Готовый перевод История Королевы Эльфов / The story of the Elf Queen: Королева_интерлюдия_1

Interlude One

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A large squadron of motley ships sailed in an elongated V formation, catching the wind with their sails. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, the sun shone brightly, and the sea was swaying only gently. The enormous flagship, the Sea Conqueror, led the way at a respectable speed. Behind it, in tow, one after another, were fifteen ships captured in Morgrave Harbor, connected to one another by thick ropes. They had been specially enchanted by the masters of the Isle, so that despite the monstrous tension, they showed no sign of breaking. The flagship, next to which they looked like tiny fishing tubs, towed them along as if oblivious to their baggage. Some of them were damaged, and a couple had lost their masts and sails altogether. The islander crews on the captured ships had to keep a close eye on their prey to ensure it stayed on course and didn't collide with other ships.

Underwater, the squadron was accompanied by mermaid and triton squadrons. Keeping up with the ships, even with a favorable wind, was easy, but ships didn't need rest, while living creatures certainly did. So, almost every islander's ship was towed by one or two wide sea rafts. The inhabitants of the coastal waters, taking turns, rested on them. Some were lifted aboard the ships when necessary, mostly those who had suffered wounds during the raid and were now resting on the decks under the care of healers. But some mermaids and tritons kept constant watch, covering the ships underwater. Although the Middle Sea was considered relatively safe, its depths were teeming with dangerous creatures, including intelligent ones.

Drawing level with the flagship, which was gliding briskly across the sea's surface, one of the Triton squadrons sent a signal via communication amulets. A minute later, its side on one of the lower decks, just above the waterline, folded back like a drawbridge, revealing access to one of the hold's storage spaces. When the side folded back completely, hovering parallel to the water's surface, the flagship's captain emerged from the depths of the ship, hands clasped behind his back. Seeing the arrival of the Tritons, he smiled contentedly and made a graceful gesture with his hand. A moment later, a large fishing net emerged from the depths of the ship, opening rapaciously and falling into the water next to the ship. Moments later, it pulled out a huge fish, just over two meters long. It was already dead, harpooned with a single, precise strike.

Having assessed the catch hanging in the air before him, Alekhar nodded contentedly and made another pass with his hand. The net immediately dragged the fish carcass deeper into the ship. Meanwhile, the tritons, one after another, leaped onto the lowered side, switching to breathing with their lungs. Each carried a combat harpoon and a small, form-fitting vest made of a special fabric resistant to seawater. After the raid, everyone preferred to transfer their combat armor either to rafts or directly to the ships. After all, you can't swim far in armor, even sea armor. The leader of the Triton squad, with a harpoon richly decorated with pearls, emerged from the water and waited for his lungs to return to working order, then said in a disgruntled voice:

"We are warriors of the sea, not hunters, to prowl all night long in search of the Unag, Alekhar."

The King of the Islands raised his eyebrows demonstratively and said sarcastically:

"Indeed, how could I forget this, Ieeral? Oh, speaking of my forgetfulness. I don't think I ever asked you whose troops accompanied Aldamar's ship? And helped his crew loot the Temple of Gaia? Or didn't they help, but didn't even try to stop it? Which could easily have cost us our virility. Perhaps even permanently, if the Life-Giver had been truly enraged?"

For a few seconds, the ship's captain and the commander of the sea warriors stared into each other's eyes, after which the latter looked away. The other Tritons also suddenly began to admire the sea's surface. Smiling, Alekhar said:

"Let's assume I've truly forgotten about this. But to be on the safe side, I expect a generous donation from you and your sea warriors for the new Temple of Gaia, which will now have to be rebuilt in Kuordemar. Because one Unag, even such a large one, will clearly not be enough. Do we understand each other, Ieeral?"

He nodded silently.

"That's great."

Turning, the King of the Isles took a step and vanished into thin air. The ship from the Tree of Life allowed its captain many things, including instantaneous movement within the ship. Alekhar had barely disappeared when the ship's folded side began to rise again. The Tritons, one after another, jumped into the water. Within moments, there was no sign of the opening. A few decks above, in a separate room, the ship's captain was removing his luxurious robes, trading them for a work apron and a simple shirt.

Living almost constantly on a ship had its drawbacks. One of them was boredom. Sooner or later, it overtook every captain of a ship like the Sea Conqueror. The usual methods of alleviating it, such as mistresses or lovers, feasts that sometimes escalated into orgies, worked for a time. Eventually, even these became tiresome, and he had to find other hobbies. Alekhar hadn't yet sated himself with female affection, but he had found a couple of additional hobbies. One of these was cooking. And without false modesty, he could say he had achieved quite good results. Therefore, he converted one of the ship's rooms into a personal kitchen, in the furnishing of which he had spared no expense.

Having changed into his work clothes, the ship's captain extended his hand, and instantly a long, razor-sharp knife of dwarven craftsmanship flew into it, handle first. A moment later, a hatchet with a rounded blade, devoid of sharp edges, flew into the other hand. Also of dwarven craftsmanship. After checking their sharpness and confirming that it was impeccable (after all, few could match the shorty underground creatures in metalworking), Alekhar set the knife aside. First, he would have to work with the axe. Shifting his grip, Alekhar began skillfully butchering the enormous Unag carcass. An excellent catch. Large, with time to accumulate fat. Such a one would fetch a fortune at any sea market. A fish worthy of a king. First, cut off the fins. Then the tail and head. Open the belly. Gut. The enchanted dwarven steel sliced ​​through the unag carcass like a knife through hot butter.

An hour later, wide slices of succulent dark-red meat, surrounded by smaller pieces, were artistically arranged on four enormous silver platters filled with small ice cubes. Smiling contentedly, Alekhar set down his knives and picked up several pot-bellied glass bottles containing various sauces. After pouring them over the meat, he then grabbed a couple of pots of seasonings. A couple of pinches of this. And one of those. Done! Surveying the results of his labors, the captain smiled contentedly. Truly a royal treat! Just right for his charming guest, whose sudden appearance had initially caused his heart to skip more than a few beats. After thoroughly washing his hands and changing back into his luxurious clothes, Alekhar surveyed the fruits of his labors once more, then retreated to his vast chambers.

To find himself in the midst of a loud children's circus. The captain's quarters were enormous, occupying the entire upper part of the stern, fortunately for the ship's size. Everything was there for the most comfortable living. The quarters were divided into three sections: the main, central, and largest. Along the right side, along the wall, were the captain's bedroom and several guest bedrooms. There was also a luxurious bathing area. On the left side, in similarly separate rooms, were a study, a library, and a separate room with a ship's altar dedicated to the Lady of the Seas. There were also a couple of storerooms and wardrobes, where all sorts of things were stored, from clean sets of linens to treasure chests.

And right now, in the central part of the chambers, where there was quite a large open space, a flock of girls, some of Amalia's youngest charges, were chasing each other, squealing and squeaking. They were all dressed in bright children's skirts embroidered with nautical patterns and short, sleeveless vests. They looked the spitting image of islanders; the only thing missing was a tan. But that would come. Most were barefoot, but a few ran around in the provided sandals. A pair of dark-skinned twin girls, dressed in blue and gold skirts and sleeveless vests with the obligatory nautical patterns, were also running around with the little ones. In the company of their peers, the girls quickly settled in and recovered from the terror they had experienced during the raid. This greatly pleased their charming guardian. And therefore, the captain. At the sight of Alekhar, the twins rushed towards him with joyful squeals:

"Dad! Mom, Dad is here!"

Laughing, the captain scooped up both his daughters. A huge panoramic window ran the entire length of the far wall, offering a view of the sea and the squadron sailing behind the flagship. There were also several wide, comfortable sofas, as well as a round pedestal bed, the preferred choice of the serpent people. His guests, along with Phaona and Shassa, were currently lounging on these sofas, conversing among themselves. At the sight of the captain, the black priestess, reclining on a wide, luxurious sofa with Amalia, rose to her feet with one graceful movement and walked toward him. The priestess of Gaia followed her.

Instead of the shabby house dress in which she had appeared before the King of the Isles for the first time, she wore the luxurious attire of a wealthy islander. A red, gold-embroidered skirt fell just below the knees, revealing her long, graceful legs. A blue sleeveless vest, also embroidered with gold, accentuated her large, full breasts. A pair of beige leather sandals with gold clasps. The priestess's long, fair hair was washed and carefully combed, falling behind her in a luxurious cascade. Around her neck, Amalia wore a luxurious necklace of pink pearls, a gift from Alekhar the day before, from his personal stash. On her forehead, she wore a thin silver tiara, also adorned with pearls, and earrings with pearls in her ears.

As they approached, the King of the Islands smiled and lowered his daughters to the floor, saying politely:

"Greetings, my lovely priestesses! I hope you're hungry, because I've prepared something special for you."

Swaying her hips, Phaona approached Alekhar and tenderly kissed her lover, after which she looked sternly at her daughters:

"So, run and wash your hands with your friends."

They immediately rushed off to the quiet children. Watching them go, Alekhar turned to Amalia as she approached and kissed her outstretched hand.

"Venerable Amalia, you look charming in this robe, it’s as if it were made for you!"

The priestess bowed politely and said:

"You are too generous to me, Your Majesty..."

Alekhar, venerable Amalia, for you just Alekhar,” the captain smiled, letting go of her hand.

And also noting the slight blush that appeared on the priestess’s cheeks.

"Please join me and all your charges at the table. As I said, we have something special tonight."

Turning to the empty space in the center, the captain clapped his hands. Instantly, a pair of tables appeared, one large, the other smaller, moved from the utility room. The next moment, chairs appeared, then tablecloths, then silverware, plates, and crystal goblets. All of this invariably made a lasting impression on guests, especially first-timers. How the ability to move directly within the ship made life easier. And also, on board the Sea Conqueror, the dishes were unaffected by the swaying of the seas, even in the fiercest storms, so the silver plates and crystal goblets remained perfectly still. Arming both priestesses around the waist, Alekhar headed toward the newly appeared tables.

Alekhar sat at the first, smaller table with Phaona and Amalia. They were joined by Shassa, who had previously been conversing with the other acolytes of Gaia, as well as the women Amalia had taken under her wing. Despite her exotic appearance by the standards of the continent's inhabitants, the snakewoman managed to find common ground with most of them. The youngest of the girls under the priestess of Gaia's wing were absolutely delighted with her, having never seen anything like her. The couple even plucked up the courage to ask permission to touch her tail. Shassa even rocked the smallest one on it, delighting her.

The rest of the company settled at the second, larger table, casting still slightly wary glances at the captain. The King of the Islands' daughters sat with them, accompanied by their new friends. When they were all seated, Alekhar rose to his feet and said:

"Lovely ladies, today we have for lunch… Unag fillet!"

A clap of hands, and huge silver platters filled with crushed ice appeared on the tables, upon which slices of juicy, dark-red meat were laid. Admiring gasps swept across the tables. Pleased with the effect, Alekhar smiled:

"Help yourself, the meat is incredibly juicy and very tasty."

