Queen Yavara: Chapter 39 free porn video

BROCK

“…I don’t know what is custom for Highlanders, or royalty, but in the tribes—in the Terdini anyway—well, the Protaki as well, and those of the Northern Pines… goddamn it.” I growled to myself, took a deep breath, and tried again. “My queen, Yavara. I know that I am unworthy… no, confidence, Brock. Yavara—too informal? Confidence. Yavara…” I assessed the area around me, then brushed some of the dirt away from the floor of my tent, and got to one knee. “Yavara, I don’t know what is custom for Highland royalty, but the Terdini have a tradition—a custom… custom or tradition? Fuck it. Yavara, I don’t know what Highlanders do, but when a Terdini man wants to take a Terdini woman as his wife, he presents her with an eagle egg.”

I held out the chicken egg. “The eagle represents strength and long sight, two things that are most important for a marriage to last. But when the bird is young, it is weak and blind, and must be nurtured carefully for it to grow. I know that you don’t see me like you see others, but I think that, with time… no. Confidence. I know that you don’t see me like some of the others, but that’s because I can give you something they can’t. This massive dick. Goddam it. I’m not like others you love, but the gifts I have are things only I can give, and I want to share them with you until my dying day.”

I sighed, and struggled back to my feet. I wasn’t old yet, but my joints were telling me that my youth had been just about spent. I groaned when my knee finally buckled, then leaned against the tent post, and massaged below the cap.

“Well,” came Trenok’s voice from the flap of the tent, “that was… depressing.”

I wheeled around to see my son grinning from ear to ear. “You sneaky little shit.”

“Was that how you proposed to Mom?”

“No,” I growled, “I gave her an egg, threw her on the bed, then fucked you into existence. In retrospect, I should’ve pulled out.”

“In retrospect, you should’ve tied the tent flap shut.”

“If you tell anyone—”

“I won’t.” Trenok said, stepping into the tent. “But will you? Will Yavara ever hear that beautiful, third-grade-level poetry?”

I grunted. “Just keeping my options open is all. I can’t be Froktora forever. What’s the next level for me, huh?”

Trenok snorted. “I heard you say ‘love.’”

“Love is just another word for ‘career advancement.’”

“Who are you trying to fool? You’ve been obsessed with her ever since that night.”

“She is the Dark Queen. She is holy.”

“Yeah, and you’ve been in all those holes.”

“You know what I meant.”

He snorted, “You’re only lying to yourself, old man.” He proffered one of my chicken eggs, “Are you going to make her an omelet?”

“My eagle is male.”

“I’ve got a nest. One of them is nearly as big as my fist. That would be one fit for a queen, I imagine.”

“I guess it would be.” I mumbled.

Trenok stepped up to me, and clapped me hard on the shoulder with a broad grin. “She’s gonna sit on your face the moment you’re finished. I’m afraid you’ll drown.” He laughed, and embraced me tightly, “I’m happy for you, Dad.”

I held him for a few moments, then clapped him on the back. “Alright, quit being a faggot.”

“Remember when we fucked Destiny together?” He chuckled, then whispered, “Our tips touched.”

“Goddamn it!” I roared, and pushed him away from me, “Fucking hell, man.”

“And somehow, that was less gay to you than that hug.” Trenok chuckled, then opened the tent flap, “Come on, Dad. Let’s go kill some elves. That always cheers you up.”

ELENA

“That’s it…” I groaned, petting Sofia’s hair. She hummed around my cock, rotating her lips about my base just like I taught her. Her tongue nestled wetly about my underside, and her throat closed around the crease of my head, the moist sphincter contracting wonderfully with her cute gags. “Cute” was the best way to describe her. She was on her knees, her teenage breasts pulled from the top of her juvenile dress, her youthful blushing face cast in an innocence that contrasted the grotesque piece of meat wrapped in her pristine lips. She was like a doll, and her eyes shown glassy and adoringly up at me, eager for my praise.

“Don’t forget the pussy.” I lectured through a moan. She nodded with my cock in her mouth, and slid her hands up my thighs. Her fingers came together at the apex of my legs, and she pushed two from each hand into me. She was awkward when touching me as a woman, the motions not coming to her naturally. Even though she confessed to having masturbated frequently, she did not know how to please another.

