[41st Year of Foresai, Lower Fire Month, Day 7]

Lakyus paused, coming to a stop and closing her eyes. With a slow exhale, she let out all she could. Then, a moment spent quiet, listening to the beat of her heart.

You need to do this. There is much you need to reflect on, and you should not do it alone.

Pulling a breath a moment later, she collected herself.

I need this.

Opening her eyes, Lakyus lingered no longer, and walked into the church. Every one of the entrance doors had been chained open, the traffic in and out too great to do otherwise. Getting her first glimpse of the interior, she was struck dumb.

Not even the first of the annual wars inspired so many.

Though the central church in Re-Estize was built for mass worship, well over a thousand had taken to the space. Many were packed tightly in the pews, but plenty of worshippers spilled out into the aisles, some lining the back wall, others clustered at the sides. The second level was just as laden, some deep part of her darkly wondering if the columns could take the load. Deciding the building was not going to topple, she thought to work her way in, glowering as the crowd seemed to consume any path through. Resorting to elbowing, she began to slowly make her way through the center aisle, slipping past and stepping over many bereaved.

This… this makes sense. The latest from the city administrators was, at minimum, six-thousand.

Each of the pulpits was filled, some three or four times over, preachers of the parish reciting line after line of the holy books set upon them. She doubted that all were truly reading, instead parroting those adjacent or reciting their most favored passages from memory. Others didn't even have podiums from which to preach, individuals of devotion standing up in their pews and reciting what they could to those around them. Great waves of voices passed through the space, some clusters repeating the Promise of Earthrest again and again, others in shared wails or laments. It was a bitter sight, the sort of fervent mass turn to faith that only great loss could drive.

Six-thousand is a minimum. Only He of the Winding Cavern knows how many more. I’d be surprised if there was anyone in this city who didn't know a person taken, even multiple.

Lakyus’s grimace grew deeper, thoughts drifting to the Devil in Red. The crimes of him and his forces grew worse hour by hour, black discoveries occurring across the breadth of the city. Within the range of the blaze, far fewer bodies than expected had been found, this only confirming the worst of her fears when they came upon warehouses in the initial assault.

In death, there is deliverance - the sacred embrace of He of the Dust and Diamond. Those kin and friends of the dead can seek assurance in that, knowing with certainty that they have passed back into the world. But this? This is… wicked. Why take, and not kill? What use could that fiend possibly have for them? Slaves? Sacrifices for some black purpose? It’s too much to bear.

Lakyus cringed, and swung her head, trying to rid herself of thoughts to the privations surely being inflicted on her fellow men and women.

Hold yourself together. Their fate matters, but it is not something you can affect now. Think to practical things, things to fix.

In addition to the targets identified by Renner, the total number of strikes believed to have been conducted by the demon invaders was sixteen, each location stripped entirely of its people and their possessions. The more Lakyus brooded on the matter, the more it disturbed her. The enemy had planned around the actions of the Blue Roses completely, and even if Gagaran did run into insectoid maid demon, this was likely the fault of a delay, not a miscalculation; that the demons had done so meant that both her decision making and Renner’s were predicted and accounted for, and, were it not for Momon’s timely arrival, that they would have never been forced into a lodgement.

We were completely outmaneuvered. Gods, this shouldn’t have happened. That Eight Fingers was a wicked foe I knew, but this? Were they truly capable of conspiracy with demons?

How he had come, she did not know. Had it been the work of someone within Eight Fingers, they had desired escape from the Blue Roses’s persecution at a cost far greater than their comrades; whoever they were, they possessed a great amount of control within the organization, enough to be able to acquire such an item of immense power, and yet somehow had evaded all efforts at detection that the princess had made. When - in their eyes - she made to move against them in Climb’s impromptu raid on the brothel, they had panicked, and unlike their compatriots who brought up their forces or fled, instead decided to seek relief with the dark powers of the world. This foolish act - whether summoning fiends to be used as soldiers or forming a pact with some entity - had obviously brought the attention of a much more powerful demon, and thus, attracted eyes toward the item in their possession.