Turning to Amalia, who had sat down to his right, the captain said:

"What do you think of elven wines, charming Amalia?"

"I've never tried them, Your... Alekhar."

"Then let's fix this immediately!"

A moment later, a bottle of dark-green glass wine appeared on the table before the captain. Taking it in his hands, he uncorked the cork with a single motion, then filled the crystal goblet in front of the priestess of Gaia with dark-red wine.

"Gift of the Forest. The harvest is ten years old. I managed to buy a large batch, which I don't regret at all. Phaona, would you like some white wine as usual?

"Of course."

Another bottle appeared on the table in front of the captain.

"Shassa?"

"I won't refuse red, My King."

When the glasses were filled, Alekhar said with a smile:

"For the beautiful ladies!"

After clinking glasses, they began to eat. The tender Unagi literally melted in the mouth. Fruit from the Isles and fresh bread appeared on the tables as appetizers. No, it was impossible to overstate how much easier life was being able to travel directly within the ship. After popping another bite into his mouth, the King of the Isles glanced at the next table. Admittedly, the guests, while highly unexpected, were far from the worst. The favor of the Goddess of Fertility is never too much, especially for a man who is just now considering a future heir. So he held no grudge against the high priestess of Gaia, her acolytes, and her charges. And he was quite sincere in his desire to make amends for the offense inflicted upon him by a bunch of mindless idiots. Especially considering the high priestess's charm. Although among the followers of the Giver of Life, there are no others. Unless you count the greenskins. However, they have their own... beauty.

The other women who were held captive with Amalia on Aldamar's ship (may that brainless, greedy bastard hiccup!) were also not commoners. As his charming servants of Callisto had already discovered, they were all either from noble families or from wealthy Trade Houses. Which, in the Confederacy of Free Cities, means practically the same thing. It's a shame, of course, because some of them could have been sold for a very high profit. If not to relatives for ransom, then to those same southerners. Their sheikhs are greatly flattered if the next concubine in their harem is not common, even if beautiful, but from a noble family. And if she's both noble and beautiful, that's simply wonderful. Or they could have been given as gifts to the most capable and loyal captains, as sea wives. Essentially, the same concubines.

Now there's no doubt they'll all remain under the wing of their charming savior, at least as novices. Oh well. If they want to ransom them, he won't even object. And if they don't, then let them live at the Temple of Gaia. Nothing would be too much for such a charming priestess.

"More wine?"

Amalia, slightly flushed, smiled shyly and nodded:

"Yeah."

Having filled her glass, Alekhar sent the empty bottle directly to the storage area. His gaze then caught the firstborn seated at the next table. She occupied the farthest seat, staring ahead with empty, azure eyes. Her long, silver hair was neatly combed and pulled back into a ponytail. She, too, was dressed in island fashion, in a gown no less luxurious than Amalia's. On her forehead was an intricate, dark-burgundy seal that contrasted with her fair skin. Amalia's assistant sat next to her, carefully feeding her pieces of meat skewered on a fork. The captain, looking gloomy, turned to Phaona.

"What's up with our firstborn guest? Were you able to figure anything out?"

The black-skinned priestess of the Lady of the Seas darkened and cast a heavy look at her:

"The three of us, Shassa, Amalia, and I, conducted an examination. Her mind had been skillfully fragmented into various tiny fragments. The majority, which were of no use to the master, had been destroyed, while the remaining few were forcibly held together only by a slave brand-seal, allowing one part or another to be awakened at the master's will. Mind healing is not my path. With Callisto's grace, I can wash the brand from her, but without it, the remnants of her mind will disintegrate completely. At best, she will become a will-less doll. Perhaps masters of Mind Magic can do something with her, but I doubt she can be completely healed. Now what remains of her mind lies dormant, and only the one who controls the brand-seal can awaken it. And I cannot find the key to it. Such is not my Lot."

“I wonder who in Morgrave would risk acquiring such an expensive toy,” Alekhar said thoughtfully, looking at the indifferent elf.

"Couldn't you find out from your people where they captured her?" Amalia asked cautiously.

"Already. Surprisingly, no one knows where or who exactly captured her. Most likely, it happened somewhere in the Upper City. I interrogated the scoundrels who plundered your temple, and they told me they discovered her on the ship, among the general crowd of captives, when they were taking a head count."

There was silence at the table for a few seconds. Then, Amalia asked cautiously:

"Alekhar... What will you do with the prisoners?"

The King of the Isles groaned silently. Damn those idiots who dared to plunder Gaia's temple! It would have been fine if it had been someone else's, too risky, but the Lady of the Seas could have protected them from other celestials. Especially at sea and on the Isles. But Gaia! The Goddess of Fertility couldn't rain thunder and lightning down on those who encroached on her temples, but she could, with almost absolute certainty, deprive them of male potency or the ability to bear children.

"They will be offered a choice. They can swear allegiance to me on the altar of the Lady of the Seas, as King of the Isles, and become my full subjects. But after that, only their grandchildren will be able to leave the Isles without consequences. Some may be ransomed by their relatives or friends, and then they will be able to leave the Isles."

"The rest will be given slave collars?"

This is what most of them would have expected. But for the sake of one charming priestess, he'll have to demonstrate a show of magnanimity and generosity. Or rather, to guarantee they avoid the wrath of her goddess. But what a shame! At least the spoils turned out to be truly rich.

"It'll be their choice," Alekhar said, spreading his hands. "Besides, they trade slaves in Morgrave too, you know. That's our world."

Amalia sighed sadly, said nothing, and concentrated on her food. The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, after which Alekhar took his leave. Leaving his involuntary guests in the company of the priestesses, the captain turned to the affairs of the squadron. Fortunately, he had plenty of them. First and foremost, the prisoners. The wounded needed to be tended, everyone had to be fed, and sorted according to their value. Some of the captives, the wealthiest, were transferred to a separate ship, under heavy guard but with relatively comfortable conditions. The most valuable were transferred to the Sea Conqueror. The female prisoners were housed separately on four ships, two of which were captured, under the guard of the snakewomen and the guidance of the priestesses of Callisto.

Because even though discipline on the squadron's ships was quite high, it was better not to take any risks. They'd had enough of greedy idiots. The loot count also needed to be completed. And that was what Alekhar was enjoying more and more! Which made these chores, for the most part, quite pleasant. This raid, which he'd been preparing for years, had proven quite profitable. The captured ships alone were worth it! The Island craftsmen would rebuild and properly treat them, so they'd never again be plagued by rot and wood-eating marine parasites. Afterwards, they would be given to the captains' younger sons who had distinguished themselves most in this expedition, who would otherwise have been unlikely to have their own ship. Which was a good thing, as it would strengthen the power of the Islands and the loyalty of their subjects to their king.

A great deal of goods had also been captured; Morgrave was, after all, a very wealthy city. Of course, a considerable portion would have to be divided among the captains, but his personal profit would still be enormous. They would be in Kuordemar by noon tomorrow, where they were eagerly awaited. The Islands hadn't seen such a successful expedition in a long time; there would be a grand celebration, for which preparations were already in full swing. Alehar returned to his chambers, specifically his bedroom, just as the sun had already set. There, the only one who had the right to be there at any time was already waiting for him. And she waited for him with a rather displeased expression.

"I see you've taken a great liking to this priestess. Isn't what the Lady of the Seas has given you enough?" Phaona said discontentedly, sitting on the edge of the enormous double bed, her legs crossed."

The King of the Islands rolled his eyes and began to undress:

"Oh, that famous jealousy of the Lady of the Seas and her priestesses. I've told you many times that my soul and prayers are given to Callisto, and to no one else. But not my heart and body."

The priestess narrowed her eyes suspiciously:

"I hope that's true, Alekhar, because you're far too generous to Amalia."

With a grin, the captain of the Sea Conqueror tossed aside his boots and stood naked before the black priestess, who stared at him. With a wave of his hand, all the water from a pot-bellied bucket standing in the corner rose into the air, forming a huge sphere. Flying toward the captain, it enveloped him tightly from head to toe and began to swirl, rapidly swirling and washing over him. Thirty heartbeats later, it reconstituted itself into a slightly cloudy sphere, leaving the captain completely dry, and flew out the open window. Refreshed and invigorated, Alekhar turned his gaze to the priestess watching him and, with a predatory smile, asked:

"So where were we?"

"On the question of your loyalty to the Goddess," the priestess licked her lips, spreading her legs wide and demonstrating the complete lack of underwear under her blue and gold skirt.

Grinning contentedly, Alekhar approached Faona, grabbed her ankles, jerked her legs up, and pulled her toward him. Laughing, she immediately wrapped her slender legs around his hips. Leaning forward, Alekhar pulled the dark-skinned priestess's blue and gold vest off and buried his face in her breasts, inhaling the scent of her skin, laced with sea salt. Showering the laughing woman with kisses, he rose from her chest and captured her lips passionately, his hands kneading the priestess's ample breasts, massaging her hardened nipples with his fingers. She eagerly returned the kiss, burying one hand in Alehar's luxurious mane, her other clasping his hands around his back, passionately scratching it with her nails.

Breaking the kiss, the King of the Isles pulled away, then draped the priestess's left leg over his shoulder and entered her smoothly, accompanied by a loud moan of pleasure. After pausing for a few seconds, savoring the heat and tightness of her cunt, Alekhar began to move slowly, gradually increasing the pace. Phaona bit her lip, clutching the sheets with one hand and kneading her breast with the other, twisting her hardened nipples. Accelerating, Alekhar thrust forward sharply, literally stretching the priestess into a vertical split. With a loud cry, Phaona reached the finish line. A moment later, the captain also reached the peak of pleasure and ejaculated inside her. Exhaling, Alekhar pulled away, lowering the priestess's leg, and lay down next to her, holding Phaona close. For a minute, they lay in an embrace, breathing heavily, drenched in sweat, caressing each other and kissing. Having evened out his breathing, Alekhar narrowed his eyes slyly and asked, squeezing the priestess’s buttock with his hand:

"Have I dispelled your doubts?"

Phaona purred, snuggled closer to him, and cooed:

"For a while, yes."

After kissing the priestess, the captain hugged her more comfortably and closed his eyes. How difficult it was with these women. Especially those with celestial beings at their backs. But what could he do? By long-standing tradition, the captain of every colossal ship, like the Sea Conqueror, was always accompanied by one of the senior priestesses of Callisto. Now that there was only one such ship left, he was often accompanied by the high priestess herself. He was lucky with Phaona, and her jealousy was always feigned. One can only guess how my father had gotten along with her predecessor. She hailed from the northwestern coast of the Middle Sea and was unusually bitchy and jealous. She hissed like a snakewoman at all of my father's concubines and mistresses. And at their daughters, too. She and my mother had drank each other's blood, and when the Lady of the Seas took her, her parents breathed a sigh of relief.

