Nothing Complicated
"Everyone likes flattery; and when you come to Royalty you should lay it on with a trowel."
- Benjamin Disraeli
Slovenia's battle raiment was a dazzling beacon in the early dawnlight. Israel had made a point of sitting with the smith tasked with repairing her armour, making sure that even the slightest nick or blemish was buffed and polished out. Nothing short of perfection would do. The results of his care and attention to detail were plain to see.
The Countess cut a formidable figure as she rode, slightly ahead of her personal bodyguard, on her ebony warhorse. Her bodyguard was a heavy unit of cavalry. Strong men, hand-picked from the noble Wreghan houses of the eastern badlands. She was flanked to her left by her second in command, Ghana. He was the youngest sibling of the warlord that Slovenia had first married, then deposed. She had chosen him as her second on a whim and against the advice of Israel who had been quite insistent that she kill him too. He had been the only man who had not cowered before her after the spasmodic orgy of violence that had culminated in her assuming the mantle of power.
A lesser man would have harbored a festering resentment of the woman who had first emasculated his brother and then robbed him of his own claim to the Wreghan throne. Ghana was no fool though. He had seen the countess in battle, in fact, he had sparred with her many times in the training barracks and had been roundly bested by her on every occasion. He knew, better than most, that Slovenia was nothing like the other women of the Southland who were feeble-minded and weak-willed to a fault. Mere chattel to be fucked and discarded once they were past breeding age.
Slovenia was elemental. A primal force of nature that was relentlessly carving a new path for the Wreghan clan from the bedrock of the scorched earth. He firmly believed that she had been birthed in the fire and heat of the Skyforge. Molded by the very hands of the gods that had hammered out the iron mountains and filled the sky with flame. He would follow her to the ends of the earth.
Their group had split off from the main column of her advancing army and were cantering due north into the perpetual dawn of the firewall. She was following a course laid out by her empathic connection to Israel. The eunuch's method of communicating with her was not what would be considered telepathic in the strict sense of the word. It was more of an emotional bond. In the sense that she could feel strong positive emotion when she was heading in the right direction and an equally strong negative one when she was not.
Ghana spurred his horse forward bringing himself level with the Countess. He lifted his visor so she could see his face as he addressed her.
"Is this a wise move, Your Highness?" he said, the gravelly thickness of his voice not quite concealing his nervousness, "leaving the protection of the line is a great risk."
"Perhaps," she replied dismissively, "but I have my reasons."
"Humph." the second in command grunted his displeasure.
He knew better than to press the issue though, so he changed his line of questioning.
"What exactly is the plan?"
"Nothing complicated," she replied, lifting her visor and turning to face him with an impish grin, "if everything goes to plan we will have a king's ransom wrapped up and ready for collection upon arrival."
The Second in Command was bright enough to understand that she was avoiding giving him any details. He was also bright enough to understand that she had her reasons for keeping him in the dark and that she was not deliberately trying to insult him. He did not doubt his lady liege and had spent enough time in her entourage to have developed very robust respect for her abilities as a commander. He was also very much enamored by her glamour and the sight of her astride her warhorse, proudly riding before him, left a robustness in his loins that was almost painful.
"A ransom fit for a woman such as you would be a levy beyond the means of every man in the realm,” he said, with an equally impish grin crossing his face.
"Ah, flattery, and so early in the morning?" Slovenia favored him with a warm smile, "I must remember to repay the compliment."
The Second in Command beamed with delight. Slovenia had a very simple approach to morale-boosting. Repaying the compliment would very likely mean that at some point soon he would be awoken in his bedroll by the wonderful sensation of her tender ministrations upon his cock and balls. She was careful not to be predictable with her affections as keeping them in a perpetual state of pent up arousal made the men in her command very easy to control. It was a very finely tuned art that she had taken to an extreme level. She literally controlled her empire with the lips of her mouth and vagina. She had rarely met a man who was immune to her charms, and on the occasion that she did, she was usually more than capable of dealing with it by other means.
Ghana was high on the list of men she needed to keep tight control of. He was therefore one of the few individuals upon whom she lavished the full arsenal of her feminine power. Thankfully he was an incredibly good sport, and Israel had on more than one occasion caught her daydreaming about the deviant activities they had engaged in. Israel was always quick to realign her priorities by admonishing her that glamour was useless in the face of true love. She could not afford to lose control of him and by proxy, the vast army of soldiers that swore allegiance to his banner. She knew the old eunuch was right and never allowed herself to fall too far into childish fantasy, but the temptation to give in to her desire for the handsome Captain was a constant struggle. She was lonely and he was lovely.
Slovenia drove her heels hard into her steed’s flanks, spurring the warhorse up to a canter. She pulled her visor back down to shield her eyes from the deep yellow brightness of the Skyforge. It loomed up over them, an immense wave of fire that seemed to be threatening to break over them the further north they traveled. The scale of the thing was immense. At this early hour of the dawnlight, the luminosity of the Skyforge exceeded the output from the sun. This meant that everything ahead of them was deeply silhouetted against the curtain of fire. The terrain they were riding through was rough and rocky, but clear enough for them to maintain a brisk pace. The dark shadowy outlines of tall trees and bushes resolved into clarity as they cantered past them, the foliage gradually thinning the closer they came to the boundary of the hearthland. Once crossed the hearthland unfolded before them, a vast, desolate wasteland that gradually rose up to mountainous heights, until it was swallowed at the base of the Skyforge. Few humans dared go far into the hearthland or spend any more time there than was necessary.
Slovenia twisted in her saddle and shouted out to her men.
"We have a few leagues of riding ahead of us. Stick close and ride hard, and we'll be out of this cursed no man's land before the close of emberlight."
With that, she spurred her warhorse again. The beast broke into a gallop and charged ahead. The men behind her let out a chorus of whooping and hollering, spurring their own horses, and galloped after her.
Chapter 27
Art by Daniel Sheldon https://www.facebook.com/speednperspective & https://twitter.com/Beatroute
