Knight of Lust Ch. 13

Author's note: this chapter is a bit heavier on the plot and action, but rest assured there's plenty of debauchery towards the end.

The ashen stench of Thandor's latest crime washed over Caderyn and the army's vanguard. Hardened soldiers retched while others fought off angry tears. Some prayed to the saints to protect the souls of the fallen, while a few southern knights dared to pray to hungry northern gods, beseeching them to devour the souls of those responsible for the carnage. Most of the men, however, marched right on past the scene of slaughter, which was but one more drop of blood in the great deluge unleashed by Thandor.

The ruined town still simmered. The blackened, skeletal frame of a small shrine collapsed, smothering the ashen corpses that had burned within. Smoke drifted from sizzling bodies piled high in the market square. Due to the state of the corpses and the extent of the smoke, it was hard to guess the identities of the dead. The fact that nothing moved within the butchered town hinted that not even the young had been spared.

Pelagia and a few of Baron Florian's men emerged from a stone structure which had survived mostly unscathed. Leaning on the redheaded knight's shoulder was a young woman with soot on her face and ash in her wild blonde hair. Blood stained her threadbare, ashen dress.

Bloodshot eyes wide with shock, the woman looked too broken and traumatized to weep. Nonetheless she made it to the edge of the ravaged town with Pelagia's help. Ketrik rushed over to check her wounds.

After commanding Baron Florian to oversee the march, Caderyn dismounted. His nose wrinkled at the horrific stench of burned corpses. Caderyn himself had been responsible for much bloodshed, to include the sacrifice of prisoners to fuel Ketrik's ritual. But that dark rite had served the greater purpose of cursing Thandor's army so Caderyn's men could save the keep of Stonecurrent. What purpose did this fiery carnage serve?

He reached Ketrik's side as he wrapped bandages over the deep burns on the woman's hand.

"I am terribly sorry for what you have endured," Caderyn said softly, crouching down before the shivering woman. "What happened here?"

"A reward for our charity," she rasped, her voice so low he could barely hear it over the thudding of boots upon the road. "After the big battle at the river, some of the survivors sought shelter in our town. Some of them had that strange flux that wouldn't go away. Most could barely walk. They jabbered and chattered like madmen."

Caderyn's skin crawled, for the unleashing of that curse had been his decision. Did he regret it? No. Doing so had saved thousands of lives and won him a great victory. Would he ever be able to live with the burden? That remained to be seen.

"When the rest of the army came through, requisitioning supplies and men, they wanted to take the sick survivors with them. Baron Gaspard said Duke Thandor needed every soldier he could, and that the sick would recover quickly. We offered to keep the men in our care until they were ready to fight. Gaspard held firm."

She looked over her shoulder.

"I don't know what happened then. Someone started yelling. Somebody threw something. Perhaps an apple. Perhaps a rock. I saw a man draw his sword. Then it was blood and fire. They took all the food and wine and anyone who could fight. Burned the rest."

Scouting parties had reported a few similar scenes left behind in the retreating army's wake. Rather than grant valuable farmland and food to their enemies, Thandor's troops were scorching the earth behind them. The horrific scourge would deny Caderyn's troops valuable supplies and make future battles and sieges more difficult. Caderyn's army would have to rely on longer supply lines back to Fellhaven, which would be vulnerable to raiders.

"Unleashing all this chaos has to be slowing them down," Pelagia growled, her face as grim as it had been when she'd confronted him over the curse he'd unleashed. "We should catch them soon."

"Agreed," Caderyn said, before turning his attention to the wounded young woman. "Ketrik here will leave you with some supplies. You are welcome, of course, to make your way to Stonecurrent for safety until the fighting is over. Your people have nothing to fear from my men."

He'd given strict orders which forbade raiding or harassing the civilian population. Melisent, after all, would one day rule over Jadewall, and he could not afford to arouse the ire of the villagers and townsfolk. Moreover, he would likely need their assistance against Thandor. He'd dispatched several prisoners as emissaries, particularly to the shrine of Saint Acwald, hoping to turn the holy orders to his side so they could inspire a peasant uprising. The faster the people turned on their duke, the faster he could end this without greater bloodshed.

While Ketrik looked after the woman, Pelagia fell in at Caderyn's side as they returned to their horses. In silence they mounted up and rejoined the vanguard.

"Do you understand why I asked Ketrik to undertake that ritual?" he asked, not taking his eyes from the road. "This is what we are up against. A duke who threatened to kill his own daughter. A duke who engineered my father's murder. A duke who burns his own people alive. I thus require every advantage against such a man."

"And would you have done what he did?" she asked, turning her dark eyes back towards the smoldering village. "Would you have burned your own people alive during a frantic retreat?"

"The supplies and farms? As a last resort, yes. The people? No."

And yet the question gnawed at him, just as the crows had gnawed upon the corpses back at the great battlefield. If the war had been that desperate, if he'd lost the battle at Stonecurrent and had been forced to retreat, would he have inflicted such harshness on his own people?

No. Of course not. He was ambitious, yes, but monstrous? No. He'd kill soldiers, even unarmed ones, but he'd never harm his own subjects in such a fashion.

Solveig's mantra rippled through the air around him.

"One path of many..."

Other choices could have led him down that dark path. To his horror, he realized perhaps he could have given such an order had the circumstances been dire enough. He gritted his teeth and spurred his horse on ahead, eager to reach the vanguard and leave the stench of death far behind him.

**

The army's route took them past a few other ransacked towns and villages. Even those that had complied with Thandor's demands for supplies and conscripts had been stripped bare. Rather than waste time occupying the destitute settlements, Caderyn had instead sent emissaries with proclamations of Melisent's claim and his intent to dethrone Thandor, promising safety for all those who did not interfere with his army's advance.

Deep down he still hoped some of the locals might even rise up to support his invasion and Melisent's birthright. To that end, Caderyn led a small force that broke away from his army and made for the monastery of Saint Acwald.

Nearly a year before, he'd stopped there early on during his pilgrimage. The visit felt like an event from another lifetime, an echo of a half-forgotten dream, or a fragment of a story someone else had told him. So much had happened since his last visit that he did not even recognize the sacred farmland and the sprawling stone compound nestled amidst the holy pastures.

All the wheat had been ripped from the sacred fields. It remained to be seen whether that was the work of desperate monks hoarding food, or Jadewall's greedy soldiers. Thankfully the monastery itself was still intact, with no signs of violence.

To avoid frightening the monks, Caderyn rode forth only with Gwion and a dozen knights, holding up a flag of truce. Wide-eyed monks peered at him over the top of the compound's low stone walls.

"Sir Caderyn?" a voice called. "Or... Duke Caderyn now, I suppose."

Caderyn did not recognize the voice but nonetheless nodded.

"Aye. I am here to speak to Father..." Caderyn frowned, taking a few moments to sift through his memories for the correct name. "Medwin. Father Medwin."

The wrinkled, shriveled old priest popped his head up over the top of the low wall, his brow furrowing at the sight of Caderyn's large escort.

"We have no supplies to give, my lord."

"I am not here for supplies. I am here for... guidance."

Medwin vanished from view. Over the stone wall, Caderyn could make out a few murmurs as the priests debated amongst themselves on what to do. The older priest gave a brusque shout, silencing the dissent. As he waited, Caderyn stared at the wooden gate. During his first visit he had marveled at the intricate etchings of plants and fish upon the wood, each of which had been rendered with lifelike detail. Now he could only stare numbly, the stunning artwork now as meaningless as the dull, gray sky.

The gate creaked open and Father Medwin limped out, flanked by three other blue-robed priests. With the gate now open, Caderyn could see that the interior of the courtyard was bereft of the wheat bales he'd expected to see. It seemed Medwin and his flock had not in fact conducted an early harvest to hoard the food for themselves.

Caderyn dismounted and approached the priest.

"Duke Caderyn," Medwin said with a shallow bow, not quite stooping as low as Caderyn's own vassals would.

Due to the fact that Medwin was a holy man, Caderyn took no offense. He had far greater things to care about than decorum.

"Last week I dispatched messengers: loyal followers of Saint Acwald who had been taken captive during my battle with Jehan's army. Did any of them reach you?"

Medwin's eyes widened. One of the priests behind him let out a low growl.

"I told you it was no ruse, Father Medwin," the younger priest hissed.

"Ruse?" Caderyn asked, brow furrowing.

The wrinkled priest grasped his holy amulet and murmured a prayer.

"Yes, we received your emissaries, led by a man named Saebert. He claimed to speak for you, stating you would rescind the confiscations of our holy grain if we voiced our support for your invasion. We..." He closed his eyes and gripped the amulet again. "We thought it was a trick. A ploy by Duke Thandor to test our loyalty."

Caderyn bit back a curse, but he did understand why Medwin had interpreted it that way. As an infamous and ambitious schemer, Thandor certainly could have enacted such a ploy to test the loyalty of his subjects. Perhaps Caderyn should have chosen his emissaries more carefully.

"And what befell the emissaries?"

"We... we told them we would think it over, and I sent one of the junior monks to the nearest garrison to inform them of the visit. A patrol of men-at-arms soon arrived and took Saebert and the emissaries into custody."

No doubt Saebert and the others were already dead or suffering horrors at the hands of Thandor's torturers. They'd lay bare Caderyn's efforts to sway the holy orders to his side, but thankfully Caderyn had not revealed much else of import to the men.

Clenching his fists, Caderyn took a deep breath. A part of him wanted to rage at the doddering old priest for being such a fool and betraying men who had been his guests. His flaring mind danced through his options, assessing each path, choosing his words carefully.

He thought of Melisent and wondered what she might have done. Even as his heart ached due to her absence, he thought of her calm, measured responses to his bouts of rage back at the estate in Tsannor when he'd learned of Everard's escape. His knuckles rippled with the echoes of the kisses she'd placed upon him. Warmth flooded his body as the memories assuaged his rage.

If Caderyn was to succeed, he'd need Father Medwin's support despite his failings. Fury and wroth would not win the loyalty of the holy orders. Warmth, kindness, and understanding would need to be his tools instead.

"The fault lies with me, your holiness," Caderyn said. "I should have been more circumspect when choosing my emissaries or should have found a way to convey the truth of their claims. I acted in haste and desperation. You acted reasonably: to protect yourself, your shrine, and your holy brothers. I bear you no ill will... and my offer still stands."

