In the Name of Peace Ch. 01

Welcome, welcome!

Here is the first of my "homebrewed" Dungeons & Dragons setting. Centered on the fantastical kingdom of Arcadia, and its neighboring realms in a world inspired by the Forgotten Realms property.

Opening my series 'Arcadian Adventures' is this preliminary story, a smutty little piece inspired by a binge of Game of Thrones and various 80s/90s erotic thrillers.

Enjoy this introductory chapter. Mostly character introductions and stage-setting, but with a smutty treat at the end.

The first of many to come...

---

CHAPTER 1: DUTY AND TEMPTATION

1499 A. B (After the Burning)

Arcadia. The Dawn Kingdom.

The Dragon's Teeth. Land of Ash.

Two realms, ruled by Man and Orc.

Fated to lead the known world, or to destroy it.

---

Kierra's people had always feared the mountains.

It wasn't hard to see why. The old fairy tales she grew up with spoke of vast, snow-capped ranges that looked like they could be home to the gods themselves. Even the storybooks or portraits in her family's library painted a picture of beauty, of grandeur.

There was grandeur here.

But beauty? No.

The Dragon's Teeth, as they were called, loomed over her entourage like black spikes belched from the Nine Hells. They lacked visible vegetation, appearing simply as a mass of naked dark stone. Despite their towering height there were no caps of snow on top, only a stream of never-ending ash clouds which crept from the volcano at the mountains' heart.

"Sweet Pelor, what an ugly old thing."

From behind, Kierra heard a man snorting in derision. Captain Milius rode into view, a proud peacock of a man clad in the dark steel armor of the Arcadian Royal Guard.

"And those greyskins actually live there!"

A harsh look from Kierra silenced Milius.

"You'll do well to save those kinds of remarks for the journey home."

The soldier bowed his head dutifully. "Your Highness."

Satisfied he would keep his thoughts to himself for now, Kierra spurred her horse onward. It would be difficult enough holding her own feelings in check. The last thing her people needed was a skirmish on the frontier, and a royal slain.

Kierra was a young queen, just two weeks past her thirty-first birthday. For a woman in her position, it was important she distinguished herself with both courage and discretion. Among friends, and especially enemies.

"Don't mind him," a woman to Kierra's left said flippantly. "The captain's just letting it all out of his system. He'll be silent as the grave when we get to..."

Lieutenant Astrid, a pale drow elf with hair the color of bone, pulled out a map. She peered at it quizzically, then set it aside with a roll of her deep violet eyes.

"The Horned Keep.

Alright, Milius, point taken. The Grey Ones might not have thought that one through. Between the choice of locale, and coming up with a name like that, it's like theywant people to think they're a gaggle of demons."

Though she was forced to hush both with a raise of her hand, Kierra couldn't find it in herself to disagree. Few outsiders had ever seen the orcish fortress its builders had named the Horned Keep. Fewer still returned to tell the tale.

But that was in the past. A past that, gods willing, Kierra would bury once and for all.

The entourage reached the base of the jagged mountains and halted. Before them was a shrouded, narrow canyon from which five large shapes were already emerging. They were moving quickly, and more than one of the soldiers behind Kierra fidgeted.

One of them, a sorcerer, almost raised his hand to cast a spell if needs be.

"Steady," Kierra ordered.

She rode two paces ahead of her guards. It was important she set the tone of this meeting here and now. The mountain dwellers' swift approach was a test. If Kierra was to withdraw, or allow herself or any in her guard to be provoked, that would be a sign of weakness.

And damned if she would let any orc see her as weak.

The riders came into view as she waited. All five were orcs, of the reclusive breed that had named themselves the Grey Ones. An apt name, as their skin was the color of the very ash clouds that concealed their cities and war camps.

The orc at the front was an older man. Lean and weathered in appearance, he was clothed in a mail hauberk with light iron plates protecting his chest and shoulders. Little of his face was visible behind the visor of his great helm.

"The Swords of Azral bid you welcome," he said flatly.

"Declare your name, and your business here."

Kierra took a calm, measured breath. All those tedious recitations in court were about to pay off.

"Queen Kierra of House Sagar.

Third in the line of Constantine.

Sovereign of Arcadia.

Slayer of the giant Ghidon, and Bearer of the Golden Banner."

Kierra scanned the party in front of her.

"Do I address the Overlord of the Horned Keep?"

The orc cocked an eyebrow at her, looking the human up and down. With only his eyes visible, it was difficult to get a proper read on him.

"You do," he answered.

"Overlord Azral Dragonbane.

Patriarch of the Grey Ones.

Keeper of the Black Altar."

The orc paused, then with what sounded like a smirk added, "Slayer of the black dragon Hrul."

He pointed to Kierra's helm.

"Remove your helmet, so that I may properly address our neighbors to the north."

Kierra said and did nothing. A light wind picked up around them. The banner of her house, a maroon flag marked with a rising sun, started to flap violently.