How did they not know what they had? Did they perform no examinations? No tests? Or did they, and embrace what they found? Maybe they did, and took it not as a warning sign, but as a boon. Gods, if only that relic had never come to the city.

In the hours following the vanquish of the demon army, a squad of rangers discovered a false support pillar inside of the Eight Fingers controlled warehouse Gagaran had been assigned to raid, the ladder inside leading to a hidden underground storeroom; besides vast quantities of Laira, in a single crate was found a diminutive, out-of-place statuette. Weathered copper, it was a disturbing depiction of what appeared to be a half-winged three armed bafolk, bearing in each hand orbs red, green, and yellow.

He was so close to finding it. Had they had perhaps an hour more, or two, one of their imps would have stumbled upon it, and taken it to him. And if that had come to pass…

Handed over to the Magicians Guild along with other suspicious articles, it had gone through a process of identification. The first grader who attempted to do so passed out after casting his spell; fearing it to be warded, a second - an experienced abjurer brave enough to volunteer - attempted to do the same, and akin to the first, fainted on the spot. At this, the Master of Wands and Staves had then taken the matter as his duty, and after layering himself in all manner of protective fetishes and antisomniferous magics, cast the spell and went mad on the spot, shrieking and making ten panicked steps in retreat before he too collapsed. Despite the now days given to the Magicians Guild, they still had not made a sure identification of the item's effect. The last missive they had sent to the house of lords claimed the statuette to be “immeasurably powerful,” but a later conversation Lakyus had with the Mistress of Interdiction and Absumption revealed that all three men had given the same response upon waking.

Three spells of the tenth tier. It’s unimaginable. Even the servants of the Gods during their time here were only purported to cast the seventh. Momon had his crystal of the eighth, and he turned an entire glade to sand with it. Just how many fiends are locked within?

Though the spells within could not be identified, of the other congruent ramblings between the awoken wizards was the continual mention of an “unending font of demonkind.” Each reported visions of endless hordes sweeping the land, destroying all that was fair and consuming all but the stars in the sky. Whether it was delusion, foreknowledge, or prescience, the guild could not say, but the general tenor of things had turned bleak. Had they not raided that night, the black truth of the matter was that Jaldabaoth’s forces would have likely found the statuette, and with their already immense strength, would have then turned whatever magic was stored within out on the world, bringing about a second calamity on the scale of the Demon Gods.

Renner must have come to all this yesterday, or the day before. That, if we had by chance delayed, or moved our raid one more day out… it must be terrifying for her - seem like a timely coincidence that we were not all destroyed.

Lakyus sighed, the tenor of things seeming clear to her.

It wasn't, though. Events were too specific for that. We were there to stop this. Evileye was there. Darkness was there. The King, convinced by the words of the Princess, to send Gazef. Brain Unglaus, convinced by the valor of Climb to fight as well. Raeven revealing himself a good man, to fight as well. A rare union of the casters and country. It’s too many things. Too many great acts. All things happen with their purview, but this was the doing of the Gods.

Idly working her way forward, Lakyus slowly drifted through the crowd, the usual deference to her presence - even if she was only recognized as a noblewoman rather than a servant of the Gods - entirely absent. There was no insult in this to her, the tragedy of too great a scale for her to even pay it mind. A jostling came from behind, then again, and, after she had ignored it, a third time. She did her best to shift to the side, minimizing her form to let whoever was attempting to pass her do so. A pair of priests passed by, both laden with water pails desperately gripped in their hands. The lead gave a half vocalized blessing as he passed, his weary eyes having no cause to inspect her. She knew both, brothers of the faith she had acquainted herself with two nights prior, but neither recognized her in their flurry, breaking past without further inspection of her as they bowled their way to the front pulpits. After a moment’s thought, she decided to follow after.