Caderyn looked past Medwin into the nearly-empty courtyard and then across the freshly-harvested fields.

"Judging by the state of your shrine and holy fields, I suspect Thandor already confiscated your remaining crops." He spread his hands. "But it need not be this way. Voice your support for my cause and for the birthright of Lady Melisent, and I will swear to end these confiscations. Every strand of wheat produced by your shrine will go to the needy. Not to my armies. Not to fill my coffers."

Medwin chewed his chapped lower lip.

"My lord, that is indeed a noble and tempting offer. But if we throw our support behind you and you lose... Thandor's wrath will rival that of a northern reaver. He will scourge our holy fields, tear down our shrine, and reduce the sanctity of this place to a bitter, broken memory."

"And if you do not support me and he wins, what will happen?" Caderyn asked, knowing the priest was still correct about the consequences. "You will struggle to replant the harvest. When it grows anew, it will not feed the needy and the desperate. It will feed his armies or be sold off. He will not allow a single bushel to go to the downtrodden or the hungry, because he'll need it all to rebuild his strength. The great and worthy efforts of your shrine will turn to ash."

Caderyn took a step forward. One of the priests shirked back but Medwin stood his ground.

"And dwell upon this, your holiness... when I learned that you handed over my emissaries to Thandor's torturers, what did I do? I did not send in my men to enact bloody vengeance. I took responsibility for my mistakes and reiterated my offer. How do you think Thandor would have reacted in my stead?"

"My lord..." Medwin's lips trembled and he looked between his empty field and Caderyn's knightly escort. "I... I would be alone. Even if I agreed, I only speak for one shrine of one holy order. There are dozens more out there who would be at risk. Thandor might cast his wroth upon any or all of them."

Caderyn's mind stumbled forth on the paths ahead of him. Desperate recklessness sent a flurry of words from his mouth.

"Then I will endall the confiscations and ducal taxes from the holy orders. Not just for your shrine here in Jadewall. All of them. No duke or baron shall take a single strand of wheat or a single coin from a shrine ever again. Once Thandor falls, I will seize the Imperial throne, and my first decree shall be the immediate ban on the taxation of the holy orders."

He regretted the offer the very instant the words left his mouth. While not all of the duchies had taxed the local shrines as severely as Thandor, many still derived revenues from such lands. Such a sweeping edict would anger many dukes and barons, even if it won him support from the holy orders. He'd win new allies but create new enemies.

And yet a joyous smile spread across the old priest's face.

"My lord... not even the most pious Emperors of old ever undertook such a thing. This is beyond generous."

Beyond generous. And beyond foolish.

Caderyn knew he should have retracted the offer then and there, or at least backstepped in order to find a more suitable compromise. But he needed Medwin's help. The holy orders within Jadewall could inspire peasants or lesser nobles to rise up against Thandor. Just as importantly, aligning himself so closely with the holy orders could help destroy any rumors ignited by the secret ritual Ketrik had undertaken near Stonecurrent.

"This offer is not given lightly," Caderyn said, though of course it had been given hastily and recklessly. "I will need the full support of the holy orders here in Jadewall and across the Empire. Not just against Thandor. But against others who might stand in the way of unity."

"I understand, my lord," Medwin said.

"And..." Caderyn tapped his sword-hilt as he pondered his words, trying to find other concessions in exchange for the wild offer he'd just made. "And I think the realm should know of the divine judgment that was visited upon Thandor's army."

Medwin cocked his head.

"You speak of the strange flux that broke out in his siege camps?"

"Yes."

"We've heard grim reports, my lord, but outbreaks of disease are not unprecedented under such conditions."

"As you said, the flux was 'strange,' driving men half-mad. Surely you can see the hand of the divine in such an affliction. A divinely-ordained punishment, delivered upon Thandor's army for his crimes against his people and the saints."

Medwin brushed his fingers over his sacred amulet.

"Yes. I... I will pray on the matter. Perhaps Saint Acwald will reveal glimpses of his reasoning for delivering such a scourge. And we shall stand with you, my duke, as long as you stand with us."

"Good," Caderyn said with a nod. "Send word out to the other holy orders and shrines at once. I want every town and village informed as well. I'll leave a few of my men here to serve as escorts for the messengers and to protect the shrine until the war is won."

"Of course, my duke. But... before you go, would you like to pray at my side as you did during your pilgrimage? Merely a short little ceremony to ask for Saint Acwald's blessings before you go on your way."

A slight delay wouldn't hurt; it would also allow his men and horses to rest a while longer. With a nod, he followed Medwin into the central chapel. The holy words, however, tasted like ash in his mouth.

Faith was but another weapon; no divine grace would ease the scars adorning his soul.

**

Stunned silence loomed within the command tent as he relayed to his advisers and barons the bargain he'd reached with Father Medwin. Florian's jaw dropped, while Rathgar swirled about the mead in his cup.

"Risky," Rathgar finally said. "But perhaps wise. I know there are whispers about you relying so heavily on Kovgaardian mercenaries. Many don't like the presence of such warriors and our strange faith. Aligning yourself so closely with the holy orders will help assuage those concerns."

"My lord," Florian said. "I do think you should have consulted with your mother and the other barons before making that offer. While Fellhaven itself has never relied on taxing the holy orders, other duchies do. Asparra in particular."

"Asparra has been no friend to the cause, other than acknowledging Lady Melisent's heritage," said another baron. "In fact, they've actively harmed our efforts by allowing mercenaries to travel through their lands and ports."

"They have not been a friend, I agree, but they could become anenemy," said Florian.

"This will win us the support of Wolfgate," Pelagia butted in. "That duchy is so pious that it is practically a holy order itself. If you win the support of the holy orders, Duchess Chera will no doubt betray Thandor."

Due to the reckless haste with which he'd made that offer, Caderyn had not even considered that particular opportunity. To his chagrin, Wolfgate had honored its alliance with Thandor thus far, holding its border against Caderyn's subjects in Ravenmark. Reports had been sporadic from that far-off front, but the fighting still raged, with neither side managing a breakthrough. If Wolfgate turned or wavered, however, then the conflict would shift in his favor. His brother-in-law Tancred could lead the armies of Utresk and Ravenmark through Wolfgate, uniting with Chera's forces, and then together they could smash into Jadewall from the west.

He gave a grateful nod at Pelagia for her support.

"Agreements can shift. Terms can be adjusted. There was no formal writ or proclamation, but I shall keep to my word as best I can," Caderyn said. "For now, however, let us focus on the immediate future." He raised an eyebrow at Rathgar. "What do the scouts report?"

The Kovgaardian baron leaned over to tap the map.

"Ten miles ahead of us is the town of Thistlekeep."

The mention of Thistlekeep brought a faint, fleeting smile to Caderyn's face, for it was the little market town where he and Tessandra had made love for the first time. The wondrous evening was seared into his memory even after all those months. The way her hair had rippled in the moonlight, the way she'd rocked so wondrously within his lap, the way his seed had adorned her taut rear and the small of her back...

He bit down on the inside of his cheek as Rathgar continued.

"The river there is shallow this time of year so there is not one single crossing that the enemy can easily defend. Bypassing the town and crossing the river will thus be a trivial matter. Only another twenty miles past Thistlekeep rests the city of Jadewall itself. Thus within a few days, we can begin our encirclement."

"I would rather catch his army before they have a chance to make it to the city," Caderyn said. "A siege will be much longer and far more difficult if the garrison is reinforced. And if we can smash his army in the field, he may yield rather than endure a siege."

"I agree, my duke, but there is a complication."

Rathgar's scarred finger tapped on the map just past Thistlekeep.

"Beyond the town lies a vast marsh. Miles and miles of muddy forest and wretched swampland. A hellish place to travel and a haven for bandits."

Caderyn nodded, recalling the storm of mosquitoes and the sweltering heat he'd endured during a trip to Jadewall's capital years ago. It would be a damned ghastly place for a fight.

"There is a large road that cuts through it, so passage should be easy... were it not for a large force barring the way," Rathgar said, pointing to the tokens on the map which marked the enemy positions. "It is a mixed contingent: some of Aelred's men, some of Thandor's, and more of those foreign mercenaries. Due to the terrain, our scouts had trouble getting accurate numbers, but we estimate it is about half of Thandor's current army. The rest are no doubt rushing towards the capital to unite with the other levies Thandor has been raising."

Florian frowned down at the map, brushing his finger further to the south.

"But if the river is easy to ford, then bypassing the marsh and that small army should be a trivial matter. We could flank around, yes?"

"Aye, but that would take days. And if they get wind of our redeployment, their force could adjust and intercept us."

"We cannot risk the delay," Caderyn said firmly. "It is imperative that we catch those retreating forces and crush them before they can reach the capital."

A direct and frontal attack on the army holding the marsh road would be costly, but Caderyn's army had the advantage of numbers and morale. If they marched quickly and shattered that force, they could resume their pursuit of the other half of Thandor's army without much delay.

He swept his gaze over the other barons.

"We march at dawn. A quick pace, then a short rest, and then I want Aelred's blood filling the marsh by dusk."

The others murmured their agreement, then scattered to see to the preparations. As Caderyn turned to depart the tent, Pelagia caught up with him. Due to the grim mood between them after the ritual, he expected some rebuke, or perhaps a cold, distant conversation about a banal logistical matter.

To his surprise, she instead gave him a slow, warm smile.

"I saw that spark in your eyes when Thistlekeep was mentioned. Tessandra had a similar spark when she told me of your evening there."

Caderyn's smile matched hers.

"Aye. The memories were a nice little reprieve from the talk of war."

He closed his eyes and allowed his thoughts to drift. Lustful memories rushed to the fore, but so did more tender echoes, including the time when he'd told Tessandra about Solveig, and she'd shared the story about her own lost love. Sighing, he thought back to the night when they'd slept in one another's arms while lost in grief over Pelagia's near-lethal wound.

When he opened his eyes, Pelagia's dark brown eyes were the warmest he'd seen since the battle back at the river.

"I can understand," Caderyn said, hoping that the warmth in her gaze could allow him to clear the air between them.

"Understand what?"

"Why you hate me for what I did."

"Saints' blood, Caderyn," she grumbled. "I don'thate you for it. I hate the act, yes, and I hate that you felt the need to do it. But..."

She sighed.