Satisfied that the dark-skinned priestess was quietly snoring on his shoulder, Alekhar concentrated, and the adjacent room, given over to guests, appeared before his eyes. There, on one of the beds, lay Amalia. The ship was warm, and the priestess of Gaia slept in nothing but a short nightgown, covered with a thin white blanket. Her acolytes and the youngest of the girls snored on the neighboring beds. Satisfied that they were all sleeping peacefully, the captain concentrated, and Amalia's blanket slowly slid down, revealing her voluptuous figure, which the thin nightgown did nothing to conceal. She was beautiful. If not a son and heir, then he had to have at least a couple of daughters from her! When the blanket slid completely off, the priestess stirred, turning over onto her back, but did not wake. However, Alekhar had a clear view of her lower lips and a small triangle of light hair above it. At the sight of this, the captain felt his desire awaken again.

Obeying his will, the edge of the blanket curled up, its tip barely brushing between the priestess's lower lips. Then again. Amalia didn't wake, but tossed and turned again. Entering the excitement, Alekhar concentrated, and the tip of the blanket began to rub the priestess's clitoris, barely touching it. Gradually, her breathing quickened, and blood rushed to her sleeping face. Her large nipples became clearly visible through the thin fabric of her nightgown. But then, overly aroused, she reached out and placed her hand between her legs, blinking her eyes as she woke. At that very moment, Alekhar stopped his movements. Would she guess? No, hardly. Very few people know for certain the limits of a ship's captain's abilities. Yes, that's true. Looking around, Amalia bit her lip, wrapped herself in the blanket, tucking it between her legs, and lay on her right side, whispering a prayer to her Goddess under her breath. Fine, let her think it was just a wet dream. Opening his eyes, Alekhar glanced at the sleeping Phaona. After the prank with Amalia, which his father had taught him, the desire hadn't gone away, but only intensified. Perhaps he should wake the black priestess and have another go?

As he pondered this thought, Alekhar suddenly sensed something in his chambers: fear, slight panic, and growing pleasure. The captain of a ship like the Sea Conqueror was capable of many things, including literally sensing when something was amiss not only with the ship but with anyone on board. With a slight effort, the restroom of his chambers, where the source of these sensations lay, appeared before his eyes. The captain almost whistled at the sight. There were two people in the restroom: Amalia's assistant and the elven slave whose care the girl had taken upon herself. Now, the acolyte of Gaia, biting her lip to keep from screaming, stared at the firstborn with eyes filled with horror. The elf, dressed only in a nightgown, knelt before her, pinning her wrists to the wall. The girl's nightgown was pulled up to the middle of her stomach, and the firstborn, kneeling, her face completely indifferent, was diligently licking the girl between her legs, her tongue sticking out. Well, well, well.

Focusing so as not to disturb the peacefully snoring Phaona, Alekhar moved first to the dressing room, where he donned a dark blue robe embroidered with gold, then moved to the restroom. Just then, the girl, desperately trying not to moan out loud, vigorously finished, showering the firstborn's face with love juices. The elf immediately reacted, abruptly leaning forward and completely covering her pussy with her mouth. Then she began to diligently sip the girl's love juices. And all this with a completely blank face. Her azure eyes held not a single thought. The flushed and breathing heavily girl tried to pull away, but the elf didn't let go, pulling away again and beginning to lick between her legs.

"You decided to have a little fun, girls?"

Hearing Alekhar's voice, the girl squealed and jerked, but the elf held her back, continuing her task:

"Y-y-your Majesty, it's not that... Ohhh... What do you think! I don't... ah... She's the one, please help!"

With an impassive expression, the captain approached the elf, whose tongue was working diligently. Placing his hand on her shoulder, he activated one of his amulet rings. For a brief moment, the elf's azure eyes flared, after which her eyelids drooped, and she fell asleep. But instead of falling to the floor, she froze in place. Then her body lifted a few centimeters off the ground. Amalia's assistant, meanwhile, hastily tidied herself up, casting frightened glances back and forth between the captain and her charge.

"May I know what happened here?"

"Y-your Majesty, I don’t mean anything… it’s not you… I would…"

"Quiet. Quiet. Calm down, girl. I'm not accusing you of anything. Just tell me what happened here."

Casting a frightened glance at the elf frozen in mid-air, the girl took several deep breaths before jabbering:

"I decided to take Eli to the restroom..."

"Eli?"

"Well... that's what I decided to call her. She's an elf, after all. Elf - Eli," Amalia's assistant said, embarrassed.

Barely restraining himself from laughing, Alekhar pressed his palm to his face. Things like that happen.

"Your Majesty?"

"Oh, that was funny. Girl, Eli was what the orc and goblin leaders called their elven slaves during the Great Horde. Since then, it's become a household name among the eternally young and is considered a terrible insult."

The girl squealed and pressed her palm to her mouth in horror, casting a frightened glance at the sleeping elf frozen in mid-air:

"I didn't know, I swear, I didn't..."

"Calm down, I'm not accusing you of anything. It just turned out pretty funny. Tell me what happened after you came here?"

The girl shuddered, after which she began to chatter again:

"We came here, I sat her down first, waited until she did her business, washed her, then sat down myself to pee, then washed myself and was about to leave, when she... started it..."

"Just like that? Hm. Did you say anything to her?"

"Uh... Yes, I talked to her. Eli doesn't say anything herself, but she understands simple commands."

"What was the last thing you said? Remember, girl, it's important. Remember exactly what you said to her before she started it."

"Well... Um... I think I said, Eli, wait, I need to relieve myself too."

"I see."

Turning to the elf, Alekhar removed the sleeping spell and lowered her to the floor. She blinked several times, swayed, but quickly regained her balance and stood motionless. Standing before her, the King of the Isles stared at her emotionless face for a few seconds, then said:

"I need to relieve myself."

For a split second, the brand-seal barely flickered red. Without a word, the elf knelt before Alekhar, opened his robe in one motion, and, leaning forward, wrapped her lips around the captain's dick, beginning to suck rhythmically. The Firstborn sometimes swallowed it completely, sometimes leaving only the head in her mouth. She licked it quickly for a few seconds, enveloping it with her lips and working it with the tip of her tongue, before swallowing it completely again. Amalia's assistant watched, her eyes wide and her palms covering her mouth. But she didn't look away. Smiling, Alekhar closed his eyes in pleasure and placed his hand on the long-eared woman's head, carefully controlling her movements.

"Well, it's all clear. Nothing terrible happened, girl. You just accidentally found one of the commands her owner was controlling."

"W-what?"

"It's common practice. Many owners of such branded male and female slaves indulge in this amusement. Her master was no exception... as... I see..."

Exhaling, Alekhar ejaculated into the elf's mouth, who immediately leaned forward, swallowing every drop. Afterward, she carefully licked it clean, carefully wiped her lips with the back of her hand, rose to her feet, and stood frozen before the captain. Whoever her master was, he had trained the long-eared one well. Closing his robe, Alekhar turned to his shocked assistant, Amalia, and said:

"Go to bed, girl. And if you don't want to have any more fun with Eli, don't say you-know-what words in front of her anymore."

"I... Yes, Your Majesty, of course!"

The embarrassed and flushed novice grabbed the unresisting elf by the arm and dragged her along with her. Alekhar returned to his chambers, into the arms of a peacefully snoring Phaona. Tomorrow was an important day; he needed to rest.

* * *

Knock, knock, knock.

Draga pulled her hooded cloak tighter around her, nervously glancing around, shifting from foot to foot. The sun had already touched the horizon, and Middle City was rapidly sinking into darkness. Armed patrols of the city guard, reinforced by squads of adventurers, would soon appear on the streets. It was best not to be seen, much less caught. The Duke had ordered anyone caught looting to be either hanged or sent in chains to the mines beneath Mount Ros. Many of those caught red-handed chose the gallows.

When the city was attacked by the damned sea raiders, the witch was in her room, finishing another defensive weave. Her companions were busy squandering the money they'd earned from selling the pointy-eared one. The reckless drinking and revelry had lasted since the day of the sale, with nearly four barrels of wine consumed and fifteen full-sized pork hams devoured. The celebration was rounded out by fifteen prostitutes, of varying degrees of prettiness and freshness, bought from one of the middling brothels for the entire week. Draga preferred not to participate in this drunken debauchery, which, however, surprised no one. The witch had always been rather reclusive. And now she generally tried not to leave her room unless necessary. Which was what saved her.

The islander raiders didn't reach their inn right away. But that meant nothing, as the vast majority of her comrades were either dead drunk or barely able to stand. Having realized what was happening in the city, Draga didn't waste time on these drunks. Especially since it was because of these freaks that she was in this mess! Because of them, that damned snake with that damned pointy ear had coiled its coils around her heart! So, without the slightest hesitation, she gathered everything of value, cleaned out Stryme's room, where he kept the squad's common fund, and then left the inn, rushing through the night streets as far away from the coastal part of Middle City as possible.

It was terrifying. Explosions thundered constantly, and the power of the magic used made your jaw clench and sent shivers down your spine. The streets were crowded, and orbs of light, launched from the duke's castle and the court mage's tower, shone in the sky. Fierce fighting raged in many places. Some tried to flee, but escaping the city, closed off for the night, was difficult. Others, under the cover of the general chaos, settled personal scores or tried to improve their fortunes. That night, various groups of assailants attempted to rob Draga three times. And everyone bitterly regretted it. The witch unleashed all the anger and despair she had pent up over the past few days on the hapless robbers, sparing no expense on her prepared amulets and charms. In fact, this was what helped her.

The commander of a small squad of monster-fighting adventurers, quartered at one of the inns, witnessed the massacre of yet another trio of robbers. He was now hastily setting up a defense. After a brief conversation, the witch, who presented her guild badge, took her place among the defenders, hastily weaving defensive weaves one after another. It wasn't all that difficult. Fortunately, the squad included a gifted young man who had trained for several years with the duke's court sorcerer and held a patent as an elemental mage, specializing in fire. Quickly appreciating Draga's skill, he generously shared the squad's supplies with her. Among them were even a dozen medium-capacity but high-quality storage crystals.

Ultimately, they stood firm overnight, repelling two attempted assaults by raiders. Although the main factor here was the fact that this inn was located quite far from the main battlefields that unfolded near the embankment. Suddenly, towards morning, everything ended. Or rather, the raid ended. But the problems began. The soldiers sent out to scout, along with the townspeople who had joined them, quickly returned with rather disappointing news. The waterfront and the warehouses had been completely looted. Middle City suffered the most, and Upper City had also suffered. But Lower City was almost untouched. And now numerous gangs from it have poured into the ruins of the heavily damaged Middle City, fortunately, because the city wall had been razed to the ground in several places by battle magic.