“Turn your wrists.” I muttered, guiding her, “Curl your fingers, and press on the spot. No, not there. Not there. Not… oh… right there…” My head fell back in the chair with a surrendering groan, and Sofia’s face lit up with pride. Her blowjob became more impassioned, her pale lips forming a slurping seal as they moved up and down my shaft, lathering the veiny length with her spit. She was worshipful with the way she touched me, every motion seeped in love and tenderness, never once seeking to put me beneath her power. Her fingers played inside me, orchestrating the first female orgasm she had yet to give me. But my male ascension was faster to come. With a cry, I thrusted against her face, and buried my cock all the way into her. She glugged around it, holding her lips down, milking me with their suction, her blue eyes staring adoringly up. I shuddered, and emptied my loins down her throat. She swallowed gluttonously, drinking the first portion of my offering, then slurping her way up my shaft, drawing the last of my semen up the straw of my cock until her lips popped free, and splashed her beautiful doll face with my rank sperm.

She moaned as though coming herself, closing her eyes and letting the droplets splatter across her hair, forehead, nose and mouth. Then she opened her eyes, grinning behind her perverse mask, and she dipped her face below my cock to put her mouth where her fingers had been.

“Oh, fuck!” I screamed, and felt Sofia’s lips curl in a satisfied smile around my petals, her tongue snaking out to draw along my ceiling in a slow, plodding ‘come-hither’ motion. And come hither, I did. My thighs clamped around her head, and I wrenched in reaction to the sensation that surged through my pelvis, into my belly, and up my spine. I saturated her face with my squirt, and she drank it in. When she was finished, she dragged the underside of my cock up her face, smearing the mixture that had pooled there. She kissed my tip, and crawled up my body. Our mouths came together, my fingers sank into her succulent flank, and I penetrated her pussy as she shared my flavor with her tongue.

When we were done, we bathed together, washing each other, dirtying each other once more. It was only when we were back in our clothes that we could reliably keep our hands to ourselves.

“Elena,” Sofia said, looking out the window as she put her earrings on, “Lord Huntiata’s carriage is outside.”

I smiled. “I knew he’d come back.”

She looked inquisitively at me. “But we have the barons tonight. Shouldn’t you rest?”

“There’s no rest for the wicked.” I grinned in my mirror, and applied a thick coat of red lipstick.

LEVERIA

I enjoyed conjugal visits with my husband much more ever since Elena had come into my life. He wasn’t as good a lover as her by any stretch, but he was a man, and it was nice to lie with one. I daresay he enjoyed my visits quite a bit more as well, for Elena had taught me much, and I gave Eric all that I had learned.

“Sweet gods!” He panted beneath me, “I almost told you I loved you!”

I chuckled, and playfully gnawed on his nipple. His stiff cock throbbed pleasantly inside me, his masculine nectar slowly seeping from my abused pussy. I kissed my way up his chest, then up his neck, then slid upward to kiss his mouth while his cock slipped out of me, letting his spillage leak onto his crotch. Then I hopped off him with a giggle, gave his member a parting lick, and enjoyed his reaction with a wide-open smile, my tongue cleaning him.

“Did any suitors come by today?” I asked, donning my eveningwear.

“Xantian again, wondering about his dwarven contracts.”

“Those dwarven contracts he already got from Ternias? The weasel is good at portraying himself, I’ll give him that.”

“I politely declined for the one-hundredth time.”

“No need to be polite with rodents, Dearest. What about Yanas Feltian?”

“Word is that he officially abdicated to his son, Percian. He’s on his way to Bentius.”

“Send the boy an invite to the palace.”

“Already done.”

I grinned over my shoulder at him. “What would I do without you?”

“It probably wouldn’t be much different for you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” I said, looking back in the mirror as I applied my makeup. “Do we have any word of Feractian?”

“He’s still trying to quell the rebellion with his lieges. His barons operate in his stead.”

“Are any of them powerful enough to take his seat?”

“No.”

“And none of them have accepted our invitation?”

“No.”

“Huntiata? Any news from him?”

“I doubt we’ll ever get to that old bastard. Ever since I married you, he hasn’t said a word to me. I doubt he ever will.”