They allowed this, they facilitated this. They trust us with this. Was the fourth a victory? I don’t know, I truly don’t. So many were lost, but compared to days past? Six-thousand. It’s a terrible count, but ultimately, a generous one. We defeated and drove away a being stronger than the Demon ‘Gods’ themselves in a single night. Evileye is certain of it. We denied him the object of his desire, throwing him and his armies back into the hells at sword point. Not even the Thirteen heroes were responsible for such acts.

Pushing through, Lakyus cut her way to the front, a hundred children sitting in the space between the front of the pews and the foot of the dais. Scattered mothers and older sisters tended to the lot, a few having sunk down and began wailing themselves.

A change had come over the world. Much is coming together. An archfiend, stronger than those of yore. Other monsters as well; that vampire, and whatever lich struck E-Rantel. Heroes too, coming together to fight them. Great casters, magnificent warriors, legends of our time. It has been two centuries since the time of the Demon ‘Gods’. In that time, many came together under the Banner of the Thirteen. They, and their associates beyond my ability to number, came against the foes of their age and defeated them. We will need to do the same. This… this is acceptable. Besides, have the Gods not already granted me a weapon from that time?

Lakyus was not in her battle dress, but she shifted her shoulders anyway, instinctually searching for the weight of a sword on her back that was not there. Kilineiram was in its scabbard back at their warehouse in the city outskirts. The night had been so wild and violent, so grand in its thesis about the world, that she had hoped that when Jaldabaoth had been vanquished, her blade would cease to speak, curse driven away by her divine fury. It had been quiet for a time, but as doubts began to creep in about the Demon and his ejection, its edge had again begun to whisper, robbing her of a restful sleep the night prior. Despite herself, Lakyus was crushed, a terrible sense of defeat coming over her. She had failed to vanquish its voice, and though she thought it not possible, it seemed as if she could hear that whispering even now, hazy backwards talk seeming to lie under the words of all those near her.

And of that matter… Perhaps the curse is growing stronger, taking its roots in me. I will fight this for the rest of my life, won’t I?

Lakyus swallowed and stepped up onto the dais. Many of the speakers had exhausted themselves in their recitations, and as she worked her way to the pulpit which held the Aquateuch, made to lay hands and restore those as she passed.

I will. I will, and that’s okay. This is my duty. My burden to bear. They could not do this. They would crumble under the weight. The Gods trust me. They trust me with this, just as they did the Black Knight, all those years ago. He wasn’t even a warrior of faith, and yet he could bear this. I can too.

Lakyus came to the book of her God, and after a moment’s breath, began to preach.

—

Climb shuffled nervously in his armor, brushing the sweat from his hair and flicking it to the ground below. A few moments later, his hair rewet, and he did so again, before suddenly going taught as the entrance flap across from him went up. A uniformed man in a gambeson and breastplate stepping through, stiffening as he saw Climb. He looked Climb up and down.

“Your…”

The man looked him up and down again.

“…the Princess’s man, yes?”

Climb bowed.

“Reporting, sir.”

“I’m a Guard Lieutenant, not a knight. You’re here about the request we lodged.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

“Right…”

The man nervously cast his gaze to the side, lips fluttering as he tried to form words.

He thinks the Princess sent me on inspection, doesn’t he?

“Look, not that we don’t want to watch these people, but we’re strapped for manpower. We need men for the search, and for that we need to start getting these people back in their homes. Make proper identifications.”

Climb nodded.

“We don’t want to send them back to the ruined neighborhoods unless their domiciles are still standing, and we can’t coordinate tightly with the rescue teams. We have a map, but we don’t know which buildings were knocked down, and we’re not gonna be able to send runner after runner to request individual assays. It would be easier if we could give the men a document, but the civil office hasn’t been able to send over any administrators, and none of my men can write. Uh, you can, right?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.”

“Good, you’ll work then.”

