A month had elapsed since the fateful day of the Royal Succession, and the kingdom was in disarray. Four pivotal events had convulsed the land, unleashing seismic waves that rattled the souls of all who witnessed them.
Firstly, the Royal Funeral Procession of Emperor Modu has begun. The somber ceremony was a poignant reminder of the loss of a great leader, leaving behind an indescribable sense of bereavement.
The people grieved in unison, tears streaming down their faces as the Emperor's cortege marched through the flower petal streets.
Secondly, emissaries were dispatched to the ruins of the Imperial Capital of Sandoria to initiate talks with the new regime.
Thirdly, the battle for the Imperial Throne had commenced, sparking a fierce struggle for power and supremacy.
Lastly, the Noble Houses' of Khan demanded justice for the death of Count Vinci a man of High Nobility.
Nestled deep within the folds of a regal mountain range, lies a valley so pristine, it seems as if time itself has halted.
The air is crisp, with the occasional rustle of leaves or the gentle trickle of a nearby stream. As one casts their gaze across the valley, they will come to rest upon a cluster of magnificent stone houses, standing tall and proud against the backdrop of the rugged terrain.
Each house has been expertly crafted from the very stone that lies beneath it. The walls are sturdy and the roofs are thatched with great care, providing a warm and cozy abode for those who call it home.
Smoke billows out of the chimneys, wafting through the air, adding to the allure of this charming and quaint little village.
As the sun descended behind the lofty mountain peaks, the sky transformed into a canvas of blushing pink and shimmering gold.
The warm glow of the fading light illuminated the ancient stone houses as if showering them with a gentle blessing.
The soft light waltzed over the thatched roofs, creating a captivating display that would captivate even the most jaded of wanderers.
As nightfall draped its velvety cloak over the land, it brought with it a living, breathing entity that stirred the very essence of life.
The pulsating rhythm of the drums echoed throughout the valley, filling the air with a joyous melody that beckoned the soul to dance.
The mirthful melody of laughter, like the sweetest of nectars, blended with the fragrant bouquet of wine that danced on the evening breeze.
The festivities were alive with a vitality that set the night ablaze. But amidst the jubilant atmosphere, a harrowing sound rose above the revelry, Froh's anguished screams rending the peaceful stillness of the night.
"Keep the flames alight, Gu Gu Gu!" Nuu exclaimed, beckoning the roaring fire to burn ever brighter. "Come, my beloved Priscilla, let us dance together!"
With arms intertwined, the newlyweds swayed to the rhythm of the flames, their bodies moving in perfect unison.
The crackling fire provided a mesmerizing backdrop as they twirled and spun, lost in their own passion.
Priscilla's heart quickened as Nuu's strong hand grasped her hips, his infectious energy coursing through her.
She had been swept up in the whirlwind of Nuu's charisma, his daring spirit calling to her like a siren's song. And now, as they spun around the roaring fire, Priscilla felt alive like never before.
Their bodies moved in perfect sync, an effortless dance that spoke of a deeper connection. No longer the days of her addressing him as master…
As the night wore on, the flames grew higher, casting wild shadows that seemed to dance along with them. And at that moment, Priscilla knew that she had found her true home.
Meanwhile, the man with whom she shared four offspring could only observe in agony as his own matrimony was rendered void, cuckolded before his very eyes, not once but twice. But there were no hard feelings, why?
Mertaru honored only the strong and the valiant, and the victor of the hour was none other than the indomitable Nuu.
The silver lining of this ordeal was that each of Priscilla's offspring had attained the age of adulthood, thus rendering them of no concern to Nuu.
As the night grew long, the atmosphere at the gathering became more chaotic.
Priscilla's father, a man with a resplendently white bovine head, drew near to whisper to a curvaceous woman adorned with black horns, lithe legs, and a diamond-shaped birthmark resting upon her brow.
Her physique was incomparable, rivaling that of Ula of the Abyss and Princess Mona II whose alluring qualities could crumble the mightiest of empires.
Standing next to her was a man who was a stark contrast to her stunning presence. The two were as different as night and day with physical features that could not be more dissimilar.
One possessed the head of a fierce Minotaur while the other bore a striking resemblance to a full-fleshed human, much like the exotic dark-olive Priscilla.
She was a vision of beauty, the envy of goddesses, with curves that seemed to have been carved by the hands of the divine themselves.
Her skin was a flawless golden hue, as though kissed by the sun, and her hair flowed like the rivers of Babylon.