"I know it is a burden for you. And I know that had there been another way to win, another way that would not have involved the deaths of so many of your men... you'd have chosen it." Her gaze hardened. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it. And it also means that it may be hard for..."

"I am not asking you to leap right back into my tent, Pelagia." He rested a hand on her shoulder. "We were comrades-in-arms and fellow knights before we were lovers, after all. I just cannot have my best knight... glaring at me all day."

Pelagia glanced down at his hand, her gaze still warm.

"Your best knight... do you mean that?"

"Of course. How many times have you saved my life? How many victories have you won for me?"

Her eyes brightened further and she lifted her chin with pride, the expression of a knight who'd just won another great victory. It was a sight that warmed him just as much as a kiss or an embrace could have.

"Thank you, my duke." Her smile faded and she took a slow step back. "But as your faithful knight... I do have my limits. If you undertake such a ritual again, I do not-"

"It will not happen again," he said firmly.

Already he'd made a brash promise to Father Medwin. How many more reckless vows would he make on his way to the Imperial throne? Though Ketrik himself had sworn not to undertake another such ritual, there were other shamans and witches within the contingent of mercenaries. Other dark rites could still prove useful, if the war grew dire enough.

Despite his own storm of doubt, Pelagia's smile returned and she squeezed his hand.

"Thank you," she said.

A horn blew from outside.

"Those will be the scouts, forming up for the next patrol," Pelagia continued. "I should join them."

Though he ached at the thought of parting from her, especially after they'd come to that tentative understanding, there were few other knights he'd trust with the task.

"Ride well, Pelagia."

Deciding to take yet another risk, he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. To his warm delight, her eyes fluttered and she placed a soft kiss of her own upon his scarred cheek, then stepped out into the night.

**

The mosquitoes were the true rulers of that stretch of road. Teeming swarms of the little wretches flitted above the gnarled trees and murky pools. Alchemists marched alongside the column, wielding scented torches and censers to keep the bloodsucking bugs at bay. The northern mercenaries had their own wards as well, smearing their bodies with some sort of paste made by their shamans, which was said to kill any mosquito that so much as brushed against their skin.

Caderyn sat high and proud in his saddle in the very center of that mosquito-ravaged army. Beside him rode Pelagia, still in her saddle despite having had only a few hours of sleep after taking part in the night patrols. Gwion was at Caderyn's side as well, his face marred with a dozen mosquito bites, but all of his ire was focused on the sight ahead.

In the distance awaited the enemy army, occupying the road, the muddy fields, and the edges of the marshland. They stood their ground under the banners of Jadewall, which displayed a burning green tower. Alongside them were the banners of the mercenary company displaying a horned serpent. The last set of banners sent a dagger through his heart. Aelred's flags displayed a burning river littered with broken spears. Those flags had guarded the southern frontier of Fellhaven for decades, and now they waved proudly alongside the banners of Fellhaven's oldest rivals. Gods, how he looked forward to trampling those banners into dust.

He glanced at his rune-tattooed northern mercenaries, who sweated fiercely within their brigandine and fur cloaks. The swamps were a far cry from the frigid forests and plains of their homeland, but they marched forth with fiery hunger all the same.

Whistles shrieked from the forward scouts; two wheeled back from the vanguard and rode along the edges of the column to make their report.

"A flag of truce from the enemy, my duke," one scout said. "They want a parley."

"I would not trust it," Gwion said with a growl. "This is Baron Aelred we're dealing with."

"Exactly," Caderyn said, uttering a growl of his own. "I'll want to look that traitor in the eyes before I break his army. I shall take a large escort in case it is a ruse. And..."

He glanced towards the rear of the army, to the wagons carrying some of the more valuable prisoners, including Sir Jehan.

"Bring forth the duke's cousin and the other captured nobles. We'll use them as hostages to ensure good behavior during the parley."

"And perhaps as a means to bargain," said Florian. "Aelred may agree to stand down in exchange for Sir Jehan's release."

Caderyn had pondered the thought of releasing or ransoming Jehan, or even trading him for Aelred himself. There hadn't yet been the opportunity to make such an arrangement, however. As much as he loathed Jehan, it was Aelred's head he truly wanted.

No. More than his head. His heart. His skin. Every ounce of his blood. Gods, how he wanted to watch that treacherous baron bleed like a gutted deer beneath the zealous blades of the Kovgaardian warriors.

As Florian rode off to collect the hostages, Caderyn and his escort rode alongside the column. His men cheered as he passed, some shouting out his name, his father's name, or the war-cry of 'For the Uncrowned Emperor!' The last one brought a little smile to his face, though it faded upon seeing the small mounted party breaking from the enemy formation.

Despite his treason, Aelred still wore the standard armor and regalia of a Fellhaven baron: a blue breastplate over a chainmail hauberk, with gold-dyed greaves, and a blue and gold cloak. Resting beneath his arm was a helmet carved vaguely in the shape of a snarling hound. The only thing marking him as a minion of Thandor was a bright green scarf.

Alongside him rode a band of his own knights and some green-cloaked soldiers of Jadewall. Every single man within the party carried a flag of truce, as if the excessive display of white would forestall Caderyn's rage.

As they closed in, Caderyn glared at the treacherous baron, taking some solace from the wretched state of the man. He'd clearly been afflicted by the curse, for his left eye was still bloodshot and droopy, and there was a distinct weakness to his jaw, as if he no longer had the strength to keep it shut. The harshness of war had taken its toll in other ways; he was missing his left ear, and his considerable bulk had diminished somewhat. His usually proud and imposing beard had turned stringy and wild, making him look more like a beggar or a barbarian than a duke.

"Duke Caderyn," Aelred said with a surprisingly deferential bow of his head.

It took considerable effort not to bellow with rage. The only reason Caderyn had inherited that title prematurely was because of Aelred's treachery. His gauntleted hand tightened into a fist; he was tempted to order the execution of one of the hostages just to start the parley off with a bloody warning.

"Aelred," Caderyn said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Formally, the man's titles had been stripped from him, so Caderyn saw little need to call him a baron.

Caderyn looked over the other emissaries. The only one he recognized was Baron Gaspard: a broad-shouldered older man with an elaborate moustache and a deep, fresh scar across his chin. He ruled over the lands directly across the river and had effectively been Aelred's counterpart within Jadewall, tasked with defending the frontier against Fellhaven. Once an old rival of Aelred, now they were comrades... and would soon share the same grave.

It had been Gaspard's men who had raided across the river, taking advantage of the chaos following the attempt on Sarya's life. Now Caderyn was all but certain that the raids had been a ruse to deflect suspicion from Aelred's true loyalties. More corpses, more pawns... all part of Thandor's bloody games. As if such cruelties had not been enough, Gaspard had also scourged several of towns in Jadewall during the retreat from Stonecurrent.

"My terms are simple," Caderyn continued before any of them could speak. "Aelred, along with all of the knights, barons, and captains will surrender themselves to me. In exchange, Sir Jehan will be allowed to go free, to return to his cousin Thandor to convey further terms of surrender. Your mercenaries will be allowed to march back to Asparra, and your men-at-arms and peasants can return to their homes as long as they do not interfere with the rest of my march."

"The last we heard, Sir Jehan had suffered grievous wounds," said Gaspard. "I doubt he'd even be capable of such a journey."

"Fair enough," Caderyn said with a shrug. "I'll just take off his head, stuff a letter into his mouth with the terms of Thandor's surrender, and then send a rider to the palace instead."

Gaspard and a few of the Jadewall knights bristled at that, while Aelred chuckled.

"I was a fool," the bearded traitor said. "Should have gone for the heart. Not the back."

"Indeed," Caderyn snapped, even as his flesh ached with the memory of the wound Aelred had inflicted upon him.

"And now for our terms," Aelred said, guiding his horse a bit closer, sitting high and proud in the saddle despite his wounds and ailments. "Your army will return with all haste to Fellhaven. You shall not be harried or attacked along the way. Once you have departed these lands, Duke Thandor will make arrangements for a formalized peace treaty. In exchange, you must agree to formally renounce the allegations made against him... and hand over the woman responsible for poisoning you against Duke Thandor."

Caderyn's harsh laugh wafted through the mosquito-infested air.

"You would have me toss my betrothed into Thandor's dungeons?"

"The duke does not wish to punish his wayward daughter. He wants to... correct her misdeeds. He wants a fresh start and he wants to understand why she has spread such terrible lies about him."

"Thandor arranged for the murder of my father, and you expect me to believe he did not scheme to murder my mother?"

"He only acted against Duke Lucan after you made those allegations," Gaspard said. "You backed him into a corner, gave him no other options."

"We gave him plenty of options," Caderyn snapped. "Thandor could have resolved this peaceably and in fact would have escaped the severe punishment he deserved, had he merely abdicated in favor of Melisent. He deserved far worse for trying to kill my mother."

"He is not guilty of such a crime," Aelred said with a low sigh. "As Thandor has insisted the entire time, he does not deny Melisent's parentage, but he still denies the allegation that he was behind the attack on Duchess Sarya."

Caderyn gritted his teeth, realizing that this was all a mere distraction. His foes would not agree to his terms and he would not agree to theirs. All this had accomplished was a further inflaming of his rage. He just hoped his companions were using the opportunity to more closely inspect the enemy army to prepare for the fight ahead.

"Frivolous talk," Caderyn said with a low, rumbling sigh. He straightened up in the saddle and glared at Aelred. "But before we depart, I would at least like to know one thing. Your family served mine for generations. Time and again your ancestors stood against the intrusions and schemes of Jadewall. Why cast aside that proud legacy of loyalty?"

"For my son Lucan. I did not wish for him to walk the same path of myself and my predecessors. Always fighting along the border. Always tasked with holding the line. Always being an expendable pawn in the constant feuds along the frontier."

Caderyn bit back another harsh laugh. Gods, the gall of the man to use his son as an excuse for his betrayal. That lad had even been named after Caderyn's own father, a fact that Caderyn had foolishly thought was another sign of Aelred's devotion.

"When your son soon becomes an orphan, what shall he think of you and your treachery?" Caderyn spat.

"An irrelevant question," Aelred said, his sweaty brow furrowing. "Because he's already dead."

The grim tension clinging to the air shifted to something worse. The dark, oppressive cloud inspired deeper glares from all present. One of Caderyn's men, though, muttered a prayer for the lad's soul.