The orcs answered her stony silence with smirks of derision, and the self-proclaimed Overlord nudged his dark warhorse one step closer to her.

Captain Milius was the first to crack. "My queen has no obligation to expose herself, orc."

The honor guard who dubbed themselves Swords of Azral collectively laughed at such defiance. Meanwhile, the orc in front peered at Kierra. Waiting for her to answer their mockery.

"I don't require your defense, Captain." The young queen resisted the urge to glare at him as she spoke. "But thereis something amiss here. I'm afraid I can't honor our host's request as of yet."

The orc cocked his armored head. "And why is that?"

Kierra's lip curled.

"Because you are not Overlord Azral."

The orcs's laughter died.

Kierra tried not to let her satisfaction show and continued.

"I saw him once, across the battlefield your people now call the Scar. After generations of hatred between our people, trading blood for blood, the orcs and my kind pledged to stand together once, and only once, against the dragon Hrul and his unholy brethren.

My father died that day. As did the Overlord's two elder brothers. I wasn't there to see the battle. But when the day was won, I lit the funeral pyres myself.

I was young. But I remember."

Kierra's horse trotted to the right, then to the left. She scanned the five riders before returning her attention to the speaker.

"Your Overlord isn't here. He decided to test me first, did he not?"

The Swords of Azral stared at Kierra. Then they guffawed again, louder this time. But there was no malice in their laughter. If anything, they appeared impressed.

"Very clever," the orc speaker said with a nod. "He did."

"And do I live up to his expectations?" Kierra asked.

"The Overlord can answer that question himself.

Come, Your Highness. My master awaits."

The five orcs then turned and rode back into the canyon. With a light kick of her spurs, Kierra raced after them before Milius could object.

They rode on, deep into the Dragon's Teeth. Distant rumbling, like that of storm clouds, echoed around them. As they rode the air started to grow hotter, and heavier. The source of the heat became visible soon enough.

A massive, yawning chasm, stretching on for what looked like miles. Molten rock seeped from the crack in the earth, more than earning its name. The Lake of Fire.

On the far side of the volcanic lake, guarded by stone spires which emanated a protective spell, was the Horned Keep. A gargantuan fortress built from the same black stone which formed much of the mountain range. Spikes not unlike those of a dragon's horns were erected on each side. They were a reminder, both of the winged beasts that once ruled the mountain and the ferocity of the orcs who drove them away.

Kierra's journey ended at the gate of the Keep. A sturdy wooden door, painted blood-red and reinforced with spiked black iron. The five Swords of Azral dismounted, passing their horses to house servants.

"Follow me," the older horseman requested.

Behind him the gate opened, and he beckoned the queen to follow.

Kierra dropped to the ground nimbly. She scanned her surroundings, spotting countless orcs surrounding the keep.

Fierce they were, indeed. Many were clad in simple, uniform clothing emblazoned with clan sigils. A few wore more decorated garments, most notably gilded bronze belts. Men and women alike bared their powerful arms and wore their hair long.

Their eyes gleamed bright in the dim lighting. Kierra knew there were likely many more, just standing out of sight. They could see her, even if she couldn't yet see them.

"So many here to greet us," Kierra observed, "one would think we'd arranged a banquet like back home."

She peered at the elder orc. "What's the meaning of this?"

The horseman tossed aside his helm, giving Kierra a look at his face. The years had left his features lined and scared in several places. His hair and rough beard were black, streaked with white.

"You've arrived at a time most significant to our people," he replied.

"Overlord Azral will explain. Come."

Kierra heeded him. But before she could cross the threshold, she took her family's banner and planted it in the ground. Right beside the flag of the Grey Ones' master. She took her time, acting slowly and deliberately, leaving no mystery as to her intentions.

"Let it be known that whatever takes place, the Overlord and I are under the protection of a truce. A parley.

Should any harm befall either of us, whatever peace may yet exist between Arcadia and the Grey Ones shall be broken. By Pelor, I swear it."

Kierra turned to her guards. They, and the rest of the knights and mages who accompanied her, gave an assuring if not cautious look in return. Captain Milius stood vigilant, regarding every orc present with a look that was distrusting at best. He had no intention of playing nice. Whereas Lieutenant Astrid remained poised, calm, ready to act only if necessary.

Here, they would keep watch and await either their queen's safe return or any sign of treachery from the orcs' own monarch.

The senior mage clutched a sending stone, ready to put it to use if the worst came to pass.

Assured she'd done all she could, Kierra entered the Keep.

Inside was a lengthy, dimly lit throne room. At least fifty orcish knights, all clad in full plate armor, watched her. Kierra passed each one without so much as a sideways glance. She wasn't here to speak with any of them.

Kierra stopped at last before the Overlord's throne, a tall and rather menacing thing carved from obsidian. Mounted on top of the throne were two dragon horns, which shrouded the man seated beneath them. A regal orc clad in attire fit for a king. He wore robes of black and wine-red, as well as finely made steel pauldrons marked by arcane runes.

