own. At worst, the agents could have sent a call for help! Instead, the cover team received a message that they had successfully boarded the ship, found nothing suspicious, and continued their inspection. By the time those remaining ashore suspected something was wrong, it was too late. There was no way around it without serious help from someone orders of magnitude more powerful or dangerous than the demoness's puppet. Even if she had the defiled ones at hand. In the second case, however, Sister Nagata's group had almost managed to capture the puppet but had been attacked by unknowns at the last moment. And those unknowns not only didn't kill her and her subordinates but even healed them as well. Traces of healing magic were clearly visible. These unknowns also left us a very specific message."

At the mention of this message, Dragna's face, as the commander of the Bright Paladins, darkened even more, but he remained silent.

"From this, we can conclude that there were two different groups in both cases. Each of them needed a puppet of the demoness. I think I won't be wrong if I assume they needed them to contact the demoness for her information. Thus, we have two different interested parties with one goal, who also have serious capabilities."

Looking meaningfully at the High Hierarchs of the Theocracy gathered around the table, the Archilictor summed up:

"So, who could need this information so badly that he risked such bold steps for it? The first and most obvious candidate, as I said, is the one who kidnapped the elf diplomat. And he didn't want the demoness' information so much as her silence. We still don't know anything about him, except that he's very dangerous. But the second most obvious candidate..."

“The elves themselves,” Arnuil concluded gloomily, and his eyes flashed unkindly with sunlight.

“Exactly,” Mayer nodded.

All the High Hierarchs of the Theocracy gathered around the wide and round table and looked at each other gloomily. With his hands folded in front of him, the Priest-King closed his eyes and stood still. Even with his eyelids closed, it was clear that his eyes were blazing with sunlight. A minute passed, after which Arnuil opened his eyes and spoke in a harsh voice, with a sense of another's will and great power:

"Summon the new temporarily appointed Senior Emissary of the Forest for a conversation. The elves will have to answer our questions."

With the last words, the sunlight in the Priest King's eyes became much weaker, and he exhaled loudly. After that, he coughed and said:

"You have heard His will. Summon the elven diplomats for a talk. But not today," Arnuil added.

A faint smile appeared on the King-Priest's face.

"Today we have a more important and much more pleasant task."

Everyone gathered at the table smiled with understanding and looked at each other.

* * *

An impressive welcoming delegation, led by the Priest-King himself, lined up in front of the main gate of the First Temple. A guard of honor made up of selected temple guards, paladins of the Bright Order, High Hierarchs, and senior priests. All in solemn robes, glittering in the rays of two suns of white and gold. And this was not counting the ordinary townspeople, novices, and junior priests, many of whom were also dressed up for the occasion. A solid procession of guests met them at the gates of the Pervy Temple. There were a number of empty cargo ships slowly making their way along the canal that ran from the Lake Gates to the center of Iyastar. Normally such ships did not come directly into the city but were unloaded at the wharves around Iyastar. But this was a special occasion.

When the ships reached the center of the city and docked, almost a hundred and fifty people and non-humans came ashore. They were mostly women of various ages with children and teenagers. There were very few adult men among them, and almost all of them were elderly. Most of them looked tired and exhausted. The long and arduous journey, as well as the difficult ordeal they had endured, had taken its toll. But their faces were immensely happy, and many of them did not even hold back their tears. They were all dressed in plain, simple, but clean, and neat clothes. Three people were walking in front of the procession. On the right was an elderly and thin man, with gray hair and beard, but with a military bearing and proud posture, which was not bent neither by the years he had lived nor by the hardships of captivity. On the left was a middle-aged woman with noticeably graying blond hair and the stern face of a true northerner. But there was sunlight in her eyes, and the closer she came to the First Temple, the brighter it became.

Between them walked a somewhat stout middle-aged man in rich robes, made in the latest fashion of the Free Cities, of yellow and green cloth embroidered with foliage patterns. There was a reason for this choice. The word Faler meant leaf in the dialect of his native Free City. His bare face, with its well-groomed beard and carefully combed back oiled hair, literally glowed with happiness, and a wide smile stretched from ear to ear. Behind the trio walked a dozen people also dressed in yellow-green robes embroidered with foliage patterns. Albeit more modest. They were the guards, servants, and assistants of an honorable and successful merchant, without whom he would be as good as naked in public.

As he approached the steps of the First Temple, where the High Hierarchs of the Theocracy stood in rows, led by the Priest-King, the man made a perfect bow and knelt on one knee, bowing his head. His entourage, as well as most of the humans and nonhumans who had arrived, knelt, some even resting their foreheads on the slabs of the square. A faint smile touched the lips of Arnuil, who stood on the top step, and he spoke in a powerful voice:

"Rise, my brothers and sisters. Throw away all your worries and sorrows, for you are home at last. Rise, you too, guests of Iyastar, who have brought freedom to our brothers."

The Priest-King raised both hands with open palms forward and whispered a short prayer and a wave of warm sunlight streamed forth, illuminating the returning captives and their saviors. Arnuil looked at the merchant and said:

"Dormian Le Faleur, come to me."

As the merchant ascended the steps of the First Temple, continually bowing to all the High Hierarchs standing on the steps, the King-Priest and his companions simultaneously bowed their heads before him, as a sign of great gratitude:

"On behalf of all the people of the Brightlands, I thank you for your help in bringing our brothers and sisters back from captivity. Your generosity will be duly rewarded."

A completely bald half-grown man, in ceremonial white and gold priestly robes, stepped forward and handed a scroll sealed with a seal glowing with sunlight to the happy merchant.