"In truth, I am sorry to hear that," Caderyn said icily. "He seemed like a good lad. If only you had stayed true to your oaths, young Lucan might have lived. I would have spared him, you know, even though I may have stripped away any claims or titles."

"How did he die?" Pelagia asked, her voice low and cold.

"After Duke Thandor visited our army at the river, I sent Lucan off with him, intending to keep the lad out of harm's way." Aelred stared off into the distance, the words coming out slowly and steadily, almost as if he'd rehearsed it. "Lucan wept and wept, for he wanted to serve as my squire, to help me with my armor, to look after my horse."

He let out a shuddering sigh.

"So he ran away from Thandor's escort and returned to the camp just as I was organizing the withdrawal against your attack. An archer of mine, worried the rider coming from the flanks was an enemy scout..."

The words trailed off but Caderyn understood nonetheless. His heart certainly ached for the boy, who had seen himself as a brave hero riding valiantly back to the aid of his father, only to die as a result. Gods, that poor lad must have been so terrified and confused...

And yet Caderyn would not shed a single tear for Aelred himself. That boy was dead because Aelred had betrayed Duke Lucan. Had he kept to his vows, young Lucan would have served proudly, perhaps becoming a valiant knight in his own right. Eventually he'd have inherited his father's barony to continue the proud tradition of his family's service to Fellhaven.

"And thus he rests in a shallow grave along with other brave soldiers, not far from Stonecurrent."

"I grieve for the boy," Caderyn said slowly. "But not for you. And yet you still have not fully explained how Thandor turned you against us."

"At my wife's funeral, Sir Jehan lingered for a few days, offering to take me on a hunt across the border, to help take my mind from my grief. Eager for the distraction, I agreed."

"Baron Aelred," Gaspard hissed. "What are you doing?"

"Either we die here or he does," Aelred said with a shrug. "So we might as well all die embraced by truth."

He looked back to Caderyn and continued.

"The hunt was but a ruse for a private audience with Duke Thandor. He offered the hand of his daughter Yvonne to my son when he came of age. In exchange, we would work together, waiting for the right moment to depose your mother. I would then become duke, and the title would eventually pass to my son and Yvonne."

The words sliced deep into Caderyn's mind. Gods, Aelred had secretly been in Thandor's pocket foryears. For a decade they'd been scheming and plotting in the shadows. Even when there had been speculation about marrying Yvonne to Berent or Caderyn, Thandor had another plan in mind all along.

And yet if that were true, why would they need to resort to coercing Melisent? Why enact that more convoluted scheme when Aelred himself could have undertaken a coup on his own? Caderyn and his family had visited Aelred's lands often. During any of those occasions, Aelred could have made an attempt, with or without Thandor's direct aid.

"Why delay, then?" Caderyn demanded. "You could have claimed our lives on a dozen occasions over the past few years."

"We wanted to wait until my son was of age..." Aelred's eyes flickered over to the Kovgaardian contingent of Caderyn's army. "And we wanted to wait until King Ulrik was dead. Kovgaard would be torn apart by the struggle to choose the next king, and that would have made it harder for your family to utilize northern allies or mercenaries."

By the gods and their saints, it was a dastardly and brilliant plan. No doubt his parents would have been distracted by the succession crisis in the north, making it easier for Thandor and Aelred to enact their scheme.

"So it was ambition, then," Caderyn said. "You wanted your son to be a duke rather than a baron."

"I wanted a better life for him than what I had endured. If I'd remained a good, dutiful baron, I'd have spent the rest of my life facing off against Jadewall, and my son probably would have, too. Always a servant, never a ruler. Always fighting, neverliving."

And in his attempt to purchase that 'better life' for his son, Aelred had instead led young Lucan towards his doom.

Confusion still assailed Caderyn's mind, but he had a battle to win.

"And now I have a question foryou," said Aelred. "A truth for a truth. How did you do it? How did you unleash that plague upon our camps?"

Caderyn flashed Aelred a proud, hungry grin.

"That was not my doing, Aelred. That was the judgment of Saint Acwald. A righteous punishment for Thandor's sins."

Aelred snorted.

"Aye. I definitely should have gone for the heart."

Without another word, the traitor turned his horse about. Only after he and his escort had made it a hundred paces away did Caderyn finally turn. Pelagia's face was grim, no doubt haunted by the talk of what had befallen young Lucan.

"It doesn't make any sense," she muttered under her breath.

"Of course it does," said Caderyn. "The lad wanted to help his father and-"

"Not the boy, Caderyn. Aelred's betrayal. If Thandor wanted your mother dead, it would have been so much easier to arrange with Aelred. An ambush on the road during one of her rides through the duchy. Poison in her wine during a visit to Aelred's keep. I don't..."

Her words trailed off, her brow furrowing.

"Thandor is a wily cunt," Gwion growled. "He could have had a dozen plans in motion. Schemes with Aelred, schemes with Jehan, schemes with the men he sent after Melisent... he could have been scheming with the gods of the north for all we fucking know. All that matters now is killing Aelred and pushing through to catch up with Thandor."

"Aye," Caderyn said with a nod. "Victory first. Then answers."

And yet doubts wriggled deep into his mind. Perhaps that had been Aelred's plan. Knowing he didn't have the numbers to stand up against Caderyn, Aelred was grasping for whatever wild tactics he could to blunt Caderyn's advantage. Confusing him before a nasty fight was one small means for Aelred to try to get an edge.

He'd not allow Aelred that satisfaction. Clenching his jaw, he buried those doubts deep and turned all of his fury towards the fight to come.

**

Screams and horn-blasts rose high into the darkening sky. Storms of arrows sliced through clouds of mosquitos. Grunting, growling pikemen shoved and jostled one another in a great mass, while men-at-arms and northern mercenaries worked their way along the flanks. The battlefield was too muddy and too constrained for cavalry to be of much use, thus many knights fought on foot, using their armor and skill to push fiercely against the enemy ranks.

To his chagrin, Caderyn remained with the mounted reserve to oversee the battlefield and so they could ride in to reinforce any faltering spots on the battle-line. But his men fought fiercely, never wavering in their desperate, determined onslaught.

Caderyn scowled as he spotted movement along the western edges of the road; he raised his spyglass to watch northern mercenaries diverting into the swamp. Gritting his teeth, he at first feared they were retreating in that direction to escape the battle. Further observation revealed they were working their way further around the flanks, struggling through the mud to find other gaps in the enemy line.

"Gwion," Caderyn said to the mercenary who'd been practically shivering with pent-up rage for the entire battle thus far. "Ride forth and direct Baron Florian's men over to the western flank: have them relieve Girjar's men so more of them can keep flanking through the swamp."

"And then do you want me to ride on back, my duke?" Gwion asked.

"If you want to fight, then fight," Caderyn said with a snort, not wanting to hold back the man's fury any longer. "Just reposition Florian's men first."

With an eager smile, Gwion donned his helmet and sent his horse thundering up the road. Pelagia and the rest of Caderyn's escort remained at his side, tense and waiting.

No grand and epic clash decided the battle's fate. There was no one individual feat of arms to turn the tide, no devious stratagem to shift the battle entirely in his favor. There was just the brutal, simple, slog of muddy and bloody men wearing down the enemy.

To Caderyn's surprise it was not the western flank that shattered first. Aelred's men there had indeed fought quite fiercely even as Girjar's warriors struggled through the mud, threatening to turn the entire flank. Instead it was the southern mercenaries on the eastern flank who first retreated, flitting away in small groups and rushing back towards the camp and the herds of riderless horses. As the eastern flank gave way, Caderyn's men surged forward, slowly threatening to envelop the enemy center.

After a few more ugly minutes of muddy brawls and savage slaughter, the enemy army simply collapsed. Small pockets fought on, particularly the archers at the rear of the enemy force, whose arrows claimed dozens of lives with each withering volley. Other men turned to run, rushing towards the camp. Others sagged to their knees and tossed down their arms, worn down by sheer exhaustion. Some tried to flee into the swamps, making it a few hundred paces before the mud and mire swallowed them alive.

As the gaps widened in the breaking enemy lines, Caderyn readied his lance. True to his mother's wishes, he'd stayed out of the fighting as much as he could, but the time had come to deliver the savage killing blow to shatter the enemy once and for all.

Trumpets sounded the advance. The column of knights lurched forth, thundering over the corpses of men who had fallen to the enemy arrow volleys, and then through the gaps in the formations. Hooves tore across the muddy, bloody stone road. Armored knights peeled off, slicing into pockets of resistance or into the flanks of fleeing men. Caderyn and Pelagia led a risky advance straight up a small hill, into the massed ranks of crossbowmen who had bravely held their ground to buy time for their comrades.

Lances, blades, and maces shattered crossbows and split open faces. Blood ran down the slope and the crossbowmen finally broke, tossing down their weapons and fleeing for their lives. Wolfish hunger took hold and Caderyn ordered his knights to continue the hunt. The armored riders fanned out across the field, running down as many of the enemy as they could. Those who surrendered were spared, but those who fled or fought met a grisly end amidst the mud.

The tide of slaughter expanded towards the enemy camp. Blood-drunk soldiers cut down the meager enemy rear-guard while others looted the tents. A laughing northlander tossed a Jadewall knight into a great bonfire. Other Kovgaardians howled out prayers as the man screamed, his armor hissing and scalding his flesh.

"Bring me the traitor Aelred!" Caderyn bellowed over the din.

The duke's shout instilled a semblance of cohesion into the victorious soldiers. Some ceased their looting to join the search. They rummaged through the camp and the field of corpses, yanking bodies from the mud. Caderyn sent his horse back and forth, eyes darting about in search of the man who had taken his father from him.

Gwion shouted, waving his blade. Still shuddering from the surge of adrenaline coursing through him, Caderyn sent his horse trotting over. Beside the faithful soldier was a pile of bodies, mostly of Aelred's men and Girjar's mercenaries. Half-buried beneath the mound of corpses, a warhammer in hand, was Aelred.

Snarling, Caderyn dismounted and helped Gwion tug the traitor from the pile. Doing so revealed that his left leg was missing, with only bloody strips remaining. An arrow had taken him in the other leg. A dagger jutted through a gap in his hauberk, and the impact of another weapon had torn off his helmet's visor. The cause of death was obvious: a broken spear-tip jutted from his eye.

"Fitting," Gwion said with a low grunt, no doubt speaking of the fact that Aelred had lost an eye just like Caderyn's father.