The Lieutenant fumbled in place, fruitlessly searching his person, before jolting over to a satchel left on the ground. He pulled from it a few sheets of paper, writing stylus, and wooden board, before handing it all to Climb.

“I just need you to get name and residence from the survivors. Just a name and residence.”

“Understood.”

“You- you and Unglaus, and Raeven’s man, you two rescued all of these people, right? ”

Climb gave a shallow nod, before bowing, turning around, and exiting the command tent. Pushing through the heavy fabric, he was happy to be free of the heat inside, it an article typically reserved for service in the cold plains of Katze. That army equipment was being furnished for use in the city was a testament to the desperation of the central administration; City Guard units - number cut nearly in half by the Demonic Disturbance - forced to now manage the crisis of its aftermath.

At least supply isn’t going to be an issue. This stationary was provided by Lord Raeven, yes? The tents were the Marquis' as well. I… it’s confusing. I always thought he was untrustworthy or a politicker, but he’s good, actually? Renner never made any mention of trusting him before, but now it seems like her and he and Zanac are working together just fine. Are they forming a… faction? Is that how that works?

Climb swallowed, realizing he while the matter was far beyond his ability to track, and it was not beyond his ability to influence - even by accident.

If that’s the case, then it’s all the more important that I’m here. She… her, Raeven, Zanac, that group, they need me here. I need to be a face for them. Right… I hope she’s doing alright.

The princess’s madness had caught Climb completely unprepared; of the people he expected to panic, Renner was not one of them. That it had happened a day after confused him even more, not of the moment fear, but rather something she had come upon in the long hours of night. What it was, he couldn't say, but something had scared her to the point of not sleeping. Be it a legitimate conspiracy she had discovered, or that she had simply overexerted herself thinking in circles, Climb did not know. The latter was sobering but preferable, but Climb was hesitant to ever doubt the ruminations of the Princess. Now, he felt his act of comfort was inadequate, dismissing her fears when he put her to bed.

I still don’t understand what scared her. Maybe she thinks Jaldabaoth is going to come back soon, or maybe she’s torn up about this. Only the Gods know how many we lost.

Climb made his way deeper into the muster yard, converted into a small village of tents to house those Climb and his comrades had managed to rescue from beyond the flame-wall. The three hundred or so they had broken out of the warehouse were the only escapees from the blaze. By Brain’s estimation, there should have been another thirty-two stowages needed to hold the people seized by Jaldabaoth’s forces, though every other structure investigated after was simply empty. It was as if every other person within the blaze had disappeared, even what minor traffic existed at the boundaries having been reaped. If there were any exceptions, none had made themselves known to Re-Estize’s administration, leaving the city with the cold realization that thousands had been taken without recourse; worse, Climb knew that this would have been possible to stop.

Though that demon was strong, we still slew it. Other warehouses could have been saved, but it was too late. Had we more forces, perhaps we could have moved earlier, or sent more rescue teams. That we had to worry about manpower that night. That we have to worry about it now!

Climb’s fists balled, gaze growing steely as he worked his way through to the center. Besides House Vaiself, Raeven, and Raeven’s vassals, the nobility had failed to act. No manor had sent force complements, and even in the aftermath, none had provided support. The effort of counting the missing was beyond anything the city government had attempted before, and though the city’s civil service was for the most part intact, the manner in which the demon incursion had completely devastated multiple, adjacent neighborhoods demanded a much greater investment of effort to quantify. Without an inflow of bodies to the morgue, nor heads of household to report, the only methods left were a thorough survey of the rest of the city or a dredging of the tax record; though the former would be much faster, it would require each lord bound by the city covenant to expend their own resources to conduct a door-to-door census, something House Vaiself didn’t even bother asking. What was left, then, was the tax record, any detailed study of which was likely to take months. In the interim, only rough estimates could be had, something which Climb had lost the ability to stomach after the third official adjustment up. For his part, he prayed them dead.

Climb entered into the center circle of the encampment, some City Guard working a cooking fire at a distance, lest they succumb to the heat. He frowned, unable to spot anyone who could be considered a civilian.