"In gratitude for rescuing our brothers and sisters from captivity, you are granted a one-time right to conduct any trade transactions without paying any duties," the chief treasurer of the Theocracy said politely.

One could only guess at the effort it took for him to say those words. The merchant, who was not dancing with happiness, took the scroll from his hands and immediately bowed and thanked him:

"Oh, come on, you're too generous to me, honorable ones! I just couldn't leave all those poor people in the lurch! If it were in my humble power, I would ransom every one of those whom Arstein's cursed minions have taken prisoner, so that they may be frozen in an unmarked grave for eternity. To my great regret, some of your brothers and sisters were sold before they were brought to market in one of the Free Cities. But I have endeavored to learn the fates of everyone I could, and will be happy to report them to you, charming Aurora."

The merchant accompanied the last words with an especially broad smile and a bow toward the Reverend Mother, who stood surrounded by several of her charges. Aurora nodded politely in return and said with a slight smile:

"I would be most grateful and happy to listen to you, honorable Dormian. In a more private setting."

"Of course, of course, I understand everything, today is such a bright day..."

The exchange of compliments, praise, and courtesies lasted a few more minutes, after which the King-Priest invited the rescued coreligionists inside the First Temple. On the occasion of the joyous events, the morning prayer, with which every conventional day in Iyastar began, was moved to nearer noon. Dormian and his entourage were also invited, and willingly accepted. The merchant literally glowed with happiness as much as the King-Priest and the High Hierarchs themselves. Dormian did not let go of the gift certificate, not even trusting it to his assistants, and one could literally hear his head pounding the accounts, calculating profits and future earnings. Despite his elevated mood, however, he did not forget to ostentatiously leave a generous donation at the entrance to the First Temple. Neither did each of his companions. He also left a pair of battle magic wands, a half-martial amulet filled with fire energy, and a very expensive dagger of dwarven steel and dwarven workmanship.

The experienced merchant was not allowed to enter the First Temple with weapons, but he was fully aware of this security measure, as were his guards, who had also surrendered all their weapons. But he kept his protective amulets, which the merchant wore very tightly, with him. Including the ones that kept his thoughts safely hidden. This was, however, met with full understanding by the servants of the Sun. Given Dormian's occupation, keeping his thoughts, and with them his trade secrets, was the key to a successful trade. However, it was not difficult to guess what the merchant was thinking about, looking at the way he was continuously fidgeting with the gift certificate, not entrusting it to any of his assistants.

The main space of the First Temple was occupied by a huge spacious room, which was circular in shape. It was very brightly illuminated by numerous lamps and the giant mosaic decorated the dome of the temple. In addition, from the center of the dome, through a special small opening, shone a direct ray of the Lesser Sun, falling precisely temple altar, located right in the center of the temple on a small hill. The altar was made of snow-white stone, in the shape of a symbolic round sun. It shone brightly in the numerous rays of light literally reeked of warmth and power. It made a huge impression, especially for the first time. Especially to the inhabitants of the most remote villages and settlements.

It took a considerable amount of time to accommodate all those gathered, taking into account the guests who had arrived. Obviously, the guest, who was expensive in every sense, was seated on the first row of benches, next to the High Hierarchs and the senior priesthood. His entourage was placed behind him, one row behind him. But it was not easy for Dormian to sit in one place, the merchant was on pins and needles and could not part with the diploma he had received. However, it was looked at with a certain amount of indulgence, because he could be understood. The enterprise of ransoming and rescuing so many prisoners costs a lot of money. And now the merchant was looking forward to the profits that would pay it off.

When everyone had taken their places, Arnuil ascended majestically to the altar. In the rays of the Lesser Sun, the aged Priest-King seemed to grow a head taller and broader in the shoulders. He was already a mighty man. The light of the sun in his eyes became noticeably brighter, and Arnuil's entire body and clothes began to glow with the power that flowed into him. Raising both hands with open palms upward, the Priest-King began his sermon in an amplified voice that thundered through the walls of the First Temple:

"My brothers and sisters, today the Eternal Sun shines especially brightly upon us! For our lost brothers and sisters have returned to us, stolen from us by the greed and meanness of the servants of the Bloody God, so that his vile name may not be heard within these good walls! Let us rejoice for them! But let us also honor the memory of those who gave their lives defending the walls of the northernmost of our monasteries! Their sacrifice will not be forgotten! And let it be a lesson to us so that it will not happen again! And that one day, the eternal sun will never again be hidden from the horizon! May the night that has always been full of dangers, terrors, and fears be lost forever! And that..."

Suddenly, the bright ray of the Lesser Sun, directed precisely from the center of the dome to the altar, faded noticeably. So did the light of the mosaics and numerous lamps that adorned the dome. The glow of the King-Priest had faded noticeably as well. The sunlight in his eyes was replaced by small sparks. The glow of the central altar also diminished. A wave of shrieks and gasps swept through the ranks of those gathered. Some tried to jump up from their seats, but Arnuil was instantly alert.

"Calm down, my brothers and sisters! Calm down!"

His powerful voice, amplified to boot, made everyone freeze in their seats.

"The moon has eclipsed the Great Sun, casting its shadow over the Bright Lands. This will not last long, nor will it disturb us! The light of the Lesser Sun will illuminate us in these moments! Let us praise him, my brothers and sisters! In the name of the Eternal Sun!"