"Overlord Azral."

Azral Dragonbane was a younger warrior, not yet bearing the wear and tear of the elder who'd briefly impersonated him out in the world. His youth, however, did nothing to detract from his fearsome appearance. He was muscular, broad in the shoulders, with a head of long white hair and icy blue eyes which bored into Kierra's. As with the other grey orcs of the mountains his features were angular and vaguely lupine, as opposed to the brutish and somewhat porcine orcs from the lands beyond.

The Overlord didn't speak at first. His eyes gleamed with curiosity as he leaned leisurely on one arm, staring at Kierra all the while.

Then, in a rich baritone, Azral broke the silence.

"I see you outsmarted Torin.

Very impressive, Your Majesty. It pleases me to know the Arcadians haven't crowned a fool."

Kierra did her best not to grin smugly.

"It was easy. Almost insultingly so.

Though I understand the need for such tricks in years past, I would prefer we address one another more truthfully in the future."

Azral straightened up and gave her the smallest of shrugs.

"I agree, Queen Kierra.

In that case, with any and all tricks out of the way..."

In a flash, Azral's eyes found Kierra's. His expression turned as hard as the very stone that built his great fortress.

"I wish to see you now."

He phrased it as a request, but something in his tone told Kierra it would be unwise to say no. And between his almost overpowering stare and the deep timbre of his voice, she would have found it hard to ignore him anyway.

Graciously, she pulled off her decorated helm and stared back at Azral, revealed at last.

Kierra had once been told she looked as proper in a suit of armor as she did in fine silks and veils. Once a skinny and pale child, she'd since grown into a fierce beauty with wide, expressive green eyes and dark auburn hair. A thin scar crossed over her face, from her brow to the bridge of her nose.

Azral looked upon Kierra with an inscrutable expression. Judging by how long it took, she guessed he was allowing himself to enjoy her beauty. Kierra wasn't stupid. She knew what she looked like, and if she had to tolerate his staring for another minute she would.

Yet, as he lingered, there was nothing perverse or invasive in Azral's gaze. Nothing to suggest ill intent. Merely a quiet appreciation.

When he was done, Azral rose from his throne and walked to Kierra. It wasn't until he was only a foot away that Kierra realized just how tall he was. Close to seven feet, if she had to guess.

"In the name of my father, Shen Wolfrider, and the pact he sealed with your father King Cedric, I welcome you to my home."

He held out his arm expectantly. Kierra thought about taking it, only to notice she was still fully armored. Whereas Azral's arm was bare, from the tips of his fingers to his elbow.

It wouldn't be right. If they were to converse as equals, if Kierra was to prove her honesty, she had to meet the man on his level.

With a snap of metal buckles and leather straps, Kierra removed her steel gauntlet and took Azral by the hand. Though his touch was firm, the orc demonstrated a surprising restraint. He wasn't gentle, per se, but it was hardly the rough and uncouth gesture Kierra had anticipated.

The moment passed, and Azral withdrew. "The terms, then."

Kierra thought of donning her gauntlet once more before proceeding. But she decided it would do her little good.

She reached for her belt and pulled out a scroll of parchment marked with her family's seal. With asnap, Kierra unsealed the treaty before her and cleared her throat.

"To Overlord Azral Dragonbane,

We of the realm Arcadia recognize the sovereignty of your kind, over the Dragon's Teeth mountains and the plains south of our borders.

For two centuries, our peoples warred needlessly. Over land, over riches, and over grudges that should have been buried long ago.

The scourge of the black dragons was stopped only by our people finding common ground. By choosing cooperation, we staved off annihilation. If both our realms are to prosper, the pact sealed by our predecessors must stand.

As Arcadia's queen, I propose this; a trade route along our southern border, to be guarded by both royal armies. The Dawn's Hammer, and the Swords of Azral

This road will begin at the base of the Dragon's Teeth and end where the Azure River meets the Northern Sea."

Kierra paused. She looked up at Azral and inspected his face, looking for any trace of emotion. Any hint that her offer appealed to the Overlord. But still, it was almost impossible for her to get a proper read on him.

She went on, trying her best not to let her impatience show.

"In return for a steady, well protected supply of goods for your people, I request that no incursions be made into the Arcadian farmlands.

There will be no raids. No forced settlements. No seizure of land, property, or the citizens under my sworn protection. No sacred traditions will be imposed upon, nor civil rights abused.

Know the people of Arcadia will be held to these same terms, for as long as I rule. And any act in violation of these terms will be punished accordingly.

Let the future of our realms be decided now.

Signed,

Queen Kierra of House Sagar, Sovereign of Arcadia."

Kierra brusquely handed the scroll to Azral.

He read it once, then twice. Then with a subtle, almost contented smile, he walked to a small pulpit close to the throne. A wizened goblin, of a similar grey complexion, poured a dribble of hot wax onto the letter.