They must be sheltering in the tents.

Climb paused for a moment, looking around nervously. After a moment’s trepidations, he shrugged to no-one, and headed for the nearest tent. Raising his hand out of instinct, he remembered there was no way to knock cloth, and instead moved to open it. Entering, he rubbed his eyes to adjust, a woman’s voice cutting through the space.

“You.”

Her voice was venomous, loaded with hatred. He blinked a few more times, trying to find the speaker in the dark.

“Why didn’t you save him?”

Climb finally made out a figure moving toward him, unable to understand her.

“W-what?”

“Why didn’t you save him!?”

“Save-”

The woman made to smack Climb, he stepping back just in time to avoid it. This only seemed to enrage her further, and she made to do so again with her other hand, Climb dodging the second blow just as deftly. At this, she shrieked, and barreled at him; Climb forced himself to take hold still and the charge, lest she run right through the tent wall. He caught her as she ran into him, holding his ground without a step back.

“Why didn’t you save him?!”

Balling her fists, she pounded at his head, Climb gripping his stationary as tight as he could while he shielded himself. Her blows fell down to his chest, failing to so much as jostle his breastplate, before she again shrieked and pushed herself off in anger, stomping off to the other side of the room and collapsing into a cot in an explosion of tears.

Climb swallowed, finally taking stock of the room to find four other men staring back at him. One, a teenager no older than he was, piped up in a sardonic tone.

“What are you doing here? Haven't you done enough for your little Princess.”

Climb bristled, but stuffed it down, straightening himself before responding.

“Collecting name and residence. We want to get you back in your homes.”

“What home? My mother and father are gone. My brothers and sister are gone. Fuck off.”

The boy grew more unsteady under Climb’s gaze, before breaking from his place and storming out of the tent, thin streaks of tears running down his face. His eyes lingered on the flap for a moment, before a voice cut in from behind.

“His name was Glim, Glim Barker. Dad had a butcher shop down on the south-flow.”

Climb snapped round, seeing two of the three remaining men had moved forward.

“Right, thank you.”

Climb hastily made to jot down his words, bracing the board on his chest while scrawling with his right.

“Her first name is Ren. I don’t know her last, or where she lives.”

“Ren Deriyla! Foresain road!”

The woman screamed it into her cot, another violent set of cries as she continued into her lament.

“I’m Gilles Nor; I don’t live here, just a bargeman up from Re-Blumrusher. This is Klyel Unrup, has a home-”

“Southbridge tenement. It was on fire when I was taken, so, not much luck.”

“And, um…”

Gilles looked back to the elderly man who had yet to make a move, quietly sitting on the side of his cot.

“He hasn’t said anything.”

Climb finished writing, before nodding, and walking over to the older man. He stared tiredly at Climb, avoiding his gaze as Climb drew closer. Climb was grateful for this, the look in the old man’s eyes more somber still. Climb felt about ready to empty stomach contents.

“Mister… Uh, could I have your name and residence?”

The old man gave a slow exhale, closing his eyes and cringing.

“Marv. Don’t have a last name. Also on Foresain road.”

“Thank-”

“I want my daughter back. I just want her back.”

His words were dashed under his tears, dissolving into a general slurry that ran down his face. He buried himself in his hands a moment later, gentle sobs mixing with the woman beside him. Turning around, Climb saw that same sort of hateful look in the two men standing as the boy had. He finished his writing as fast as possible and bolted out of the tent. Back in the sunlight, Climb bent over, stilling for a moment as he fought down his lunch.

She needs me out here. She needs me. She wouldn’t want these people left alone, and someone needs to do this. It should be me.

Climb slowly righted himself, and after a long breath, proceeded to the next tent.

—

Renner felt her shadow drag itself up her face and slither into her ear.

“Mistress. Your bodyguard is approaching.”

Would it be too difficult to call him Climb?