“And your father was so close with him.” I pouted my lips. “What about Lady Droughtius?”

“Isn’t she already Elena’s as well?”

“She is. Do you have any inkling what Elena could’ve possibly promised her?”

“I think she might just be a true believer in peace.”

“I love how you see the good in people.”

“I love not being patronized.” He replied, a touch of irritation in his voice.

“Sorry, Babe.” I smiled at him in the mirror, and he reluctantly smiled back. Yes, he was an oaf, but he was my oaf.

“Say,” I said, “you used to be really into witches and wizards and all that.”

“I had a childhood fascination.”

“Zander Fredeon’s staff, it’s a skull with a crown, right?”

“Legend said it’s Alkandi’s skull, and he carries it with him to ward off the Dark Queen. That was before we found out he was a traitor. Why do you ask?”

“Just a random thought.” I said, smiling victoriously to myself.

ADRIANNA

Leveria had told me to watch the harbor. The boat had a three-day arrival window, and I would have to make sure its cargo went unchecked. It was the time of year when the cold fall air met the warm summer water, and a thick fog encircled the bay, obstructing visibility less than a mile out. When I saw the boat with the red mast arrive, it was already at the harbor’s mouth.

“Shit.” I muttered. I pulled my hood tight over my face, looked over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching me, then I walked down the planks to it.

“That one passes through.” I told the custom’s man. The goblin turned to me with an objection on his lips, but once he saw who I was, he just smiled, and nodded. He waved a flag, and those at the mouth of the harbor waved one back, and let the little boat with the red mast sail through. I walked down the row of barges, whaling ships and fishing boats, and stopped before the dock.

The woman who came off the boat was a dawn-elf, her olive skin contrasting her dark red hair. The nomadic forest dwellers had been granted citizenship by Yavara, but they were very rare in the city of Alkandra, usually only coming to trade woodcraft for agriculture products. This woman was no forest dweller. Her face was scarred grotesquely, a jagged line deforming her nose, opening her lip to show the teeth, and cutting a wedge off her chin. She had a half-bow on her back, and a belt of knives across her waist.

“And I was worried you’d be conspicuous.” I said.

She looked darkly at me. “I don’t speak sarcasm.”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic. You’ll fit right in here.”

She curled her lip. It might’ve been a smile. “Pay.” She said.

I dropped a bag of coins into her hand. She opened them, and meticulously counted each one while I stood there. When she was done, she closed the bag, and put it on her hip. “This boat stays here. This entire dock is mine. No one docks behind me, you understand?”

“Yes.”

“And the key to the embassy servant’s quarters?”

I reached into my pocket, and tossed it to her. “There are four protection sigils you need to know to get passed it. I wrote them down and tied the note to the key.”

She read the note, then tore it to pieces and threw the pieces overboard. She looked up at me. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Dawn-elves don’t use half-bows.”

“Lowlanders use half-bows.”

I stepped forward. She reached for her hip. She was fast. I was much, much faster. I snatched her hand, wheeled her around, and pinned it behind her back.

“What?!” She snarled, shock in her eyes.

“The target is a Lowlander.” I said, “Why would our employer want it to look like a Lowlander did it?”

“Perhaps you should ask her yourself.” She snarled, then bit into a capsule she had in her mouth, and spat. I jumped out of the way just in time. The mixture sizzled on the deck of the ship, eating through the wood. She wiped her mouth, her lips bloody and discolored, and she held her dagger between us. “I’ve been paid to do a job. I do it how I’m told. I don’t ask any fucking questions. I don’t give any fucking answers. That’s why the price is so high. If you try anything like that again, I’ll wait for you to sleep, Thomas Adarian.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “When will you do it?” I asked.

“Five days from now, as agreed upon before.” She said sharply.

I nodded. I would contact Leveria tomorrow at the designated time, and figure out what the hell was going on. “There may be a change in your orders tomorrow.”

“Slide your message into the window,” She hissed, tapping the glass of a porthole, “You will not see me again in the flesh, or it will be the last thing you ever do.” She hissed, and brushed past me. Within ten feet, she’d disappeared into the crowd. I stepped off the boat, and walked away. I knew it would not be the last time I saw her, and I cursed myself for showing her my speed. If it ever came to it, she would not let me get close.