Azral looked back at Kierra, cocking an eyebrow. As if something particularly interesting had only just occurred to him.

Whatever it was, Kierra had no time to guess before the orc turned the gilded amulet on his wrist and pressed it down on the wax.

Kierra's heart rose in her chest.

She had done it. Pelor be praised, she had seen it through.

The queen titled her head at Azral, staring him down with all the authority she could muster. The gesture on his part wasn't enough. She needed to hear him say it.

"It's finished, then?"

Azral's countenance finally cracked. He smiled at her, a pleasant sight after glowering at her like an old marble statue for so long.

"Yes. It is."

He took the treaty back from the goblin and snapped his fingers. Behind him, the diminutive creature scuttled off, leaving the two rulers more or less alone.

Azral strolled to Kierra at a leisurely pace and rolled up the document, handing it back to her.

"I suppose I should be on my way," Kierra noted.

"Overlord..."

Again, she halted. It was hard to take it all in, the magnitude of what had just happened. With one short speech, and a handshake, she had just secured her homeland's future for another generation to come.

She had her doubts coming here. More than once, Kierra considered the possibility of Azral making further demands. Demands for more land, or access to resources his people barely came by in the harsh landscape they called home.

Kierra struggled to find the words to express her gratitude. After some hemming and hawing that left her ears burning in embarrassment, she settled for a simple, "Thank you."

Azral waved his hand. "Don't thank me yet, human. Our work has only just begun."

His cold gaze flickered to the gate, where their guards were still waiting outside. Then back to Kierra.

"Care for a drink, Your Highness?

It's no short distance between here and your home in the east. It will be sundown soon, and I wouldn't have my guests return without proper rest."

Kierra's brow furrowed.

"Sundown? How could you possibly know that?"

Azral looked pleased with himself, knowing something she didn't know. "I've lived my entire life in these mountains. My kind, we don't get to enjoy the sun quite as often as yours. So we've learned to make do and predict day and night as best we can."

Kierra stole a look at the entrance to the Keep. Several narrow windows stretched along the walls on either side, carved from dull reddish glass. Just as Azral predicted, the dim light from outside was giving way to darkness already.

She felt a twinge of worry creeping over her. Had she arrived at such a late hour, truly?

"The royal council. They'll be waiting to hear back from me..."

Azral crossed his arms. "I'm sure you have ways to inform them of your whereabouts."

Kierra nodded.

The sending stone.

"Understand," Azral continued, "I prepared for this. Lodging has been provided, for you and your guard. You will be tended to and protected as my honored guests."

Kierra weighed her options. Caution, and years of warnings by the more hardened of her advisors told her to decline. And the casual ease with which Azral signed the agreement would have given many others in her circle cause for concern.

'Don't count on the orcs to be anything but savages.'

'You can't trust the honor of a wolf among the sheep.'

'Remember your duty.'

Kierra sighed. Steeling herself, she pushed such thoughts aside and recalled that day ten years past. Standing on the blackened Scar, torch in hand as she lit the pyre which sent her father to the next world.

He was only a princeling then, but Azral had been there. He'd seen the cost of war, and the pain it wrought on both his family and hers.

If he knew anything of honor, as his father did, Azral wouldn't forget all of that now.

"Very well," she conceded.

Azral smiled again.

"Wonderful.

I give you my word, Queen Kierra. You won't regret this."

He snapped his fingers a second time. Two other goblins appeared from the darkness behind him.

"Wine."

He made for the front gate, with Kierra sticking close beside him.

"And see to it the queen's quarters are drawn up properly.

I want this night, and the three nights that follow, to be as comfortable as possible."

Kierra halted. Her head whipped about, and her eyes widened in apprehension at Azral's words. Surely she's misheard him.

"Three? What are you playing at, orc?"

Azral's eyes twinkled in amusement. "Keeping in mind my 'sacred traditions', human."

He peered up at the window, towards a dull glow that hung in the sky over his keep.

"Do you not know what day it is, tomorrow?"

As if summoned, a ray of moonlight pierced through the clouds. The light of a full moon.

The Hunter's Moon.

---

On a stone balcony overlooking the Lake of Fire, Kierra rested with a glass in hand and a sending stone in the other.

It had taken a good deal of self-control not to clock several of her guards in the head with the rock.

Milius, Astrid, and the mage Eunan conversed close by while Kierra stewed in her frustration. Of all the things she could have possibly overlooked...

"Hunter's Moon," she growled under her breath.

Once, long ago, she'd heard the tales of the Hunter's Moon. A festival which for many races and cultures marked the end of summer, and the start of winter. Over the course of three nights, during which the moon reached its apex, bonfires were to be lit in memory of those who'd passed on in the year before. A hunt was to be held in their name, and afterwards a feast.

And then...