"Far more fitting would have been taking him captive and letting Girjar's men flay him alive," Caderyn hissed.

He glared down at the broken corpse. There was relief, of course, that the battle had been won. But no catharsis. No joy. No shattering of the sorrows that had suffocated his heart for weeks.

"What should we do with him?" Gwion asked.

His eyes narrowed at the cold, broken face of a man he'd once counted as a fierce ally. Months ago, he'd dared to dream of an easy victory at Aelred's side. The man's experience and troops could have made the war a nearly-trivial matter. Instead his treason had turned the war into a bloody slog, with a toll that continued to rise.

"Send for Girjar Bear-Bleeder. I promised him a sacrifice if we captured Aelred; perhaps there is some other holy rite that will instead suffice."

Even Gwion, who had withstood so much over the past few months, grimaced at the command, but bowed nonetheless. Caderyn helped steady the wounded while they waited for the healers.

Growling out prayers, the burly warlord emerged from the blood-spattered press, with a frowning Gwion at his side. Gore clung to Girjar's massive axe and an inhuman grin adorned his tattooed face.

"Duke Caderyn," said Girjar. "The gods are sated. The slaughter we have delivered unto them will turn their hungry gaze from my soul for many years."

The fierce smile faded at the sight of Aelred's corpse.

"A shame," he said with a grunt. "The gods would have been even more sated had we been able to flay him or feed him to the hounds."

For a moment, Caderyn almost smiled at the prospect of witnessing such a grisly death.

"I know I promised you a sacrifice, Girjar," said the duke.

The burly man knelt beside the corpse and brushed his fingers through the blood.

"He is warm. The power lingers. It will not be the same as a sacrifice... but I can take a memento. Something holy to be given to the shamans of my tribe as another sort of offering."

Had they been speaking of desecrating any other corpse, Caderyn might have balked or at least grimaced. Instead he watched with the same curiosity he'd displayed when watching his father demonstrate the best way to hold a blade.

The mercenary grasped Aelred and dragged him from the pile of corpses, then lifted his colossal axe.

"Gods of blood and iron," he growled. "Bless the gift I take from this worthy foe."

A brutal swing severed Aelred's head from his neck. After a satisfied grunt, Girjar knelt down and scooped up the head with almost tender reverence.

"Yes," said Girjar with a nod. "This shall suffice, I think."

Stowing the severed head into his bag as if it were a treat to be saved for later, Girjar stalked off. Caderyn watched him vanish into a mob of his howling warriors, still finding himself wishing that Aelred had been captured alive.

"I was expecting worse," Gwion said, his voice low and breathless as he stared down at the headless corpse. "But what of the rest of him? I say we toss him into the swamp. Give him to the snakes and the worms."

"Question the survivors, find out where they buried his son Lucan. Then take Aelred there and bury him alongside his boy."

Gwion scoffed.

"Surely a traitor does not deserve such an honor."

"No. But his son does."

**

The thrill of victory was short-lived. Though they'd swept the field and killed Aelred, Caderyn's men had suffered considerable losses. The ugly, bloody slog up the road had taken a great toll. Not only were there many dead and many more wounded, the survivors had reached the limits of their endurance. The forced march before the battle had nearly broken many of the men, and it was a miracle they'd remained on their feet long enough to actually fight.

The scourge of mosquitoes took a toll, with many men afflicted by horrific bites that had become infected thanks to the squalid battlefield conditions. Thus rather than continue their wild chase of the enemy, Caderyn was forced to make a shorter march away from the swamps, before encamping so the men could rest.

A melancholy mood settled over the victors as their march continued after a few days of respite. More battles still awaited them and the death of the reviled Aelred had not suddenly or miraculously ended the war. Yet Caderyn's chest swelled with pride at the sight of those bedraggled men, who soldiered on despite their fatigue, wounds, and the horrors inflicted upon their souls. He'd not have made it that far without their faithful loyalty... he just hoped such loyalty could hold on a little while longer.

Several days after the battle in the swamp, the city of Jadewall came into view. Aptly named for its imposing walls of green stone, the city rested upon several hills. Great towers and spires loomed like a great forest of stone; each of those larger structures would have been a great ordeal to take individually, and there were dozens of them within the great city. Outside the walls was a patchwork of half-built fortifications erected to slow and stymie the efforts of a besieging army, but the laborers had seemingly fled inside the city at the sight of Caderyn's approaching forces.

As his men surrounded the city and fanned out across the countryside to protect against flanking attacks, Caderyn sighed.

"We'll still win, my duke," said Florian. "We'll have the city encircled in no time. It doesn't appear they expelled the city's population so the defenders will have many mouths to feed. Too many. Starvation and disease will settle in before long."

"That is precisely my fear," Caderyn said. "My quarrel is with Thandor, not his subjects. I didn't want to inflict needless suffering upon them."

"We still have the hostages," Rathgar pointed out, gesturing towards the heavily-guarded wagons that held Jehan and the other noble captives.

"Indeed. Bring me Jehan and Gaspard."

As Caderyn glared at the imposing city and tried to envisage a way to storm it without widescale slaughter, Rathgar's men dragged forth Sir Jehan and Baron Gaspard. The former had to be carried out on a litter due to his wounds. Though he'd stabilized under Ketrik's care, Thandor's cousin was still a mindless shell of a man, his dazed eyes staring up at the sky. Gaspard, meanwhile, was completely intact: the man had surrendered quite quickly after the collapse of the pike formation during the battle in the swamp.

"Baron Florian," Caderyn said, once more looking to the city. "Have your men assemble a trebuchet. On the double."

"We're beginning the bombardment now, my lord?"

"In a sense."

Caderyn dismounted while Florian rode off to convey the duke's orders. While Gaspard offered a deep bow to the victorious duke, Jehan merely mumbled. Death would be a mercy for the once-proud knight, but that would have to wait just a while longer.

"My lord duke," Gaspard said quickly. "With your leave, I can serve as an emissary to convey your terms to Duke Thandor."

"And let you out of our grasp?" Pelagia said with a snarl. "I think not."

Within minutes, Florian's men were hard at work erecting the trebuchet. The wooden pieces had already been carved and prepared weeks in advance. During downtime on the march, the engineers had practiced the rapid assembly of the great war-machine, and thus had most of it assembled in short order.

"My lord duke," Gaspard said with a strained smile. "Even if you do not send me forth as an emissary, I would humbly beseech that you at least offer terms before you begin the bombardment."

Without a word to Gaspard, Caderyn asked a squire to fetch a scroll and quill. As the engineers toiled with the trebuchet, Caderyn scribbled out a message.

To the people of Jadewall:

Your duke's sins have gone on far enough and have claimed far too many lives. He has seized holy wealth from the monasteries, burned his own subjects alive, and has plunged this land into needless war. His actions have incurred the wrath of the saints, who have visited foul afflictions upon his armies.

During the retreat of his forces from the border, many villages were scourged and ransacked by the forces of Baron Gaspard, under direct orders from Duke Thandor. As such, I have decided to deliver Gaspard to you.

My quarrel is not with you, but instead your duke. Rise up against him and open the gates to my armies, so peace can once more reign.

To Duke Thandor:

For months, my men have been howling out the name of my deceased father as a war-cry. If you do not submit, those vengeful roars shall echo down the ancient streets of your city. Such cries will be the last thing you and your family ever hear.

You have three days to choose a new path.

He then handed the parchment to a squire and bade him to have a dozen copies made. The lad ran off and Caderyn calmly watched as the engineers continued to assemble the siege weapon.

"Caderyn," Pelagia murmured. "What are you planning?"

"A little gift for the people of Jadewall. And a message for Thandor."

Gaspard, still unaware of Caderyn's true intent, continued to blubber and plead.

"I had no idea what Aelred was planning, you know," he said. "When I found out about the betrayal I protested quite fiercely. War must be fought honorably and-"

"Honorably?" Pelagia snapped. "Where was the honor when your men burned that village?"

That shut him up, but only for a few minutes.

"Duke Thandor has relied heavily on my counsel, my lord. He shall heed my advice. I can serve as an arbiter and an emissary, to negotiate a new treaty. You can... you can even have my lands! I'll sign them over to Fellhaven, enriching your family considerably in the process."

He fell silent as the engineers hammered in the last nails and stakes of the great trebuchet. Squires and servants soon returned with the bundle of copied messages. Without further explanation to Gaspard, Caderyn grabbed the scrolls and stuffed them within the captive's belt and collar.

All the while, Jehan silently stared up at the sky.

"Duke Caderyn," Gaspard sputtered. "What is..."

Caderyn yanked the bound captive to his feet. With Pelagia's help he dragged him over to the trebuchet. The pleas and sputters reached a fever pitch. The mustachioed noble writhed and flailed even as they loaded him into the trebuchet.

"Caderyn!" he shrieked. "Wait! I can.... arrange a marriage! Yvonne is quite close to my wife and I can convince her to offer her hand-"

Pelagia silenced him by elbowing him in the gut. Despite her earlier protests after the foul rite at the river, not a trace of doubt appeared in her dark eyes. Perhaps she was just comfortable with more straightforward justice and had only balked at dark northern witchcraft. Or perhaps the sight of those burned villages had hardened her heart to Gaspard's pleas.

Once the engineers had cranked back the mechanisms and adjusted for the range and elevation, they nodded to the duke. Ignoring Gaspard's rising blubbers and sobs, Caderyn drew his sword.

Months ago, Caderyn could not have imagined undertaking such a task. After everything Jadewall had taken from him, after hearing Melisent's sobs as she'd recounted the sins Thandor had committed against her...

There could be no mercy for nobles who had so faithfully served a butcher like Thandor.

With a single swing, Caderyn severed the rope. The great arm of the trebuchet reeled back and flung its human payload high into the air. Gaspard's wail echoed across the army camp. Laughter and cheers rose from Caderyn's men, particularly from the northern mercenaries.

Gaspard clipped the top of one of the guard towers. Blood splashed against the green stone and the body sailed past, slammed against the rooftop of a temple, and then slid down out of sight, leaving a bloody smear behind.

"Prepare the siege lines and the other artillery pieces," Caderyn said, sheathing his sword. "We shall wait three days for Thandor's reply."

**

Three days came and went. His army completed the encirclement of the city, digging earthworks, erecting watchtowers, and building more artillery pieces. Sappers dug tunnels towards the walls, preparing to undermine and breach the great defenses. Foraging parties ranged far and wide for supplies, while scouts maintained a wide perimeter in case reinforcements tried to reach the city.