ZANDER

“…they say the Night Wolf destroyed three villages in Feltianas.” Catarina said, “Hundreds of dead, killed terribly, and only a virgin girl left to tell the tale. Did you know about it, sir?”

“Aye, terrible stuff.” I sighed.

“Unspeakable sins.” She said, shaking her head, “They say the orcs had their way with the women while their children were being eaten alive!”

“What part of ‘unspeakable’ do ya not understand, Catty?” Isaiah growled, sipping his coffee, “Do ya think the man wants to hear that?”

“Well, he’s a soldier, after all. He knows the terrible things that go on, don’t you?” Catarina prompted.

“I have seen the Dark Queen with my own eyes.” I said, effecting a thousand-yard stare, “It was like looking at the devil’s bride.”

“That sounds terrifying.” Catarina whispered.

“I heard she’s a hot piece of ass.” Isaiah grunted.

Catarina batted him over the head with a newspaper, and he went back to his coffee. She turned back to me. “So, you’re a mage then?”

“I studied under Headmaster Glendian himself.” I nodded, “Now I’m in Shordian’s seventh battalion.”

“And he sent you here?”

“Not himself, no,” I pulled out a scroll, “but I have official orders.”

She inspected the scroll carefully. “Where are you from, Zachary?” She asked me.

“Straltairanas.”

Isaiah grunted, and Catarina shot him a stern look.

“What?” I asked.

“Isaiah has some choice words for your lady. Not the old one, but the new one; the one nobody’s seen. There are rumors, you know. They say she didn’t come back… completely herself.”

“Lady Elena?”

“Coward! Traitor!” Isaiah spat.

“Isaiah!” Catarina exclaimed, giving me a mortified look.

“Careful, Isaiah.” I said sternly, “Insulting a man’s liege is like insulting his kin.”

He turned a darker shade of red. “I know your lady means well, but there can be no peace! We’re fighting demons here!”

“Aye, that we are.” I muttered.

Catarina cleared her throat, and continued reading the scroll. “I don’t understand,” she said, “the requisition’s man came here only a few days ago to take the army’s grain supply. We don’t even have enough for the village to last the winter.”

“I’m not here to take anymore grain.” I said, “I need to know the protection spells you’ve put on the silos so that I can change them. We had a security leak, and if the enemy’s mages get access to our food supply… well, I’d rather not think about what would happen.”

“Ain’t nothing gonna happen!” Isaiah barked, “The war will be over any day now, and the boys will come home, and we’ll harvest the rest before the first frost!”

“Of course,” I said, “but we need to take precautions.”

Isaiah grunted, and returned his attention to his paper. Catarina took my hand, and guided me out to the back. A massive silo stood beside the barn, the entire surface of it swimming with protection spells. Catarina stepped up to it, closed her eyes, and raised her hands overhead. Her fingers danced in the air, complex patterns that moved so quickly the naked eye could barely see them. I watched her go through each motion until she was done, and the protection spells were gone.

“Did you get them?” Catarina asked.

“Fourth rune, sixth rune, paralysis, laceration, tenth rune, twelfth rune, seizure, stroke, fifteenth rune, first rune, coma, cancer. Cancer is a dick move, Catarina.”

She grinned impishly. “That’s why it’s the last one. If the first five curses didn’t get you, then I’ll get you with the sneaky one.”

I laughed with her. “And this is the combination you used for every silo?”

“Every silo in Jonianas.” She said with a proud tilt of her chin, “Lady Jonias herself contracted me. Now, what was it you wanted to change?”

“Nothing. It’s perfect. Thank you, Catarina.”

She dropped to the ground, blood rushing from her ears and nostrils, her eyes staring blankly at the sky. Somewhere in his house, Isaiah’s brain burst, and he collapsed onto the table, the blood pooling on his newspaper, his afternoon coffee still steaming.