Kierra heard an echo of laughter from behind her, deep in the halls of the Horned Keep. Perverse laughter, the kind only a woman in the throes of intimate passions could utter.

Sinful.

"You don't approve?"

Astrid approached her queen, leaning against the railing beside her.

"What's there to approve of?" Kierra asked.

"The man accepts me into his home under the banner of peace.

He signs a treaty, talks of honor and hospitality. And then, in the same breath, he expects me to remain under his roof as his people descend into..."

Kierra's tongue almost seized in her mouth.

"Debauchery. Orgies, fertility rites..."

Astrid's eyebrows quirked.

"Not everyone on the continent looks down on such things. It's just..." She bit her lip, stealing a look across the city the Grey Ones built. Already, bonfires were raging atop several of their dark stone homes. Marking the start of the festival, and the pleasures that came with.

"Well, it's just sex, Your Highness."

Kierra rolled her eyes at the drow.

"I'm afraid it's not that black and white, Astrid. I was raised to treasure the act of sex as something sacred. Something quiet, intimate.

Nothing likethis."

The two women regarded the scene before them. For three nights, the Lake of Fire would echo with the sound of revelry, of music, and cries of pleasure that would likely have killed Kierra's father again out of sheer embarrassment.

And she was bound to stay, and observe their rites and rituals, by the very treaty she'd just signed.

Kierra had fought by the side of gallant knights, slain foul beasts on the frontiers of her kingdom, even aided a cleric of Pelor in a gruesome exorcism. To say nothing of a skirmish with fire giants that had given Kierra more than one scar. Yet, standing here, a part of her would rather face any such hardships again, than sit back and watch these creatures rut like wild wolves.

"You think he had this planned all along?" Kierra asked bitterly.

Astrid pondered the thought. "Keeping you here, during the festival? No. I can't imagine he arranged this entire venture for the sake of embarrassing you. A woman who could be either an invaluable ally, or a deadly enemy."

Her eyebrows quirked. "Although, one wonders if he didn't have himself a good laugh over it. You, showing up exactly when you did."

The knight appeared far too calm over the whole turn of events. Deciding it was best to end things here, Kierra bid her farewell with a curt nod.

"Try to get some rest, Your Highness." Asrid gave Kierra as reassuring a look as she could.

"I'm sure we've all seen far worse."

We'll see.

Kierra marched inside and made for her chamber. Next door to Overlord Azral's, of course. But before Astrid vanished from her sight, the guard broke the silence with one last infuriating question.

"Do you think he's handsome?"

Kierra said nothing. She merely shot a baleful glare at the impetuous Astrid, telling her without so much as a word not to dare broach the subject again.

She walked on and fumed all the while. She veered back and forth between cursing Azral and berating herself for not being able to escape the question.

'Is he handsome?'

Kierra scoffed. Azral certainly wasn't ugly. He was, perhaps, appealing in his own way. Hardly the brutish, simple animal many in Arcadia assumed all orcs to be.

More than his appearance, Kierra was struck by his countenance. Azral was strong, and capable as a leader of his kind had to be. He'd proven himself reasonably well-spoken, and courteous. But his eloquence was stymied by bluntness, and even his courtesy carried a sense of arrogance to it.

Kierra shook her head. It was pointless to dwell on whatever flights of fancy Astrid tried to put in her head. Azral was an orc. However he dressed or styled himself, or however he presented himself to Kierra, that would never change.

Besides, she thought, it was foolish to think he'd be interested in her. Whatever trick he might have pulled, in requesting she stay during the festival, their dynamic would be defined by one thing and one thing only.

Power.

The queen was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't see the tall figure rounding the corner until they almost collided head on.

"Oh!"

Kierra skidded to a stop, frozen by the grunt that greeted her. She straightened up, peering straight ahead of her in the dark hall.

Standing in front of her was a half-orc woman, half a foot taller than Kierra. Her features were softer than many of her kin, and her ears longer, cluing Kierra into some elvish heritage. The woman's hair dark hair was braided, falling over one of her toned shoulders.

A shoulder that, as Kierra observed was completely bare. The woman was clad in a skimpy, ghostly-white chemise fastened by a metal collar at the neck. It was a light enough garment that, if one looked hard enough, they could make out her entire body.

"Good evening, Your Highness."

Kierra did her best to acknowledge the woman's polite greeting, even as her eyes fell on the sigil around her neck. A rough diamond shape, with a dragon's fang down the middle.

Azral's sigil.

A courtesan, Kierra concluded. No doubt one of many the Overlord and the chieftains in his service employed this time of the year.

The half-orc continued to smile graciously at her. But something behind her expression put Kierra on her guard. Something primal. Lustful.

Her discomfort only increased when, behind her, Kierra heard a lascivious chuckle.

"Don't mind her. I've already ordered that you not be disturbed."

Kierra turned on her heel, ready to give the duplicitous orc a piece of her mind. But as she faced Azral, she suddenly found it very hard to say or even do anything.