In a strange way, all those preparations were an echo of Ulrik's great siege of Fellhaven over two decades before. Some of the northlander mercenaries had in fact been present for that very siege, and now put their skills to work assailing Thandor's city.

Caderyn just hoped his army would fare better than Ulrik's had.

As expected, Thandor did not submit, but neither did he send out any messengers with new terms. Instead he sulked within his city, no doubt shoring up his defenses and preparing to turn every street into a bitter battlefield.

Caderyn tried to imagine how he himself might have faced such a predicament. Would he have remained defiant? Would he have allowed his people to wither away and starve? Would he have fought to the bitter end despite the ugly odds?

Solveig's words once more rippled into his mind.

"One path of many."

Seeking a reprieve from dark thoughts and the tedium of the siege, he joined Pelagia on a scouting patrol. They thundered across the verdant plains alongside fifty other riders, riding past abandoned farms and outlying keeps that had already been isolated and taken by Caderyn's forces.

"My duke!" one of the sentries shouted, pointing westward.

Alarmed, Caderyn lifted his spyglass and swept his gaze across the horizon. His heart sank at the sight of Wolfgate's banners: massive flags displaying a headless corpse sprouting with flowers.

Thandor's puppets had at last come to his aid.

If Duchess Chera's forces were moving to aid Thandor, surely disaster had befallen Caderyn's subjects in Ravenmark. As a chill spread through his body, his mind reeled as he tried to decide what to do next. Should they retreat? Mount an immediate and reckless assault on the city? Lift the siege and redeploy to crush Chera's army in the field?

Those questions withered away as he spotted other banners alongside Wolfgate's, including the flags of Ravenmark and the bear-adorned banners of Utresk. Black-cloaked men-at-arms marched in long columns alongside cavalry from Utresk and the pious knights of Wolfgate.

The last he'd heard, Wolfgate's forces were still skirmishing along the border with Ravenmark, resisting Baron Tancred's efforts to push through Wolfgate to reinforce Caderyn. The latest report had been weeks old, however.

His eyes widened at the sight of a dozen riders breaking away from the great host.

As the riders crested a hill and came into even sharper view, Caderyn let out a cry of shock and relief. Foremost among the riders was none other than his sister Vienne, her smile shining with the furious radiance of a sun, her red curls flowing behind her. The rider beside her was clad in the dark red robes of a nun, with a veil obscuring her face.

"By the blood of the saints," he said with a joyous laugh, tossing the spyglass to Pelagia so she could see for herself.

He shouted to guide his courser into a fierce trot, sending the horse sprinting across the grassland. His escort gave chase, with Pelagia letting out a joyful laugh of her own.

Even over the great distance, he could hear Vienne crying out.

"Ryn-Ryn!"

His heart nearly shattered at the sound of her voice. Though he loathed the childish nickname she'd often used to tease him, the sound was now sweeter than the finest of Tessandra's songs. It had been months since they'd last seen each other, and so much had transpired since their parting. The bloodshed in Tsannor, the revelations at the convent, his betrothal to Melisent, their father's death, the horrific war...

He practically leapt out of the saddle, and she dismounted with the aid of the red-robed nun. Tears streaked down Vienne's face as she ran to him. Sobs and laughter fled her lips as they collided, her thin arms wrapping tightly around his neck. Even through his sturdy armor, he felt the iron strength of her embrace.

Tears brimmed in his eyes as well, a few running down his scarred face. For half a minute they simply held one another in stunned, joyful silence. Finally she broke away and looked up at him, an ocean of tears shimmering in her green eyes.

"He's dead," Caderyn finally rasped. "Aelred's dead."

"I don't care," Vienne murmured, her fingers brushing away his tears. "All that matters is that you're here."

With another sob, she rested her head against his breastplate.

Behind Vienne, the great allied army continued its slow advance.

"What happened?" he asked, his arms still wrapped tightly around her.

Vienne chuckled and glanced over her shoulder at the veiled nun.

"We had a bit of help."

As if she'd been waiting for her cue, the robed nun lifted her veil, exposing the tearful, slender face of Tessandra. As Caderyn stared, awestruck, Pelagia let out a joyful shriek and lunged for the bard, pulling her within her armored grasp and spinning her about. The sacred red robe twirled through the air.

"It is quite the tale, Caderyn," Vienne said, even as Pelagia tightened her embrace of the bard.

"You can tell me while we ride to our lodgings," Caderyn said, pointing in the distance to Thandor's manor, which had been abandoned by the duke and seized by Caderyn's forces.

He helped her back into the saddle. Pelagia and Vienne took far longer to break their embrace but finally mounted up as well. Caderyn himself longed to wrap the bard into his arms, but decorum prevented that for the moment. Nonetheless he gave her a bright smile and a sly wink, quite glad to see her again, his mind racing with questions.

"Tancred clung to the hope that we'd be able to sway Duchess Chera to our side, so he kept his attacks across the border to a minimum," Vienne explained. "She also seemed reluctant to commit to a large battle, so it was almost a mummer's war. Only a few skirmishes, scant casualties, mostly just little probing attacks. But it was Tessandra here who helped shift things in our favor."

"After spending so long cooped up in the palace, I begged Berent for something to do," said Tessandra. "Since many of his other spies and messengers had been intercepted over the past few weeks, he tasked me with getting a message to Duchess Chera."

She brushed her fingers through the veil.

"Hence the disguise. So I slipped across Jadewall, gathering information as I went. Upon reaching Wolfgate, I met with Duchess Chera and convinced her to betray Thandor. It took a few days for me to wear her down but she finally agreed, especially once word arrived of your bargain with Father Medwin and the monastery of Saint Acwald."

"Together, Chera's troops united with Tancred to crush Jadewall's forces within Wolfgate, and we've been marching with haste ever since to unite with you," said Vienne.

"By the gods," Caderyn said, his relieved smile widening. "I can scarcely believe it. Thandor stands no chance now. Once he sees such a vast host surrounding him, I'm certain he'll yield. Hehas to. No other duchy will ride to his aid now."

"I hope it's over, yes," said Tessandra with a long sigh. "During my ride across Jadewall I caught only glimpses of the bloodshed but such sights will be enough to haunt me for the rest of my life."

She cast a sorrowful look at Pelagia and Caderyn.

"And I know it's nothing compared to what you've endured."

"The worst of it is over," said Pelagia with a firm nod.

By the gods and their saints, Caderyn hoped with every ounce of his strength that she was right.

**

"A toast!" Caderyn shouted, his voice ringing through the fine dining room of Thandor's estate.

At the table before him sat Pelagia, Tessandra, Vienne, her husband Tancred, alongside a dozen other nobles from the now-massive allied army.

"To Baron Tancred, for holding the line!" Caderyn said, smiling at his brother-in-law.

Tancred was a short, broad-shouldered man with a full head of silky black hair, and a handsome face somewhat marred by old pockmarks. Still dressed in his surcoat and riding breeches, Tancred looked more suited for a hunt or a march than a fancy meal.

The young baron waved off the praise with a bashful smile, and Vienne leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

"And to Tessandra, for braving her way across Jadewall to help guide Duchess Chera to our cause."

Unlike Tancred, who'd dismissed the praise with humility, the bard rose and gave a deep, exaggerated bow. Since she'd changed out of her disguise and back into her usual colorful low-cut vest, the bow ignited a pulse of lust within the young duke.

Gods, it had been an eternity since he'd taken a lover. The war had consumed nearly every waking moment, and the tension caused by the dark ritual had created a rift between him and Pelagia. The tension between them had slowly started to mend over the past week; Tessandra's warmth would surely help seal the wound entirely.

Tancred rose as well, lifting his cup.

"And a toast to you, Duke Caderyn and to your great victories. The capture of Jehan. The salvation of Stonecurrent. The defeat of Baron Gaspard and the traitor Aelred. The encirclement of Jadewall."

The other guests raised their cups and shouted in agreement. With his deeds laid out so succinctly, it was almost enough to mask the tide of blood and gore he'd endured to get that far. Screams and wails echoed all around him. Before him stretched the piles of sacrificial victims, maimed knights, trampled peasants, burned villages...

Nonetheless he smiled and drank down his wine.

Once back in his seat, he stretched out his legs and sighed, allowing himself to fully relax for the first time in weeks. The guests chatted away, with Pelagia and Tessandra catching up, while Vienne and Tancred spoke at length with Baron Florian about the state of Wolfgate.

Naturally, the mention of a wedding brought Melisent to mind. His heart ached as it took him a few moments to conjure memories of her face, her luxurious curls, her soft olive skin...

With Thandor encircled and all but defeated, perhaps the time was right for their marriage. Even if Thandor still held the city, a formal ceremony could serve as a message and a death knell to Thandor's power. He almost shivered at the thought, imagining her radiant beauty, her tender touch, and the loving desperation of her voice.

"She's doing well, Caderyn," Tessandra said softly, reaching beneath the table to rest a hand on his knee.

"What?" he blurted out, snapping back to reality.

"The look in your eyes made it obvious you were thinking of her," Tessandra said with a bright smile. "And once dinner is over, I have something she wanted me to give you."

Keeping his lust in check for the sake of decorum, Caderyn merely smiled and went back to his meal.

The dinner dragged on for another hour, with the guests discussing the best way to integrate the two armies to complete the siege, or debating the finer points of the art on display within Thandor's occupied manor. Truth be told, Caderyn had not paid any attention to it until that moment.

Glancing up, he took note of the landscape paintings on the left side of the room, then looked over to the depictions of battles on the other. One showed Jadewall's forces engaged in harrowing combat with barbarians before the walls of Fellhaven, while another showed gallant knights clashing beside a river. No doubt many of the scenes depicted past battles between Fellhaven and Jadewall over the course of their long rivalry.

"We should have these burned," Tancred said darkly, pointing to one which displayed a Jadewall spearman skewering a knight of Fellhaven.

Caderyn rose to more closely inspect the painting. While the artwork was not labeled and he'd been a poor student during most of his tutelage, he nonetheless tried to decipher which event it depicted. The fallen Fellhaven warrior wore a ducal circlet, and behind the combatants loomed the familiar battlements of Aelred's castle.