"What do you think of Nuu's proposal?" Her brother's voice was barely a whisper, but it carried with it a sense of intrigue and wonder.
"It's not a bad deal," replied the woman, taking a sip from her skull chalice. "But we can't put all our eggs in one basket. Let the current sweep it all away."
Her brother prodded her for more information, his eyes glinting with a desperate curiosity that bordered on obsession. But she remained elusive, her words as guarded as a lioness protecting her cubs.
"Grant me a dozen members of our tribe," she spoke, her voice gentle yet resolute. "Strong ones and the others of your choosing.
We shall venture forth to a new land with the lad, while you stay here with our people. When the time is right, I will send word for you to join us."
Priscilla's father nodded his approval, pleased with her plan. "An excellent idea, my dear. Dahlia!" he called out to his sister, hoping to embrace her, but she brushed him aside.
Dahlia's guard remained up, just as it had for many years.
Yonga implored, his voice full of longing. "When will you move past it, Dahlia? Of all the men in our tribe, I am the strongest. Won't you let me in?"
Dahlia's eyes narrowed. "You–" she started before cutting herself off.
"Could it be that you have developed a liking for the young lad? Alas, he is but a child. Why not set your sights on a real man, such as myself?" Yonga boasted, his muscles rippling as he tried to display his power.
"Yodhe would concur…" He turned to his wife, a woman whose features resembled a mermaid's.
"Yonga, have you no shame? Or have you not seen yourself in the mirror? Oh, wait, I believe you have forgotten how that same young man broke his foot up your ass, not so long ago or, should I enlighten him about our traditions?" Dahlia mocked, her lips twisting into a sneer.
Yonga's face drained of all color, realizing that if Nuu were to learn about the defeated chief by their custom, he would be stripped of his position and property.
Dahlia could not help but smirk. "Furthermore, you are utterly unremarkable in bed. I fail to comprehend what Yodhe sees in a brainless brute like you…She deserves a 'real man'..."
Yonga's expression darkened like charcoal, but his wife Yodhe quickly comforted him, her delicate hands gently stroking his hand, "Do not mind the wench, I'm not going anywhere!" said Yodhe. "Bedside, is that human fellow going to be okay?"
"..."
Amidst the vast expanse of a rolling field, a savage spectacle of agony and torment unfolded before the eyes of onlookers.
The hapless victim, none other than Froh, was held captive by two towering men and subjected to unspeakable torture inflicted upon him by a woman whose short wavy locks were the color of a deep and rich violet.
As flames voraciously consumed his flesh, Froh was forced to endure the sound of urine filling his ears. Berta, the perpetrator of this heinous act, relished every moment of her victim's anguish.
She had shed her former persona, abandoning any naïve desires for a peaceful existence.
Instead, a seething thirst for revenge consumed her, driving her to relentlessly pursue those responsible for her suffering.
For Berta, the need for retribution transcended a mere settling of scores. It was a chance to break free from the shackles of oppression and claim her rightful place in the world.
Her newfound strength was forged from the ashes of her former self, a testament to the indomitable spirit that burned within her.
Days prior to this gruesome scene, Nuu, desperate to quell Berta's wrath and fulfill her deepest desires, struggled to find a solution.
He knew that time was of the essence, for the desire for vengeance had two heads, one of which belonged to Micah, a man with whom he had grand designs.
Over the next few days, Nuu and Berta engaged in a fierce back-and-forth, until Oga intervened. With his sage words, he managed to talk Berta down from her murderous plans. But even then, a difficult decision had to be made.
The following week, Micah was subjected to brutal punishment, his flesh rent asunder by the relentless blows of Berta's hand.
Each name of her children was branded onto his chest, a permanent reminder of his transgressions. He knew that the only way to escape death was to heal his wounds, but the prospect of such a task was bleak.
Yet, even this brutal punishment was not enough to end the feud. Nuu was forced to make a difficult sacrifice, surrendering the position of Madame and Berta undergoing personal training from him in the art of the sword.
Berta vowed never to allow herself to fall into such a state of complacency again, for to do so would be to watch her loved ones die before her eyes. For Nuu and Oga, the cost was a small price to pay for the greater plan.
Despite Nuu's callous nature, he could not bear to see Berta cry herself to sleep. It was only through his nightly comfort that Berta was able to regain some semblance of her youthful spirit.
From what Nuu has acquired from Micah, he's the last of his kind…
Maybe the only regret he might have is Froh being kept alive, for the next part of the plan.