The Overlord leaned against the wall and holding a half-empty bottle of wine. His robes and armor were discarded, leaving him in nothing but a gilded belt and crimson silk loincloth.

Kierra clamped her jaw tight if just to keep it from dropping at the sight of Azral almost naked in front of her. His body was somewhat lean for an orc, all corded muscle and sinew that shifted with every subtle movement. A set of harsh scars ran across Azral's right side, from his abdomen to his shoulder and upper arm. No doubt a token of his famed battle against the last of the black dragons.

Azral peered down at Kierra, taking visible delight as she tried not to let her eyes wander.

She gritted her teeth. She wouldn't let this smirking barbarian get the better of her.

"I hope you've enjoyed yourself, Overlord."

"Immensely," he tittered with a grin towards the pleasure worker behind Kierra.

"Good." Kierra glowered at Azral, refusing to take her eyes off his smug face.

"It's back to business as usual, come tomorrow.

There's work to be done. Serious work, and I'll be damned if I let you throw me off balance."

Azral took in her words without the slightest change in expression.

"Tomorrow, then." He gave a mock salute and passed her by, his towering form just brushing past Kierra in the narrow hallway.

Kierra's nostrils flared. A pungent, masculine aroma followed Azral as he took his companion by the arm and led her to his chambers. Despite her anger, Kierra couldn't help but waver on the spot.

It wasn't unfamiliar to her. Kierra was no virgin, having enjoyed more than one dalliance since blossoming into womanhood. But as a shiver ran up her back, and a peculiar warmth rose in her breast, it started to dawn on Kierra just now how long it had been.

Azral shot a teasing look back at her, and her heart stopped.

He knew.

"You know," the orc whispered, "you're more than welcome to join us if you like."

Kierra's mouth drew into a thin line. He was flirting with her.

Her ire rose in her like a furnace. The audacity of this brute, this inhuman creature, to taunt her like this!

She was a knight, a queen born of nobility. Not some harlot to be teased and baited in some warlord's keep.

"I think I'll pass," she snarled.

With that, Kierra whirled about and stormed to her chamber, slamming the door behind her.

She spent perhaps the next half hour pacing back and forth between her bed and the small but elegant cabinet she'd been provided. Under most circumstances, the quality of her housing would be commendable. But, things being what they were, it felt like just another twist of the knife.

Ripping off her armor violently, cursing up a storm in a manner no Arcadian lady was ever expected to, Kierra raged at the night's quick turn of events.

"That vicious, lecherous son of a whore thinks he can intimidate me? Or seduce me, like I'm some blushing maiden expecting to be ravished, just likethat?"

Kierra seized the thin cord holding her hair in the tight braid she'd woven before arriving. Her curtain of wavy, auburn tresses fell around her face, thrashing this way and that as she continued to rant and rave to thin air. She continued to undress, until she was walking around in nothing but a thin, pale nightshirt.

"The beast is lucky I even let himtouch me. He should count his blessings that I don't go in there, sword in hand, and..."

Kierra fell silent. She heard something from behind the wall of her chamber, something moving.

No. Not something.

Someone.

Kierra reached for her sword belt, gripping the hilt tightly. A hundred possibilities raced through her mind, each worse than the last.

Was it Azral, or one of his guards? Had she bruised his ego, and incurred his wrath enough that he'd decided to forget about the treaty altogether?

Kierra perked her ears, following the sound to a rugged patch in the wall just past her cabinet. There was a slight crack in the stone, a crack through which a soft rosy light was pouring. The closer Kierra drew, the clearer the sound became.

Holding her breath, Kierra let her curiosity prevail and pressed her face up to the stone.

The queen's heart skipped a beat.

What greeted Kierra was a view into the chamber of Overlord Azral. A dark, circular room lit only by an ornate black lantern that hung from the ceiling. A grand bed protruded from the wall, its post grown from what looked like the dark roots of an ancient tree.

On the bed was Azral, joined by the half-orc woman and another guest. A voluptuous high elf with silvery-blonde hair, and intricate glowing tattoos running across her neck and clavicle.

All three were stark naked and fucking like there was no tomorrow.

The elven woman was seated on top of Azral, spread-eagle, bouncing up and down while the other woman yanked her head back. Her mouth was hanging open, and her eyes rolling back into her skull. The elf's arms were locked behind her, and around her neck Kierra spotted a metal collar similar to the one the half-orc wore.

The half-orc, meanwhile, cupped her cheeks and swatted them playfully before pulling her into a ferocious kiss.

One of Azral's hands sneaked around and found the she-elf's clit, drawing a shriek from her lips as she melted in the orcs' grasp.

The taller woman laughed softly, clearly happy to share such a beauty with her lord and master. Her powerful body was glistening with sweat, and her cheeks were flushed. A trail of fluids seeped from beneath her legs, both hers and Azral's.