The adventurers' commander, now in charge, quickly began organizing the defense of the entire street, with the locals actively assisting him. The road had already been blocked the night before by a couple of carts and whatever else was at hand. Now these barricades were reinforced, side streets were further blocked, and several observers and riflemen took up positions on the rooftops. Draga was tasked with caring for the wounded and injured, including those who had only reached their homes by morning. The witch didn't object. Until evening, she wove healing cords, brewed healing herbs with a couple of assistants from the inn's maids, and cast spells to alleviate pain. By evening, she was completely exhausted, unexpectedly immersed in her work. The adventurer's commander, who had noticed her condition and dropped in for a while at the inn, which had been turned into a mixture of a hospital and headquarters, cursed his subordinates and ordered Draga to sleep in one of the rooms.

The witch slept like a log. She wasn't awakened until the next morning by one of the maids who had helped her the night before. On the ground floor, Draga was fed and told the latest news. Middle City had suffered greatly. There had been numerous fires. Many humans and non-humans had been killed, and even more had been captured. There had been numerous attempted robberies, but the remnants of the city guard and the Duke's guard, reinforced by elves (real elves!), quickly put them down. The whole city was now buzzing about this latest one. Rumor had it that the Ever-Young had sent an entire army. The maid who told Draga this breathlessly recounted that she had even caught a glimpse of several of them up close while delivering food to the fighters at the barricade. A detachment of guards, along with several elves, was there conferring with the adventurers' commander and the head of the street. Oh, what handsome men! Tall, slender, with green eyes, green clothes, and what hair! Wow...

The witch, half-listening, struggled to restrain herself from slapping the fool. Fortunately, Draga was saved by the returning commander, who had just arrived to see her. He informed her that his squad was considered hired by the Duke himself under a standard wartime contract and would report to the head of the city guard. They would receive specific orders shortly. This also applied to all members of the Morgrave branch of the Adventurers' Guild, who were ordered to report immediately to headquarters or to the nearest guard or city guard officer. All squads present in the city were considered hired for service, tentatively for three months.

Having told Draga this, the commander offered her immediate and full membership in his squad. After all, he and their gifted companion had already appreciated the witch's skill. To their regret, the witch informed them that she was already a member of the squad. And first, she needed to find out what had become of her comrades and whether they were alive. Until then, she could not accept his offer. This, however, only earned her a few more points in their eyes. After which, she said goodbye and left the inn.

In truth, Draga couldn't care less about the comrades who had dragged her into all this. But she cared about the message she'd received from her new masters. So the witch headed to the designated location. She didn't reach it until sunset, however. Middle City had suffered greatly; many streets were blocked by rubble, barricades were erected in places, and the locals tried to keep out all strangers. City guards were everywhere, and the Duke's guards were rarely seen. A couple of times, Draga actually saw elves among them. She was stopped many times, but her Adventurers' Guild badge saved her. Each time, the witch claimed she was going to the guild headquarters to find out what had become of her comrades. Fortunately, it was in the same direction as the building she needed. Even so, several times she was persistently asked to join one squad or another, realizing she was gifted. Once, they even offered money. The only saving grace was the same token and the clause in the guild charter prohibiting squad members from working alone on the side.

And so, finally, she reached the right place. It turned out to be one of the best brothels in Middle City. Surprisingly, it was almost undamaged, although the nearby buildings had been severely damaged by battle magic, destroyed almost to the ground floor. Draga glanced around uncertainly, then knocked.

Knock, knock, knock.

A narrow window opened in the massive back door:

"We are not working!"

"I'm lost in the twilight forest, please help me."

There was a moment of silence, then the witch felt a strange, attentive gaze upon her. This was the sensation of using a scanning amulet. Then the window slammed shut, the sound of a bolt being pulled back was heard, and the door opened slightly.

"Come in, fast!"

Slipping inside, Draga found herself in a small room where three people sat at a small table. A young girl with a boyish haircut, dressed in nondescript men's clothing, and two burly young men with downright thuggish expressions. All three were armed, not only with well-made long knives but also with at least a pair of combat amulets. Several scanning amulets and a pair of communication amulets were mounted on the wall next to the entrance. Draga's experienced eye assessed their quality as significantly above average. Closing the front door, the girl ordered:

"Follow me. You are expected."

Then she opened the side door that led to a steep staircase. The witch followed her. The girl led her to the top floor. There, by the massive door, she placed her hand on the communication amulet embedded in the wall and whispered something. A few moments later, the door opened of its own.

"Let's go."

Beyond the door was a corridor illuminated by magical lamps. Stopping at one of the side doors, the girl knocked cautiously. When it opened, she ushered Draga ahead, then closed the door behind her. The witch found herself in a large room with fine furniture. A woman wearing nothing but a luxurious red robe sat at the vanity. When Draga entered, she turned to face her and slowly crossed her legs. The woman turned out to be a half-elf. Or rather, a quadroon. A very beautiful quadroon. With long, slender legs and large breasts, clearly visible through the loosely draped robe. She gazed intently at her guest with her gray eyes and then said:

"Well, hello, my dear. Let's get acquainted. I'm Lady Anrieta. Let's get straight to the point. My patrons have decided to transfer you to me for personal use. And until they decide otherwise, I am your new mistress. Got it?"

Draga barely opened her mouth when she suddenly felt the snake tighten around her heart, causing it to skip a beat. Shuddering in horror, she nodded hastily.

"Yes, mistress Anrieta, I understand everything!"

"I prefer Lady Anrieta, remember that."

"As you wish, Lady Anrieta."

Smiling faintly, the quadroon said:

"Smart girl. Well, let's see what I got. Undress. Completely."

With a start, Draga removed her sack from her shoulder, containing the witch's most valuable paraphernalia and money. Then she began to remove her dress. Everything else followed. A minute later, she stood completely naked before Lady Anrieta, who was staring at her intently. For some reason, this appraising gaze angered the witch more than the humiliation of her situation. But she showed no sign of it. Meanwhile, the quadroon, having made up her mind, rose to her feet and slowly approached the witch, swaying her hips. Walking around her, she stood behind Draga and commanded:

"Raise your arms above your head."

When the witch complied, she grabbed her from behind and squeezed Draga's breasts, kneading them unceremoniously, as if she were choosing melons at the market. She squeezed and stroked the two small hemispheres, twisting and pulling at the nipples. The witch bit her lip, but didn't react. Anrieta, having finished groping the witch's breasts, turned her to face her and grabbed her chin.

"Open your mouth. Show your teeth. Stick out your tongue."

Draga meekly complied, seething with impotent rage and feeling like a beast at the market. After examining her mouth, the quadroon clicked her tongue and said:

"Spread your legs."

As soon as Draga complied, Anrieta began to unceremoniously probe her groin. She inserted one finger, then several at once. She pressed her lower lips together. She roughly pinched the pea of ​​her clitoris with two fingers.

"How often do you fuck?"

"I... I don't have anyone right now..."

"I asked how often you fuck."

"The last time was a year and a half ago, Lady Anrieta."

Clicking her tongue, the quadroon pinched the witch's lower lips again, then turned her back to her and squeezed her buttocks, kneading them just as she had groped Draga's breasts. Spreading them, she asked:

"Have you been fucked in the ass?"

"No!"

"Good."

Having completed this humiliating examination, Anrieta squeezed the witch's buttocks once more, then gave her a resounding slap as a farewell. Right on the buttock where the dark elf had branded her, which still stung, eliciting a faint cry. Then she returned to her vanity, where she poured a cleansing potion onto her palms and washed them thoroughly. Then, she turned to the witch, red with shame and humiliation.

"Well then, my dear. From this day forward, you'll live here as one of my girls, and you'll help me with my magic. You know love spells, right?"

"I know the basics, but that's not really my area of ​​expertise, Lady Anrietta..."

"It's okay, you'll learn. I'll find you some textbooks and provide you with materials. And I'll also provide you with practical training. If you're a good and obedient girl, you'll live warm and well-fed, and sleep on a soft bed. But if you're a bad and unruly girl, you'll have to make up for every misdeed with your ass, pussy, and mouth two floors down. Although if you're into it, I wouldn't mind if you decided to work part-time at my establishment in your free time. The main thing is that it doesn't interfere with your main job. Got it?"

"Yes, Lady Anrieta."

"Good girl. I'm sure we'll get along," the quadroon smiled, looking at the naked witch, flushed with shame.

At the same time, Draga felt the snake on her heart tighten its coils again, triggering another wave of fear. Meanwhile, Anrieta touched the communication amulet and said:

"Lada! Come to me."

Less than a minute later, a young woman entered Anrieta's room. She was short, with thick, well-groomed, shoulder-length chestnut hair, gray eyes, full red lips, and a small nose. She wore only a pair of silver bracelets on her wrists and ankles, silver earrings, and a pair of sandals. Slender, but with large breasts, likely enhanced by alchemy, featuring small, pointed pink nipples, and a luscious bottom. A wide, neatly trimmed arrow pointed toward her lower labia. An intricate tattoo of a scarlet rose was etched onto her left buttock. Bowing deeply to the quadroon, causing her large breasts to sway seductively, she said:

"What do you wish, Lady Anrieta?"

"Meet Draga. She's our new employee; she'll be living on my floor, in room five, and I'll pay her full bills. Now take her to Matilda, let her take care of her, and transform this slob into a charming rose. Wash her thoroughly, get her hair back to normal, and teach her how to use makeup if necessary. A simpler one, to start with. And give her proper breasts, at least twice as big as those pathetic ones she has now. Fix up her ass, too. I'll let you use our special alchemy on the most expensive roses. Otherwise, if anyone sees her, the reputation of the "Vicious Rose" will suffer greatly. Once you've got her in order, give her some new clothes too. Let Matilda pick out something to her taste, but in dark colors. And make sure her breasts and slit are completely exposed. Free to go."

"It will be done, Lady Anrieta."

Bowing, shaking her enormous breasts once more, Lada led the silent witch away, who grabbed her things and bag in an armful, looking at the floor in front of her. When the door closed behind them, Henrieta clicked her tongue. What a gift Twilight had given her. On the one hand, a personal witch wouldn't hurt. Especially for the "Vicious Rose." But on the other hand, the way he'd ordered her to be treated... It's not for nothing that the folk saying goes: "If you want trouble, quarrel with a witch." Although, Twilight seemed to have a very strong grip on this particular witch. Or, more accurately, right by the heart. Well, we'll deal with the new girl later. Right now, she has other things to do. Turning to the mirror, Anrieta finished tidying herself up. The night was just beginning, and she had a lot to do.

An hour later, she descended to the floor below, dressed in her favorite tight, dark, low-cut clothes. There, in one of the rooms, Rose, the brothel-madame of the "Vicious Rose," awaited her. A very large, middle-aged woman, she wore a dark burgundy dress with a huge neckline that revealed the tops of her equally enormous breasts. She had been battered by life, but not broken, but hardened. She had managed, despite everything, to retain a fair amount of humanity and maternal care. She, like few others, understood the intricacies of one of the oldest professions and the methods of its organization. It was thanks to her leadership that the "Vicious Rose" was the best brothel in Middle Town. Besides her, there were fifteen women and young girls in the room. They all stood in a line along the wall, completely naked. Some of them were clearly embarrassed. A couple was openly nervous and afraid. Some, on the contrary, tried to project a confident and seductive appearance. To some extent, they even succeeded.