Berta continues to let out her years of silence, upon Froh.
Once a figure of strength and vitality, the man now stood as a shadow of his former self. No longer did his robust frame command respect or admiration. Instead, he had been reduced to a mere husk, a shell of his former glory.
In life, he had held the title of Knight, but now even that seemed like a distant memory.
Knight was known for their ability to endure, to withstand even the harshest of conditions.
They could go without food for up to three months, but Froh, his situation was different.
His hunger gnawed at him, clawing its way through his weakened body.
"He's out cold again, Lady Berta!" One of the helpers slaps Froh, only to get no response
"..."
"Forget it, throw him in the cage!" said Berta as she walk towards the festivity
"Scary, woman!." low murmur escapes these Mertaru and gives way,
In this fleeting moment, a colossal object impeded the luster of the moon -
This beast was none other than an Airship descending.
A true marvel of engineering and magic feat, a beast that defied gravity with its impressive dimensions.
Its width, stretched far beyond the reach of mortal arms, while its length extended even further into the unknown reaches of the sky.
But it was not only the sheer size of the airship that drew attention.
Rather, Its intricate design carries the Coat of House Thornbrick.
The metal that formed its frame was a rare alloy of titanium and adamantium, fused together through a process that had long been lost to time.
From this union, Aurorium was born, a strong light, and malleable metal that seemed to shimmer with a life of its own.
Beware, for the lustrous Aurorium possesses an uncanny resilience that even the most powerful Magus of Rank 1 cannot breach, withstanding temperatures that border on a staggering 2,600 degrees. Its extraordinary heat resistance is but a mere fraction of its true potential, however.
Aurorium has a unique property that allows it to absorb particles that permeate the air, igniting the intricate runes etched into its surface.
The runes emit a soft, ethereal glow, imbuing the airship with an otherworldly allure as it descends gracefully onto the lush plain.
As the vessel drew closer, the cries of adoration and the din of a thousand voices melded into a single resounding chorus, filling the night sky with wonder and awe.
Meanwhile, the Mertaur tribe, who had earlier taken up defensive positions in preparation for battle, faltered upon hearing the voice of their leader's sister.
"Cease this madness," Dahlia bellowed, her voice echoing across the plain. "Your arrows and spears are futile against the might of that monstrous creature."
With a gentle release of Priscilla's hand, Nuu spoke softly, "It appears that I need not make a move," before striding forward towards the landing. Beside him, Yonga and other prominent members of the tribe followed suit.
The arrival of the airship sparked a flurry of commentaries, echoing through the crisp night air.
"Uncle, were they truly planning an attack?" cried Menos in confusion.
"What manner of creatures are they?" uttered yet another, consumed with curiosity.
As the minutes passed, the door of the airship creaked open, and Oga emerged with a commanding presence.
Only to be greeted by a firm grip, which caught him off guard. However, upon seeing Nuu's signal.
Oga gently lifted the robust man off the ground without hurling him across the plain, displaying his strength while respecting his brother's wishes.
A few onlookers watched in astonishment as the two men exchanged a show of power.
Yet Oga's gaze never strayed far from the stunning beauty that accompanied Yonga. The two seemed lost in their own gaze until Nylah broke the tension with a simple greeting.
"It has been a while, Nuu," she said, breaking the tension in the room.
"Indeed," he replied, nodding toward her inability to stand properly.
A gentle chuckle escaped Oga's lips, earning him a deathly glare from Nylah. Meanwhile, Phi's lad came running out, and they were greeted by a towering behemoth even taller than the twins.
The tribe of Mertaru was puzzled by such a tiny human. A little while later, an exchange of wine and laughter followed, and Phi explained to his new drinking buddies that he was a dwarf.
Meanwhile, Hilda's gaze never left Nuu, even during the merry-making. "Feisty little wench," he whispered, noticing her unwavering stare. But this wasn't the time to train his pet, and he quickly turned his attention to his proteges.
"Have you lads kept up with your training?" he asked, and Menos, Yeli, and Amin responded in unison, "Yes, Master...Lord Oga and Sr. Gregor have kept us busy." Nuu chuckled with pride as he examined his pupils.
"Good. I see you have gained some muscle. I hope that's not all..."
As he spoke, his gaze shifted to the newcomer, "Who might these ladies be, brat?"
" My wife Berta and Consort Priscilla. This big guy is her father, Yonga, and his sister Dahlia. and who the hell might you be?"