The Overlord had already enjoyed her. Now was their guest's turn.

Kierra was transfixed. Everything she'd been raised to believe, every rule of propriety and etiquette told the queen to pull away from the wall and not look back. But much to her own shock, she couldn't look away.

She couldn't even move.

Instead, Kierra watched the lewd scene play out, all thoughts of anger or wounded pride slowly ebbing away.

The orcish woman released her elven bedmate after half a minute of their tongues writhing against one another.

"Have you had enough, Gilda?"

When the elf couldn't answer, her companion swatted her cheek again.

"Answer me!"

The elf Gilda's soft, curvaceous body rippled as Azral began to pound her from below. The elf's eyes crossed, and her voice rose to a girlish squeal.

"Please... please..."

Azral's voice thundered up at her.

"Please, what?"

Gilda looked frantically between them both.

"My lord Azral... Sh-Shevra... Please let me come!"

Shevra, the half-orc, bared her fangs in a wide smile.

"Good girl," she purred.

With one hand she pulled hard on Gilda's collar, and with the other toyed with Gilda's glistening pussy. Gilda convulsed, panting louder and louder until she almost cried out.

Azral followed Shevra, his fingers digging into Gilda's hips and his cock slamming inside her even harder.

"Come for us, pet."

The sound of their voices, so low and husky, drew a quiet gasp from Kierra. She couldn't believe what she was seeing and hearing. She'd thought Azral was just playing games with her before. Testing her resolve, her commitment to representing her people with dignity.

No. Azral was dead serious, and Kierra knew it.

He, the undisputed leader of his kind, had invited a human queen into his bed.

An unbearable heat was starting to grow between Kierra's legs. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, and she put a hand over her heart to try and calm herself.

She couldn't be enjoying this, surely?

Kierra watched as, with two hard slaps to her clit and another tug of the collar, Gilda was undone. Her thighs quivered and she twisted back and forth, riding out her orgasm until she slumped in Shevra's arms.

Shevra pulled her wet fingers away from Gilda's core and shoved them down her throat as she groaned loudly.

"That's it," Shevra cooed. "Let it out!"

Gilda's eyes crossed, and a pitiful choking sound forced its way past Shevra's digits.

Azral's large body grew stiff and erratic in its movements. He rose from the bed, and Kierra got her first good look at his face since their terse goodnight.

His lips were pulled back, baring his teeth in a dominant, almost primal look. His mane of white hair was wild and tousled. The orc's eyes, cold and intense as they were, flashed like lightning as he withdrew from Gilda and stood on the floor of his chamber. Azral looked every bit the barbarian, every bit the conqueror Kierra had always feared he would be.

And Pelor help her, she liked it.

All hope of keeping her composure vanished when Kierra felt a sudden intrusion, a probing that caused her inner thighs to clamp shut.

"Oh, gods..."

In a blend of shame and arousal, Kierra realized she was playing with herself. Lost in the moment, she'd slipped a finger insider her womanhood while another stroked her clit. Kierra's other hand had already pulled her nightshirt down and was cupping one of her own breasts.

What are you doing?

Stop!

But Kierra couldn't stop. Not as she felt her peak drawing close. Not as she watched the rival monarch take the she-elf so fiercely, relishing in the power he wielded here.

Kierra fell against the wall and gave in to her body's terrible need.

"Now, pet, serve me." Azral held up his turgid cock, still glistening with Gilda's and likely Shevra's emissions.

Shevra rose from the bed and guided Gilda down. As they moved Kierra felt her pulse pick up as she saw how Azral and Shevra had so restrained Gilda.

The elf's collar was attached to an iron chain. A chain Shevra herself was grasping tightly, dictating Gilda's every move. Her hands were similarly bound, held behind her back by studded leather wraps.

Kierra's eyes bugged at the display. It had to be some depraved fantasy. A warlord and his kin, shackling a fair elven maiden and defiling her in any manner they wished. It was hideous. It was revolting.

... So why do I like it?

Kierra's ministrations turned frantic. She had to finish. She needed to feel what Gilda and Shevra had felt.

Gilda, meanwhile, sank to her knees in front of Azral. She parted her lips, sticking her tongue out wantonly. Shevra helped, hooking her fingers into Gilda's cheeks and prying her mouth further.

"Aaahh...!"

A ferocious look crossed Azral's face and he grabbed Gilda by the hair. He used her as he pleased, slapping her face with his prick or taking several plunges into her open mouth as Shevra held her.

"Tell me you want it," he growled.

"Uh wannet... Uh wannet..." Gilda's muffled, babbling answer was almost comical.

He answered with slapping the tip against her eager tongue, which she happily accepted.

Azral panted heavily. His face darkened. He was close. "Beg."

"Please come, Master! I want it!"

Kierra's jaw clenched.

Her thumb raced in circles over her clit.

I want it!

I want it!

Azral reared in triumph, his face turning ecstatic.

"Then take it... now!"