They were all attractive. There wasn't even a single average-looking woman among them. When Anrieta appeared, they all stood up straight, arms at their sides, examining the quadroon. Some with admiration, some with hidden envy, and a couple with obvious interest. Nodding to Rose, the quadroon leisurely walked along the lined-up women. After the islanders' raid, many had lost their homes or loved ones. Some both. While it was easier for grown men, it was much more difficult for women, especially those with children. Some were sheltered by the surviving city temples. Some by relatives. And some decided to take up the oldest profession. And that was far from the worst option. Especially for these women, whom Rose had selected from a considerable number of candidates. Walking along the line of naked women, Anrieta ordered:

"Turned your backs."

When the women had carried out the order, she walked along the line again, after which, pleased with what she saw, she nodded to Rose:

"I approve. Everyone. You can turn back."

The brothel-mama glanced at the women, who had noticeably perked up, and said cautiously:

"Lady Anrietta, we don't have much room left. And some of them have children."

"Let's pack in for now. Put bunk beds on the living floor."

"But..."

"In every room. And if any rose is unhappy about this, just take it to the window overlooking the embankment and let it look out at what's left of the city."

"As you wish, Lady Anrieta."

"Know you."

Turning to the frozen women, the quadroon looked at them with a stern and intent gaze:

"From this day forward, you will live and work at the 'Vicious Rose,' the best brothel in the Middle City. You will be fed, watered, washed, and clothed. If necessary, you will be treated. Because there is no place for dirty whores. Here, lovely roses bloom, delighting guests. For all this, at the end of each month, a portion of your earnings will be deducted, depending on how much was spent on you. Plus the brothel's share. Anything on top is yours. So, the more clients you have, the better for you. Madame Rose will explain the rest. She will now be like a second mother to you."

Having finished her speech, Anrieta headed for the exit. Rose lingered for a moment:

"Now you'll be taken to our bathhouse, washed thoroughly, given clean clothes, and fed. Then I'll take care of you."

Then she hurried after Anrieta. Together they entered Rose's office, where she immediately began wailing as she sat down at a desk cluttered with papers and scrolls:

"Why do we need so many, Anrieta? There's already so little room, and now it's unclear what will happen with work. And half of them have children, and more than one! I thought you'd only leave half, at most!"

"It will all pay off."

Having sat down in a free chair, the quadroon confidently said:

We've just had the opportunity to expand, courtesy of the island rats who've rid us of our closest neighbors. We'll buy the land and add two more wings to the Vicious Rose. One will be residential, the other utility. And the central one will remain just a brothel.

The brothel-madame thought for a moment, considering this option, then nervously licked her lips:

"This will be very expensive…"

"The money will be found, I guarantee it."

"We'll need additional staff. At least a couple more laundresses and cooks. And also..."

"Prepare me a list of everything we need, and I'll take care of it tomorrow. Anything else for today?"

Smiling slyly, Rose said:

"A special guest is waiting for you with an interesting proposal. I'm sure you'll like it."

Intrigued, Anrieta followed the brothel-madame into one of the business conference rooms. Two guests were seated at a table there. A middle-aged woman, wearing a well-made dress, had a good figure and medium-sized breasts. She had a clear face and long, light-brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. It would be no exaggeration to call her pretty. But next to her sat a young woman who was a true beauty. Slender, with a chiseled figure, a clear, angelic face, long, light-colored hair reaching mid-back, and clear eyes. She was dressed in a perfectly fitting dress, clearly tailored to her figure. The family resemblance between the two guests was unmistakable. Upon seeing Lady Anrieta, they immediately stood and performed a hasty curtsy. The quadroon nodded briefly to them, eyeing the young woman with interest, and then said:

"Greetings, esteemed ones. Madame Rosa said you have a business proposition for me?"

The older woman, nervously licking her lips, cast a quick glance at the younger one, then spoke quickly:

"Hello, honored one. Thank you for your time. My name is Diana. My daughter and I have found ourselves in a very difficult situation. My husband, Arnold, was a senior shipwright, the head of a crew that worked at the Morgrave shipyards. My sons worked with him. I don't know what happened to them; they were either killed or kidnapped. The house where we lived was badly damaged; our room burned down. We were taken in by relatives, but we had almost nothing left. Except for the debts my husband incurred. He would have paid them off, but now... He's gone, and I don't know what to do. Some friends told me you could help."

As she finished her sentence, she glanced quickly at the girl sitting next to her, then back at Anrieta. The girl tried to appear calm, but the quadroon's experienced eye could see she was frightened. After a few seconds of silence, Anrieta smiled and said:

"I think I can really help you. Rose, please take this young beauty to my private room and arrange for her to be fed. If she needs a bath and clean clothes, arrange for her to be washed. I'll talk to her about everything tomorrow. Right now, I need to discuss something with Diana."

"Of course. Come with me, my dear. Don't be afraid, no one will hurt you."

The girl cast a frightened glance at her relative, most likely her mother, received a curt nod, and then followed Rose. When the door closed behind them, Anrietta's face turned cold and indifferent.

"Is this your daughter?"

"Yes. I..."

"How much do you owe?"

Interrupted mid-sentence, Diana cringed, lowered her gaze, and said in a quiet voice:

"A lot, honored one."

"I asked how much?"

"Almost three hundred in silver, honored one."

Hearing the amount, the quadroon raised her eyebrows questioningly. In response, Diana, her eyes lowered even more, whispered:

"My husband's crew took out a loan from the Kormantov Trading House to build a ship. Everything was done fairly, the contract was certified at the city magistrate's office and on the divine altar. Each crew member took on the responsibility of paying a portion of the sum. They would have paid; the proceeds from the sale of the ship would have been more than enough. But now..."

“So, you decided to sell your daughter to my brothel,” Anrieta finished, looking at the woman with a cold gaze.

She shuddered in response, shrank even more tightly, and nodded.

"Is she a maiden?"

"What? Oh, right, Zara hadn't met men yet, and her father and I kept a very close eye on her..."

"What can she do?"

"Zara sews beautifully, and she can also read; Arnold insisted on teaching her. She also sings well and can dance..."

"Shut up."

Anrieta's tone made Diana stop mid-sentence and stare at the quadroon in fear:

"No matter how wonderful she is, she is not worth three hundred pieces of silver."

The woman, who had turned noticeably pale, opened her mouth, but Anrieta cut her off with a gesture:

"But I liked her. So I'll help her."

A look of relief crossed the woman's face, and she opened her mouth again, but Anrieta cut her off harshly again:

"But I don't like you at all. And if you want me to help you, you'll have to earn my help."

"What? But... but why?"

"Why? Because you decided to save your own skin at the expense of your daughter! You decided to save yourself from debt at her expense, you greedy bitch! You yourself didn't want to spread your legs for men for money. Better let your daughter do it!"

Anrieta's words made the woman cringe, but she didn't dare argue. Instead, she whispered in a trembling voice:

What do you want?

The quadroon squinted and said:

"I'll buy out your and your daughter's debt. In full. And you will work it off at the Vicious Rose. In full, too. For yourself and for your daughter. If you don't like my terms, you can get out of here and forget about your daughter; I'll take care of her. By law, your debt to the trading house will be split in two. I'll pay her half. And you pay yours however you want. Understood?"

Diana nodded, trembling in terror. Tears welled in her eyes. Grimacing, Anrieta muttered:

"Now that you understand, you can begin. Take off your clothes."

"W-what?"

"Are you deaf? I said, take off your clothes! I want to see what I just bought for three hundred silver coins."

Startled, the woman rose to her feet and began unlacing her dress. Completely naked, she froze before Henrietta, who looked at her with disdain. It would do. She had breasts and a nice figure, too. She wasn't worth three hundred silver, of course, but she wouldn't be a blatant burden either. Spreading her legs, the quadroon unlaced her tight dark pants, revealing her crotch.

"You look good, you'll find clients. Let's see what you can do. Get started. Quickly."

Shuddering again, the woman knelt before Henrieta, avoiding eye contact and leaning forward cautiously. The quadroon felt her ragged breath on her lower lips, then the touch of her tongue. Timid and very cautious. Grimacing, Henrieta grabbed her hair and pressed her face into the woman's crotch, simultaneously throwing her legs over her shoulders.

"Work your tongue properly, bitch! Or I'll change my mind and throw your cunt out into the street."

The threat worked perfectly. Horrified, Diana began to work her tongue with all her might, desperately licking Anrieta. Smiling contentedly, the quadroon closed her eyes in pleasure. Not bad, quite good. Especially if this was her first time using her mouth. A few minutes later, still squeezing the head of the woman diligently licking her with her thighs, Anrieta finished, leaning back and breathing heavily. Evening her breathing, the quadroon spread her legs and released the woman, now smeared in love juices and saliva. Then, she pulled a hefty silver thaler from her belt pocket and dropped it on the floor in front of her.

"Your first payday. Consider it an advance. Since you're only a mediocre, you deserve no more than forty coppers. But never mind, you'll learn. Wait here and don't bother getting dressed. They'll come for you and explain everything."

Leaving the humiliated and naked woman sitting on the floor, Anrieta zipped up her pants and left the room, heading to her floor. Now she had to change. Entering her room, the quadroon began pulling down her soiled pants and activating her communication amulet. A minute later, Lada ran back into the room, shaking her bare breasts. Bowing to Anrieta, who stood half-naked by the closet, she politely asked:

"Yes, Lady Anrieta?"

"First. There's another new employee waiting in the meeting room. Tell Rose to place her with the other new arrivals. She owes three hundred silver coins to the Kormant Trading House. Have our guys go to the city magistrate tomorrow and pay her debt in full from the Kormants with my own money. Officially, with all the paperwork and seals."

"As you wish, Lady Anrieta."

"Second. Give my new guest, Draga, my first assignment. By the end of the month, she's to turn that greedy bitch, who decided to sell her own daughter to a brothel, into a lustful bitch. A stupid, lustful bitch who only wants to fuck, no matter who."

"As you wish, Lady Anrieta."

Having finished changing her pants, the quadroon turned to her assistant.

That's all for now.

After bowing, she turned and ran away, shaking her enormous breasts. When the door closed behind her, Anrieta activated the additional protection and sat down at her vanity. Touching an inconspicuous control crystal in the mirror's frame, she activated the artifact. The reflection rippled, and a moment later, it reflected one of Anrieta's personal guest rooms. There, in a wide wooden tub filled with steaming hot water, stood a naked Zara. Holding a jug, she carefully rinsed the soapy lather from herself and her beautiful hair. Enlarging the reflection, Anrieta appreciated her naked figure and was very pleased with what she saw. How lovely. A real gem. Lucky she had gotten her hands on her. Such a treasure really isn't worth three hundred coins. Such a beauty could fetch much, much more. Especially at auction, if several bidders were to scramble for it. But Anrieta has no intention of selling it. Taking a special communication amulet, she sent out a call. She had to wait a minute for a response:

//I'm listening.