"Still as rude as ever..." the vivacious figure ignores Nuu.
Meanwhile, at the mention of the status of these two women, some reaction was expected, but not at the level that Hilda displayed.
Thus drawing the attention of a few in the know, none was more embarrassed than Yeli.
Phi noticed her jerk at the mention of Nuu's first wife and consort, and asked, "What's wrong, Hilda?" But she remained silent, lost in her thoughts.
"I'll go get some more wine," said Nuu as he try to catch a breather.
While everyone was mingling, Nuu found himself in a bind, a few Patreon of his surrounded him. He could sense their displeasure. These women were none other than Sage, Iih, and Bür.
"Lord Nuu, you have failed to keep your promise to us," Sage declared with a heavy heart, disappointment etched on her face.
Lih chimed in with a pout, "We waited for an entire month, yet not even a letter from you."
Bür, burying her face in Nuu's bosom along with the other ladies, spoke up, "We took care of your proteges, but what about us? And now we learn that you have already taken a Madame and Consort..."
Nuu began to speak but was quickly interrupted by the ladies, their frustration palpable.
He knew he had to do something to calm them down. "Alright, let's talk this over later, my dear ladies. I promise to reward your patience," he said, attempting to wiggle out of their embrace. However, not without a few hickeys adorning his neck.
Meanwhile, not too far away, Berta and Priscilla were interrogating Yaya, whose presence was too familiar to Nuu's taste in women.
Yaya could only blush, realizing that her hopes of having alone time with Nuu were slipping away.
As the night wore on, most of the group had already succumbed to sleep or were engaged in amorous activities. Only a few were left awake, including Nuu, Oga, and a handful of others, who sat in deep discussion.
In their midst sat a woman of notable appearance - Her long tresses of dirty blonde hair cascaded in gentle waves, framing a face that boasted the rare beauty of double dimples.
This woman was none other than Elder Margaret of the Faceless Mask, a mysterious figure whose face and hair were shrouded in secrecy.
Her hips, however, were a well-known feature, round and curvaceous, capable of bearing children and inspiring awe in those around her.
As she stood in front of the two brothers with a mournful sigh.
They had caused a complete mess, killing the head of her house and a Count, and shamelessly dragging her out into the cold, unforgiving night to clean up their mess.
The very thing that left her stunned was Oga's uncanny ability to pinpoint her exact whereabouts within the sprawling Maverik's estate. It was a feat that not even the past two successors had been able to accomplish.
"You brothers sure know how to create chaos," she spoke, her voice laced with frustration. "And now you expect me to help you? Are we even that close, and how did you even know about my condition?"
Her delicate fingers glided over the curve of her burgeoning abdomen, a cherished vessel of life that stirred within her.
It was a constant reminder of the scorching, fervent union she shared with Oga during her fleeting visit. The recollection of their passionate encounter painted a warm flush upon her cheeks, like the bloom of a rose.
"Do you take me for a fool, Oga? You actually want me to believe that this useless brat was the one that kill Nathan and Vinci?" she cried out, her eyes blazing with fury.
"How could you even suggest such a thing with a straight face?" While pointing at the cage Froh.
Oga, however, stuck to his story. "The culprit lays right before your eyes. Or would you rather have the father of your child in chains…Here I thought we had something deeper…"Oga shamelessly persists.
Elder Margaret's eyes narrowed, her lips curling in derision at his words. "You certainly have a way with words," she scoffed, "but make no mistake, you will owe me a great favor for this. And don't think that just because I carry your child, I won't collect on it.
For this arrangement to work, you must take care of all loose ends. But remember, this only covers House Maverik - not the deceased Count. How do you plan to stop them from coming after your"
Oga, undaunted by her skepticism, offered a solution. "Do we not have Jard? Has he not promised to marry into their household?
As an Elder of Maverik, shouldn't your goal be to secure more resources and expand, why are you only content with being a lowly Viscount?
Vinci House is currently without a strong leader, or will you watch that sissy fill the role?"
Elder Margaret's silence spoke volumes, her disbelief was palpable. "Are you serious right now?" she demanded incredulously.
But Oga's confidence was unshakable. "Why not?" he replied with a calm assurance. "All the pieces will fall into place once I make my move. As the first woman to carry my seed, I shall take you as the Lady of the House!"
Nylah and Nuu spat out their wine, "Brother…"
"Silence, it's my decision, the two households will merge under Thornbrick!"
"You–"