"This is from the Red Summer War," Caderyn said. "When my great grandfather Duke Arnault was slain during the effort to relieve the siege of that castle."

Arnault had fought and died alongside Aelred's ancestors, in a bitter battle that had claimed thousands of lives. For a full day, fighting had raged over Arnault's body, until one of his sons finally managed to drag the corpse from the field. Jadewall's forces had then sacked the keep, though reinforcements had eventually overwhelmed them and forced them back to the border.

He realized such bloodshed was exactly why Aelred had betrayed Fellhaven. He'd wanted an end to his dynasty's role in the long feud between the duchies. In a way, Aelred had gotten his wish, albeit not in the exact manner he'd hoped.

"No," Caderyn said with a shake of his head. "We won't burn or deface them. These are part of our history. Part of Melisent's history, too. This is her legacy and I'll not have it destroyed."

"In that case, we'll need to commission a few more paintings to balance them out," Tancred said with a soft laugh. "Something showing the great charge of knights that broke Sir Jehan's forces during your first victory, perhaps."

That 'great charge of knights' had simply been the last killing blow of a long, bloody battle. It had not been a glorious advance against a wall of armored men, and had instead been a flanking maneuver which had ripped through the enemy's camp and reserves. Glorious? Hardly. History would see it differently, however.

As the other guests offered their own suggestions about which grand and glorious event to depict, Caderyn sipped on his wine and stared up at the paintings. He imagined how artists might depict his own victories and defeats. Would Aelred one day be honored with a depiction as a heroic, valiant foe, just as Duke Arnault was in that painting?

Various guests excused themselves, retiring to their quarters within the palatial manor or returning to their camps. A gentle touch to his shoulder stole his attention from the artwork. Vienne smiled softly up at him, her hand resting upon his shoulder.

"I'm proud of you, Caderyn," she said softly.

Thankfully she had enough tact and sense not to say their father would have been proud of him, too. If she had, the words might have shattered his resolve and left him a sobbing wreck.

"And I'm proud of you, too, Vienne," he answered, then glanced past her at Tancred, who stood a short distance away. "And of Tancred. I know this war would have been far uglier without your help."

Were it not for Tancred's leadership along the border with Wolfgate, Thandor could have redeployed even more of his forces to face Caderyn. Even just a few thousand more men could have tipped the scales in Jadewall's favor.

After leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek, Vienne took her husband's arm and together they left the dining hall, leaving Caderyn alone with Tessandra and Pelagia.

The bard lunged for him, her slender arms wrapping around his shoulders the moment the door closed. The embrace was not one of wild lust but rather almost painful, sorrowful desperation. She sobbed as his strong arms wrapped around her waist, cradling her close against him.

"Gods, Caderyn," Tessandra said. "It was brutal. Sitting there all night, being polite and cordial, when all I wanted was..."

Tears nearly welled in his eyes but he gritted his teeth, fought them off, then gripped her cheeks to tilt her gaze towards his.

"I've missed you, Tessandra."

And yet his heart still ached. It had been months since he'd seen Melisent, even longer since he'd seen Solveig, and he was certain their child was now at least a few weeks old. As he warred and fought in the south, his child was seeing the world for the first time, completely denied the love of his or her father.

Perhaps sensing the pain in his eyes, Tessandra gave him a soft kiss.

"I've been daydreaming about this reunion for months. Thinking over all the things I'd want to do to you once we were reunited," Tessandra said. "But now..."

Her slender fingers brushed over his scar, then she looked over her shoulder at Pelagia.

"Now I want nothing more than to fall asleep between both of you. To rest. To let your warmth shield me."

"I think that sounds splendid," Pelagia said, crossing the room to embrace Tessandra from behind, nuzzling the back of the bard's neck. "Fiery lust can wait until the morrow."

**

Nestled alongside his two lovers on the largest bed within the ducal estate, Caderyn enjoyed his deepest sleep in months. No bloody dreams assailed his mind and no lingering pain erupted from the old wound in his lower back. When he awoke, both women were still slumbering peacefully beneath the sheets.

For several minutes he marveled at their beauty, glancing between Pelagia's freckled cheeks and Tessandra's pale, slender face. Finding himself unable to drift back off, he carefully slipped out from between them and crossed the room, over to a little pouch Tessandra had set upon the bookcase.

She'd told him before going to sleep that Melisent had asked her to deliver it to him. Intrigued, Caderyn picked up the pouch with the same reverence one would have displayed for a holy relic, and carefully opened it.

Within was a sealed letter, which he tore open with reckless abandon.

My darling Caderyn,

I must apologize for being neglectful in my correspondence to you over the past months. My duties around the palace have sapped most of my energy and left me with little time for silly romantic letters. Every time I tried to write, I found myself on the verge of tears. I found my words to be so lacking and so futile, and perhaps unworthy of your attention.

But for your sake, I finally found the strength to write.

In anticipation of your victory, our reunion, and our marriage, I have abstained from the usual womb-warding potions. I have brewed other potions to enhance my fertility, for I know how important it will be to continue the dynasty, to forge a strong future for Fellhaven, Jadewall, Ravenmark, and the Empire. I want our wedding night to be special in every possible way, my love. I do not simply wish for our bodies to unite once more, I wish for our lovemaking to bring a new life into this world."

The words set him ablaze. He shuddered and nearly dropped the letter, then sagged down onto a cushioned bench to continue.

The thought fills me with such delightfully wondrous excitement. Not merely the same fires of lust that have guided me before, but something far more. Something grander. Something purer. Something far more powerful.

Nearly every night when time allows, I slip my fingers between my legs and think of you. I imagine your green eyes radiating above me. I imagine your firm arms pinning me down, keeping me splayed wide and helpless for you. I imagine your breath in my ear as you growl out my name. And gods, Caderyn, I imagine your cock surging within me, filling me...

I can hardly wait, Caderyn.

Yours eternally,

Melisent

Caderyn swallowed, his cock hardening beneath his trousers. He could see her now: sweat clinging to her dark curves, her soft lips parted wide as she pleaded for him to fill her, her ample breasts heaving...

Gods, how he longed to fulfill her desires. The future of the dynasty depended on it, of course, but impregnating her seemed like the ultimate sort of conquest. The truest, deepest way to claim his beloved.

And he knew it would not be the first time, either. If he were to claim the Imperial throne, he'd need many children to help reinforce the dynasty and to broaden his political horizons. Again and again she'd yield her body to him, again and again she would beg for his seed to fill her...

Once more he read over the letter, and was nearly about to read it through a third time when he heard a murmur from the bed. Pelagia rose up, her short red hair tousled by her deep slumber. After casting a warm smile down at the still-sleeping bard, the redhead rose from the bed. Clad only in a loose-fitting tunic that dangled halfway down her strong thighs, she crossed the room to join him.

A soft laugh left her lips at the sight of his erection straining against his trousers.

"Melisent's letter was that enticing, was it?"

"You have no idea," he murmured.

Thankfully she did not press him or tease him further about the letter, and instead sat down on the chair across from him. After a moment her dark eyes returned to Tessandra. The warmth in her gaze far outshone anything she'd displayed for Caderyn himself. Though their lust and affection blazed quite fiercely, it was clear her feelings for Tessandra were far stronger. Caderyn felt not even a shred of jealousy for that. After all, his own affection for Melisent outshone his bonds with Tessandra and Pelagia.

"Gods, I'm so glad she's back with us," Pelagia murmured. "Just seeing her smile eases the weight that's been on my shoulders these past few months."

"Agreed," Caderyn said with a long, relieved sigh.

Together they admired the slumbering bard for several moments. The blonde eventually stirred, her silken hair casting a veil across her face. A puff of breath cast aside most of her hair, exposing her warm smile.

"Dreadfully rude and lecherous of you two, to stare at me while I slumber," she accused, before softly laughing.

They chuckled as she rose to her feet. Unlike the others, Tessandra had slept in the nude, and Caderyn admired her lissome form as she stretched. Silken hair cascaded down over her back as she walked over to the window. Rather than return to the bed or join them at the table, Tessandra remained at the window, seemingly content to enjoy the sight of the gardens beyond.

"She's just teasing us," Pelagia said with a grunt.

"I know," Caderyn said, grinning. "And I'll not surrender to such nonsense."

Deciding to retaliate with a tease of his own, he turned his attention fully back to Pelagia.

"So... we'll need to coordinate with the other army to arrange for more efficient distribution of supplies. We should head out at once to inspect their stocks and herds."

"Agreed," said Pelagia with a wisp of a hungry smile. "There's also the matter of collecting lumber for arrows, spears, and more trebuchets. I can meet with Florian to make the arrangements."

"Insufferable," Tessandra growled from over by the window, though she'd still yet to turn. "Neither of you have seen me for months, I've not a scrap of clothing on, and you're blabbering on aboutlogistics."

"Oh," Caderyn said brightly. "Pardon me, Tessandra. We'd grown so accustomed to your absence that we barely noticed you were there."

Tessandra glared over her shoulder, his eyes as fierce as a northern reaver's.

"Half the dinner guests were ogling me last night. And you should have heard the tawdry things said by the Kovgaardians we passed by on the way to the manor. I could scurry off and have a dozen hungry lovers at my beck and call and-"

"Go on, then," Pelagia said, her smirk growing as she waved a dismissive hand. "Caderyn and I will busy ourselves with talk of supplies."

Tessandra let out a playful growl as Caderyn reached for a scroll and quill, pantomiming that he was writing out another order for more supplies.

"Now when we last discussed the state of the herds with Baron Rathgar, he said we were in need of more pack mules. Thoughts as to how we can acquire more?"

Rapid, frantic steps brought Tessandra across the room. With another little growl, she swatted the scroll from his grasp. When she snatched for the quill as well, Pelagia's hand darted out, grasping hold of the bard's wrist.

"Laying hands upon your duke is quite the offense, Tessandra," Pelagia chided. Though she maintained a low, cruel tone, there was no hiding the hunger in her gaze.

"Indeed," Caderyn said with an icy glare. "But how shall we punish her?"

Tessandra shivered, her slender arm straining in vain to escape Pelagia's grasp. Unable to help himself, Caderyn reached out and brushed his fingers over her taut backside. Gods, how he'd missed those slender hips and those lithe legs, those pretty little red-painted toes...

"Kneel," Caderyn commanded through clenched teeth.

