could pretend to be a whore. That's what Masutap thought as she stood before the gate leading to the fortress of the Highlord of the Eastlocal. Pretense was a thing she indulged in back when she'd been an ordinary woman, with ordinary ambitions. But as of now, things had changed. Things had changed drastically, for she was now a champion of the Goddess of Order. A champion who would do anything in her power to mock the very being that fed her power.

Power, yes. It was what she felt. Every time her eyes turned upon the world, she saw Order. Like bees in a hive, working towards a similar objective. Survival. Yes, they all wanted to survive. And that's where the power lay, in her ability to deny a thing's chance at survival, for when her eyes flashed red, things died.

"Pardon me sir." A man dragging a cart of coal said. She was standing in his way, she knew this of course, she'd known it since the time he'd decided to deliver the coal. She saw the strings of prophesy in the smallest of things, and oh what power lied in discernment, to see the past and the future in absolute clarity, the secret lay in following strands of Order. The Highlord of the Eastlocal always received a cart of coal at around this time every fifth day. He would serve as her witness. Coal. She smiled, remembering how Orgeeg had managed to penetrate into the Palace of Binoria, on a stack of coal. She recalled how Orgeeg thwarted her plans, then she remembered how small her plans had been.

"Pardon me... Uh lady?" She removed her cowl as the Coal merchant spoke. Her hair was longer now, she'd let it grow, it dangled askew of her ears. Dark and rich as her mother's once was. Masutap smiled at the man whose face was caked in coal dust.

"Today Shama dies! Tonight the Highlord of the EastLocal is no more!" Masutap said.

Twin daggers she had strapped to her waist were suddenly in her hands. The coal merchant stumbled back several steps, dragging the cart with him. The sun was dipping into the horizon, becoming a smeared red smudge upon the canvas of her perception. Her eyes flashed red, and the smeared smudge's light brightened, blanketing everything, making her see.

She spun and threw the dagger in her left hand. The knife whirled in the air and met the throat of a guard who was just cresting the upper walkway of the gate, he wore red leather that marked him as one of the royal guards of the Highlord. A shout sounded. The guards at the gate turned their attention to her. They were six of them, each of them dazed with the slow reception of understanding. The bubble they lived in, understanding it enabled her to see how blind humanity is. Like sheep, no wonder the Vigons ruled them so easily.

She was in their midst before they drew their swords from their scabbards. She drove the dagger into the throat of the first one, danced in a pirouette, thrust free the dagger and hurled it into the throat of another guard. Her hands were free, she curled her fingers into fists.

The Goddess Meena, Goddess of Order, spoke to her. What is the purpose of this?

"Oh, you'll see." Masutap said and drove a fist into the chest of one guard, her hand caved through the chest cavity, snapping the spine in half and emerging free of the Guards back. She paused for effect, the three remaining guards gawked at her. She pried her arm free of the corpse and met their panicked gazes. "Sound the alarm, you're too few to make me sweat. I need all of you. Gods! Come on you fucking cowards!"

Two of the three guards charged her, one took a swing at her head with a flat blade, the sharp edge missed her by a hair's breadth as she ducked. She brought up her knee and connected with the man's groin, raising him off the ground, legs held apart, face contorted in pain. He collapsed on the ground with a squeal akin to that of a dying rabbit. The other guard put on a stance of Grind, legs parted, right foot before the left. Knees bent. He brandished his sword before him, and the guard behind him ran off to sound the alarm. Masutap smiled.

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He slept on a bed filled with whores. Talisi women with their dark skin and white hair, Remu women with their sandy peppered hair and copper skin, Binorian women with their blonde hair and pale milky skin. He was their God and they flocked to him in worship. He owned all of them, from the frailest to the most able bodied. From the smartest to the daftest. They were all his.

The Highlord of the Eastlocal observed the head of the Talisi woman resting on his thigh, her breathing was deep, her dark naked breasts rising and falling with every inhale and exhale. Five other women slept around him, each as beautiful as the last.

Of all the men in the realm, I alone am the honored one. Shama thought. He caressed his bulging belly with his pudgy fingers the size of sausages. His appearance did pass as grotesque. Bloated, balding with a cleanly shaven head, wide of girth and bow legged. Yet, no man has conquered the bodies of women as he had done. Women who lusted after tall handsome men. Women who sought capable men with astounding intelligence. They all gave in to him, none could deny him and when they did, well, there were ways to make them yield.

An orgy at noon. That was the gist of it, and another orgy before the midnight bell. Life was good, life was beautiful. Shama had thought that after the death of King Vayin Vigon in the hands of the infamous Kolotian, Ishar, that his wealth will dwindle, that his status will come down a step. That the might of Binoria will be a fickle thing after their first loss at war. But of course, this wasn't to be. The Queen, Dahli Vigon, had received the blessing of Meena, passed down from her father. As long as one with the Jojoh Meena, the blessing of Meena, still ruled, then things will stay as they've always been. Dahli had taken over, ensuring that Binoria didn't fall into anarchy, ensuring the Vigon name remained revered. The beautiful blonde haired girl was now the most potent soul upon the realm. How he longed to have her in his bed, parting those pale thighs sinuated with muscle. She'd become quite the fair lady. And her presence oozed power.

Shama wanted her but a thought kept his desires at bay. She'd frowned at him at the recent Highlords meeting with the throne. Apparently, his tastes and businesses didn't bode well with her. The selling of flesh, that is what he partook in with the zeal of a drowning man reaching for a floating oar. Importing women from all over the realm, some came willingly, others reluctantly. But in the end they all came. Their dignity thrown away for the promise of gold vigons. They filled the whore houses and men flocked to them in throngs, lining his pocket with gold vigons

It was his inventiveness that brought him to the top, the Highlord of the Eastlocal was once a position few envied. But his eye, trained in the art of commerce, enabled him to transform the east of Binoria. Creating a network that not only benefited him, but also the crown. And in so doing, despite her frowns and her reluctance to treat with him, she still couldn't voice her displeasure. Dahli needed him, she needed him for the coin necessary to maintain her position upon the crown. To line the pockets of her Legions. She needed him, and one day he will have her. No woman can deny him, and if they did, there were ways to make them give in.

Suddenly, the twin oak doors leading to his bed chambers flew open. The Captain of the Red Guard, in charge of his safety, Shang, walked in. "Highlord." He said with a bow, the women around him stirred. Outside, a bell started ringing, slowly at first then with extreme vigor. Something is wrong. Shang's obvious panic was clear to see. The opened door allowed him to see several Red guards crowded at the door.

"What is the meaning of this?" Shama asked, his beady eyes on Shang. An inhuman scream sounded somewhere within the fortress. Shama's blood chilled in his veins.

"There's an intruder." Shang said while ravaging through the clothes on the floor. He lifted a red jerkin, two sizes too large, the right size for the Highlord. He threw it at Shama and the Highlord hastened to put it on. He ignored the bewildered looks of the naked whores.

"Intruders or intruder?" Shama asked as Shang led him out of his bed chambers. Another scream sounded, closer. The guards at the door, seven of them, crested around him as Shang led the way.

"A woman, she's alone." Shang said.

Shama gripped Shang's arm, halting him. "What do you mean by this? A singular woman causing... causing... this?"

"She's..." Shang hesitated.

"Speak! You fool!"

"She seems to be inhumanly strong and fast. I only saw her fight through a blockade of my brothers, without a sword. She tore my brothers— the Red Guards, to pieces." Shang's eyes became glazed, as if his mind was replaying the mayhem he'd bore witness to. Shama let go of his arm. The trembling was taking him again, starting at the soles of his feet, up his spine around his neck to his hands. It had been so long since he felt this, the animalistic fear confounded on the existence of an unknown, an unknown that sought to see him dead.

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"Captain, what is your course of action?" Shama asked.

Shang seemed to shake himself free of his trance. "We're going to take you to the stables, get you on the fastest steed and—" A scream echoed through the halls of the fortress of the Highlord of the Eastlocal. Checking everyone in place.

"What of provisions?"

"There's no time." Shang said. He drew a flat blade from the scabbard at his side. The Guards all around mimicked him, the rustling of steel could be heard, and there, at the Western end of the fortress, screams sounded.

Shang started a brisk walk towards the East end of the Fortress. His boots, soles lined with metal, clancked upon the ground. Shama shuffled close behind Shang, panting like a mare in heat. The Red Guards around him stole glances to their rear, sweat woven with fear formed a sleek mask upon their startled faces. And in those eyes Shama was able to weigh how dire matters were.

A shout sounded from ahead, bringing Shang to an abrupt stop. "How—" His words caught in his throat as a woman caked in blood and gore emerged from the bend linking the hallway they were in to another hallway that led to the stables.

She stood before them and spread out her bloody fingers at Shama. "Highlord, nice to meet you." She waved. "Say, I hear you can show a woman a good time and I'm in quite the mood for a good time tonight."

Shama trembled, the woman seemed vaguely familiar. The angles of her cheekbones , that nose, those eyes. She resembled Dahli.

"Moran and Jesul to me!" Shang commanded. Two of the guards behind Shama moved forward to flank Shang on either side. "Employ any forms, ensure I get close to her so I may employ the form of Awe."

Awe— the grappling technique that ensured the limbs were pinned. Shama saw Shang's ploy. He needed to contain the woman so Shama could move past them and head for the stables. Shama cursed himself for the design of his fortress that allowed for only one route to the stables.

Shang, Moran and Jesul raised their broad swords. One raising it above the head in a form of Rage, the other bringing the blade level with his face in the form of Pride. Shang lowered his blade and the guards flanking him charged, he followed close behind. The woman let out a cry that could only be translated as one of glee. She charged them.

Moran brought his sword down on the woman but she slid on her knees, allowing momentum to push her beyond the reach of his blade. Jesul thrust at her, raising his right leg and angling the sword downwards at her face. But the woman dodged, spun upon the ground on the small of her back and kicked Jesul's leg from under him. Jesul fell and as he raised his head he met with the woman's fist, there was a loud crunch as his face caved in. His hand let go of the sword as his body became limp.

Shang saw the opening and dived at the woman before she could stand. The woman spread her arms wide, welcoming. Shang pounced but instead landed on the woman's upraised knees, she grabbed his leather armor by the collar and flung him behind her and onto Moran. Both of them collapsed on the ground.

She stood up and smiled at Shama.

"Who are you?" Shama asked.

"I'm Masutap, the sister of Queen Dahli." The woman answered.

"Men! Turtle formation! Swords out, save the Highlord! Move you fools!" Shang said as he picked himself up from the ground behind Masutap.

The men around Shama compacted closer. Their swords pointing at Masutap who regarded them with a smirk upon her face. They inched forward, hesitantly at first, then with confidence as they saw their Captain pick up his sword. They all came to a stand still when the eyes of the woman glowed a fierce red, as if she held the Jojoh Meena. And Shama, the Highlord of the Eastlocal, trembled before her gaze.

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Intuition, the immediate cognition without the use of conscious rational processes. It was simple for her, she dodged the sword thrusts and swipes easily. She turned either way, always beyond reach of the blades, always within striking distance. Her strength was a thing of beauty, somehow her frail wrists held the power necessary to crush a throat and crush a throat she did. She didn't tire, she didn't require forms of combat. The power of the Goddess of Order coursed through her veins and with it came rejuvenation.

The Red Guards pounced on her, seeking to put in place the form of Awe. But their efforts were in vain, she side stepped them easily, always on her feet. She saw an opening and like a river emptying into the Rankf sea she took it, delivering a punch to the side of a Guard's chest, feeling as ribs broke and punctured the lung.

What is the purpose of this? The Goddess Meena spoke within her mind. An ever present being whose words sought to throw her off, to calm the tempest raging within her. Masutap didn't want calm, she wanted fire and brimstone, she wanted Binoria to burn so their precious Queen will rule nothing but ash. She decreed this with a war cry, plunging into the midst of the Red Guards. She kicked two, flinging them across the hallway. One thrust with his blade but she caught it between her arm and side, she twisted the blade free of his grasp, gripped the hilt and decapitated the man in one swift motion.

She parried a strike to her left, danced free of two thrust then brought the blade down onto a Guard's head. She felt as the blade bit bone and she wasted no time in pulling it free. What is the purpose of this? Meena asked once more.

Masutap took three steps back to widen her periphery. "An inferno." She said as she flexed her sword hand. Suddenly, the Guard who was definitely their Captain, reached into the mass of clustered Guards pressed to the wall, away from her. And pulled the Highlord free of the men surrounding him.

"Form a blockade!" He screamed as he tagged and pulled at the distraught Highlord, leading him towards the end of the hallway. The remaining Guards blocked her vision of them. Like a fool she'd been too enthralled by the battle, allowing the Highlord to slowly slip past her, cocooned in the safety of the Guards in their turtle formation. He was making clear his escape and somehow, this aroused her, blowing upon an ember lodged deep within her until it sparked.

What is the purpose of this? Like a parrot, the Goddess repeated her question.

"An inferno." Masutap answered and lunged.

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He was sweating profusely, his breath caught in his throat, causing him to choke on air. He followed Shang, feeling the Captain of the Red Guard's displeasure at his inability to keep up. They descended a flight of stairs, taking three at a time. He almost collapsed but the Captain steadied him.

"Not far now my Lord. Just at that bend before us." Shang said. They took the bend and ran clear of the fortress. The horses were just ahead, they rushed to them. Shama took delight in the open air. The stables were void of people, Shama wondered where the stable hands were. They entered the stable and Shang dragged him to the first cubicle on the right where a saddled horse stood.

Shama hastily climbed onto the saddle with the aid of the Captain. Shang placed his Highlord's feet in the stirrups and moved to flank the horse. "Lord." He said, fighting for solid ground that will enable his words to come forth easily. "It has been an honor to serve under you." Shama smiled but his smile proved too little a gesture to carry the weight or their current predicament. "Ride hard for the Capital, ensure the Queen knows of all that's gone down here. I will stay back and hold her for as long as I can." Shang concluded with a crisp salute. The Highlord nodded and with the guidance of his captain upon the horse's reins, they exited the stable "She is a good steed, see the mark of her coat? She can take you far." Shang said once free of the stables. A scream sounded from within the fortress, horrid in its guttural screech. "Go now my Lor—" Shang's words died in his mouth as an explosion erupted at the first floor of the fortress, stone parted, breaking as easily as a clay vase, the window panels and the glass set in place erupted outwards with the stone. Three figures tumbled free of the eruption, tangled in the air, twisting with the fall. They landed, the woman on her feet, knees bent and a fist pressed to the ground, the other two guards lay insensate upon the ground, their bodies a mangled mess. Shang slapped the horse's hide and Shama took of in a gallop.

The Highlord turned back, watched as the woman rose free of the debri and charged Shang. The captain employed a form of Grind but the Highlord's view was hindered by a sharp turn around the cobblestones towards the gate of his fortress. The blood and bodies upon the ground unsettled the horse, forcing its pace to be more hurried and Shama was all the more grateful for it.

She has the Jojoh Meena! Shama thought with awe as the horse broke free of the fortress in a quick gallop that had him bouncing upon the saddle. His thighs felt the brunt force of his escape but he could do nothing but hold on for dear life. This is what I'm reduced to, at the end of the line dependency thrives, in old age your children are those you depend on. I never thought I'd come to rely on anyone throughout my life. Yet here I am, depending on a horse to save my skin. He turned his head back and heaved a sigh of relief. The fortress was dwindling within his periphery, he had made quick his escape. Shama will live to see another day. And when the sun rises and sets, I will bring judgment upon the woman whose very existence rivals my own. Masutap. I will hunt her, she will know no safety within the realm, she will never know peace or a good night's slee— Something unnerved him. There, at the entrance to the fortress, a figure appeared. Following the path charted by his horse. She hopes to outrun my horse? He tilted his head back and laughed. There is faith and delusion and she seems to be enamored by both. To think her capable of outrunning a horse. What a fool what a— His thoughts halted when he turned back, his mouth dropped, his jaw hanging loose. Masutap was catching up, he did not know how but she was gaining on him. She'd been a speck in the distance, barely visible against the backdrop of the fortress. But now her features were getting more defined and her limbs, they were a blur as she pushed forward with inhuman speed.

Panic drove Shama into action, he kicked his heels at the horse's flanks. Willing it to go faster. "Run you fool! Run!" He was frothing at the mouth as the horse went downhill, cutting his view of the one in pursuit. He gripped harder at the reins and screamed, slapping the horse's neck. He looked back to see Masutap emerge upon the hill and start a quick descent after him. He thought about guiding the horse into the wilderness and thought against it seeing that a gallop won't be possible with trees in the way. His only hope was in outpacing her for surely, even one with the Jojoh Meena must tire. He hoped Masutap would relent, he hoped her bloodlust would have proved sated by the guards who'd met their end by her. He hoped that he would live to see the sun climb into the sky one more time. Darkness was setting in and suddenly thoughts of the sun and it's warmth sprouted a yearning within him that made him weep. He turned his head back, she was a hundred paces away. The horse was tiring, it's gallop lazed in vigor. This is the end then, all those afternoons spent indoors hosting orgies. I should have spent them beneath the sun, I should have spent them in the sun. He looked back once more, his horse barely keeping pace. The horse threw a shoe and Shama was flung off it. He tumbled onto the ground, his weight rested upon his twisted knee, the sharp pop of the joint led him into an anguished wail. The horse screamed, its fore limbs oddly twisted. The horse thrashed upon the ground and Shama rolled away. He felt weak, he felt defeated and most of all, he felt hopeless.

He lay there, watching the sky, the moon was up, barely half of it adorned the night. He wished it had been full, all those nights when he'd regarded the sky as one would a thing of no consequence. Now he found himself wishing he'd appreciated it more. In the end regrets rule the mind, for in its dying wails no sound of gratitude can be heard.

She came and stood above him, her face blocking the view of the sky. She breathed loudly and for a moment the only sounds around them were from the injured horse and her.

"Dahli will come for you." He opined despite the throbbing pain within his twisted leg.

"Shama, darling," Masutap said as she lowered herself to lie beside him. She chuckled. "Darling, that word. The Goddess Meena loves that word. She uses it a lot. I find it distasteful yet here I am. Calling you darling."

"I have not time for pleasantries." Shama interjected. "Cut my throat and be done with it."

Masutap sighed. "That's not a creative way to kill someone you know. No, how many women have suffered pain beneath you? I have to give answer to that and that means a show. I will drag you to your fortress, there I will strip you naked and castrate you. I will feed you your cock as the women whom you took advantage of watch. Then we'll douse you in Rankf Oil and set you alight."

Shama started weeping. And a new voice joined the fray, he wept, she heaved and the horse screamed.

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