Ropes of hot, wet cum splattered over Gilda's face. Shevra dove in, smiling as she caught more than a few drops herself.

Azral almost toppled over. He braced one powerful arm against the roots that framed his bed. His voice rose, from a snarl to a full-throated roar.

"Rrrgh... RRRRAAAAGGH!"

Shevra and Gilda moaned in delight as another jet of his seed exploded across them both.

Kierra's mouth opened, and her voice caught in her throat. A strangled cry that rose until she had to clap a hand over her mouth for fear she might scream.

Yes...

Her own orgasm hit her like a thunderclap. Kierra felt her legs buckle, and she collapsed in a sweaty heap as wave after wave of pleasure wracked her entire body.

With a dazed smile, Kierra watched Azral finish. It seemed she had an answer to Astrid's question, after all.

Then, as his bedmates caressed and kissed and licked one another, Azral turned in the direction of Kierra's chamber.

As if he was looking right at her.

It was like somebody had splashed her with ice cold water. Kierra snapped back to reality, and her look of delight was replaced by horror.

Again, the voice of guilt and shame crept into her mind.

What are you doing?

What have you done?

Kierra stayed rooted on the spot, praying Azral couldn't actually sense her presence. She despaired at the thought of it, the orc monarch boasting to his kin or to the whole of his realm that Arcadia's queen had pleasured herself at the sight of him bedding two servant girls.

If Azral could sense her, he showed no sign of it. He merely gazed at the wall, an oddly wistful look taking hold of him.

"Are you thinking of her, Master?" Gilda asked softly.

A rueful chuckled escaped the Overlord's lips.

"It's alright.

Our game is over, you don't need to call me that anymore."

Azral sat on the bed, looking lost in his thoughts. The strength and confidence remained, but the sense of absolute power he held over the two courtesans was gone.

"Force of habit, dear." Shevra lounged across the bed cover, a series of dark pelts stitched together. She'd undone undid Gilda's shackles and was now twirling a finger through her blonde hair as both waited for Azral to join them.

"It's just so much fun playing along.

These little tests and games of yours, a woman could really get used to it all."

Azral's muscular form lay back against the head of the bed, the two women nestling up beside him.

"True," he answered with a smirk. "I haven't heard many complaints."

Kierra felt herself calming as the conversation progressed. She had nothing to fear, it seemed. The orc would never know what she'd seen.

What he'd stirred in her...

"You didn't answer her question."

Shevra interjected, causing both Azral and their unseen watcher to stare blankly.

"Our pretty visitor," she went on. "The queen. Are you just a little sad she didn't take you up on your offer?"

Azral looked rather cross at the suggestion.

"No. She passed up a good time. It's her loss. Not mine."

His expression softened, and his gaze returned to the wall separating him and Kierra.

"Still... there is a lot to be said for her.

It took courage to take the chance she did and come here. Many in her court still want me dead, not for anything I've done but for what my grandfather, or his father, or his father before did. They fear me, for all the things Imight do.

But her?

No. She's fearless, this one."

Lust crept into Azral's eyes once more.

"I think that gets me off."

Shevra and Gilda both giggled.

"Besides," he sighed, "we still have three days ahead. Threelong days. Anything can happen."

Yet again, Kierra wondered if he could sometime tell she was there. The thought excited her, then terrified her.

She found it in herself to retreat at last. Walking to her bed, Kierra removed her sweat-drenched nightshirt and lay naked across the silk sheets provided for her. A myriad of worries and second thoughts overtook Kierra, and she stared at the ceiling for what felt like forever.

What was she still doing here?

How could this lustful, arrogant creature, an orc, have stirred her to do what she just did?

And unless Pelor Himself sent a miracle, how could she hope to make it through the next three days with her pride and dignity in one piece?

---

Oh, dear.

What's Kierra gotten herself into?

Check in next week for the following chapter, as Kierra tries to keep her cool even as her hosts and even her fellow guests fall into the spirit of the season, one by one. Milius and his judgmental attitude might land him in trouble. And Astrid's open mind will lead her down an interesting road. Or two. Or three...

Until then, I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. If you like, let me know your thoughts below, and I'll see you next time!

In the meantime, here's some added notes on character and lore.

1:

The pantheon of gods and respective mythologies is very much in keeping with the world of Forgotten Realms.

Though these Grey Ones, as elaborated on in future chapters, don't worship the evil Orcish pantheon.

2:

For the lead characters in this story, and other Arcadian fics to follow, one can picture being them modeled after certain actors/models.

In the case of this one:

Queen Kierra - Daisy Ridley

Overlord Azral - Dustin Clare

Captain Milius - Bill Skarsgård

Lieutenant Astrid - Rachel Nichols

Torin - Mads Mikkelsen

Shevra - Ellen Hollman

"Gilda" - Stefania Ferrario

Why are Shevra and Gilda also given a mention, you might wonder?

You'll see...