“Sorry.” I grumbled to the corpse before me. “You really were a gracious host.” I pulled out my note pad, and scribbled down the incantations. The sleeve of my robe illuminated from within, and I pulled out the mirror. The wavy stripe from Bentius, who I deduced was Elena, was conversing with the eagle’s beak from Alkandra, who I now identified as Adrianna. According to my logs, Adrianna had three conversations with Leveria, but no more after that. Likely the queen of the Highlands had tried unsuccessfully to recruit her old head-ranger, but I would still question the governess when I returned. Now most of Leveria’s communications were with a tulip, who I deduced was Prince Matthew. There was nothing wrong with an ambassador communicating with a foreign entity, it was his job, but it was something I would keep a close eye on.

ELENA

After another rough and degrading bout of lust with Huntiata, I began preparing myself for the night with the barons. Though the idea of taking six men at once excited me, I was nervous, and there was only one person I knew of to ask for advice.

“Ambassador.” Yavara said tersely on her mirror.

“Your Highness.” I said, examining the background, “Are you in Ardeni?”

“That’s immaterial. What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“Just… to talk?” She narrowed her orange eyes at me.

“Do I have to have ulterior motives? I’m not your sister.”

She eased herself into a seat, and cautiously smiled. “Ok… Elena, what do you want to talk about?”

“Gangbangs.”

“Gangbangs? Oh my god, I love gangbangs!” She yelled. Someone on her end made a shocked noise, and Yavara stuck her tongue out at that person, then turned back to me, “Are you getting a triple-dose of dick tonight?”

“Double that.”

“SIX?! Good Mother, Elena, you’re supposed to work your way up!”

“I’m jumping into the deep end without knowing how to swim.”

She smiled companionably. “Good thing you’re a natural then. Gangbangs are all about group dynamics. Penises seem like really simple things, but they have feelings. If you favor one penis over the other penises, the other penises will feel left out, and that’s when the other penises will begin to realize that there’s mostly just penises there, and that’s kind of gay. Do you have a notebook handy? I could deliver a thesis on this subject.”

I laughed. “It’s not the group dynamics I’m worried about; I have no problems reading people.”

“The art, Elena, isn’t knowing what they want, but knowing how to juggle all those sexual personas simultaneously. What if one man wants to treat you like a queen, and another wants to treat you like a whore? How do you get everyone on the same page while they’re all inside you?”

“Is this a rhetorical question?”

“There is no correct answer. You must adapt on the fly. What you need to realize is that during a gangbang, the men are all very aware of each other. Balls are touching, cocks are slapping together, dudes are getting each other’s jizz all over themselves. Your main goal is to make all those guys part of a team, and that team’s goal is to fuck you brainless.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well, first you have to be a total slut. That’s a prerequisite.”

“Check.” I smirked.

She giggled back. “And second, you have to either decide to join their team, or be the antagonist. Both are fun. The former means you’re one-hundred-percent on board the moment the pants come off. You can be the slave, the queen, the happy-go-lucky slut, the student getting learned, the master teaching her pupils, etcetera. If you’re the antagonist, you’re making it a competition between the men and you. This is where things can get… nasty.”

“I am intrigued.”

“I thought you would be. You see, the antagonist either is the victim or the competitor. A victim makes the act a ‘them vs me’ situation, thereby making the group’s goal to humiliate her, force her to come against her will, and make her confess things she doesn’t want to admit. That’s the powerplay. Now, playing the victim can be really fun, but it also requires a personality that you and I don’t have anymore.” She sighed ruefully, “When Brock raped my asshole that first night, I was such a good victim.”

“Did you just get nostalgic?”

“There was a purity to my helplessness that I could never quite duplicate no matter how much I tried.” She gave me a said smile, “The real worth of virginity is the act of losing it violently. But I digress. Since you can’t really play the victim, your only other option as the antagonist is to play the competitor, and make them prove their worth as men. You goad them with demeaning language, they retaliate in kind, you try to emasculate them, they try to humble you. How you play it is up to you, but for me, it usually means lots of spitting, slapping, hair-pulling, biting, scratching, choking… you know, the good stuff.”

“Uh huh,” I said, “and preparation?”

“Stretching, douching, bathing, and enemas. Enemas are key. Contrary to popular belief, the female asshole doesn’t lose its primary function the moment sex is at hand.”

“I wondered how you always kept it so clean.”

“Being a slut is hard work.” She snickered.

“The hardest.” I giggled back.