The Priest-King folded both hands before him in a gesture of prayer, and his eyes filled once more with sunlight as the glow surrounded his body and robes. All the High Hierarchs and senior priesthood, who occupied the first rows around the altar, hastily rose to their feet. All of them also folded their hands in a gesture of prayer, and the eyes of many flashed with sunlight. The sunlight shone from them in thin but bright rays toward the Priest-King standing at the altar. The eyes of a young and very attractive girl with long golden hair shone brightest of all. And not just her eyes. Her whole body began to glow, emitting sunlight, visible even through her magnificent white-and-gold robes, which emphasized her seductive figure.

The priests of the Sun-Face, for a short time suddenly and very badly timed to shed some of the forces that their patron had sent them, so as not to disrupt the solemn prayer, quickly formed a unified weave, as the magicians would say. To compensate for the temporarily lost light of the Great Sun with their forces. And this they successfully did. The altar shone again, under the bright and direct beam of the Lesser Sun. Once again illuminated those gathered in the walls of the First Temple the ceiling mosaic. The people, who had been agitated, visibly calmed down and one by one hastily began to join in the common prayer. A chorus of thousands of voices began to merge into a single chant, praising and glorifying the Eternal Sun, the giver of life-giving warmth, the protector against the terrors lurking in the darkness. And the sunlight, focused by the senior priests and the High Hierarchs on the King-Priest standing at the altar, became brighter and brighter. Illuminating everyone within the walls of the Pervoharam. Warming with its rays. Uniting. Giving a sense of common purpose. Of belonging to one great cause.

In the commotion caused by the solar eclipse, no one paid attention to the dear guest and his entourage. The honorable merchant when the eclipse came also jumped to his feet, clutching the gift certificate tightly and frantically turning his head in all directions. From the outside, it could be mistaken for fright. His heart was really pounding like crazy, but not from fear, but from great tension and excitement. Although there was some fear, he suppressed it. The merchant's eyes glided over the senior priests and High Hierarchs who had risen to their feet, occasionally returning to one particular figure. The brightest of all, after the Priest-King. His lips whispered soundless words. Which, nevertheless, were heard by those to whom the words were intended. They were heard.

When the light once again completely illuminated the temple and all those gathered in it. When the warmth of the sun warmed each and every one of them. When the thousands of voices merged into one. Then Dormian le Faler whispered a single word without a sound:

//Now!

Everything happened instantly and without any warning. Here, a young and beautiful half-elf dressed in the modest clothes of a simple novice sister, standing with her hands folded in a gesture of prayer like thousands of other sun worshippers. Her eyes are fixed on the Priest-King, and her lips are whispering the words of prayer along with everyone else. But for a moment, the sunlight shining in them begins to fade, and her lips begin to move silently. It doesn't happen all at once. And not just to her. The Reverend Mother, with the half-elf standing next to her, is too focused on maintaining the strength of the Priest-King, who has taken on some of the burdens of their patron. At the last moment, she manages to notice something amiss with one of her favorite charges. But not in time to do anything about it.

The half-elf just takes a step forward. And disappears. Only to reappear immediately. Right next to her. Literally a dozen steps away, on the other side of the Reverend Mother. In front of an equally beautiful girl with long golden hair, who shone brightly in the sunlight in the front row. Aurora managed to open her mouth in horror but had no time to scream. Shaal, standing next to her cousin, only had time to marvel. Magdalena is completely absorbed in prayer and maintaining the Priest-King's strength. She didn't even have time for that when the familiar Tairel appeared out of nowhere. She appeared and delivered a swift lunge strike straight into her left breast. A set of the finest protective amulets available to sun worshippers hidden beneath the ceremonial white and gold robes. A protective prayer that covered the Holy Maiden tightly from head to toe. It was as if Magdalena's entire defense had not noticed the swiftly struck blow. A blow that reached its target. A blow delivered not with a blade, but with the tip of a medium-sized rod made of a beautiful green stone. A very peculiarly shaped wand. One that was an exact replica of a male body part.

When its head struck Magdalena's left breast with force, hitting the nipple and pushing it in, the girl was thrown back a step and fell back onto the bench. Outwardly, the blow didn't do her any harm. But only outwardly. Because at the moment of contact with the girl's body, a powerful and very complex spell was cast from the wand into her delicate body, bypassing all the seemingly reliable protection. It was calculated and calibrated precisely for her and precisely for this situation. It rolled in a swift wave through the energy channels and instantly reached all the energy nodes. Even in the process of falling, the eyes of the Holy Maiden rolled, and the expression of her face acquired an expression of the deepest pleasure and bliss. As she collapsed onto the seat, she threw back her head and let out a deafening scream and moan, accompanied by a powerful orgasm.

Magdalena's cousin jerked toward the despicable traitor. The Reverend Mother raised her hand, a spark of sunlight already beginning to glow in her palm, and was about to scream. But she didn't. No one did. As the most complex spell, carefully calculated and calibrated, struck Magdalena, it instantly rushed through her connection to the Priest-King, on whom she and all the others were focusing their powers. And which she did not have time to cut off, nor could she have if she had wanted to, while she was under the spell. Arnuil the First, whose attention was entirely focused on compensating for the interrupted flow of power from the Sun-Face, opened his eyes in surprise. A moment later he groaned with pleasure and collapsed to the floor of the First Temple, clutching the altar with one hand at the last moment. At the same time, he soiled his snow-white underwear with his seed, because of the strongest orgasm he had experienced in the last few years.