"I have a new addition to my team. She's a perfect fit. I'm sharing her image."

The amulet was silent for a moment. Then came a reply:

//"Okay. Proceed to the first stage of processing and training. You'll receive your start-up expenses in three days, as per the standard procedure."

After that, the connection was stopped. Putting the special amulet back in its place, Anrieta pulled out several others, combat and protective, and began to get ready. If the girl turns out to be not only beautiful but also intelligent, she can consider her life a success. Elves periodically need fresh blood for their human servant dynasties to avoid inbreeding. Periodically, by human standards, but by the standards of the long-eared ones, it's practically constant and uninterrupted. Therefore, the search and selection of potential candidates is always ongoing. And the requirements for them are quite strict, both in terms of appearance and intelligence. Zara meets the first criterion. Tomorrow we'll see if she meets the second. Although given her beauty, there's no doubt Zara will be approved in any case. At least as a simple spouse for one of the servants. In the meantime, Henrieta has one more matter left. The most important one, for tonight.

After looking around and ensuring she hadn't forgotten anything, her protective amulets were securely hidden, and her combat ones were within reach. Anrieta left her chambers and headed up the stairs to the rear exit of the Vicious Rose. Her most trusted subordinates were already waiting there. All were dressed in discreet clothing and also armed. Without a word, they all stepped outside, simultaneously activating a pair of camouflage amulets that cloaked their squad in shadows. It took them over an hour to reach their destination, hindered by city guard patrols, curfews, and the remnants of barricades and rubble. Finally, they reached the desired street, located in the very center of Middle City. They stopped at an inconspicuous door in the blank side wall of a tall residential building, above which was painted a schematic symbol of a closed eye. Anyone unfamiliar with this door would likely have missed it. Henrieta approached it and touched the metal plate embedded in the center of the door with her palm, whispering the words of the prayer-password. The cold metal instantly warmed, sending a wave of light through the wood, and the door swung open completely silently. Beyond it lay a steep staircase descending, illuminated by magical lamps.

A couple of subordinates entered first, checking that all was well before the rest followed. The door closed silently behind them, and a wave of light washed across it again. If anyone had paid attention and managed to open it, they would have discovered a tiny room, a closet littered with useless junk. Anrieta and her subordinates reached the top of the stairs and found themselves in a spacious, round chamber, illuminated by magical lamps hanging from the ceiling. Five more passages, identical to the one the quadroon had entered through, led into it, spaced at regular intervals. Next to each passage, to the right, stood a tall, dark-wooden chair. Three of the six were already occupied, and the other three were empty. The occupied ones held the leaders of the gangs that controlled one or another district of Middle City, surrounded by their closest retinues. Moreover, while each of the Night Guild's leaders usually accompanied no more than three or four underlings to such meetings, now each brought nearly fifteen fighters. They responded to Anrieta's appearance with curt nods and tense glances. The quadroon returned the favor.

In the very center of the room, right on the floor, stood a massive stone bowl filled with coins, jewelry, and precious stones. At its center stood a black stone sculpture depicting a man in hooded robes, completely concealing his face. Lortan, the god of deceit and theft, was the eternal patron of thieves, forbidden from open worship almost everywhere. But he was secretly worshiped, and not only by members of the Night Guilds. His favor was equally prized by the knights of the cloak and dagger. In almost every palace of a ruler of any importance, his bowl-altar stood occasionally in a secret room. Finding Lortan's hidden shrines was extremely difficult for those who did not pray or sacrifice to him. And if the shrine was particularly ancient and sacred, it was practically impossible. This particular shrine was practically the same age as Morgrave.

Approaching the bowl, Anrieta dropped a full-weight gold coin into it. Her subordinates, one after another, dropped in a full-weight silver thaler. No matter how much treasure was thrown into these bowls, which served as the altar-centers of each shrine, it was impossible to completely fill them. Furthermore, no one had ever managed to plunder a single shrine of Lortan. Even if someone did manage to steal something from the treasure-gifts, they invariably turned out to be cheap counterfeits. Having completed the traditional and obligatory donation, Anrieta took her place. Then, she surveyed the assembled group with an attentive gaze and said:

"Everyone who could and should be here is here now. Therefore, I propose we waste no time and get straight to the point. You know, sirs, why we have gathered here."

For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Only the bosses sitting opposite Anrieta exchanged glances. Then one of them, a scarred face sitting in the center, directly opposite the quadroon, said with a grin, his gap-toothed mouth wide open:

"I know why we're here. But why did you drag yourself here? I have no idea. Or do you seriously think you can sit on our faces with your cunt?"

A rough laugh was heard. As expected. A large, plump man with a bald head, sitting on a chair to the left of the leader, supported his colleague in the dangerous criminal enterprise:

"No, I don't really mind if she fits her slit in me somewhere. By the way, how much do you charge for the night?"

Another round of rude laughter and smug expressions. Also expected. Sitting to the right of the first leader to speak, a thin man with cold gray eyes and completely gray hair and beard, waited for silence before speaking slowly, looking intently into Anrietta's eyes:

"It's not an idle question. Especially now, when after the raid by those fucking naval bastards, revenues will fall."

And that, too, was to be expected. Another round of laughter, but this time a little thinner. The plump boss grinned cheerfully:

"Gray, I see you're quite the shot! And listen, maybe you should really lower the price, considering this disaster, huh?"

Another harsh laugh. But Gray and his companions didn't laugh this time. Looking him intently in the eyes, Anrieta said:

"A quarter less for the next two years."

Smiling faintly, Gray nodded:

"Good."

"Hey, what is this... Argggh!!!"

The first and second bosses sensed something was wrong, but were too late to act. A noose was slung around each of their necks from behind and pulled tight. Simultaneously, one part of their closest retinue attacked the other. Suddenly. Without any warning. Behind Anrieta, two subordinates let out a gurgling wheeze as they were stabbed in the throat and ribs. In Grey's retinue, only one man collapsed to the floor, a knife in his heart and eyes wide open. In two moments, it was all over. Almost all. Smiling at the bosses, who were wheezing in terror, the quadroon said politely:

"And I, my dear sirs, wasn’t even talking to you."

After which she nodded briefly, and the leaders' close associates, who had proven far from loyal, abruptly tightened their nooses. Turning to Gray, Anrieta smiled politely once more and nodded toward the corpses of her subordinates lying behind her, who had decided that changing their master by betraying their mistress was a good idea.

"Another three months. For each."

The old man smiled faintly and nodded in response. Meanwhile, the strangled bodies of both bosses were dragged from their chairs and roughly thrown to the floor. Afterward, their thinned retinues split, each into two roughly equal groups. Two remained in their places, and from them emerged new leaders who took the places of the slain. The other two moved toward the empty chairs. From these, too, emerged leaders who took the places formerly occupied by the Huntsman and the Experienced. After which, everyone turned to Anrieta. She smiled charmingly, crossed her legs, and said:

"So, esteemed ones, as I've already said, you know why we're here. You've already heard my word. A quarter less for the next two years."

Grinning, Gray was the first to raise his right hand. The gesture was followed by the four new leaders of the Night Guild. The new Night Mistress of Middle City had been chosen unanimously. Outwardly calm, Anrieta smiled faintly. But the quadroon's heart pounded wildly with glee. It had happened. It had happened! So much work, effort, and intrigue had finally paid off! The coveted and cherished title of Night Duchess of Morgrave was one step closer. A very big step.

* * *

Exhaling slowly, Darendil allowed himself to close his tired eyes. He only removed his hands from the combat amulets when Henrieta, along with her retinue, now reduced by a third, left the shrine of Lortan. Then, still wearing the amulet of invisibility, he approached the altar bowl and emptied a purse-full of silver coins, including ten gold ones, into it. Bowing to the sculpture and whispering a short prayer, the elf turned and headed for the exit. Anrieta was covered by two agents outside, but the insurance wouldn't hurt. Besides, they'd all be returning to the same place anyway.

Ah, just one night. One single night, and it's provided problems for over three hundred years. And there's no end in sight. True, the night was incomparable; there's no denying that. But it wasn't worth all these problems. Who could she set up with for her granddaughter? She needs a firstborn father for the child. Stubborn, just like her mother and grandmother. Hmm. Maybe he can somehow persuade Luaval? I need to think about that idea.

* * *

Having finished applying the healing ointment to the now-healed wounds on Christian's right shoulder with her fingertips, Mistrael closed the lid on the small pot and set it on the bedside table. Then, turning to the young half-elf lying on the wide bed, she smiled tenderly.

"The healing is going well; another week at most, and your wounds will only leave small scars. And those are what make a man beautiful."

The young man smiled wearily, placed his hand on the hand of the elf sitting by his bed, and squeezed it:

"I feel fine, Mistra, I already told you. When I was thrown by a horse as a child, it was much worse."

"Falling from a horse and being hit by a powerful magical blast are two completely different things, Christian. You still have a full course of restorative treatments to ensure all your energy channels are back to normal and there's no remaining damage. You know that damage to the immaterial body can have extremely dire consequences, like the loss of vital bodily functions."

Squinting, the young man said slowly:

"I have all the functions in perfect order."

Releasing the elf's hand, he slipped his hand between the hem of her nightgown and began to tenderly knead her right breast. Smiling slyly, Mistrael licked her lips and whispered languidly:

"In that case, I should make sure of it."

Standing on her feet, she threw the robe off her shoulders in one movement, remaining completely naked in front of Christian. After giving him a few seconds to admire her body, the elf threw the thin blanket aside in one motion and climbed onto the bed with her feet. As expected, the young man beneath her was already fully prepared. Standing directly above him, Mistrael said in a thoughtful voice, but with a sly smile:

"From the outside, everything is in order. But I need to check everything up close."

Slowly lowering herself onto the heavily breathing young half-elf, Mistrael straddled his erection, settling herself comfortably. Narrowing her eyes, she arched back, dramatically thrusting her breasts forward.

"Mmm... The initial sensations are wonderful. Now let's test them in motion."

The elf began to move her hips smoothly, gradually increasing the pace. Christian, with a mischievous smile, reached forward and cupped Mistral's breasts, massaging her nipples with his thumbs. She responded with a satisfied moan and sped up slightly, covering his hands with hers. Accurately judging the moment, she tensed her muscles, squeezing Christian's cock with her insides, and he finished with a loud groan. A moment later, with an equally loud groan, Mistral arched her back. Then she smoothly lowered herself onto the flushed and sweaty young man. Kissing him tenderly, the elf whispered:

"Well, today's test was successful. But I think it'll need to be repeated soon. To completely eliminate any doubts."