She sighed. “I wish I could watch you. I want to see the look on your face when all your holes are filled.”

“Would it look something like this?” I laughed, then grabbed one of my ten dildos, stuck it in my mouth, and rolled my eyes back. Yavara didn’t laugh. I peeked at her from the bottom of my eyes, and saw that her face had gone pale, and a scream was poised on her lips. I saw him in the reflection. He was standing in the doorway behind me, a crossbow in his hand. I leapt forward just as the twang sounded.

“ELENA!” Yavara screamed.

The bolt thudded into the dresser. I rolled behind the chair, snatched a dagger from within the cushion, and sent it spinning across the room. It struck the assassin in the collar, and he let out a grunt before spinning out of sight. I dashed after, my keen elven ears honed on every sound in the house. There was a click, and I dived into a roll. The twang came a moment later, the thud of the bolt in the wood, and I was rushing down the hall. Click. He rounded the corner. Twang. I stopped ten paces away from him, my breath ending in my throat. He stood there, the butt of his shouldered crossbow pressed near the knife that was still stuck in this collar, the end of the crossbow aimed at my bare chest. The bolt had been loosed. There was no way he could’ve missed, and yet, I knew it hadn’t struck me. It took me a second to realize the searing pain in my palm. I glanced down, and saw that my fist was wrapped around the Nadi wood haft of a crossbow bolt.

“Did I just fucking catch that?” I gasped, and looked at my assassin for confirmation. He just stared back with wide eyes, then dashed around the corner. I zipped after him, closed the distance in less than two heartbeats, and tackled him. He rolled us over, brandished a dagger, and stabbed downward. I caught his wrist at the apex of his strike, locked my elbow, and drove my knee into his groin. Air shot through his clenched teeth, and he doubled over. My elbow gave out, and I carried him up and over with my knee, sending him crashing above my head. I snatched an ankle, twirled around, and jumped on his back. He tried to scrambled to his hands and knees, but I wrapped my thighs around his waist, and struck his knees with my heels, flattening him like a folding chair. Then my hand was on the hilt of my dagger, the blade in his collar, and I pried it through muscle and sinew beneath the flesh until he was moaning in agony, and the point was aimed toward his throat.

“Yield!” I snarled.

His hand shot for his ear, but I was so much faster. I snatched the earring that was dangling there, and ripped it from its piercing. Before he could make a move to the dagger lying just out of reach, I grabbed it from the floor, stabbed him behind the shoulder, and sheared the blade through the connective tissue there. He shuddered with pain, and the arm went limp, the fingers grasping uselessly. With his other arm trapped beneath his body, and my knife punched deep in his right trapezius, he’d lost the mobility of everything downstream of his shoulders.

“Yentian? Kecerian?” I yelled for my guards, though I was sure they were dead. When silence answered me, I knew it was true. I looked down at the assassin. The blue blood that seeped from his wounds told me that the high-elf skin he wore was but a biological costume. He was a changeling, either a doppler or an incubus.

“Cyanide?” I mused, looking at the earring in my hand.

He didn’t answer.

“I’ll let you take it if you tell me who sent you.” I said.

Again, he didn’t answer.

“You think you can wait me out?” I asked, “Yavara saw what you did. She’ll tell Leveria, and the queen’s guard will be at my door in less than five minutes. Don’t make me give you to them alive. Even you don’t deserve that.”

He just closed his eyes. I sighed, and waited for the sound of bootsteps on the cobblestones outside.

LEVERIA

The assassin was a doppler, and his true form was a strange amalgamation of dawn-elf and human. His body was covered in tattoos and scars, the blindfolded skull inked on his throat labeling him as a member of Drastin’s Shade Syndicate. As such, his tongue, penis and testicles had all been removed before he’d reached manhood, and the marks on his flesh bespoke horrors I could only imagine. Even if he could talk, he never would. But he could still scream.

“Oh, I needed this.” I sighed contentedly, and plopped his severed finger into the box, “You must know that it’s nearly impossible to find willing partners in this escapade. You would think the queen could just go to the dungeon and find someone, but even the lowliest of us have rights.” I ***********ed the scalpel from my box, and placed the point of it beneath the man’s pinky toenail. “I envy Yavara in this regard.” I paused, and frowned, “In many regards, actually, but this one in particular. Ruling a country of beasts where might is right allows her a degree of freedom I simply do not have. She sent all of her potential political adversaries to their deaths, and they went willingly. I couldn’t even send my political allies to get me a cup a coffee.”