With a soft sigh, Tessandra obeyed, her eyes gleaming with relief and delight. As Caderyn undid the ties and laces of his trousers, Pelagia yanked her tunic up past her hips, exposing her sex and the thatch of red curls.

Both Caderyn and Pelagia reached out, taking hold of the bard's shimmering golden tresses.

"But who shall punish her first?" Pelagia asked.

"The duke," Tessandra murmured, the soft words emerging almost like a devoted prayer. "Please."

All three of them shuddered. Due to how long it had been since he'd had a lover, Caderyn would likely spill quite quickly. Of course, that just meant he could recover while Tessandra tended to Pelagia, and then he would be ready in time for more.

Pelagia let out a grunt and released Tessandra's hair, allowing the duke to grip her blonde locks and guide her closer to him. She placed a soft, worshipful kiss upon his knee as he worked against the last of the laces. A firm tug yanked the trousers down his hips, exposing the cock that had been quite painfully hard ever since he'd read Melisent's letter that morning.

A beautiful smile danced across Tessandra's pale features.

"Gods, I've missed this..."

As the very last word filled his ears, Tessandra leaned in to give his shaft a long, teasing lick from base to tip. Caderyn laughed and leaned his head back, both hands gently gripping her head. Though he was quite eager for the embrace of her lips, he wanted to luxuriate in the sensations that had been denied to him for so long.

Pelagia, however, was far less patient. She lifted her foot and pressed it to the back of Tessandra's head, forcing her a bit closer.

"Do not dare to torment or tease your duke," she hissed. "Use that pretty mouth upon him. Quickly."

"Who am I to disobey the fiercest knight in the Empire?" Tessandra said in a low, sweet voice.

Caderyn's groan rumbled through the fine bedchamber as the bard obeyed, sinking her lips all the way to the base with one smooth, perfect plunge. Tessandra whimpered as she settled in, her lips sealing tightly around the base of his shaft. Meanwhile Pelagia kept her eyes on the duke, grinning hungrily as she kept her foot braced against the back of the bard's neck.

Breathing heavily through her nose, Tessandra suckled and licked. The wondrous suction of her mouth caused Caderyn to tremble so fiercely that the chair shook beneath him. His fingers curled against her scalp and his toes curled against the floor. Heavy breaths left his needy lips as Tessandra's worshipful eyes stared lovingly up at him.

When Pelagia relaxed just a little, Tessandra rose up, leaving behind a wondrous smear of cream and saliva upon his lower shaft. Caderyn sighed at the sight of that beautiful mess, then yelped as she suckled just beneath the tip.

One soft hand rose to gently cup his balls, while the other tended to his lower shaft, her fingers delicately stroking while her lips continued to work. This was supposed to be her 'punishment,' but she of course proved to be the one in charge. Those perfect lips suckled and teased, her skilled tongue lashing with precision beneath the tip. Her tongue rose, teasing at the slit of his cock, as if urging it to spew forth the offering she so craved.

When Caderyn's growl shifted nearly to a sob, Tessandra took that as her signal. She pulled her lips away and opened wide, sticking out her tongue, keeping it barely an inch beneath the throbbing tip of his cock. Her fingers still gently fondled his balls and stroked the full length of his shaft, urging him to surrender, to paint her dripping tongue with his seed.

Pelagia said something but the pounding of his heartbeat was too fierce for him to decipher it. His neck strained as he fought the urge to throw his head back, for he wanted to watch Tessandra's face as she conquered him. The bard let out a soft, giddy little sigh of delight as the first strands of his release splashed against her outstretched tongue. Unblinking and unflinching, she continued to stroke, keeping her mouth open and beckoning for him. More of his seed splashed forth, soaking her tongue, lips, and chin. Some of it dripped down onto her neck, a few strands rolling down towards her collarbone.

The bard let out a triumphant giggle when he looked down at her messy, smiling face. Her skilled tongue darted forth to clean up as much of the mess as he could. Lost in bliss and playfully irritated by her amusement, Caderyn grabbed her hair again and gave her a shove over to Pelagia.

Without delay, Tessandra immediately settled between the redhead's legs. Soft fingers gripped Pelagia's powerful thighs as she tongued at her folds. Still half-lost in the haze of his own climax, Caderyn barely heard Pelagia's rising sighs and appreciative growls.

Another throb of his cock somehow caused a bit more of his seed to leak out. Tessandra's power over him was so immense that the aftershocks still assailed him even after she'd pulled away.

After taking a few moments to catch his breath and steady himself, Caderyn slid down to the floor beside the kneeling bard. Pelagia, moaning and shuddering beneath the work of Tessandra's lips, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. For a moment, Caderyn simply admired Tessandra's artistry, marveling at the deft flicks of her tongue and the careful, deep thrusts of her fingers. Just as she'd mastered multiple instruments, she'd mastered the bodies of both her lovers.

His hand grazed down the small of Tessandra's back, gently grazing over her pert rear. Tessandra let out the softest of muffled purrs as his fingers brushed between her legs.

"Gods, you're wet," he hissed, marveling at the dew coating her folds.

Matching Pelagia's hungry grin, Caderyn shifted his fingers up to caress and explore Tessandra even further. Though it had been months, he'd memorized her body well during their journey together, and thus had little trouble exposing the delicate pearl nestled amidst her folds. She let out a muffled groan against Pelagia.

"Don't tease her too much," Pelagia said softly. "I want her focusing on me."

With a laugh, Caderyn obeyed, moving gently and carefully, keeping Tessandra at a low simmer but never quite forcing her towards her climax. Nonetheless she whimpered and moaned, her narrow hips bucking back against his hand, her nectar dripping down onto the floor.

"If only you could see the mess she's making," Caderyn growled up at Pelagia.

"The first mess of many, I'm sure," the redhead growled back, her fingers tightening within Tessandra's hair. "Because once you make me come, we won't be done with you, Tessandra."

Tessandra whined at that, the lithe muscles of her lower back rippling with tension. Her arm trembled as she plunged her fingers into Pelagia with greater speed and intensity. The wet sloshing sounds filled the air as she plundered the redhead's body. Soon Pelagia was adding to the mess, her dew dripping over Tessandra's fingers and onto the floor below. All the while, the bard's devious tongue continued to twirl and lick.

"There," Pelagia hissed, then threw her head back, her short red curls flailing.

Her powerful thighs rippled as they gripped the side of Tessandra's head, drawing forth a muffled squeal. Strong hips rocked off the chair, bucking fiercely against the bard's mouth. Heavy gasps and moans fled Pelagia's lips, her neck tensing and throbbing, her chest heaving, the nipples straining against the fabric of her tunic.

"Gods," she growled, eyes rolling back.

Falling silent, she nonetheless bucked and writhed for half a minute longer.

Having waited for his moment, Caderyn gripped Tessandra's hair, tugging her towards him, and forcing her back to arch. She wailed as his fingers quickened against her folds, abandoning the slow, simmering tension he'd inflicted upon her before. Tessandra whimpered and cursed, her shaky hands grasping Pelagia's iron-hard thighs for support.

The beautiful, keening cry rippled against the walls and rebounded down the hall. Caderyn suckled on the side of her neck as she trembled within his grasp, more of her dew soaking his fingers.

After a moment she went half-limp within his arms, her head thudding against Pelagia's thigh.

The smirking redhead looked down between Caderyn's legs, noting that his spent cock was well on its way to recovery.

"Ready to continue her punishment?"

"Absolutely," Caderyn said with a low, thrumming growl.

Of course the punishment proved to be quite the wondrous treatment as far as Tessandra was concerned. Together he and Pelagia dragged her to the bed, then the redhead knelt beside the bard, her firm grasp keeping Tessandra's legs splayed wide.

Tessandra sighed and smiled up at him, her golden hair forming a saintly halo upon the sheets. After taking but a few moments to stroke himself, he guided his cock inside her dripping warmth.

Raw. Deep. Primal. Perfect.

She wailed and moaned beneath the onslaught, her back arching, her toes curling. Again and again she moaned out his name, then Pelagia's, only for her cries to be muffled as the redhead crouched down above her face.

As Caderyn used her sex, Pelagia used her lips, together turning the skilled bard into their perfect, willing toy. Pelagia's groans rose to entwine with Caderyn's growls and Tessandra's muffled cries. The bed creaked and time shifted, with Caderyn losing his sense of self and place.

He forgot about the war, the siege, even his ducal titles. Even Melisent and Solveig fled from his mind thanks to the storm the bard had unleashed.

Leaning forward, he stifled his own cry by mashing his lips against Pelagia's. Together they moaned, kissed, and bit one another while their hips rocked and bucked. Despite the onslaught, Tessandra managed to reach down, both of her hands flailing out to grasp his taut buttocks, urging him onwards.

Even though the words were muffled against Pelagia's folds, he could hear the bard begging for him to fill her.

For the second time that morning, his eyes rolled back into his head and he surrendered to Tessandra's body. Physically, the climax was a bit less potent than the first, with a smaller burst of seed filling her sodden warmth. But a wondrous fire gripped his heart as he succumbed, the soaring pleasure tearing away his old fears and doubts.

For those delirious moments all that mattered was the clenching of Tessandra's sex and the taste of Pelagia's lips.

Alas, such joy was not eternal. Fatigue gripped his mind and muscles. Panting, he pulled his mouth from Pelagia's. The nearly painful throbbing of his cock forced him to withdraw, and he sagged back onto the fine sheets. He managed a small, smug proud smile at the fact that they'd defiled his rival's bedchamber.

Pelagia rolled away from Tessandra's face to collapse at her side. Despite the delightful agony she'd endured, Tessandra managed to rise, running her soothing hands across both of her lovers' bodies.

As the pleasure faded, grim thoughts rushed in. Caderyn glanced at the sunlight gleaming through the window, knowing that before long he'd have to rise to oversee the siege. His banter with Pelagia about logistics had only been half of a jest; he did indeed need to meet with his allies to discuss supply concerns. And if Thandor did not submit, then he'd have to decide whether to order a quick assault, a sustained bombardment, or to simply starve out the city.

None of those options appealed to him, for they would all drown the city in death. By the gods, he just hoped the proud, ambitious duke would see reason and stand down.

And yet a dark, ugly part of him hoped that Thandor would fight, if only so Caderyn could turn his entire prized city to ash and ruin. Shivering, Caderyn dispelled those thoughts, and distracted himself by leaning over to give Pelagia a soft, gentle kiss.