Christian whispered with a satisfied face:

"Definitely…"

After lying for a while longer, hugging the young half-elf, Mistra confirmed that he was fast asleep, then kissed him tenderly once more. Then she carefully climbed out of bed, dimmed the lights in the duke's heir's chambers, covered him with a blanket, picked up her robe from the floor, and headed to the restroom, where a wide, low basin had been prepared, enchanted to keep the water hot. In the center stood a small stool, also enchanted to resist rot. Settling down on it, the elf rinsed herself with a jug of hot water and began soaping her slender body, paying particular attention to her breasts and pussy.

For several minutes, she caressed herself with one hand between her legs and the other on her breasts, closing her eyes. At one point, she bit her lip, froze, and tensed up, then relaxed, exhaling deeply and inhaling several times. Then, as if nothing had happened, she finished her ablutions. After combing and drying her hair, she began applying creams. The famous elven beauty required meticulous care. Having completed all her evening rituals, she returned to Christian's chambers. After looking around, the elf slowly walked around the room, ensuring that the magical wards were in perfect order and that there had been no breaches. Then, she approached her vanity, which, along with many other personal items, she had retrieved from the Forest.

Of course, it was expected that she would live separately, but Turiel apparently managed to persuade her husband, and Mistrael was now the official mistress of young Christian. His beauty and charm during a visit to the Elven Forest had managed to captivate its inhabitant so much that she followed him to the human city. That was the official version. And one of the privileges of being the official mistress was the opportunity to live together. Naturally, the number of human harlots who were poisoned by this news was incalculable. Which, however, was entirely expected and customary. Activating the camouflage amulet discreetly embedded in the underside of the tabletop, the elf waited until it reached its full power. Now it would appear to an outsider that she was simply preening in front of the mirror. Touching the control crystal in the frame afterward, the elven agent caused the reflection in the mirror to undulate. A minute later, a tired but serious Turiel was reflected in it. Nodding to her fellow agent, she got straight to the point:

"How is Christian?"

"He's practically completely healthy, and his treatment is progressing well. The castle's protective barrier absorbed most of the impact, and his personal defenses held the rest. However, at least one set of restorative rituals will be required to fully stabilize the affected areas of his subtle body. Nothing fatal; they will fully recover over time, but it's best to avoid even the slightest risk."

"Good. Any problems?"

"So far, everything is as expected. The court healer and the servants were the most displeased with me taking Christian's care entirely on myself. Especially the maids, who had been so hopeful of caring for the wounded, handsome heir."

"I have no doubt. That's all for now. Thank you for your help. There will be a couple more assignments coming soon."

"Okay."

Having deactivated the mirror, the elf stretched wearily. The start of her new assignment had been extremely hectic. Before she'd even had time to get her bearings, she found herself caught in an islander raid, the likes of which hadn't happened in quite some time. On the other hand, that was actually for the best. She'd managed to bind the boy even more tightly to herself. If his wounds had been more serious, she might have even resorted to the healing massages, but this worked just as well. And in the chaos of battle, she'd managed to eliminate four of her intended targets at once, cleverly disguising everything as the aftermath of shelling from the King of the Isles' flagship. Two of them were key, specifically targeted by Turiel. This should make further work considerably easier. Especially once aid from the Forest begins to arrive in the ruined city. Having deactivated her camouflage, the elf turned to Christian, who was sleeping peacefully, examining the young half-elf. She'd had worse assignments.

Not a bad boy. Mediocre in bed, but that's for now. She'll teach him. He's already quite good with his tongue. It would be great to know who they'll marry him soon, so she can start preparing for work with his future wife. The previous list of potential candidates had to be revised somewhat after the raid. Too bad, there were a couple of quite suitable girls. Stretching again, the elf once again confirmed that the chamber's wards were working properly, then lay down on the bed next to the peacefully snoring young man.

* * *

"Your dinner, sir."

Without even bothering to glance at the boy servant, Vinatir waved him off and returned to reading another letter. He didn't even glance at his plate of food. The merchant was in a foul mood. Pointy-eared idiots! To frame their own agent like that! No, he understands everything, maximum secrecy and all that, but you can't just shit yourself out of nowhere! If these overly proactive idiots, may the orcs fuck their mothers, had coordinated their actions with their superiors, there wouldn't be any problems! No, they wanted to curry favor, and now everyone's in trouble! Fucking idiots! At least they managed to organize a decent cover story for him. Supposedly, he and his puppets managed to escape the attackers, and then the island scum started raiding, and he was saving his life, hiding in some back alley. Well, they paid a pretty decent compensation. Although it could have been more, considering the mess he got himself into.

Once again, because of those long-eared idiots! While most of the guards tried to find him, the quarter's defenses weakened. As a result, everything was stormed and looted by the islanders! Returning to the ruins of his house's representative office the next day, much to the amazement of the surviving workers and members of the house, Vinatir barely restrained himself from howling at the scale of the problem. But then he pulled himself together and began resolutely cleaning up. His mansion had burned completely, but the basement had survived, albeit partially collapsed. And that was crucial, as it contained one of his hiding places. Several thousand silver coins, a couple of hundred in gold. But most importantly, papers and documents, copies of promissory notes and accounting records, journals, and amulets. With all this, he could live. Having settled into one of the few surviving buildings, formerly a residential building for servants and workers, and now the temporary center of the quarter, Vinatir took the largest and most comfortable room and began to work and work again.

Calculating the losses took almost two days of nonstop work, from dusk to dawn. He even slept and dined in this very room. At the same time, he had to oversee the urgent repairs, manage his remaining subordinates, resolve issues with the city and the duke, and correspond with relatives, partners, and competitors. It was impossible to immediately tell which of them was worse or where the line was drawn. Gritting his teeth, Vinatir handed the latest letter he'd read to his silent slave assistant and muttered:

"Refuse. Let him do what he wants, but I need the money on time. I'm not interested in excuses; it's tough for everyone right now."

He silently accepted the letter and began writing a reply in calligraphic handwriting. Vinatir leaned back in his chair, wearily closing his eyes and trying to suppress his irritation. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. He could handle it. He'd been in worse situations. Especially if you think about it, it wasn't all that bad. It could have been much worse. He'd managed to deftly talk his way out of the interrogation with the long-eared ones, practically without being disingenuous. If that white-haired, long-eared sorceress hadn't been such a complete idiot, he really would have returned her through his Curator. Honestly. Just look at that idiot, she essentially fell into the clutches of the kidnappers herself! What else could you do with someone like that?! The elves checked his words, confirmed his sincerity, and didn't even scold him too harshly. Apparently, they, too, appreciated the idiocy of their fellow tribeswoman. It is precisely these types that should be gotten rid of first.

The main thing is that they didn't interrogate him too closely and didn't find out about Titi. That would have been an order of magnitude more of a problem. After all, the Curator hadn't authorized her kidnapping. It was done privately, with great caution. But, after all, he deserved a small bonus for his many years of impeccable service. Besides, it would have been extremely foolish to deal with the Forest's unwanted long-eared creatures without securing at least one eternally young one for himself. However, it's not a given that the long-eared creatures would have agreed with him. So, in this situation, the islanders' raid partially played into his hands. During the attack, his brainwashed long-eared creature was in his mansion, disguised, in "obedient doll" mode. She looked like an ordinary human slave girl, purchased for a perfectly understandable purpose. A sensible precaution for precisely such unforeseen circumstances. After all, he is not the Most Serene Caliph of the southerners or the Great Chieftain of the Greenskins to openly possess an elven slave.

So the island invaders who plundered his mansion likely didn't even immediately realize who they had captured. When they did, they'd surely be overjoyed. However, linking Titty to him would be impossible. The master who worked on the elf's brain had done a fine job, stripping away all unnecessary information, leaving between her long ears essentially only behavioral patterns. These were controlled by the brand-seal. Even if it were removed from Titty, they'd be left with a mindless meat doll. She wouldn't be able to tell them anything. Very convenient. A practically perfect wife. Speaking of which.

Opening his eyes, Vinatir looked at his beloved wife, sitting modestly on the edge of the bed in a simple dress, her face blank and bearing the same brand on her forehead as Tity's. Their marriage was purely one of convenience and brought no joy to anyone. But Vinatir was willing to tolerate a woman he didn't love, for the good of his House. Together, they conceived four children, one of whom even turned out well. Moreover, she turned a blind eye to his mistresses, provided they didn't produce bastards. He repaid her in kind. But Vinatir, for obvious reasons, didn't tolerate his wife's attempt to become a widow. Caught red-handed, having planned and nearly carried out an assassination attempt that had every chance of success, he was taken into custody. Afterward, Vinatir had an extremely difficult and unpleasant conversation with his family, and then an even more unpleasant one with his wife's family. He didn't get a divorce, nor did he return his wife to her family for a ransom, which was what she had been counting on. Instead, he used his personal savings to pay for the services of a master the Curator had introduced him to. Upon learning of her fate, his wife, who was in custody, became hysterical, which escalated into panic, threatening, pleading, and bargaining. It was a joy to watch.

But Vinatir had no intention of forgiving his wife. Instead, he ordered the woman tied securely to the bed, and they spent a long night together. A wonderful night, when for the first time in years of marriage, he explored every orifice of his wife's and did everything he could imagine to her. When dawn broke, he kissed his fucked wife one last time, then handed her over to the master's assistants, ignoring her renewed hysteria. She thought he'd relented, deciding to punish her through sex. A couple of weeks later, he had his now-perfect wife back. Noticeably prettier, especially in all the right places. Completely submissive and obedient. And most importantly, silent. Her family turned a blind eye, as did her in-laws, though they harbored a grudge. Even their children didn't mind. The youngest son, the most intelligent, even cautiously asked his father how much such training for his wife cost. But upon learning the price, he noticeably dejected himself, deciding that his own wife wasn't worth that kind of money. For now. After all, the master had asked a lot for his services. Ashuir was charging almost half that. The pleasant thoughts lifted his spirits, and not only that. Vinatir gave the order, activating the brand with a ring-shaped control artifact:

"Come here, my dear."

Without a word, his wife rose from the bed, walked up to Vinatir, and stood frozen before him. Smiling, he admired his beautiful wife for a few seconds, then said:

"Let's get into a working position."

Still silent, his wife unlaced her dress, revealing her ample breasts. Then, she lifted the hem, revealing her slender legs and removing her expensive lingerie. Bare in all the right places, she leaned against the table, spreading her legs wide and jutting out her ass and slit. Then, she froze in anticipation. Vinatir slowly rose to his feet and stood behind his wife. Grasping her buttocks with his hands, he gently squeezed them and began unbuckling his pants. Sliding them to the floor, Vinatir took his penis and pressed it to his wife's slit. After rubbing his head over them a few times, he slowly entered his perfect wife, who, upon hearing the command, was already wet. Grasping his wife around the waist, the merchant began to slowly move his hips, immediately picking up a fairly rapid pace.

She used to be a real log in bed. Only under the covers, and only in the traditional position. She wouldn't even let anyone touch her breasts. Ha! Reaching out with his right hand, Vinatir roughly squeezed his wife's ample breast, pressing his index finger against her nipple. His wife didn't react, and the merchant belatedly gave the command.