I slowly pushed the blade beneath the man’s toenail, and he whined between his clenched teeth. I began methodically sawing, and he finally sounded the scream I wanted to hear. I smiled, and pulled the blade out.

“She doesn’t want to admit it, but she always intended on being a tyrant. And though being a tyrant grants you ultimate power, the legacy is always one of ruin. Alkandi made the exact same mistake. It wasn’t orc tribalism that ended the first Alkandra, though that is a theory many Highland intellectuals like to spout. No, the vacuum she created was simply too great to fill. I mean, who could take the place of a god-queen?” I pinched the toenail, and pried it upward. The man screamed again, thrashing in his binds.

“So, I can take some solace in the idea that Alkandra Part Two will succumb to the same fate as its first iteration. It’s a small comfort though, for it is likely that the Highlands will be gone long before then, and the only remnants of my people will be the lucky few that Yavara transforms.” I ripped the nail off, and the man’s scream ended in a sputter. “Perhaps they’ll keep a few of us as novelties in the Alkandran zoo. We are an exceptionally fair race, so there will be a market for Highland pleasure slaves. Will that be our lasting legacy then? To be bred for beauty?”

I procured the snippers from my box, and angled the man’s pinky toe into their jaws. “Ah, but why worry about uncertain futures when the present is so fascinating? Did you in all your life imagine that this present would be your future? I’m sure you did, being in your profession. I admire your composure.” I squeezed the handles, and savored his crescendo of agony until they snapped shut. I extracted the pinky toe, and plopped it in the box.

I smiled at the man. “In case you haven’t realized the game by now, I’m not going to stop until all of you is in this box.” I tapped the lid of the box, “Then I’m going to return you to your sender. You don’t know who sent you—you probably just got an envelope with a name—but it was King Albert Dreus who paid your tithe. Who else could it be? Lucas Ternias still hopes to sway Elena to his side, but Dreus only sees the threat she poses.” I laughed, shaking my head, “And I should as well! Elena went from an asset to a threat the moment she turned on me in the Noble Court, and now she’s the most dangerous person west of the Highland Rift. God knows I should kill her, but ah… love. Have you ever been in love?”

A tear rolled down his cheek as he stared at the ceiling.

“You have?” I asked, surprised, “I take it that was before all the…” I motioned to the stumps where his man parts used to be, “…but of course it was. I am happy for you, you know. Many go through life without ever knowing love. You should consider yourself a lucky man.” I said, then sliced his heel tendon, and watched in fascination as it rolled up his calf, and he screeched. It was like we were connected by rubber bands.

“Isn’t it strange how there is always an option we refuse to take?” I posed, “That we must try to navigate the plots like a rabbit in a snake’s den, when simply dumping fuel in the snake hole and lighting a match is always an option? All the nobles are in the Noble Court every day. The lords, the barons, and the dukes. They bring their bannermen in to protect them, but who do they leave to watch the door? The royal guards. It would take nothing but four metal poles to bar the doors, a bucket of oil, and a torch.” I laughed to myself, “All the machinations and intricacies of governance, and total power can be bought at the hardware store. What stops me, I wonder? What stopped any of the kings and queens of the past?”

I chose a serrated blade, and isolated the man’s right thumb. “I guess it’s because total power is no power at all. Do I take joy in stepping on an ant? Of course not. And so we go back to the topic of tyrants, and the ruination of nations by a megalomaniacal cult of personality. Yavara is Alkandra, and Alkandra is Yavara, but the Highlands is the Noble Court. From the royals to the humblest of lieges, it is a bureaucracy more bloated than a whore’s belly, but it is my life.” I slowly sawed the man’s thumb off, enjoying the way his flesh split evenly, the sinew tore, the tendons snapped, and the bone cleaved. I marveled at the circular clean stump left in its wake, marrow leaking from the circular bone, then I plopped the thumb away, and continued my soliloquy once he was done screaming.

“Some say there are no such things as winners and losers in life, that we all suffer equally no matter our station. A woman in fine silk feels a pain just as acute as a drunkard beneath a bridge—that’s what ‘they’ say anyway. ‘They’ are fucking losers. There are definite winners and losers in life, because life is a game. You may choose the game you play, you may choose how you play it, but you must play, and you either win or lose. The Noble Court is my game, and I refuse to lose it. Killing everyone… well, that would be just flipping the board, and that’s what losers do.”

I pulled out a hand-drill, pushed the sharp end against his kneecap, and began cranking away. I had to wipe the sweat from my brow when I was done, and the poor man had burst a blood vessel in his eye. “In truth,” I sighed, “there’s a—”

The man’s scream reached a new octave, and I waited patiently for him to finish.

“Sorry, did I interrupt you? My manners have been slipping as of late. I’m always on edge.” I giggled to myself, “But as I was saying, there’s a different game at play here. Elena—the woman you tried to kill—I’m in love with her, and she’s in love with me, but she’s also in love with my sister. My sister, who is the hated enemy of my nation, a demigod, and apparently the best fuck in the world. Quite the conundrum, huh?!” I laughed, tousling his sweat-soaked hair, “It galls me that I would willingly be part of this love triangle, but as I said before, love is… well, love is really stupid. Now I’m stuck in a juggling act of trying to win an unwinnable war, keep my people from rebelling, keep the Noble Court from ousting me, and keep Elena from leaving me for her sister. And I’m losing at every game, by the way. Now you see why I’m so stressed out.” I clenched my fist around a hammer, “I’m just spread so thin, and at any moment, I could snap!”

I brought the hammer down on his other kneecap, striking it again and again until it split. He couldn’t even scream anymore, just thrashed around in his binds, his eyes bulging and bloodshot, his teeth red. I wiped the sweat from my brow, sighed, and sat down next to him. Lighting a cigarette, I felt the sweet nicotine poison fill my lungs, and I slowly let it out.

“Smoke?” I asked, proffering one for him. He just stared up at the ceiling, his lower lip quivering. I shrugged, and put it back in the box.

“It would feel rude not to ask. Manners and all that. Which reminds me, I really should thank you for providing me with this experience.” I eyed him inquisitively, “You’re obviously a man who’s seen a lot of pain; can I ask you a question? On a scale of one to five, how good am I at torture?”

He didn’t answer.

I prodded his shoulder with my knife, “If you answer me, I promise you there’s an overdose of opium at the end of the tunnel. Come on, everyone wants a happy ending.”

His bound wrist twitched, and he raised all five stumps on his right hand.

I frowned. “That’s just you being polite. No way am I that good after only my second try. I respect honesty, assassin. “

The stump of his thumb closed, holding up the other four.

I beamed delightedly. “Four out of five? That’s a solid ‘B-!’ What do I need to change to get that up to an ‘A?’ Sensory deprivation? Water torture? Contortion? Is the mutilation getting dull? I know it’s my go-to; I think there should be horror with agony, but maybe… ah, but you can’t answer me, and I’ve been talking your ear off!” I giggled, prodding the place where his ear used to be, “We’ll call it a night, shall we?” I put the cigarette out on his left nipple, and stood up. “Same time tomorrow?” I laughed as I cleaned my tools off, and began putting them back in their box. The horror that came over his face was sweet, and I savored it for a long time. This man had almost taken Elena from me, and I knew myself well enough to know that I had leaned on her so much that she’d become my crutch. If he had killed her, I would’ve… I didn’t want to think about what I would’ve done. My smile slowly faded from my face.

“Life is a game we play, indeed.” I whispered, “And we are all pieces on each other’s boards. You were just a pawn that King Dreus was willing to sacrifice, but King Dreus is not my opponent. King Dreus is one of my pieces, and he has outlasted his use.” I covered the flame of the torch, and the room dimmed to blackness. “Do you want to know something, assassin?” I whispered so quietly that I could barely hear it, “I’ve already mapped out my endgame. Here are the moves—are you listening? They are: Adrianna, Zander, Matthew, Arthur.” I smiled to myself, “Then I’ll play the knight, and… checkmate.”

End of Part Eleven.

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