Renner gave a slight nod, tapping her armrest once as acknowledgement. The thing slipped out of her ear and pushed off, losing itself between the many shafts of the evening sun. Silence hung an instant longer, before the door to her room opened and he stepped through.

“Climb, it’s wonderful to see you.”

More than I could put into words. Please, my darling, linger with me a moment.

He bowed his typical depth, tufts of blond hair catching in the rays of light, before raising himself and making his way over to her. Renner gestured to his typical chair.

“Have a seat.”

“Thank you, Your Highness, but I’m afraid I can’t stay long; I’ve more work to do for the recovery.”

It is a good boy who makes up for his mistress’s excesses, but Climb, we are in a time for excess.

A slight smile grew on Renner’s face, the grievous insult washing off and over her as if it had never been uttered at all. It was as if the entire world had picked itself up and rearranged. Had Climb said those words a day ago, she would have been run through with spikes of possessiveness, an overwhelming desire to wrench him from his duties and make him sit; now, she felt nothing but slight amusement. There was no control over him to wrest, no halcyon fantasy to embitter the moment. There was only Renner, Climb, and the utter certainty that she would have her glory over him.

A little play, then.

“Mm, with the Warrior-Captain, yes? I suppose things are well at hand… Climb, how are the people doing? Those you helped, I mean. My understanding is that you’ve spent the interim hours away from your palace duties.”

Climb squirmed in a way she found pleasurable.

“Y-yes, that’s correct. Everyone was quite thankful to you, Your Highness.”

The way he dragged the preposition… A lie? Pertaining to the latter clause? I suppose the people were less than grateful for the help they received. Not unsurprising that he would make that then, though a little displeasing. Punish him.

“Eh? I understand. Then, I suppose it would be prudent to go and see them.”

“You can’t!”

Climb exploded, before suddenly pulling his body taught. He swallowed, then lowered his head a moment later, words stumbling out of his mouth as fast as he could issue them.

“The search effort is still underway, and while I think your presence would be appreciated, that it would take people away from their duties. I hope you- I hope you understand, Your Highness.”

Oh, Climb, they said awful things to you, didn’t they? Things that tore at your heart; things sent your insides churning. You saw… parents morning their children. Professionals lamenting the deaths of their apprentices. Shattered, hollowed out women whose every friend and acquaintance was ripped from them. Youth coming to grips with lives that would never start - boys your age. Crushing dooms beyond your capacity to know, but not beyond your capacity for guilt. This was one of the worst days of your life. No wonder I am not fit for such a place.

Renner let her smile grow, until her whole face shown with unbidden radiance.

He has sought me, and wishes deeply to rest in my veil. He wishes to doff every armor of his, to curl up next to me, to rage, and to cry. How cruel of them. How cruel of the world. Are not they grateful? It was he who threw himself into danger for him, his mistress who ordered him into it. And yet, they sit and they wail because he could not save those they loved, others he most certainly would have had he the ability. How crushing. How oppressive. He has been driven to me by such things. How delectable.

With the knowledge she had now gained of the male sex, Renner’s fantasies had finally snapped into relief, the mechanics of reproduction that had eluded her all her life finally caught. A little of that dripped into the moment now, and she found herself mired in a growing thrill. She tempered her smile.

“Of course. No matter, then.”

A degree of relief came over Climb, Renner mesmerized by the ways she could make him dance to her words.

Chardelon, hold yourself back a little longer. Endeavor to make his world just that much worse.

“Now then, Climb, I have something… rather horrible to say. Something important.”

Not only her words but her timbre as well washed over him, Climb closing his eyes and bracing himself for what she had to say.

“The women you and mister Sebas fought to save from the brothel-”

Renner made herself swallow.

“-were murdered.”

Climb made no coherent sound, expression degenerating second after second as he made several failed attempts to speak. After a time, he was able to get out a word.

“How-”

He twitched, stumbling over his words again.

“But how… how could that have happened?”