"Voice!"

Having received the command, the wife immediately began to moan with pleasure, doing it very naturally.

"Work!"

Another command, and the previously motionless wife began to move her hips, giving in to Vinatir's demands. A minute later, he swung his hand and delivered a resounding slap to his wife's buttocks, saying:

"Good girl."

Hearing the praise and receiving a slap on the backside, his wife jerked, momentarily ceasing to moan and move. Then she finished, and Vinatir felt her love juices flowing copiously from her pussy. This would never get old. He must have read the idea in some book about a semi-mythical hero who had such fun with his battle-concubine. Damn it! Right now!

Cursing, Vinatir left his wife, who was still leaning on the desk, and stumbled, pants-less, to the other end of his desk, where a special communication amulet lay in a drawer. He wouldn't have paid attention to others in this situation. But this particular amulet, custom-made at a great expense, was used only for communication with a very small circle of his most important acquaintances and only for discussing the most important and serious matters. If someone called him, it must be urgent. Although it wasn't hard to guess what this "urgent" meant. Taking the amulet, crafted especially for him by a renowned master artificer and enchanted to make it virtually impossible to eavesdrop or track, Vinatir clutched it in his palm, accepting the call.

//I'm listening.

To his surprise, instead of the telepathic speech that was only audible to the one holding the amulet, an emotionless voice came from it:

"Execute order sixty-six."

//"What?! Who is this?! Where are you from..."

The call ended. What is this…

Vinatir was not given the chance to finish his thought. A woman's hands descended from behind, landing on the merchant's head and chin. A split second later, they wrenched his neck with unexpected force, breaking his vertebrae. Vinatir de Waar Gras died without time to be frightened or surprised. His wife, her expression completely indifferent, turned to face the secretary, who was just finishing writing a letter, seated at a separate table. Her brand-seal on her forehead glowed red. The young man opened his mouth to scream and began to rise, following the instructions he'd been given, when a table knife plunged into his eye, piercing the hilt. Guards, their alarm amulets activated, were already pounding on the locked door. Footsteps could already be heard on the stairs. But the merchant's perfect wife paid no attention. Taking from the box the four most powerful combat amulets of her murdered husband, imbued with magic to the brim, she activated them all at once.

* * *

"The Lady of the Seas smiles upon us, my beautiful lady! The wind is favorable, and tomorrow, after dawn, we will surely reach Sakhib Nere."

"Glad to hear it, worthless one. You can go. And tell no one to disturb me without reason until this evening. I want to rest."

The first mate of the hijacked ship, after three full bows, left the captain's cabin with a smile on his face. Ashuir, sitting in a comfortable chair at the captain's desk, didn't even glance at him. The sorceress was dressed in the same thin red robe she'd worn when fleeing Morgrave. It had been roughly laundered and cleaned in shipboard conditions, so at least it no longer smelled of burning. She felt noticeably better. The crew essential to the ship's operation had been completely brought under control; the rest remained helpless, stacked in various places, having forgotten how to move or speak. This memory was restored to them only twice a day, one at a time, for meals and to relieve themselves. All of the ship's weaving had been completely controlled. So, the serious strains of the first day were no longer present. But the sorceress's mood was still far from cheerful. She was not used to traveling in such conditions and had no intention of getting used to it.

Fortunately, there were those who could alleviate the discomfort caused by the lack of comfort. Snapping her fingers, Ashuir lifted the silver goblet from the table and said:

"Wine."

A young and rather handsome lad with tanned skin, a slender frame, and short dark hair stood against the wall. He approached her, holding a silver jug ​​enchanted to keep its contents cold. He wore only a thin leather collar, like a lap dog. Trying not to look at the sorceress's deliberately parted robe, he filled her goblet with wine from the captain's personal supply. After taking a couple of sips, Ashuir said:

"Excellent wine. I like it. You have taste, captain."

The captain, clad only in a loincloth, kneeling in the corner of his own cabin, didn't react. Because nightstands don't speak. And they don't move. Perhaps they hear and understand everything. But they don't speak and don't move. Taking another sip of wine, the sorceress turned her gaze to the young man standing next to her, a distant relative of the captain. A handsome boy. Smiling, Ashuir took another sip and said cheerfully:

"I know what you're thinking, you little bastard. Oh, the fantasies you have. You rascal."

The young man standing next to her turned pale with terror, sweat beading on his forehead, but he couldn't move. Nor could he say anything. Ashuir, who had inspired him with more than half of his vulgar fantasies involving her, was clearly enjoying herself, took another long sip, finishing her wine, and set the goblet on the table. Then she slowly rose to her feet and leisurely opened her robe, revealing her body to the young man. The captain's relative trembled slightly but couldn't move. His eyes, wide open in terror, slid involuntarily over the sorceress's body, from her breasts to her vulva and back again. Having completely removed her robe, Ashuir giggled contentedly:

"You're trying so hard not to think about what you want to do to me. And that makes you think about it even more. It's so sweet."

Walking around the frozen young man, Ashuir pressed herself against him from behind and began to rub her breasts against him.

"Do you like my boobs? I really like them, I know. Oh, you're so cute."

Hugging the helpless young man from behind, Ashuir laid her head on his shoulder and cooed in his ear:

"You like beautiful women, don't you?"

The young man, who had regained his ability to speak at the sorceress's request, licked his dry lips and whispered:

"Y-yes, mistress."

"Do you like looking at naked beautiful women?"

"Y-yes, mistress."

Giggling, Ashuir brought her lips to the young man’s ear and whispered in a languid voice:

"When we arrive in Sahib Nehre, I will invite my friend master."

Lowering her hand, the sorceress cupped the frightened young man's dick and began kneading his scrotum. Almost immediately, his penis began to harden.

"He'll carefully cut away all the excess, after which any sheikh would be happy to buy a handsome young man like you for his harem. There you'll have plenty to look at, gazing at a wide variety of beauties. And not only that. Sheikhs can't always devote their time to each of their wives or concubines. So, eunuchs have to look after them. This requires skilled and gentle hands, as well as a long, flexible tongue."

The lad was trembling violently, and his heart was pounding like crazy. Smiling, the sorceress continued to coo in his ear, continuing to play with his erect penis and scrotum.

"Although I've heard that some sheikhs actually prefer the embraces of handsome young eunuchs instead of their wives and concubines. Perhaps you'll get just such a one."

"M-mistress. I beg you! Have mercy! I will do whatever you want."

Ashuir giggled cheerfully and said:

"You are so sweet. My boy, you will do EVERYTHING I want anyway."

Having once again deprived him of the ability to speak or move, the sorceress tenderly kissed him on the cheek and left him standing there, dissatisfied and frightened. A good boy. Maybe she should really keep him? Although he could fetch so much money. Well, we'll decide when they return. Turning to the captain's bed, she approached it, swaying her hips, without bothering to pick up her robe. There, on the edge, sat a naked Otong, his legs spread wide. Zitra, also completely naked, knelt before him, a pillow under her knees. Grasping his long dick at the base with one hand, she massaged his scrotum with the other and simultaneously diligently licked him, from head to root. Slowly and thoroughly. The elf's eyes were half-closed, as if she were not fully awake. And partly, she was. Next to her, Tonga sat on the floor, wearing only a loincloth, and watched Zitra's work closely, commenting on her actions:

"Good. Yes, that's it. Take your time. Don't forget about the balls. Men like that. Good. More attention to the head. No, no lips yet. Now just use your tongue. Yes, that's it."

Standing behind the elf, Ashuir gently placed her hands on her shoulders and politely asked:

"How do you like your treat, my dear Zitra?"

The elf stopped working her tongue, still without fully opening her eyes, and said in a voice devoid of emotion:

"Delicious. I like it. I feel good. Thank you."

The sorceress smiled and said:

"I'm glad to hear it, my dear. Tonga, was she a good girl?"

The dark-skinned slave nodded her head vigorously.

"Yes, mistress. Zitra was a very good girl today. She tried very hard."

"Then I guess she deserves dessert."

Hearing the word "dessert," the elf pulled back slightly and opened her mouth wide, aiming the tip of Otong's dick directly at it. Giggling at the sight, Ashuir snapped her fingers, releasing the dark-skinned slave's mental block. At that very moment, he experienced a powerful orgasm, and a tight stream of thick semen shot straight down Zitra's throat. She took the entire stream without missing a drop, then scooped up the rest with her tongue, thoroughly licking the head. Then, she began to swallow it slowly. She experienced immense pleasure in everything that was happening, even if her expression was indifferent. Placing her palm on the elf's white-haired head, Ashuir closed her eyes, focusing on Zitra's mind. When using this training method, the key is not to overstimulate the part of the mind responsible for pleasure and enjoyment. Otherwise, the harm will outweigh the benefit. What do we have here between two sharp ears?

Everything is fine, everything is within the norm. Creating a positive attitude toward oral sex with humans at the fundamental level is almost complete. In itself, this is a minor detail, easily remedied. But her work is made up of dozens and hundreds of such details, and eliminating this one is no easy task. Soon, sex with humans in any form will be perceived as just as normal and enjoyable as sex with her own kind. Even better. So, step by step, she won't even notice how she becomes the person Ashuira wants. Smiling, the sorceress gently stroked Zitra's head. She will need to grow normal long hair, not this elven army squalor. The elf, meanwhile, finished her "dessert" and now froze, holding Otong's now limp member. Snapping her fingers, Ashuira said:

"That's all for today. Tonga, bring Zitra some water. Lots of it. Otong, I need a massage. The captain has some good body oil to protect my skin from the sun. We'll use it. While you're at it, give Zitra a massage. Pay special attention to her breasts; she likes it."

Without a word, both slaves rushed to carry out the sorceress's instructions. She carefully helped the elf sit on the edge of the bed, settled down next to her to the left, hugged her tenderly, and rested her head on her shoulder.

We'll be arriving at my home soon. You'll love it there, my dear Zitra.

With the same indifferent face and half-closed eyes, she answered:

I look forward to it, venerable Ashuir.

Smiling, the sorceress tenderly kissed the elf's cheek, enjoying the warmth of her body and the smoothness of her skin. She didn't notice Zitrael's right ear twitch.

Author's Note:

So, in my hentai with elves and goblins, so many characters appeared out of nowhere that I decided to write an interlude, since leaving them out would be a waste.

Interpeople turned out to be 36 pages long. Ficbook pages, 36 pages. It's multiplying! MacReady, flamethrower, hurry!!!

Okay, no big deal.

Even though the Interlude was big, the elves and others got their fair share of lemons, including those who had absolutely no interest in baked goods. Plus, there is some lore.

I'll try to write this weekend. I have the general idea.

My traditional thanks to those who point out errors, write reviews, and click the "Waiting for more" button. You are my best motivators.

Внимание! Этот перевод, возможно, ещё не готов.
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Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/86674/595979

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP