140 Years Before
Marching down the marbled outside corridor of the palace leading towards the brothel hall were five royal guards wearing armored helmets that kept their hair back while letting the rest flow down their backs. At nearly seven feet tall, in dingy battle armor with dark cloaks swaying behind them, they were formidable looking and clearly on a mission. Their stride did not stop as they rounded the corner of the hall into the brothel. Nearing the center, they halted as one and the leader scanned the room. He was looking for a particular type of whore the ruler would find aesthetically pleasing enough not to reject, or kill. The last few years showed his dissatisfaction with many of the choices.
Along the walls sat large canopied beds covered with vast arrays of sheer colored fabrics occupied by couplings engaged in various forms of fornication. In the middle of the hall, two feet high cushions were arranged in one large square with much of the same activity. Soldiers and royal court members were allowed to come and go at any time to release their carnal desires. Most of the whores had been well bedded over the decades.
Off to the right, a small dark haired figure caught the leader’s eye. She had unkempt hair, tanned skin, not much endowments and couldn’t have been more than six feet tall. This was quite short for their race, but something about her was alluring, even to him. He motioned to one of his men who went over to the bed, pulled the soldier, who was in the throes of thrusting into her like an animal, off and dragged her upright by the hair.
As the royal guard hauled her out of the hall with the rest of his men in tow, the leader got a closer look and grimaced. That deadpan expression was something he had seen many times before in whores due to years of lying with scum and not knowing true pleasure. They went on to being killed or committing suicide. This may be her last day alive.
At the royal bath house, the guards shoved her into the arms of a washing servant who immediately pushed her away onto the floor. She wiped her hands on the fabric of her robes and glared at the leader.
“How dare you make me touch one of those dirty things?” The servant yelled.
“Just clean her up and have her taken to our Lord!” He ignored the hissing sound coming from her mouth and turned away. Leaving the room he wondered if he would be back tonight with another one.
The female washing servant bent down to examine the filthy girl. Her skin crawled just looking at her.
“Such filth!” She stood and motioned the other servants to come closer. “Make sure to scrub her down completely, especially,” her eyes lowered to the region between the girl's thighs, “inside there.” Each servant bowed low as she left them to do their work while she observed. If the girl had been a royal or a soldier, she would have personally pamper her.
One of the male servants grabbed the girl by her hair and dragged her into the large basin built into the floor. Only one other person had been in it previously and they had no intentions of changing the water for someone like her. A soft, fluffy long rod was steam sanitized then soaked in a bowl filled with scented oil water.
All four servants stepped into the basin with her, each having a hold on her limbs. One male servant was in charge of her unruly hair while the other three scrubbed off layers of sweat built up over time. Done with the first stage of cleaning, the male held her from behind by the neck as two other servants grabbed her legs spreading them wide. The remaining servant lifted the fluffy rod out of the bowl nearby and flicked it twice. She inserted it between the girl’s thighs, pushing it deep inside her, using slow circular thrusts to ensure every inch was clean. Satisfied with the completion of her task, she removed the rod and set it on a cloth outside the basin. It would be disposed of later. The girl had not struggled throughout the whole ordeal.
The male servant dragged her by the underarms out of the bath basin and laid her on the floor while the others drained it. He went over to the communication terminal and hit the call icon. Within minutes two guards came marching in to retrieve the, now clean, female for the ruler. She was treated no better as they too hauled her up roughly by her armpits and carried her out between their huge bodies into the corridor.
Halfar, supreme ruler of Planet Azrom, sat upright in his bed, wearing only a sheer black covering robe while passing the time analyzing past battles on his holoscreen. His bed was set high nearly three feet off the floor and colored fabrics covered much of it. Plush coverings were spread all over the floor to ensure his feet never touched bare earth. Glow lamps hovered high above in each corner giving the room just enough light to not annoy him.
His stark black hair hung loose draping around him in soft tendrils bringing out the strange murky green of his eyes in contrast with pale skin. He had been bored these past forty years with the steady conquests of small worlds for the sake of trade and politics. Nothing fascinated him much anymore so he resorted to reminiscing.
Hard boots striking marble from outside broke his reverie and he looked up to see two of his royal guards stop at the doorway of his bed chamber with a small naked female slumped between them, held up only by their grip. Her hair had fallen forward covering her face. One of the guards grabbed her by the chin and lifted it up so Halfar could get a good look.
What he found in her eyes as she stared directly into his intrigued him. It was a look he knew well; Resentment mixed with despair. He had seen it in many enemies right before the killing blow, but in her stare there was no intention of her dying anytime soon. A strong resolve to live vibrated from her soul. He wanted to break her. With a motion of his hand, the two guards tossed her into the chamber and left.
She dragged herself up into a kneeling position and again stared at him. It was protocol to avert your gaze when in the presence of the supreme ruler which made her boldness even more outrageous. Halfar cocked his head to one side, then threw off the bed covers.
“Come here.”
His voice boomed throughout the chamber. He watched her hesitate for a brief moment before moving forward. Her steps halted a few feet from the bed but still within his reach. Grabbing her by the hair, he yanked her onto the bed.
“I am sure you understood me when I said here.”
While she was still stunned from the assault, he pulled her beneath him and pinned her down. As she regained her sense of surroundings, she began to struggle. So much so, that Halfar was amazed at her strength, needing to readjust the pressure he applied as he forced himself into her. He watched her writhe in pain, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream by stifling them. It only made Halfar want to hurt her more. He hadn’t even bothered to disrobe for the occasion. Eventually, she did scream and he sighed with contentment at the sound of it.
“Now, isn’t it better to let it out?” He switched to one hand to hold her down and used the other to smack the side of her buttocks. “Stop fighting!” His intention was to make her do just the opposite and it worked. He pried one of her legs wider and held it up from underneath the knee. She was going to learn how to endure his ferocity because he decided at that moment to keep her.
Shaking uncontrollably, drenched in sweat, the female was hauled off the bed by the same two guards who brought her. Halfar was back sitting up perusing his holoscreen as if nothing had occurred. He snuck a quick glance at her as she was dragged away by her arms and their eyes locked. Seething hatred for him burned from inside hers so he let the corners of his mouth raise a little in a smirk.
After only a month of the routine Halfar made it known to his men that the female was not allowed back in the brothel and, he imagined to the dismay of the royal washers, required to be bathed in one of the royal chambers. She was never allowed to wear any coverings per his instructions and her indifference towards it fascinated him. There was no shame in her eyes or demeanor. On a whim he had her DNA analyzed and found it matched one of the warrior clans known for their intimidating size. She was obviously a runt, in the end doing royal service for the palace.
Halfar turned to her one evening while she lay exhausted and angry, pretending to seem unfazed.
“What is your name?”
It seemed appropriate to know it at least after nearly a year since he had acquire her. He could see her face muscles working.
“Rass.” She didn’t turn to face him.
“Hmm. It’s no secret that I enjoy torturing you but I want to see something more.” He saw her tense up preparing for another fight. He laughed. “If you submit to me, I will let you train with the royal guard.” Her fingers clutched the bed covers beneath her. “You must come to my bed chamber whenever I request and in return, if you are able to advance, I will release you of your bond to become a royal guard.”
“Why?” This time, she did turn to look at him.
“You’re holding back. This halfhearted fighting you engage in with me is tiring. I want to see the full potential of your hatred unleashed.” She raised her eyebrows. “All you need is training to hone the craft of battle.”
“But, I have to submit to you?”
“I am your ruler,” Halfar replied matter of fact.
He slipped his robe back off and forcibly pulled her to him by her legs spreading them open around his waist. She started to struggle again as he entered her roughly but stopped after the fourth thrust. Being released from her bonds had to sound appealing and becoming a royal guard more so. He saw a new resolve blossom inside her as Halfar released his seed.
It wasn’t long before Rass had beaten most of the first year guards and killed more than a few that Halfar decided it was time to make him an official royal guard candidate. During training hours, Rass was in male form and in the evening, female for his pleasure. Their relationship became one of mutual respect and trust as the years unfolded with many of the battle strategies Halfar implemented coming from Rass. He had no regrets bringing the young unknown into his fold.
Since the qualification rounds were closed to all except the participants, with the trainer and Himself as judges, only those involved knew how deadly Rass had become. His speed and agility were unmatched although he did have a rival; another young candidate named Kur who stared from the shadows at Rass with disdain and lust most of the time. Halfar found it amusing.
He began to watch Kur more closely and came to the conclusion that the young soldier had a slew of pent up rage manifesting as superiority. There was a sense of making every battle refined as opposed to mindless barbarism. His attention to aesthetics was intriguing, his fighting skills, frightening.
On a battle session day, Halfar pulled one of the trainers aside determined to find out more about the strange, green haired warrior. They both sidestepped an arc of blood splatter that landed near their feet.
"Where does he come from?" Halfar asked the trainer.
"His mother was a worker in the mines. One of the commanders from the lower royal family dragged her off during an inspection for his master. She gave birth in the mines four moons later."
"You need to clarify," Halfar's eyes darkened. This disturbed him greatly.
"The lower royals found out about the child and negotiated with the council to raise him in the palace until he reached the age for military training."
"His mother?"
"Still in the mines, my lord."
"Lovely." Halfar's sarcasm was not lost on the trainer. "I'll have her moved into the palace as a handmaiden. Tell no one."
"Of course, my lord." The trainer bowed low.
Halfar returned to the arena to continue his observations of Kur. The story behind the young soldier's existent made him seethe with anger.
"Royal blood." His forehead creased.
War came soon after Rass and Kur were inducted into the royal guard. A twenty yearlong battle against another race who were on equal footing when it came to fighting superiority. In the end, most of his top warriors and generals were killed in battle so Halfar made a bold decision appointing the two rivals as his new generals. He also did this in part because their troops were one of the few left standing when the fighting ended.
With the interstellar council coming up, it would show his determination to keep Azrom's forces intact and that even the massive loss incurred hadn't lessened their reputation as one of the most feared races in the galaxy.
**~**
New Lassa
"Ten years," Chardon, the leader of New Lassa, sighed.
In female form, Chardon stood leaning over the window sill of her new chamber staring out at the fairly revived landscape. The Razznian battle ships that had invaded her planet left many sectors in ruins. To ensure the planet's survival, Chardon added insult to injury by using her powers to wipe out everything. The blast traveled like a wave across the planet, disintegrating plants, flesh and machine. Most of her race were saved from it by taking refuge in underground bunkers designed to withstand it.
She forced her dark blue eyes to adjust in order to see farther across the land. Off in the distance Jaron was scolding one of her manbeast children, Trinon who had to look down at his mother. She was an energy user like her but had a manbeast for a mate. Chardon's bodyguard to be exact. Trinon stood with that disarming smile on his face which infuriated everyone, even her.
A loud galloping sound came from the corridor outside her chamber and she hung her head in anticipation. Only one ball of energetic species made that kind of ruckus. The door flew open, banging against the wall.
Standing out of breath, black hair whipped around like snakes, was her own child Farin. He wore his usual black body tunic with cloak and shiny leather boots. His pale creamy skin and murky green eyes, which he inherited from his father, were in stark contrast. Nearly the same height as his mother, he was tall and beautiful at the age of twenty.
"Mother!"
"Yes, Farin?"
"I did it!"
Chardon turned her whole body and leaned back against the window sill. "Did what, Farin?"
He grinned. "I climbed the monolith!" Taking a deep breath and exhaling, he said, "And I did it just as fast as Trinon!"
So that's what happened. Chardon now understood why Jaron was chastising Trinon. Farin was not a manbeast but he did have shiny black talons able to cut through nearly anything. Because of their sleekness, he could never get a grip on the giant slate that stood as high as a mountain. All the manbeasts practiced on it. She could only imagine the damage done to its surface by Farin's exuberance.
"Is that so?" Chardon crossed her arms and waited.
She didn't have to wait long. Her bodyguard, and Trinon's father, Modas, came into the room looking none too happy. A quick glance at her followed by a short bow was all she got before he launched into his complaint.
"Your child sliced through most of the monolith trying to climb it," Modas said through gritted teeth.
"So I heard."
"We need someone who can repair it before it starts to shift from the cracks and collapses."
"Aren't you being overdramatic?"
"No," Modas replied. His teeth still clenched together. "I am not."
Farin's excited expression turned to dread and Chardon almost felt bad for her silly son. What made her not pay it any mind was Modas' behavior on the matter. He had been going off the rails lately and everyone made attempts to keep him in check. All nearly seven feet of his frame shook with indignation.
"I will see to it." Chardon pushed herself off the window sill and walked over to him. "It is a piece of slab, Modas, regardless of how many generations it has served your species."
That snapped him out of his current state and into one that Chardon found even more offensive: Disgust. It was a 'how dare you' look. A high pitched whimper from the doorway made the manbeast jerk his head towards Farin. Chardon saw the realization in Modas' eyes and was not surprised when he turned away and strode right out the door.
"Don't worry, Farin. You did nothing wrong. Come."
Chardon opened her arms and Farin ran into them. They stood in an embrace for a moment. When they released each other, both laughed.
Further down the corridor, Modas heard their laughter and fumed. He didn't find it amusing by any means. The monolith was one of the few things salvaged from their original home world and transferred to New Lassa. It had been a training tool for manbeasts for probably centuries, maybe even millennia. No one knew where it came from or how it came to be. Even their hated head scientist, Ganna, had no answers.
Up ahead he watched Trinon walk off away from his mother, unfazed by the lecture. His older brother, Mota, met him and slapped the young manbeast on the back in jest. They had no sense of pride for their history. Both only looked forward and cared nothing for the past. Modas eyes narrowed. They would have to face the past soon enough. His agenda was coming to fruition.
An infant appeared mere centimeters from his face and he stared into the pouty lips of his newly born grandchild who his daughter, Mara, held up proudly. The litter she had been born in had three beast and two energy users. She was, of course, not a manbeast so could never understand the plight of manbeasts but he loved her just the same. Grabbing the Lassian child from his daughter's hands, Modas lifted him up higher for closer inspection.
**~**
General Kur surveyed the palace grounds from his balcony on the fourth level. He swept his forest green hair off his shoulders and smiled at the progress that had been made. Ten years since the Razznians, attacked Azrom and the planet surface was still in near ruins. Rebuilding the inside of the palace was complete with the outer wall being the last thing project for repairs. Off in the distance, he could see the villages beyond the barrier wall that separated them from the palace. It angered him to see the suffering of his people knowing it all stemmed from Supreme Ruler Halfar's reign.
Their people should have been the first to be compensated but at the council's behest, Halfar made reparations of the palace in its entirety a priority over everything else. Kur found his judgement lacking in reason. The same happened when he himself was duped by the royal council into launching a coup against Halfar while on Earth. Instead of finding the root cause, Halfar had commanded Rass to dispatch him, without consideration for their history together. Knowing the cruelty of it and how it would sway Rass' decision it, Halfar had insisted. In the end, it only brought them closer physically and philosophically. Both were on the same page when their supreme ruler was involved.
Footsteps echoed behind him and he turned to see Rass strolling towards him, head down in deep thought. A tightening in his groin had him trying to restrain his urges. Rass aroused him often these days by just being near, especially now with his jet black wavy hair, now down to his waist, brushing against his hips as he walked. Those small pink lips pursed in frustration made Kur lick his own. Rass finally looked up and Kur straightened his posture.
"What troubles you, general?" Kur asked playfully.
"Halfar."
"Hmm. Is he opposing some random council agenda?"
"On the contrary, he's adopting one. It is to further restrict the royal families from the main sector of the palace."
"For what reason?" Kur was suspicious.
"No clue. I have a feeling something is coming and it won't be beneficial to our race."
"That is a given." Kur tilted his head. "Bond with me."
Rass's eyes went wide and he stared at him for a long time. "Why did you ask that?"
"Because I want you."
"Have you gone insane?" Rass seethed.
Kur stepped closer to him. They locked eyes. "No." He ran his fingers in Rass's hair. "I want you and no one else."
"This is not the time," Rass whispered.
"When will it be?" Kur snapped. He took a breath. "There is no reason to wait."
He watched the conflict on Rass' face then saw clarity. Rass sighed heavily.
"Then I will be yours."
Filled with a sense of relief and jubilation Kur grabbed Rass by the hair and kissed him roughly. He had waited so long to ask that he had feared it would be too late to claim him. Now there were no obstacles. Figuring out what the concept of love encompassed had given him a new understanding of his feelings for Rass.
"You do realize we cannot announce it yet?" Rass said when Kur released him from his grip.
"I know." All too well.
Halfar would not be happy. In fact, Kur figured there would be a sense of jealousy and that was the last thing he needed; Halfar declaring war on them out of spite. He used a thumb to wipe his moisture from Rass' lips then resumed viewing the palace project.
"What are you thinking?" Rass inquired, leaning over from the side.
"Our people are suffering, yet I am glad the palace is almost complete. That means we can focus on them soon."
"Don't count on that basis, Kur. I heard no intentions in the council meetings to ensure the care of our people outside the wall."
Kur turned to him and saw truth in that statement. The ones supplying the population with rations were the First Royal House and they would be the ones to deal with. This new restriction could be as a result of it. The council's and the royal's agendas did not complement each other.
"I am disappointed. We still have not resolved the issue of the Razznians on Earth either. Halfar says it is under control, but I am not so sure." Kur drummed his fingers on the ledge.
"Halfar could care less about Earth. The humans who worked for us are just keeping tabs and making sure the Razznians don't interfere in his organizations flow of revenue."
"I always hated that concept of currency. It is only one of three planets we know of that have it and those races always end up destroying themselves because of it." Kur grinned. "So, no revenge tactics?"
"He believes we have dealt a big enough blow."
"Has he forgotten the other part of the equation?" Rass raised an eyebrow at him. "The Dreridians. He advised us that a plan was in the works for holding them jointly responsible for the attacks."
"That plan," Rass stood up straight, "is no longer in play."
"The council," Kur snorted.
"They believe we have more important issues to attend to."
"Then, if the Razznians regroup and come back to avenge the devastation of their home world?"
"We would be wholly unprepared," Rass finished.
Small flickers resembling candle light shining in various windows of an old rundown building could be seen from the road. Nestled in thick brush amongst large trees, the place was in a remote part of town just on the outskirts of the city. A perfect hiding place for the illegal operations of some fifty employees housed inside: drug makers, drug runners and bodyguards.
As far as the state was concerned, the building was an abandoned shell with no electricity or active plumbing and he wanted to make sure it stayed that way. So far, they had been free and clear for over three years.
In the farthest room towards the back was a dingy little office set up with a metal desk and three chairs. Sars, Razznian commander and spy, sat behind the desk. His team of eight had fled captivity from the Azrom dungeons during the battle and opened a gateway to Earth. Over the years, he had brought more of his race to this planet as business boomed. He found illegal trade was the way to go and his only competition was Halfar's organization with its deep ties to the crime world.
Since his crews worked only at night, staying hidden from humans was not hard and now other aliens resided on Earth. The thing about opening the gateways is that others could possibly detect it. Unlike the other aliens who could blend with humans more or less, their reptilian appearance, scaly skin and lidless eyes, scared most away whenever they were actually seen. The ones who were a threat, his crew ate. Humans really were quite tasty but it wasn't about that. Razznian code was eliminate your enemy and eat what you kill. Leave no remains for ceremony.
"Sir," one of his subordinates called to him. His third officer had been on a handheld communicator with a colleague. They had opted for low tech, voice only ones.
"Hmm?"
"We got cops sniffing around again."
"Where?"
"Our second branch in the city. There's gonna' be a raid of the apartment building tomorrow night."
Sars snorted at the Razznian's speech. Many had adopted the phonetics of the region for good reason but it still sounded odd coming from a reptile. He had done some research on the Earth species similar to theirs and the human reactions to them since alien refuse had contaminated many of the waters on the planet. It made him feel good to know, even though not evolved, his kind were above humans on the food chain.
"Who tipped them?" Sars had a good idea who.
"One of those Shadow observers working with Halfar's organization."
"Still trying to get us off this rock, huh? Make sure it's empty. I don't want any casualties this time."
"Yes sir." He went back out into the hallway with his handheld.
Only twenty or so Razznians had lost their lives on Earth but Sars wasn't comfortable with any. For each soldier's death, another had to replace them. He kept a strict number of teams to ensure stability. Halfar ran his operation on Earth with an iron fist, inducing economic and physical fear. Sars liked to keep under the radar. There were rumors heard throughout the city about a brutal drug gang that even law enforcement feared and Sars smiled at that. No need to go out of your way to instill terror when it spread naturally.
Another subordinate peeked his head around the doorway. "This week's batch is complete and packaged up."
"Good. Get ready to move out. Rendezvous with the second branch. They are going to have to work on the streets for a while."
"Yes sir."
Sars stood up, as did his two lieutenants. They all wore dark red hoodies, dark pants and red sneaker boots. It was the best attire for working in the cloak of night. He usually didn't go out with the runners but from time to time he liked to keep tabs on how the operation was going.
"Kill the portables," he instructed.
The remote controlled LED lamps causing the flickers of light were distinguished with the push of a button. Throwing his hood over his head, Sars followed his crew out the door.
The city was alive for a weeknight which Sars translated into decent sales. He had expected a slow turn but was glad for the surprise. His first lieutenant, who had been with him since nearly birth, stood by him, a serious look on his face as he scanned the area for threats. After the infiltration of Azrom, his team had a new level of protection for him bordering on possessiveness in his book. At least one or more of them was never father than five hundred feet away.
Transactions were looking good so far. Each dealer was calm and smooth, making sure they kept their heads down so the buyer didn't accidently see their faces.
"Remember the first five years on Earth?" He asked his first lieutenant. The veteran soldier nodded. "We have come a long way."
"It's good we figured out after a year that we needed to be in a larger populated city. We nearly ate through that one sector."
"I'm surprised the government ruled it as an unknown epidemic and not mass slaughter."
"Mmm." his lieutenant replied. "It may be because the wounds were not from human or animal bites and once infected did appear diseased."
"That may be true. But there are other aliens on this rock."
"Yes, but they don't eat humans."
Sars glanced over at him. "Not that they know of." He decided to switch the conversation. "Any word on Razzna?"
"Yes."
"Why haven't you told me?" Sars exclaimed. He searched the soldier's face for signs of a good reason.
"The truth?"
"Obviously!"
"I felt it would distract you. We all want to go home but only a third of the planet is habitable at the moment. A sector furthest from the blast is almost ready but so much has to be rebuilt and being on the outs with the Dreridians means we can't negotiate terms."
Sars hissed in defeat. He knew it would come to this and he was still trying to come up with a solution. From the reports he had heard their ruler said as much. Since the deal with the now deceased Lassian, Sestis, went south leaving Razzna still in dire need, doing the bidding of the Dreridians seem optimal.
Sestis hated the manbeast of her race and brokered a deal that should have seen both sides happy. Halfar, on the other hand dealt a major blow by destroying the planet Lassa along with her. Being far more advanced in technology and commerce, the Dreridians agreed to continue her original plan with some minor adjustments. The successful infiltration of Azrom would have been payment for a new automated system for their mines. No need for the enslavement of Lassian manbeasts or any other race for that matter.
"I understand your concern. You're right. I will find a way to negotiate with the Dreridians. A deal that won't see us enslaved ourselves."
"And Azrom?"
"Oh, I'm sure Halfar has all but forgotten about us and the Dreridians. He will be in for a rude awakening. The Dreridians do nothing for free and when they do not get what they want," Sars didn't finished.
**~**
Azrom
The gateway's dark pool of stars rippled before turning into a black gaping hole. Light glowed from the center of darkness and four figures emerged from the vortex onto the palace platform where Halfar stood waiting to greet them.
His mate Chardon, their son Farin, her bodyguard Modas and his son, Trinon, stepped onto the roof. Halfar could not believe Farin was the same child. Now twenty years old, still a baby by Azrom measure, he stood at six feet with creamy skin and long black hair, stunningly beautiful as ever. Farin smiled wide and rushed over to him.
"Father!" His voice was still an octave too high for Halfar's liking.
"Farin," Halfar wrapped his arms around him and squeezed.
Chardon walked over to him, the two manbeasts following dutifully behind her. He could see a kind of tiredness in her eyes and knew it was from the stress of the invasion of New Lassa. Even Modas seemed deflated. Azrom was not the only planet the Razznians ravaged. Farin let go and ran off across the platform then down the corridor, Trinon in pursuit.
"He's in good spirits," Chardon quipped.
"Did something happen on Lassa?"
"No. He's just glad to spend time with you. It's not something he can do often."
"I know. We are still trying to fix things."
Halfar turned his attention to Modas still standing in quiet defiance. The manbeast and he had a mutual disdain for each other so they both just nodded in acknowledgement. If there was a way to get rid of him without death, Halfar had not found it yet. He caught Chardon's expression and motioned her to him.
"Come, bask in my arms." Chardon leaned into him as he gently folded his arms around her. "Are you well? I worry about you."
"Just tired trying to keep council members from murdering Ganna."
"That is a hard task." Halfar kissed her softly. "Why don't you rest for the remainder of the day?"
"I will."
Halfar saw Modas frown knowing he would not allow him to watch over Chardon in their personal chamber. He decided to give the manbeast a gift this once.
"If you could make sure she is not disturbed, I would be grateful," Halfar said to him.
Modas lifted his brow in disbelief. Halfar almost laughed at him but kept it in.
"Of course," Modas replied.
They left the platform and headed down the corridor to the main palace. Four royal guards fell in step behind them as they rounded the curve.
Azrom's colorful flowers were bustling atop high pedestals in every corner of the banquet hall. Halfar felt a wave of nausea hit him as he watched the royal families in full regal attire trying to impress each other, fawning over fabric and design. He scanned the hall and noticed the first royal house not participating in the spectacle. They appeared bored and as their first cousin, he understood their stance of just going through the motions.
At the center of the first house clan sat Romnus. Their fathers were brothers who fought for supremacy for nearly two centuries until Romnus' father's death in battle. Halfar knew that if Romnus had not bowed out of the fight for rulership, he would be Supreme Ruler at this moment and that alone made him wary of the first house's intentions. So far they were silent on the new policies he had proposed regarding segregation amongst the royal families.
Another of his cousins, Lord Chastan, was already drinking. His eyes leered at the lesser royal females. He came from his mother's side which is why his hair was dark blond with deep waves, worn short. Halfar remembered when Chastan had stared at Chardon with the same lust and it made his blood boil. The man had no shame or restraint.
One of his advisors, Dondar, came forward and whispered, "My lord, it is almost time for the appreciation ceremony. Shall I get them lined up?" Halfar nodded and Dondar alerted the guards with his own nod.
"Bow and address our Supreme Ruler!" The captain of his royal guard yelled.
The hall went silent and all in attendance turned to Halfar seated on his throne and bowed low responding with, "My Lord!" They stood waiting for him to acknowledgement their greeting.
"Resume," said Halfar waving his hand at them.
Halfar wished Chardon and Farin were in attendance but his council suggested otherwise. With the appreciation ceremony they advised it would look like he was flaunting the alliance of non Azromians. He found it a little insulting but obliged. There was no need for unnecessary strife during the rebuilding process. He barely heard the shameless drivel of his courts singing his praise as they prostrated before him.
"Well, that was a farce of a banquet," Chastan slurred.
Walking in stride together the First Royal House members made their way back to their palace. There were seven in all with two females; Chastan's sister, Kuhala and Romnus' half-sister, Reita. At the end of the banquet Romnus made sure they were the first to get up and leave by giving the signal with a glance. He kept watch on Chastan as he weaved down the corridor, the only thing stopping him from tilting over was being wedged between two bodies.
"It was quite informative," Romnus said. "I found it very telling how the third house prostrated themselves at Halfar's feet like slaves."
"Bottom feeders," Reita, scoffed. She stood almost the same height as him and was just as deadly in combat. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that hung down her back. "There is not one among them that can challenge us for the throne."
Romnus looked sideways at her and raised an eyebrow. Surely she wasn't implying that a call to overthrow Halfar was in order? If so, he would have to pull her aside and make her understand it is not something she can voice out loud. He too felt the same way but it was not time.
"I could wipe them out for you, cousin," Chastan said in a temporary state of lucidity.
"Of course you can," his sister, Kuhala, snorted.
"Let's just see how those new policies of his pan out," Romnus added.
He couldn't figure out the council's agenda knowing Halfar had not come up with the idea of segregation. Something was missing in the equation and he needed to find out before mayhem ensued. Why are you not ruling, cousin? Azrom's future bode ill at this junction.
Chardon could not keep her eyes open no matter how much she tried. They felt heavy along with the rest of her body. She had not been able to rest this well in a long time and it was long overdue. After a few blinks, she was able to open them narrowly without having to squint. A dark blur in the corner of the room cleared up, as her vision focused, to show Modas leaning silently against the wall. He was watching over her like he usually did.
"Why are you so far away?" Chardon whispered.
"I was instructed not to disturb you."
"You never have. And since when did you start taking orders from Halfar?"
"It was not an order, it was a request. He is not my leader."
Something about the way he said it sent a chill in her spine. He was not being himself lately. She watched him unmoving, brooding even.
"What is wrong with you? Why are you being so distant?" She snapped.
Modas looked up at her and his face scrunched up. "You wouldn't understand. It is an issue that only concerns manbeasts."
"Manbeasts are Lassians! So it does concern me!" The effort to yell made Chardon light headed and she closed her eyes. That mentality always infuriated her and she had no idea where it came from. Sensing Modas move closer she felt a little relief. He was her bodyguard from childhood and knew he would always be by her side.
Lassa 150 years ago
Trails of flowers were left behind the leader of Lassa and his mate as they walked down the pathway leading to the council chamber. Two field workers on either side of them scattered them in handfuls from a woven basket hooked over their arms. Up ahead, two council members waited at the arched entrance to greet them.
"They seem nervous, my love," his mate whispered.
"Of course. I like to make my intentions known."
"We do need a new bodyguard, especially for our young son."
"I am sure, the council and the manbeasts will comply."
The two councilmen bowed slightly and held their arms out gesturing towards the corridor ahead. Down further was the door of the council chamber. Once inside, they made themselves comfortable on the floor cushions at the end of the table. Off to their right was the leader of the manbeasts, with two of his subordinates, his large frame taking up two places. On the left were four council members.
"Midday is a great time for negotiations," the leader stated.
"What brings us together this day?"
"I have just come from the combat trials and saw a splendid manbeast take the title. Your son, Modas. Extraordinary."
"I thank you. He has worked hard."
The leader turned to the council. "I want to have him removed from the battle roster and placed in my entourage. I'm sure you can accept whoever was runner up."
"As can you," Modas' father retorted. "My son is fit for battle, not babysitting."
"I concur, leader," the councilman said. "We need strong warriors like Modas. Putting him on your detail would be a waste of talent."
The leader was taken aback by the display of resistance to his request. "I am not asking for your approval! I am the leader of this race and want my family protected by the best."
"You are not being reasonable," the second councilman started to complain.
"The answer is no."
They all turned to the manbeast as he said it and the leader saw a look of resolve on his face. He would not budge, that was clear. Angry but not ready to give up, the leader stood as did his mate.
"This discussion is far from over. I will get what is to be mine."
"My son is not yours."
As the leader left the council chamber, a wicked plan crept into his head. He smiled, kissing his mate on the forehead. Not yet, but he will be. There was a small faction of Lassians who had no love for the manbeasts and he knew they would assist.
Modas rushed into his family's outdoor chamber and quickly stripped off his robes. He was covered in sweat and soil from combat training. There was very little time for him to freshen up and head for evening meal but he made haste. Still young yet old enough for battle, he was not at his full height. His father assured him many times that he would grow another foot in the coming years. With no time for washing his mane, he pulled pieces of twigs and debris out, using his fingers to comb it.
Evening meal was a din of noise. Eight manbeasts, seven of them his siblings, were seated on cushions around the table as they grabbed helpings of the steaming meat and vegetables off the serving platters. Modas squeezed in between two of his older brothers and did the same. His father turned to him, their eyes locked.
"The leader made a request for you today."
"A mission?"
"No." His father took a bite of meat and chewed loudly. When he was done, he continued. "He wants you to babysit his family."
"And you said no."
"Of course he said no," his oldest brother yelled. "You are a warrior. We need you in times of battle."
"They have been getting less over the past few decades. Nothing extreme," his younger brother interjected. "Maybe he can be on standby."
The rest of his family looked at the young one and Modas nearly laughed. They were not sure if his younger brother was kidding or just naïve. He on the other hand felt both arguments were correct. Escorting the leader's family around was not ideal. There was no adventure in that. But, with not many battles occurring, he could see why their leader made the request. The question was, 'why me?' Modas couldn't help feeling there was an alternative motive.
"I agree, father. I am of more use on the battlefield."
His father nodded in agreement and the conversation was over. It was time to eat.
Tired from a battle, Modas, along with the other manbeasts, went to their chambers to sleep. It had been a short stint, lasting only a few days, but worthy opponents. Modas nearly faltered as he got closer to his bed. Their leader had congratulated his father with a small private meal and invited the family. He was satiated, full beyond reason. As his head hit the cushions, he felt his body grow heavy and he fell asleep.
Danger!
He could feel it. His body would not move the way he wanted as he tried to lift himself off the bed. With every fiber of his being, he forced his adrenaline to push aside whatever was coursing through his veins and catapulted out of his room. Screams, along with roars of battle cries rang throughout the chamber. His speed had been cut by half but fast enough to carry him out into the night air.
Blood splattered on him, covering his whole body and he stopped cold. A Lassian warrior pulled his longsword out of the deep diagonal cut it had made across his father's chest and the great manbeast fell backwards dead onto the ground by his feet. On the sides of his family chamber other Lassian warriors held back the manbeasts who had been awakened by the sounds. Modas could see their eyes were not focused and realized they too had been drugged.
With a howl that frightened the Lassians to halt where they stood, their mission complete, Modas attacked with a newfound ferocity. Within seconds he ripped apart every Lassian warrior in his vicinity, not giving them time to prepare themselves. As he cut the last one, ready to move on to the ones holding his fellow manbeasts at bay, four darts flew into his chest. Stunned he looked at them, stopping for a moment, but resumed his advance. Four more struck him in other parts of his body and with a thud, he hit the ground. He could taste the soil as it entered his mouth, his vision blurring as a Lassian warrior knelt down beside him.
"This is an atrocity!" The head of the military council yelled.
The meeting chamber was filled to capacity with angry Lassians. There was no doubt who had facilitated the assault yet there was nothing to be done about it now that their leader was apparently out of control.
"He will be assassinated for certain," one of his colleagues said.
"And I won't lift a finger to stop it!"
"How do we remedy this?" The head of the science council asked.
"We don't," he snapped.
Surprising them was the sound of the chamber door swinging open to reveal their leader standing in the doorway, his mate attached to his arm. He was smiling as if nothing had happened which they all knew he surely did.
"Councilmen! It is such glorious weather this day! Why are you congregating in the meeting room so early?"
A councilman moved towards him and another grabbed his arm to stop him. The two men met each other's gaze and the suppressor shook his head. Sitting back down, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The head of the military council looked up at his leader with disgust but decided to play his game.
"Have you not heard? A manbeast family was attacked and slaughtered."
"Oh?" Their leader raised his brow and feigned sadness. "How disgraceful. Obviously another manbeast clan over some dispute."
"That is the report from the Lassian warriors who went to assist in diffusing the situation."
"Were there any survivors?"
"One. The young warrior Modas."
"Is that so?" The leader stepped into the chamber and tapped his bottom lip. "Well, as leader of our race, I feel it is my duty to take the young thing in under my wing."
Another councilman's hands began to glow and his neighbor swatted it, also shaking his head. The military head was at a loss for what to do. The last thing he wanted was for Modas to be in the hands of the one person who had his family murdered. He looked around at his colleagues and was surprised to see nods of approval. Then he understood.
"Yes, that may be fair. You are obligated to do so, after all."
"Indeed. He will no doubt be in grief for some time and not fit for battle. I believe he would find solace in being a personal body guard to my family."
Silence engulfed the room.
"If that is all, you should really get out and enjoy the weather."
"We have to appoint a new leader for the manbeast council."
"Oh, yes. Then get on with it. Just don't take too long. The sun can't wait forever."
With that, the leader and his mate left the council chamber.
"For the love of Lassa!" A council member slammed his fist on the table.
"I know!" Another shouted. "I know, but we must remain patient."
"If he dies, his son becomes leader," the head of science spoke.
"That's fine, we can handle him when the time comes," the head of military stated. "He's still just a child and we can mold him."
"Then we let it run its course?"
"As we concluded, someone will assassinate our leader eventually."
"Hopefully sooner than later."
A sea of darkness engulfed Modas as he sat yet could feel movement around him. Tiny sounds filtered through every now and again but he paid no heed. An emptiness had swallowed him and he had no way of filling it. Images of his family's last meal together in their home flickered in fragments. He felt the stinging of tears, unable to wipe them away.
Hands. Small ones, soft and smooth, planted on his cheeks. They didn’t go away even when Modas forced his eyes open to see what and who was in front of him. Slowly, his vision came back, the light hurting his eyes and sitting in front of him was the leader's son, Chardon. His creamy slightly tanned skin and auburn hair appeared to shimmer. Blue eyes, dark as the sky at dusk, stared back at him.
"Don't cry anymore. I'll stay with you," Chardon said.
"What?" He asked. His own voice sounded like the crunching of dry soil and deduced it was because he was indeed parched.
Before he could recover, Chardon threw his arms around his neck and hugged him. When the young teenage boy released him there was a small smile on his face and Modas still didn't understand why.
"Come along, young Chardon," a servant called. She was by the doorway waiting for him.
Chardon stood up, still smiling, then raced out of the chamber, the servant following not far behind him. Modas was left slumped on the floor with tears drying as they streaked down his face. Another servant came over and set a bowl of food in front of him.
"Please," she said. "I know you are hurting, but you must eat. You need your strength more than anyone." The servant also laid a hand on his cheek. "This was a horrible tragedy but you must endure," she looked around her then back at him, "for now."
Modas eyes went wide as he watched her leave. Alone in the room he let his gaze scan the area. It was not much, just a small chamber with a window, a bed and a chair. The washing area was hidden behind a curtain along the side wall. His stomach growled like an angry beast and he finally took a closer look at the bowl before him. Using his fingers, he dug into it and ate every morsel, wiping the bowl clean.
Rage crept back inside him but this time, he suppressed it. For now. Those words echoed in his mind and the pieces locked together, making him determined about what needed to happen. I must bide my time. The right moment will come.
His vision blurred and the room tilted sideways. The food had been drugged. He did not fault her for doing so because if she hadn't, he might have gone and ruined everything. He needed to sleep this time, not be catatonic in a void of his own making. As he drifted off into sleep, he saw Chardon's smiling face.
On the grassy section of the leader's property, he stood waiting for the head servant to escort him into the family's main chamber. He wore a simple brown sleeved robe with a blue chi mere over it, fastened at the waist with a black sash. No more need for his battle robes and body tunic. If one did break out, he wasn't sure he could muster the will to fight.
He had to attend to Chardon and his cousin, Jaron, on most days, never really trying to know who they were as individuals. But, over the past few years, he had grown fond of them, Chardon more so than the other. There was a strange form of lust that emitted from the leader's son. Modas felt their species too different even though they were all Lassians. Something about that thought jarred him and he remembered the Lassian warriors who slaughtered his family. No, they were not alike in any way. Footsteps from the hallway behind inside the door made him turn.
The night before, he had gone to check on Chardon and found the young man sitting on his darkened chamber's floor stripped naked with a bed covering barely hiding the lower half. When Chardon turned, Modas realized it was not a young man, but a female who sat before him. The initial shock was broken by Chardon's voice, dripping with honey as she asked, "Am a just as pretty?" Her skin was flushed, the hair around her temple wet with sweat and he could only imagine what she had been doing.
Contemplating her question, he remembered the day before when he told Jaron how pretty she was and Chardon was in the vicinity of the conversation. He looked down at Chardon again and felt the stirring of desire within him. This is wrong. He swiped his hands down his face.
"Yes, Chardon, you are very pretty."
Sensing a presence in the doorway he turned to see the leader standing there looking down on his child with such disgust that he flinched. It was like he wasn't in the room, the leader's gaze was so focused.
"Kila!" the leader yelled. Chardon's servant came running and stopped cold. "Get that thing covered and made sure Chardon is back in male form!"
The stare moved to Modas and he saw it as a signal to leave. Hurrying towards the door he found the leader had somehow already left.
Now he stood waiting to be either praised or chastised, the summons not giving any details on which way the conversation would go. The head servant came out and gestured for him to follow. He had been in the family chamber only a few times, the first nearly a moon after the death of his family.
Most Lassian décor was simple with modest furniture and small vases of fresh picked flowers. The leader had a different flare. Too many colors, overly large furniture and flower petals everywhere. One day he had almost slipped on the floors from a cluster of them beneath his feet. Inside the main living area, the leader sat alone on multiple cushions at the low table.
"Sit," the leader commanded.
"I would prefer to stand. I must not be long, having to escort Chardon soon."
The leader turned and stared at him angrily but Modas didn't waver. He was not intimidated by the man and refused to show otherwise.
"We have a secret in our midst and it needs to remain so."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"Leaders are chosen because they are unchanging, resolved to their will and person."
Modas pursed his lips. Whatever the man was getting at, he felt threatened.
"That said, as much as I love my mate, her bloodline is tainted. It became apparent when Chardon was nearly twelve that he was a shifter."
Modas relaxed his face and inhaled slowly. That's all? He was getting a history lesson? The look on the leader's face said something else.
"No one," the leader yelled, "is to know about this! Not even our scientists!"
The volume of his voice raised flags of danger in Modas, especially when the leader got up and came so close they exchanged breaths, locking eyes with him.
"You think I don't know how you lust after my son and his cousin? A filthy manbeast drooling, wanting to covet the flesh of our elite? You will never," he emphasized the last word, "touch them! You'll never have them. What you will do is protect my child, always, even when he is leader. You swore an oath to my family and it will be honored."
As the leader stepped back and returned to his cushion, Modas' eyes narrowed. "I did make an oath, but not to you." He watched the leader move to get back up. "It was for Chardon alone and I will protect him, always." With that, he turned and left the chamber, tuning out the outbursts coming from the leader.
**~**
In the dark of night, on a hillside far away from the village, Modas held a meeting of manbeasts. He had set the date for it nearly a moon ago and only invited those he felt would benefit his cause. There were forty in attendance, all dissatisfied with Chardon's leadership and angry about the past transgressions of his father.
"I don't need to tell you that what is said here cannot be spoken outside this circle," he began. They nodded in agreement so he continued. "As some of you know, my family was murdered at the request of our leader's father." Loud murmurs resounded. "The cores of their bloodline and the Lassians who participated are tainted and must be eradicated."
A curtain of dark fell along with the absence of sound and Modas felt uneasy for the first time since setting his agenda in motion. He knew some manbeasts were not comfortable with the plan but it would be for the greater good of Lassa.
"I know some of you have mates who are not manbeasts, as do I, but we must be united as a race to ensure this does not happen ever again."
Lights formed on the trail below the hilltop and a group of workers strode by. Fearing what the unsuspecting Lassians may report, Modas twirled a finger in the air signaling his manbeast to disperse. He would have to set up another meeting soon.
Off in the distance, Talas stood with one leg set atop a large boulder as he stared out at the hilltop covered in manbeasts, Modas at the helm. He knew what the manbeast was up to and didn't need the earlier hint from Trinon. Sestis had told him the story of the massacre and was not surprised when Modas started to act strange. The version she told about manbeasts going on a rampage, killing Lassian warriors, did not add up so he filled in the gaps and came to the truth. Modas' vendetta was pointless and unjustified in his book. To hold something for so long against the dead and take it out on their descendants was something Talas could not fathom.
"Have you gone mad, manbeast?" he asked of Modas to himself.
Below him Trinon and Und were leaning against the rock bed he stood on. They looked up at him in unison then walked off towards their family chamber that sat two miles ahead of them. Talas shook his head in exasperation. Modas was making things more complicated than need be and he wondered what the manbeast hoped to accomplish. The outcome would be a fissure between every class and a distrust like no other. Modas would lose everything; his mate, his children, loyalty.
Talas turned away from the valley and headed down, carefully climbing the cragged surface the same way he had come up. Kelin was waiting for him when he landed on solid ground.
"Did you see what you came for?" He asked.
"Plenty. I fear the worst."
"Come home. There is nothing to be done now. Our little one is asleep but," Kelin smiled. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind being awakened and held for a while."
Talas smiled back. Being a mother and warrior was not something he had gotten used to yet. Then he frowned, thinking of Modas' agenda. He was endangering everyone, including children. This made Talas' indifference turn to anger.
Being found out was never a big deal for the Razznians on Earth because they were able to locate and then just eat the person who may report their location. The special task forces coming out of the woodworks were making it harder. Of course, these task forces were still no match for Razznians. Sars speculated it was Halfar's organizations doing the pushing since apparently aliens could sniff out others fairly easy.
"How are we doing on funds," Sars asked his first Lieutenant.
His unit met in the back room of a local dive they owned on the outskirts of the city. Humans rarely entered the place because the reviews cited the atmosphere as 'bloodthirsty'. Sars nodded in agreement of the tag while he waited for a reply. They have no idea how true that is.
"A little over four hundred million."
"Not enough. I believe Halfar controlled nearly a billion at the tail end of his so called tenure. No, we need to take a larger chunk of the tristate area."
"We do have an in to branch out into the other states across the continent."
"Not yet, too soon. Any new raids?"
"Two. We were able to hold off the task force and," he chuckled, "it is reported that they are too scared to try again. Some of the officers quit and others are traumatized, deemed unfit for duty."
"I guess that is a plus." Sars paced the room for a bit. "How much merchandise can we create in the next two weeks?"
"About twenty kilos?"
"I may be able to negotiate a buyer." Sars smiled. His rows of sharp teeth exposed.
"For that much?"
"Our product is addictive yet does not have the same harmful side effects as human narcotics. Yes, I know a small group who would love to have it."
His crew stared at him in awe and doubt. He understood why. It was a large order and they had four really good distributors who couldn't handle that kind of load. The plan was to get on equal if not greater footing than Halfar after he learned of what the Azrom ruler was up to on Earth. This new idea of his would put them closer to that goal.
"I believe we can accomplish all our tasks at hand in the coming years."
"How will this help us get Razzna back on track?"
"Alien species like to chemically escape too."
"Ahh!" His crew replied together.
"This will be a sample shipment then?" His second officer asked.
"But will they even negotiate with us?" His first lieutenant also asked.
"Dreridians are always willing to negotiate. As long as they get something in return." Sars saw his crew relax even in the face of the daunting task of making twenty kilos on top of what their distributors had already ordered. This will work itself out.
**~**
Lord Pondur, ruler of the Dreridian system, set his chalice down on the conference table. He glanced at his treasurer who in turn looked up at him.
"Payment is due, yet we cannot collect," his treasurer announced.
"And why is that?"
A meeting had been called after a decade of no response from the Razznians and it was brought to his attention that the coup on Azrom was part failure and success. Both planets suffered damage but Azrom sent a devastating blow to Razzna, an overly aggressive one. He was aware of both side's inability to fight fair but this had gone too far. When it disrupted commerce and the flow of goods, it affected his worlds and he would not tolerate it.
"At first, the Razznians seemed to have disappeared, leaving their solar system. There has been some activity on Razzna recently. It looks like they are only shipping in architects and scientists."
"That is not surprising. They need to find a way to sustain their race until Razzna's surface can be fully repaired."
"It has also come to our attention that New Lassa's surface was nearly destroyed as well, by their leader's own power."
Lord Pondur pursed his already thin lips, the crags on his face deepening. "I could never understand Lassians." He found it fascinating that they were able to survive and relocate after Halfar so selfishly sent a planet bomb, killing the world completely. "New Lassa, is it?"
"Who should we contact for barter, my lord?" The treasurer inquired.
"All of them."
"My Lord?"
"The Lassians, Azrom and Razzna."
"But, New Lassa had nothing to do with the original negotiations and Azrom was the target. I am not following the logic, my lord. Please forgive my ignorance in this matter."
"Simple. It started with that Lassian whore, regardless of her death. She did it on behalf of her race. Azrom has essentially stopped mining operations on Razzna, which means their minerals which only come from Razzna, are now a rare commodity. Of course, Razzna accepted the goods requested by Sestis and used them. So, all of them."
"Very good, my lord. I understand now."
As the treasurer leaned over his screen to do calculations, his head of science, Lord Greggor, entered the room. Lord Pondur saw him eye the hunched over figure at the table, questioning. Lord Greggor's skin was more cragged with deeper valleys in between and thicker yellow curved talons, his girth twice the normal size of their race. Lord Pondur wondered what the scientist was eating until he remembered past experiments involving other species. No need to continue that train of thought, he chided himself.
"Is the new treasurer doing well?"
"Hmm, he is learning quite fast but it will take some getting used to."
"My Lord," Greggor began, "we really need to send out a search unit for the Razznians. I have come up with a fail proof system."
"Have you? Then by all means, find them."
"And then?"
"Then what?" Lord Pondur watched his head scientist stare at him cruelly. "Ah. Well that poses a problem doesn't it?" He came around the table to stand in front of Greggor. "If we can repair Razzna, then it would be easy to barter a transfer of rulership. Temporary of course."
"One hundred years, maybe?"
"Sounds like ample enough time to get them back on their scaly hides and pay off their debts."
"What about Azrom? They seem to be angry at us for supplying the Razznians with the equipment. They think we had an ulterior motive."
"Which we still do."
"How about we charge them the same as we will the Razznians?" The treasurer asked. His slender frame coming up for air from gazing intently at his screen.
"Their ores are of high grade but I would not want to be ambassador on that decrepit rock for any length of time." Lord Pondur waved his hand in defiance.
"Azrom is going through a rough change. It seems there is dissent."
"Halfar will not rule for much longer." Lord Pondur retrieved his chalice and took a sip of his drink. "Didn't I prophecy this two centuries ago?"
"Yes, my lord, you did. Very observant of you."
Lord Pondur raised his glass and tilted it towards Greggor before taking another sip. "Let Azrom self-destruct first then we go after them for payment."
"May I, my lord?" The treasurer stood up.
"Hmm?"
"I think we should collect payment despite Azrom's troubles. We may not get it in a timely manner. Also," the officer paused, "it would further facilitate their demise making it easier for us to negotiate a rulership pact."
Both Lord Pondur and Greggor raised their brows at each other and made a small nod. Lord Greggor was the first to speak.
"Impressive."
"You may be worth more than I suspected," Lord Pondur addressed the treasurer.
"Thank you, my lord."
"See to it, then."
The treasurer sat back down and resumed his calculations. Lord Pondur smiled and Lord Greggor helped himself to a drink. It was going to be a prosperous century.