His pleasure-filled moans echoed throughout the entire First Temple. A moment later, there were thousands of such moans, cries, and sighs. The spell-command-imperative, having struck the Priest-King, flowed through him to each of those praying. Under other circumstances, even an archmage who had devoted centuries to Mind Magic in its many forms would not have been able to repeat such a thing with just one spell. But right now, thousands of people are bound together by the power of the Sun-Face. They were reaching out to the Priest-King. Thanks to this power, using it as a conductor and source of energy, a perfectly calibrated and selected, complex spell reached each of those praying in the First Temple. And not just them.

From the King-Priest, the spell traveled to the altar and through it upward. Straight to the Lesser Sun, which the High Hierarchs and High Priests gathered in the Primordial Temple were now devoting their energies to maintaining. The Lesser Sun, the great miracle granted by the Sun-Face to his followers, which had shone eternally over Iyastar, faded for a brief moment. Only for a brief moment, only to flare up again. But now its light carried more than just the warmth of the sun. It brought something else to Iyastar and its environs.

But those in the First Temple didn't see it. They didn't care. A great many fainted from the spell that struck them, unable to withstand the overabundance of pleasure and enjoyment that overtook them instantly and without warning. Thousands collapsed where they stood, falling into very wet dreams. The relatively few who remained conscious could think of nothing but carnal pleasures. With faces twisted with pleasure, they rushed to the nearest possible partner, trying to start copulating with him as soon as possible. Often without even thinking about removing their clothes. Some of the women wrapped their legs around their often unconscious partner and desperately rubbed their crotch and breasts against him, biting, kissing, and licking. The men who remained conscious simply piled on the nearest female or male neighbor, and began to move their pelvis frantically, also accompanying their movements with passionate kissing, licking, or biting.

Very few of those who remained conscious retained any semblance of mental clarity. Standing on all fours, breathing heavily, her dress and underwear stained with love juices, her breasts exposed, Aurora tried to rise to her feet and summon the power she had been given. To burn the sunlight out of the vile and insidious sorcery. And she had a chance to succeed. And she was not the only one. With his lip bitten through and his fist smashed against the stone floor, Dragn struggled to his feet, ignoring the stone boner and the huge wet spot on his pants. The pain helped to partially dull the pent-up pleasure and lust. Interrupt the effects of the magic. Breathing heavily, struggling to fight off the assistant who was piling on top of him, the Archilictor almost managed to reach for one of his personal amulets, filled with the purest power of light, capable of burning out almost any alien crap from thin bodies. It was so inconveniently hidden under his clothes in an inner pocket.

They would have had a chance. And not just them. If no one had gotten in their way. But among those in the First Temple were those who were untouched by the spell-command-imperative. The maliciously and triumphantly smiling Dormian. His retinue. As well as nearly two dozen loyal followers of the Eternal Sun's cause, as their companions thought of them. Emerging from nowhere, the beautiful half-elven woman, whose body and face now clearly burned with the bright light of complex patterns and designs, gave the Reverend Mother a short and measured blow. With the edge of her palm, on the base of her skull, stripping the remnants of consciousness. Aurora immediately collapsed to the floor, simultaneously experiencing another orgasm and wetting herself profusely. The Nordic Beastwoman, the half-elf's partner, whose body was also now glowing with intricate patterns, stopped the Bright Paladin Commander's attempted resistance. With a single calibrated jab of a needle heavily lubricated with soporific alchemy into her neck. The Archilictor's efforts to resist were interrupted by one of his subordinates simply poking the older man between the shoulder blades with a paralyzing rod, stunning Mayer's assistant as well. He had almost no patterns on his body, and those were inferior in complexity to those of the two Daughters of the Reverend Mother.

Dormian, who was watching all this, winced with displeasure and growled towards the half-elf:

"Be careful with her! I have big plans for this arrogant bitch!"

Tairel responded to the merchant's words with a silent nod and stepped away from the unconscious Aurora, beneath whom a puddle was already visible on the stone slabs of the floor. Dormian had forgotten about the Reverend Mother, however:

"Grab their Holy Wench and drag her to the altar! Quickly, we have very little time! How much strength did you spend?"

The last question was addressed to the half-elf who was still clutching a green stone rod in the shape of a male phallus in her right hand:

"A little less than a third invested."

"That's a lot, we were aiming for a quarter... Well, the remaining strength should be enough, luckily she's still a virgin, so it'll increase the impact... Hurry up and get her on the altar, assholes! Are you fucking nuts for grabbing her tits?! If we don't get there in time, we'll all be wiped out first by her mom and then what's left will be incinerated by the divine grandpa!"

One of Dormian's aides, who together with his partner was dragging Magdalena, who was moaning loudly and trying to harass them, to the altar, grumbled unhappily, letting go of the girl's engorged breasts as if unintentionally:

"She's the one who's--"

"Hurry, idiots! Put her on the altar and spread her legs!"

Dormian's aides obeyed the last order with marked pleasure, and two more joined them, grabbing Magdalena's hands, who were still moaning and squirming loudly. Tairel, on the other hand, silently walked with the merchant toward the altar, intercepting her staff. When they were almost there, Magdalena had already been stripped of some of her robes, exposing her below the waist. The Holy Maiden's thighs and pussy were soaked with love juices, and her heaving breasts were also exposed. However, she did not resist, on the contrary, she twisted and moved her hips with all her might, wanting to quench her burning lust as quickly as possible. It looked incredibly obscene, and just as incredibly exciting. Unwillingly, Dormian licked his lips, which were parched with tension and excitement, and nodded to the half-elf:

"Do itkhhh!!"

The moment the merchant opened his mouth, the half-elf suddenly disappeared again. A small throwing blade filled with magic to the brim whistled through the spot where she had just been, hitting one of Dormian's aides holding Magdalena. Exactly in the middle of his chest instantly burning out most of his internal organs. The same throwing blade struck the merchant between the shoulder blades but barely had the tip of the blade touched the expensive yellow-green robes before there was a tremendous rumble. The reliable and high-quality protective amulet, hidden under Dormian's clothes and filled with magic to the brim, shattered into tiny shards with a loud crack. But it had served its purpose - completely dispelling the attacking magic and literally vaporizing the metal of the blade. However, it was unable to level the consequences of the blow completely.

The honorable merchant was kicked in the back like a horse. He went tumbling toward the altar. Of course, he tripped over the steps of the altar. Dormian screamed in panic, not knowing what was happening. His other protective amulets after the first attack immediately formed a dense magical field around him, where another throwing knife, also filled with magic, struck. It was also successfully deflected. Rolling over on his back, the merchant shouted frantically:

"What the fuck?!"

But at that instant, the darkness was thick and dense, as if someone had extinguished all light at once. Dormian's heart skipped a beat in horror, and for a moment he thought he was dead. But after a moment, he realized that someone had used magic, covering the altar and the space around it in a cloud of thick, dense smoke. So dense that it resembled ink spilled in the air. Only the space inside the barrier formed by his protective amulets remained free. A moment later, someone literally ripped the shrieking merchant out of the cloud of darkness by the scruff of his neck. The panicked Dormian shrieked and tried to break free, but it turned out that he had been pulled out of the cloud of darkness by a North beast folk partially in combat form.

"What the..."

The merchant's shriek coincided with a powerful gust of wind infused with purifying magic. This wind, created by the half-elf with the help of her glowing symbols, dispersed the dense and inky black smoke that enveloped the altar in a split second. The picture that opened up made the merchant go cold with horror. Two figures in dark gray light leather armor, with their faces hidden, stood on the altar, climbing on it with their feet. In their hands, they each held a blade and a battle wand. Between them lay the Holy Maiden moaning loudly and masturbating desperately with one hand rubbing herself between her legs and the other rubbing her breasts. The merchant's assistants who held her lay slain at the foot of the altar. Dormian stared at this for a moment with eyes widened with horror, and then let out a natural shriek:

"Kill them! Quickly! And fuck this holy whore already! Quickly, we don't have time!"

Without that panicked cry, however, the surviving accomplices of the merchant were already rushing down the aisle. Some had glowing patterns on their bodies, but relatively simple ones. The most complex and colorful were those of the half-elf, still holding the green wand, and her partner, who had pulled Dormian out of the cloud of smoke. But the unknown men who had appeared on the altar were not standing idly by. One knelt and placed an object on the altar, while the other threw dozens of small balls in different directions. Dormian's aides drew back for a moment, expecting an attack, but instead of attacking, the balls simply scattered across the floor and flashed with a bright light. The space around the altar was immediately much denser and very unyielding because of the light. At the same moment, the half-elf and the beast folk hissed angrily, losing the ability to instantly move short distances in space.

They both rushed to the attack with the rest of their companions. A hail of magical attacks and enchanted throwing projectiles rained down on the unknowns standing on the altar. It became clear that they had managed to surround the altar with a protective barrier that did not block the attacks completely, but deflected them to the side. Such a barrier wouldn't last long, but every moment counted. In addition, the two unknowns activated their protective and masking amulets, making their figures blurry. And they started hitting back with their magic wands. They were quite accurate and did not spare them at all, completely emptying them in one or two blows, after which they literally crumbled into ashes from too rapid energy output. But they had a stockpile of such wands, and they had achieved their goal. Dormian could feel the time slipping away and the terror growing. But help came from a place he had never expected.

Magdalene, lying on the altar, was apparently tired of satisfying herself, and noticed that there was someone else beside her. With her face clouded with lust, she suddenly wrapped her arms around one of her defenders and clung to him, trying to pull down his pants. She couldn't get him naked, but she was able to grab his dick and distract him. As a result, he missed the synchronized attack of the half-elf and the beastfolk, who struck from the palms of their hands with attack spells embedded in their patterns. The unknown man's defenses held, but he was thrown off the altar to the groan of frustration and disappointment from Magdalena, who was also thrown back. Dormian, almost jumping with delight, shouted as loudly as the foreman of his ship's loaders:

"Quickly, you fucking pointy-eared bitch, hurry up! Shove that magical dick up that stupid idiot's cunt! Hurry up!"

The unknown man left alone could not hold his defenses and was forced to retreat from the altar under the dense fire of magical charges hitting it in a continuous stream. At the same time, they damaged some of the walls and even the ceiling of the temple, knocking out whole pieces of stone slabs. The altar was the only one left without a trace, its snow-white stone easily absorbing the energy charges. Wasting no time, Tairel, along with her beastwoman partner, rushed towards it. The half-elf ran up to the altar and pulled Magdalena, who had begun to self-satisfy again, up by her leg. The beastwoman, on the other hand, rushed to finish off the unknowns who had been pushed off the altar. The half-elf swung her green stone rod in front of the cheering Dormian, but suddenly her hand twitched.

Out of nowhere, a figure similar to the previous two appeared beside her, only in dark armor. The figure clutched the half-elf's wrist, wrenching her hand with the wand firmly clutched in it. Dormian shrieked again with rage and fear, ordering to kill, to stop, to prevent, to do whatever the fuck you wanted, you worthless bastards! The patterns on the half-elf's body flashed with blinding light as she tried to lash out, to attack, to break the distance, but all in vain. The unknown had a stone grip on her, preventing her from escaping. There was a crackle of defenses of the unknown man's amulets collapsed from the extreme stresses caused by the magical blows of Tairel's free hand. In an instant, he intercepted her other wrist with his free hand squeezing it with the same stony grip. A desperate struggle ensued at the altar, and the half-elf tried her best if not to kill the unknown man, but at least to escape his grip. His gauntlets and armor were beginning to smoke in some places, but they continued to hold Tairel's pressure. Dormian could not believe his eyes.

He knew what the Master-treated sharp-eared one was capable of. The unknown cursed freak should have been dead by now, but he not only held on but continued to twist his victim's arm. The beastfolk rushed towards him with a howl but received a merged strike from the battle wands from the other two unknowns. The rest of the merchant's assistants rushed towards the altar with all their legs, hesitant to attack with magic from a distance. But they didn't have time. With a loud and unexpected crunch, the half-elf's right hand broke at the wrist. The short, handmade stone rod fell from her weakened fingers and landed on the stone slabs at the foot of the altar. With a loud clang, its head hit them and it split into several pieces. For a moment nothing happened. A moment that seemed an eternity to Dormian. And then the magic in the wand, without direction or focus, struck in all directions.

Without the energies of the Sun-Face and the bond it formed, the effect was much weaker. The worst affected were the Sun-worshippers, especially those closest to the point of impact. With a shriek, Magdalena arched on the altar of the First Temple, once again experiencing a powerful orgasm and flooding it with her love juices. The High Hierarchs and senior priests closest to him also experienced another peak of pleasure, even if they were unconscious, or conscious but in an inadequate state. The effect on Dormian and his companions was much weaker, thanks to personal defense and distance. The worst of it was the pointy-eared idiot and the unknown man who had attacked her, bouncing off each other like scalded animals. But the merchant didn't even pay attention to the erection that had begun.

His open eyes were fixed on the shards of jade on the slabs in front of the altar. No. No! NO! NOOOOOOOO!!!

His piercing cry, full of despair and panic from the realization of the catastrophe that had happened, was suddenly drowned out by the merging and unexpectedly loud voices of the beastwoman and Tairel:

"Order sixty-six! Execute!"

Their words echoed throughout the entire First Temple. Dormian, who was in a state of wild terror and panic, had no time to realize anything. Just suddenly, a beast folk appeared in front of him. Right out of nowhere. The use of the Blink technique with active space flatteners had literally obliterated its ears, tail, and entire sections of skin and flesh. It was as if she had been minced with a planer. But she paid no attention to it as if those lost body parts didn't even exist. In one elusive movement, she hugged the bleeding palms of the merchant's hands to her cheeks. The patterns on her body flashed blindingly, and Dormian screamed once more in the few minutes that had passed. But now he screamed in horrible pain as his entire body, both physical and subtle, began to burn in magical fire.

The reliable and still full-of-energy magic amulets didn't help. It took only a few seconds for the expensive yellow-green clothes, the gift certificate, amulets, and other small things in his pockets to fall to the floorboards in a shapeless heap. Thickly covered in gray ash. But the beastwoman was no longer paying attention to that. Instead, she stood motionless, staring at nothing. A moment, and suddenly she was crumpled like a rag doll, crushed into a shapeless lump of flesh and bone. Blood and small shards of flesh spattered in every direction, but almost immediately the patterns on her body flashed with magical fire, devouring the remains.

By this point, the other attackers who had glowing patterns on their bodies had managed to quickly and mercilessly slaughter those of their companions who did not have patterns. The latter had not expected a blow from their comrades-in-arms. Afterward, all of them repeated the fate of the beastwoman. All at the same time. It looked terrifying, but no one paid attention to the synchronized deaths. Almost no one. There was relative silence in the First Temple. Disturbed only by the few moans, sighs, and screams of those sun-worshippers who continued to copulate with each other or themselves. It lasted for a moment. And then:

"Fuck it, fuck it, get out of here, now!!!!"

The shout of the unknown man, dressed in dark leather armor, was followed by a swift dash toward the exit. His two companions followed his colleague's example and rushed away from the First Temple with great speed. That spoke of the use of boot enchantments or powerful stimulating alchemy. Or both. As they ran, their figures rapidly blurred, becoming translucent and invisible. When they reached the exit, a female figure with a pair of huge snow-white wings appeared behind them, in the air directly above the altar, in a flash of dazzling sunlight. Rays of light struck from her in all directions, illuminating the First Temple and all the iniquity that was going on in it.

"What the....!!!"

Her question, full of righteous anger, was cut short by a cry of pleasure. The incarnate messenger of the Sun-Face, involuntarily, on the level of instinct, immediately tuned in to the altar of the First Temple, which was the concentration of her lord's power and will. As soon as she connected to it, to compensate for some of the expenditure of energy on being in the material world, she instantly fell under the effect of the still active part of the spell-imperative-command. With a scream, the Heraldess collapsed on the altar, overwhelmed by the all-consuming wave of pleasure and delight. So that right on the altar her own daughter immediately piled on top of her, kissed her with a demanding kiss, wrapped her legs around her, and began to rub her body against her. And the Heraldess struck by the spell, began to respond to her caresses almost immediately.

But it didn't last long, because just a couple of minutes later, inside the temple, a natural sun, with a human figure inside it, lit up in the air above the altar. Its light rained down hot rays on everyone and everything inside. Anyone who was not faithful to the cause of the Eternal Sun and was not part of the flock of the incarnate deity would be blinded and weakened by this light. But for those faithful to the Sun, it warmed, filled them with strength, penetrating to the very depths of their souls. And it illuminated, mercilessly burning out another's will, another's sorcery, dangerous, sneaky, and insidious. Blinking, Magdalena stared perplexedly into the face of her mother, whom she had so rarely seen. The mother whose mouth she was right now exploring with her tongue, and whose breasts she was clutching with her hands. And whose leg she had wrapped her legs tightly around with her own, rubbing her lower lips against her thigh. She stared back, bewildered, into the eyes of her favorite and only daughter, born of a mortal who had done much for the cause of the Eternal Sun, and had finally given his life for it. Her naked buttocks, which she was squeezing vigorously with both hands.

And not only the Holy Maiden and her heavenly parent found themselves in a similar situation. Many who were conscious but not aware of their actions froze, shocked by the realization of what was happening. And then...

"What... WHO DARE?!"

A deafening roar of righteous anger filled not only the First Temple but all its surroundings. The Lesser Sun became much larger in the blink of an eye, and its light rained down on the capital of the Theocracy and the surrounding lands. Scorching, mercilessly burning away the traces of alien sorcery. Thousands upon thousands of citizens began to come to their senses. They were realizing exactly what they had been doing for the last few minutes. And with whom. The latter was sometimes much worse. At the same time, the light searched for the cause. The source of the dastardly sorcery. And soon, it was found. But it was too late.

* * *

In one of the inner rooms of the Iyastar representative office of the Le Faler Trading House sat a thin man in expensive, but not flashy clothes. His appearance was unremarkable, his dark hair was cut short, and he wore no beard or mustache. He could be mistaken for an aide to a wealthy member of the House, inconspicuous but no less useful. In front of him on the table was an artifact mirror and a set of high-quality communication amulets designed for covert communication. The mirror reflected the prayer that had begun in the First Temple, as seen by one of the guests sitting in the front row. The man was visibly nervous and did not let go of the binding amulets, licking his lips every now and then. His attention was focused on what was happening in the First Temple.

The moment the shadow of the moon fell on Iyastar, he even stopped breathing from the exertion. Breathless, the man watched what was happening in the mirror. And when all the people in the First Temple were covered by the sorcery contained in the jade rod, he jumped on the spot and shouted with delight. The man literally danced around his table, unable to contain his glee. It took him a while to calm his excitement and return to the table. But when he saw his reflection in the mirror his eyes went wide.

"What..."

In the next instant, all thought was gone from his mind as the door to his office flew off its hinges suddenly and without any warning. It was a very strong and sturdy door, whose strength was multiplied by a dense weave of protective charms. And which was, like the rest of the room, in the back of a very well-guarded building. But no alarm was sounded, and no extraneous noise was heard. It was just a safe, solid, and locked door that flew off its hinges. Blurred green shadows rushed into the room. Before the man could realize anything, he was securely twisted around his arms and legs. The expensive amulets he had thought were protecting the man were suppressed by the most powerful negators of magic and dischargers, which were not worth three times as much as the amulets. The man's mouth was gagged with a skillful hand to prevent him from biting off his tongue or injuring himself. A special enchanted vial, with a spiked syringe on the lid, was pressed against his neck. The contents of the vial poured into the man's skin without a trace. The prisoner's eyes popped out of his orbits and rolled back, but he was not allowed to lose consciousness.

Behind him, the figure of an elf in the armor of the Secret Guard emerged as a gray shadow. Grabbing the man's temples with his palms, Sunset leaned toward him, his forehead touching his head. The thought flashed once again in the back of his mind that for the next thousand years, he would definitely, unequivocally, never, ever complain about even the most boring routine. This thought flashed and immediately disappeared, as all the elf's attention was focused on hacking into the captive's consciousness. Hacking, exactly. There was no delicate work that such a fragile thing as the mind required. There was only extremely powerful and rough tearing out of the necessary knowledge, multiplied by an equally powerful alchemical serum of truth.

The prisoner's mind was protected. Well protected. It was not easy to read his thoughts. But against the brute and brutal power that was not typical for adepts of Mind Magic, protective barriers and false memories were not good enough. Especially since this force was multiplied by solid experience. The prisoner convulsed, and if it hadn't been for the gag, he would have bitten his tongue. But he could do nothing. The knowledge he needed was literally ripped from his mind. Very roughly, guaranteed to cripple a valuable witness, turning him into a natural vegetable at worst. But the attackers were willing to pay that price. Exhaling, Sunset threw the necessary images to his companions over the shared mindlink:

//“There's a narrow portal hidden in the basement. It leads to this place, on the western shore of the Middle Sea. “A small estate of a minor nobleman.”

//"Copy that. Work!

Picking up the prisoner, the blurred gray and green shadows rushed away from the room, not forgetting to grab the connecting amulets and the mirror from the table. And not just them. When, just ten minutes later, several dozen Bright Paladins, led by another Herald incarnate, moved directly into the House of Le Faler's trade office, it was all over. The representation's defenses were pretty good. Good without exaggeration. But against an elite assault force of the Forest Guard, equipped with the best weapons and magical artifacts, and supported by a large part of the best magic masters of the entire Forest, it was not enough. In only a minute it was stormed, those inside were either captured or killed, after which the attackers promptly retreated. Some of the stormers left through a portal opened in the basement. Some retreated through a similar portal located on the Forest's representative territory. Only to follow their colleagues from there.