Renner had no sure knowledge of how the women were killed, only that the matter had been completed but two minutes after her return to Valencia. With the power of her hidden bodyguard, she suspected it to have been the work of what she had accurately termed shadow demons the evening prior. No matter how it had been done, it was an exercise by her masters not merely of power, but of prudence. A need had arisen, and so it had been done, without comment or complaint. For all the many dooms humanity was to be subjected too, they would not even have the mercy of an enemy that sabotaged themselves.

He is invested in them. Need he be so? I suppose yes, but they are not who matter here. As much as I wish to drive him to me, I don’t believe I could bear him lamenting the deaths of other women. Displeasing. What I rehearsed will not work. Force his attentions to what is actually important.

“A mistake, one I believe… I made. Normally, I would leave this sort of work to an adventurer team, and I had intended to, but due to the incursion, none were available; those I had were sent off for the assault. So I had… hired a mercenary band instead.”

Renner gave the thinnest hint of a frown, and shook her head, eyes dancing away from Climb in a facsimile of guilt.

“Th-that’s not true, Your Highness! Renner, this- this isn’t your fault! Gods, it’s the murderers who are to blame!”

Topple him. Make him writhe a little more. Make him obsess.

“No! Not like how you think. Had I been more careful, more prudent and attentive, I would have sent them away that night or the next. I knew our security was torn right-through but I did not extend my thoughts to them. This… this didn’t need to happen. H-had you been there, their murders wouldn't have been attempted. I relied too much on the credibility of the outfit. There must have been a turncoat in the band - the guild thought them an upstanding company.”

Renner batted her eyes, forcing tears to appear in their edges.

“You- you didn’t do anything wrong, Your Highness.”

Indeed. Everything I have done has been for us, Climb. A wonderful assertion.

Renner sprang from her chair, and embraced him. He stumbled a little, losing his words as he tried to account for her movements.

“But, how did knowledge of them-”

She mumbled into his breast, hands groping the backside of his plate. She dearly wished she could do more.

“I haven’t a certainty. We called up every guardsman, gatesman, or otherwise during the disturbance; I’d hazard the enemy sent a runner through then. Gods, I should have sent those women away then.”

“Where were the bodies found?”

Gods, he smells wonderful, doesn’t he?

It was the alluring sort of musk that always seemed to hang over him late in the day. Though she had moved to grant Climb many a luxury beyond his station, it was the reason why she had never done so for perfume. Innumerable scents blended together into something she could not describe in words, the sort of thing that could only be experienced, in those rare moments where she could get close to him.

“Scattered throughout the lower districts, but I… I don’t know any more - couldn’t bear to listen.”

“And, of them?”

Renner’s hands slipped a little low, frustrated as she only felt more of his cuirass. Though his full plate had been a point of pride for her - a culmination of years worth of influence on both him and Lakyus - she now wished she had never ordered its construction at all.

“Hm? Oh, they’ve been given over to He of the Silken Earth. What of it?”

“I… want to examine the wounds, see what I could learn.”

Renner wished to shred his armor, to dig into it with her hands and tear it away. To rip apart his undergarments, and leave him bare.

“Climb, I… I can’t permit that. Those women have lived unwholesome, agonized lives. Let them rest in death.”

Climb’s lips fluttered a little longer, before he closed his eyes and nodded. She wished to force him to the ground and to take him there. To scoop his flesh into her arms. To taste his skin. To bury herself in his scent. To make marks and bites on him. To force herself upon his lips. To learn the joys of his body. For him to do the same to her. For him to take her, and make true all the little dreams of hers. She wished to fuck him. Renner shifted her legs.

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Please don’t see this as an inadequacy of yours. If I am to be called blameless, then you certainly… ah, I see we’ve exchanged positions.”

Renner leaned back from her embrace, a smile returning to her reddened face.

“Yes, we have.”

“Forgive me for keeping you. Then, Climb, I yield you to your duties.”