The interim Senior Emissary looked at his disappearing brethren with wistful eyes, wondering how he was going to explain himself to the sun-worshippers. The new job, and the promotion he had been pleasantly surprised to receive, had suddenly taken on a whole new color. By the time the city, which had experienced a temporary mass blackout, began to come to its senses and a large detachment of Bright Paladins, led by the commander of their Order, arrived at the representative of the Forest, the diplomat had already regretted three times about his agreement to this, as it seemed to him, promising position.

* * *

For the first moment after the long and, as it turned out, very complicated procedure was over, it seemed to him that nothing had happened. But then a terrible pain twisted his whole body. If his throat hadn't been constricted, he would have screamed out loud. But it quickly became clear that it wasn't his physical body that hurt. It was as if the thin bodies were filled with molten lead, which made auras and energy nodes burn. Master wheezed and tried to arch his back in pain, but he couldn't move a finger. It was impossible to know how long it lasted.

Just in a moment, all of a sudden, it was gone. The pain and the cramps were gone. He just floated in the air, supported by the weave of the spell that formed a comfortable bed. His heart was pounding like mad and his whole body was soaking wet, but there was no more pain. The thin bodies that had just burned with fire were slowly returning to normal. Exhaling, Master licked his parched and bitten lips. Really?

Suddenly, the room he was in shook slightly. A muffled rumble of explosions echoed through the walls and protective barriers. What?! His attempt to sit upright failed. His body obeyed him very reluctantly as if it were really filled with lead. But almost immediately, the doors swung open, and Saya literally flew into the room. She was dressed in her battle suit, and carrying a weapon. The slanting beauty took Master under her arm, and then she said:

"Sir, disaster! They failed! We followed the order of the two sixes, but the enemies have found us! The hideout is under attack! We have to run!"

Master groaned and mentally cursed the brainless and useless idiots. You fools, everything was calculated, everything was calibrated, how could you screw up?! Oh, why now?! Gritting his teeth, he still found the strength to send a thought-command to all his puppets:

//“Action plan Flood!”

His order was heard and accepted. At the exit from the room, where the body surrounded by magical symbols remained floating, the Master, who could hardly move his legs, was picked up by an orcess puppet. Also in full combat readiness. She took the groaning Master on her shoulder as if he were a feather and rushed away from the laboratory, to the lower levels. There were several carefully prepared portals and something else. Just in case. Slanting beauty Saya slid silently behind her.

Behind them, in the laboratory, several servant puppets hurriedly activated one by one the specially prepared spells that were beginning to reduce artifacts, books, and equipment to dust and ashes. Several of the battle puppets took up defenses at the door to the laboratory, preparing to buy time for their master's retreat. The patterns on their bodies glittered dazzlingly, going into afterburner mode, mercilessly burning the resources of their physical and subtle bodies. But that didn't matter anymore. The main thing was to buy time for the master's retreat. And they had.

* * *

"Clear,” the voice of the deputy commander of the Forest Guard's Assault Squad was devoid of any emotion, ”there's no one in the basement. We checked everything. Fragments of three stationary portal arches were found in the basement. It won't take us long to figure out where they led to, they've been destroyed. All we can say for sure is that all have just been activated and lead to completely different places."

His boss nodded silently and looked around the ruined magical laboratory with cold blue eyes. The assault on the unremarkable estate of a minor nobleman of one of the Free Cities on the western coast of the Middle Sea had been very difficult. Beneath the manor was a true magical fortress, well fortified and with skillful defenders. Quite desperate defenders. It took an unpleasantly long time to open the defenses and break the resistance. On top, there were injuries of varying degrees of severity. And this despite the fact that his squad was supported by agents of the Secret Guard and a host of the best masters of magic, gathered from all over the Forest. The power of the spells they used made him sick to his stomach. He wondered how the diplomats would explain it to the rulers of the nearest city, who were already hysterical about the sudden “elf invasion”?

But that's not his concern. He and his subordinates had done their job. After inspecting the ruined room of what had once been a very solid magical laboratory, the commander lingered his gaze on the stacked bodies of its defenders. Especially the ones where complex magical patterns were still glowing dimly. He wondered what kind of warriors they were, and what was going on. When his squad had been alerted, no details had been given. Just given a target, and warned of the danger. Well, he wasn't used to that sort of thing. But he'll get answers later. In the meantime... What that?!

The commander's attention was drawn to the commotion of the magic masters who were searching the ruins of the laboratory with the Secret Guard agents. The defenders had destroyed much of the property before the defenses had been breached. But much had survived, and it was all being carefully recorded and collected for seizure. It looked like the experts of the magical arts had found something interesting. Nodding to his subordinates, the commander headed towards one of the rooms that had just been opened.

"Is there a problem? Who the hell is that?"

For a few seconds, the elves who had gathered at the open doors looked at the body floating in the air, around which a complex magical figure consisting of a whole complex of magical symbols shimmered.

* * *
Author's Note:

Ufff... 24 pages. It's been fun, but challenging. Actually, what I want to say...

This chapter will most likely be the penultimate one. The next chapter should be the final one, where most of the answers will be given. The second part will be, but I can't say when. There are two more pwp works planned. And one of them should be pure PWP. It should...

Once again, thank you so much to everyone who comments, asks questions, gives likes, and corrects typos. With your efforts, the new chapter was written in less than a week. All the best.

Внимание! Этот перевод, возможно, ещё не готов.
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Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/86674/577418

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP