Chapter 16

A stirring beside Arthur woke the young man as his consciousness emerged from a dreamless sleep, his eyes heavy, body—sore in ways he’d never imagined it could be… The mind had been willing to see him through most of the night, but the flesh, the flesh was so very weak… yet, so depraved was the comforting heat, the softness of the valley in which his head was tucked between that, in all earnest, he wasn't sure if he’d actually given up the ghost and gone to heaven… He’d never understood those few friends he’d had with a mothering fetish, but, given that this bliss he found himself in wasn't far off from what they’d described, he thought, just a little, like he could appreciate some of the associated benefits. His hands pushed into the gently heaving mounds of flesh that engulfed him to the wrists, snuggling in against the—largest pair of breasts he’d ever personally seen… The fact that he had first-hand knowledge that the damned things seemed to defy gravity itself just made it all that much… harder to come to terms with… But, to be fair, drooping likely wasn't something an individual as—built and strong as Dianna—probably had to worry about…

Ultimately, he decided he didn't much care if he was alive or dead, cuddling in deeper into the furnace that was the demon's enormous rack as his face was enveloped by wonderful mountains of flesh and a subtle but pleasing scent that felt so strangely comforting and safe. It was the smell of her. Of her sweat, of her skin, her natural aroma that always seemed to have his head spinning with desire just to submerge himself deeper into its intoxicating allure. At his actions, the other person sharing his sheets shifted again, a long and contented breath following a—familiar tightening around his body that pressed him even closer to the sweltering form that had him melting in her embrace. They held each other there for a time, neither seeming willing to break their union apart, both luxuriating in their partner's presence, though, as it was said, nothing in life lasted forever, and soon, despite the peace and serenity offered, a loud growl and associated rumble stemming from a chiselled stomach that pressed against him, broke the mood.

Arthur grinned; honestly, he couldn't help himself, gently pulling away to spy a beautiful but alien face, slightly flushed but grinning at him all the same. Her jaw was carved from marble itself, defined while still feminine, cheekbones high and imperious, helping frame a bewitching face that—still had Arthur bewildered by its sheer ability to enchant his every thought… It didn't matter that the nostrils of her partially slitted nose were different, nor was it so strange to see those gleaming razors peak out at him with a smile, just barely hidden behind full and—delicious lips… He found himself just—watching the woman sharing his blankets for a time, studying her every hypnotic detail as though meaning to burn it to memory, uncaring of the way one of her silvery-white and perfect brows raised at his attention.

Before this point in his life, he’d never thought he’d be so thoroughly enthralled by there mere sight of a pretty face, but… there it was… He supposed, from this point going forwards, Arthur was a willing demon fucker, enamoured by someone of a species not his own… A betrayer to humanity! And one that was going to start actively seeking a means by which to create an offshoot species, just as Dianna had suggested.

“I’ll go get started on breakfast then; any requests? Steak and eggs, maybe?” He suddenly asked, separating to begin some light stretches.

“You're going to feed me more steak?” Dianna murmured, drawing her words out while looking at him with a decidedly odd expression, one that waltzed between hope and self-conscious exasperation. “I kept you up most of the night, hardly let you get a wink of sleep when I really got going and now you want to get up before I do and cook something like that for me?”

“It's not hard, and, honestly, I feel like I’m the one who owes you for tapping out early to begin with… plus…” He added, grinning as his hand reached down to cup, then squeeze a rather full handful of the demoness's heavy and sculpted rear, “We’ve got to feed your muscles.”

Dianna scoffed, batting away his massaging palm before forcing her tongue down his throat as she dove at him, enjoying the way Arthur seemed to surrender as she rolled him on his back, claiming him and showering the human with her appreciation. When she pulled away, her mate had that dreamy, dumbfounded gaze on his expression, which she was quickly coming to enjoy seeing on him; nevertheless, she held him by the jaw, forcing Arthur to meet her eyes and come back to reality. “Last night was wonderful, don't think I didn't enjoy it, Arthur. Honestly, it was absolutely the best sex I’ve had in a very long time, even if It ended before I wanted it to.”

“You'd of had us up until the break of dawn…”

“And probably longer. I’ll have to speak with my sister about Tulla when we finally get you strong enough to—keep up and send the child to her aunts for a time… its something we can work on together, as a team, just like you rather aptly put it last night.”

Arthur—swallowed as he held the demon’s gaze, hesitant as she looked at him as might a predator ready to pounce. Break him, she all but had… that said, he’d be a—liar if he even tried to convince himself that lasting longer with the colossal demon wasn't what his heart most desperately desired. It had all simply felt far too—unreal… and he’d loved every minute of it. He’d even lost count of how many times he—finished inside of her. In all honestly, he’d need to invent this world's version of Viagra if he had any hope of fully satisfying the monster in his bed—or, maybe, figure out if there were oysters in the northern waters he’d spotted.

Sadly, his mind, trained as it was, wouldnt let him simply lay in bed all day, and, as Dianna had said, there was the Tulla problem. Not that the girl was an issue in any manner beyond their more—explicit time together, but to leave her alone was—unfair. So, with a sigh, Arthur rose, naked and aching more than just a little in the pelvic region… his body—covered in bloody scratches and bruises just from the demon manhandling him as they coupled. He could see Dianna’s smirk as he tried to take a few steps, only to stumble as his legs gave out. Her tail lazily swishing out to catch him and hold him upright as he regained his balance.

“Stop laughing.” He demanded, though the grin on his face betrayed his otherwise irate tone.

“Make me.”

“Oh, that's it, you're going to get it tonight… a massive part of my people's entire culture revolves around sex; I'm going to ruin you and turn the tables so utterly you'll be begging for me to go easy the next time.”

“We shall see, little man, and just so we are all clear on the point, I haven't even bit you yet.”

Arthur—shivered at the thought, Dianna’s rather impressive razors gleaming as she grinned at him, a curious sheen emerging from the tips of her fangs. He remembered what Kilk had said the other week and suddenly reevaluated his short-term goals in the bedroom. Maybe, just maybe, he should allow himself to—cede this little competition before it got out of hand.

“Never!” He vehemently growled in the confines of his own head. He would extract sweet justice for his creaking hips, even if he had to shatter them to do it! It would be unpatriotic to do anything less!

Arthur yawned loudly as he stood outside in his shorts, grilling a heavy slab of meat on his RV outdoor barby while enjoying the morning ambiance of sizzling breakfast, chirping birds and a gentle breeze. The meat was—fresh enough, leftovers from the hunt he’d kept in his personal storage space. As it happened, it was far better at preserving food than even his fridge, which was why, as Tavir had mentioned, they tended to be rather—expensive so far as commodities went.

Was he feeling overpowered? Well, pending who was asked, the answer was a rather ambiguous shmayby… Sure, he could have any card he wanted and by extension, any power he could think of, but the potency of said cards was minimal in their most basic of states. He really needed to pick on a slew of creatures with a little more worth than the poor critters of the grasslands around him… already, he had witnessed the revolving issue of quality and quantity. Worse, not all soul cards reacted in the same manner when being—for lack of a better phrase, upgraded. Take, for example, the translation tarot he’d made for Tulla. That had required more than three dozen voracious eaters as a sacrifice just to get the bloody thing from what Arthur was tentatively naming iron rank to a mere one star into bronze. As he understood it, there were five known ranks to which soul cards could ascend, starting with the lacklustre gray iron all the way to what Cassie had called prismatic. The means by which one could tell how far along said cards progress in any given ranking steming from the count of stars just below its name.

At bronze, one would see bronze stars and a similarly coloured title; at silver, silver stars and a silver title. The pattern continued through gold and towards its final stage, though, as Arthur had been made to understand, prismatic was something close enough to a legend that it was rarely seen. Gold was considered the peak for even the most dedicated or talented individuals amidst the Lacunae, and even then, it was supposedly uncommon to encounter someone with more than one or three of them, given the whole system's somewhat problematic and exponentially diminishing returns.

The issue, as Arthur had learned once trying to further enhance Tulla’s new card once it hit bronze, was that each successive upgrade cost considerably more soul stuff than the last, a throttle of which was only compounded by the eventual elevation of rank. Iron cards were rather easy to improve, bronze as well should one be intelligent or skilled enough to push their way through it, silver being the known plateau of power for the upper echelons of citizens through their lives, with gold being, as it was said, the gold standard of capability and quality. Curiously enough, as it happened, these cards were also what existed amidst the many densins of the universe as an almost universal standard of currency. Though, as previously stated, things often got shiesty when trying to gauge how much an individual soul was worth given the value of a particularly rare card could be wildly in excess of its rank.

For Tulla’s translation tarot, it had required, as he had measured it, no less than forty-four iron-rank soul cards of various rank to get it into bronze. For his time manipulation card, Arthur had dumped thirty-two damned souls into it and had only been rewarded with three irons for his efforts before giving up. The increase in effect from his experiment was as negligible as the decrease in cooldown had been… but it once more offered Arthur a valuable lesson to keep close to his chest.

There was a sort of rarity system at play that wasn't actually observable but, without question, empirically existed; the more—absurd the soul card was, so far as capabilities went, the harder it was to empower, while, by comparison, something so simple as a translation card seemed to be entirely within the purview of reasonability. Though, that didn't mean he was shit out of luck, as though many peoples simply took iron and bronze rank tarots at a generalized value typically accepted by most vendors and citizenry, unique cards, ones that offered in-demand abilities, powers or secretive knowledge, these were what could make an individual wealthy beyond compare, even if they were of the lowest rank, or, so the demons had explained to him. In theory, Arthur could set himself up as a trader and strengthen himself without ever having to set a single foot near an adversary… if such an eventuality was what he desired… But, quite frankly, he wasn't sure if he really had the urge to do so…

Already, he had a—request from Tavir to meet with him in the near future to speak about the best way to monetize his new brother-in-law, and after explaining the situation to Cassandra, he hadn't missed the gleam of greed in the older woman’s eyes that shone line starlight… He would have to lay some ground rules… otherwise, he didn't doubt he’d be milked like a cow that squirted chocolate… It wasn't their fault, as he’d of likely thought in a similar manner as they back when he was still poor and destitute during his senior year but, that didn't mean he was going to let himself be strung up from the ankles and shaken until all his change bounced on the marble.

Arthur was about to transmute some chicken eggs with magic, still finding they played a close enough part to the real thing when, from behind, a familiar warmth wrapped around his waist, pulling him backwards and against a much larger body than his own whose hands also moved to surround him as well.

“Wife.”

“Mate.”

“Tulla up yet?”

A long sigh escaped Dianna’s lips as she leaned down behind him, putting no inconsiderable amount of weight on his shoulders while kissing him on the top of his head. “No.” She muttered, a flare of annoyance dripping from her voice. “She’s been getting lazy as of late without me around, that much is clear already, not that I blame either of you for it, the girl probably needed some time to be a child—but…” Dianna paused, forcibly spinning Arthur around until she was looking down at him, eyes locked on his own. “I fully intend to balance her newfound amenities with as much training as I deem necessary for her, I will not allow the child to grow up soft like city brats, is that understood?”

“You want my word that I won't spoil her too badly and advocate against your parenting?”

The demoness sighed as she flicked his forehead gently but with enough force to make the young man blink. “No. I want your help; Tulla is a—force of personality. Push her without a meaningful threat, and she won't bend, command her, and she might agree at the time but will undoubtedly piss off at her earliest convenience. Part of the issue is my own fault, and I’ve already come to terms with this. I raised her to never back down and taught her how to fight since she could walk; being raised in the legions didn't help, of that I'm sure, and though she had discipline at school with the other children while we were on campaign, my—retirement has left a sizable gap in her day to day lives structure that we have all found difficult to deal with.”

Arthur nodded his head, slowly but surely, turning to flip the meat behind him before voicing a few questions he had rattling in his head. “First.” He began, putting his thoughts in order. “Why isn't she still in school? I was led to believe bal were educated until they were early adults.”

“We are, but there are no academies beyond imperial cities, and as I'm sure you've noticed, civilization isn’t exactly nearby…”

“Then why live here? Why not move to a city and put her back into the curriculum?”

“I—considered it…” Dianna mused, moving to lean against Arthur’s RV as she spoke and causing the whole thing to actually shift from her weight. “However, I am not rich, Arthur, and while an education is free, apartments are not. Nor is food, or clothes, baths, or anything else really. I had Tulla while employed by the legions, and, while employed, the legions took care of us, but I chose to take the early retirement with Cassie, Tavir and the others because I was seeing what that life was doing to my daughter; thus, I do not have a pension to rely on but instead rights to land from which I can support myself. I am not a seamstress, not a baker or even a farmer. I am a soldier, a killer; it’s what I’m good at, what my chosen profession entails, yet I cannot make the most of my talents while also trying to keep my little girl from making worse mistakes than her mother.”

“So… you've been home-schooling her with Tavir and Cassie?”

“An odd turn of phrase, but, aptly put, yes. The issue, as I’ve stated, is that Tulla is rather smart, even for her age. She does not want to spend her days learning now that she’s had a taste of freedom from it, and getting her back into the routine has been a—flicker of delving towards insanity itself.”

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“Because you're not a good teacher?” Arthur asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

“I am an excellent teacher, so long as the focus of study revolves around war. And, as it happens, Tulla didn't fall too far from the apple tree in this regard; trust me, she is small but also talented at killing things for her age.”

Arthur thought back to the day he and Tulla were hunting the wild yaks in by the lake and subsequent slaughter of Tricen… Tulla had indeed been a little—over zealous about the whole thing; more, Arthur couldn't deny the look of—blood lust the small girl had exuded while tearing through a force of poor creatures like a reaper of death, laughing in a strange moment of bonding with her adoptive father as they both gleefully commanded his swarm of robots to annihilate their lives. True, looking back, Arthur did see how such a situation might be misconstrued as the work of evil or sadistic tendencies, but, at the moment, it had been sort of—fun, almost like a game—almost… After all, it hadn't been like the creatures were gentle pacifists… but, still, he’d reflected after the fact and, well, would have probably felt worse if he hadn't used the demons like living backpacks and had them bring all the meat back to the village. However, he would be remiss not to remind himself that she had actually won their competition, a little killer indeed… Again, it might have been weirder if they didn't drop their souls to be consumed in the process of it all, which, again, helped lessen the sting that was Arthur’s conscience, berating him for being a right and proper bastard. Yet, as Dianna had said the other night, his utopian values were worth little to a realm that was universally raised to understand that killing was a direct path toward success…

In the end, he shrugged away his misgivings for it all. He’d already come to terms with the fact he either needed to adapt or, become the stepping stone for someone else to grow in strength. “So.” He muttered, chewing on his lips as he did so. “What exactly is it that you want for Tulla?”

“Before you arrived? What any mother wants for their child. To learn, to get a good job within the imperium, preferably one she enjoys, and to live a happy life doing what pleases her. Though, I will admit that you are a variable that has made me reconsider how it is I should be approaching this enevitabilty.”

“Because…” Arthur drawled, letting his voice stretch, “I have the power to let her actually be whatever she wants in a far shorter span than school would allow her?”

“Yes, actually, good; I’m glad we're on the same page.”

“That’s—not honestly that great of an idea, you know?”

“I disagree.” Dianna countered without skipping a beat. “Tulla has had a—condensed education for her age. She’s grown up among people who are much too mature for her natural growth and, as such, has forced her to mature unnaturally. She’s propelled herself to keep up with the crowd simply so she wasn't left behind. She understands mathematics at a near-graduate level before she might be ready to take on an apprenticeship, her grasp of language leaves nothing to be desired, and though she’s not the best at magic, neither is her uncle nor myself, and she doesn't seem to have a terrible interest in it, which, is a—concession I am willing to bend on. My hope is that even without the proper documentation stating that she has completed her basic education up to imperial standards, she will not need it, considering her father can, as you said, let her flourish in her own way.”

Arthur—thought on that for a moment, honestly without words as he tried to digest what Dianna had just said. So, he began cooking again, cracking magically transmuted eggs into a magically transmuted pan, adding magically grown onions, peppers, mushrooms and bullshit salt that was crisper than what one could get from any organic market… Which of course, was created from… nothing. Okay, maybe not really nothing, but surely magic didnt really count when presented with the glaring double standards so evidently on offer. It put into perspective just how—ridiculous the idea of it all was. Here he was, making food from the absurdity that was his experiments and trying to find fault with Dianna’s opinion simply because he—what? Thought a medieval world’s version of a high school education was important? Sure, if she’d been enrolled in some sort of—Hogwarts, then that would have been worthwhile to champion, but if she already had a grasp of whatever the imperium considered its standard for math and English—or, bal… whatever their language was, then, what was the issue here? And what the hell was he even championing in the first place? If she wanted to be an engineer, then Arthur could make her cards that would trebuchet her understanding over any wall she might find in life. If she wanted to be an artist, then she’d probably be the best-damned artist in the world if he helped her along… More, there were the skill books to consider, new ground as they were…

He sighed. Truth be told, in the end, Arthur found he cared little for this new universe beyond his small place in it, and if she wanted to follow in the footsteps of her mother and murder enemy soldiers until her little heart was content, then Arthur would make sure she was the next damned demon queen made manifest. He could give her the world… but would she respect it all?

“You know… your not wrong…” He offered, nodding along with his thoughts as the scent of breakfast perforated his nose. “I could make her stronger than anyone might ever imagine… or the best professional in any given trade she might desire to enter—but, you know… she won't appreciate her abilities in the same way she would if they were earned… Cheating while effective doesn't do much for one's sense of accomplishment… or personality for that matter.”

“Who said I won't make her earn it?”

Arthur turned, his expression shifting to surprise as he saw the almost malignant gleam in Dianna’s gaze. The sight made his heart thump a little quicker with apprehension and, strangely, a stirring between his legs… His very confused instincts warring with his better judgement over the predator and wife that stood above him. Should he be terrified? Should he be horney? Either and or both? God damn! But was it difficult to deal with!

“She told me about the skill books in the bath Arthur.” She continued, all but purring in his ear. “I hear she’s already an accomplished novice when it comes to runecraft… a surprise given where she was in her magical studies not long before I left.”

“Heh… we—did do something along those lines…” For—whatever reason, Arthur found himself gulping as Dianna moved closer to him, danger and seduction combating each other to offer him a confused perspective on how he should be feeling… It was entirely paralyzing, his usual ability to quickly discern how he should react in any given situation—stymied by the twin and masterfully manipulated arts of fear and corrupting temptation… Arthur felt the demon's scent fill his nose, overpowering the food still sizzling behind him, his eyes growing—distant as his entire world was filled with the enchanting goddess looming over him… fuck… maybe he’d been too quick to pass the last time this had happened off as a random occurrence… Because Arthur was fairly sure he was getting suffocated in freaking pheromones! Again!

“If you can make my little girl a mage overnight, she can be anything, can't she?” Dianna smiled, grinning down at him and causing him to gently bob his head until the movement was arrested.

When had the demon’s hand gotten hold of his jaw again? Arthur honestly wasn't entirely certain, lost in the hypnotic advances of the woman before him who seemed to be learning far too quickly how to deal with his suspicious nature in a—creative way. “In theory,” Arthur allowed, the firm grip on his face relaxing to let him speak. “But again, will she respect what she learns like that?”

“Oh, my love, are we not a team?” She cooed, tone saccharin sweet and grinning delightfully as she spoke. “You just need to help her along with whatever her heart desires; and I shall take care of the—respect.”

“Uh huh…” was all he managed to get out before he found himself drawn in and smothered at her chest.

“I shall ensure both of you understand and appreciate the value of hard work whilst you, as my daughter put it, cheat your way through magic. And, what better way could I possibly reinforce such notions as—genuine effort and responsibility than what I am my very best at?”

Arthur was beginning to get a sickening feeling that stemmed from the manner in which the demoness's voice began to darken with menacing promise. The young man, unable to so much as squirm from his admittedly pleasant capture as he asked in a muffled voice, face literally stuck in her chest, “D-Dianna, did you mean to say you'll ensure that both of us understand?”

He never got the reply he was hoping for…

Tulla woke with a sybaritic groan, rising from her serendipitous den of voluminous blankets and pillows like a queen most deserving. She had to roll just to get out of bed, so large and so soft was its surface that few would ever likely truly understand the pains she had to suffer in pursuit of ultimate comfort. Yes, young Tulla was living quite a life of excess. Brilliant meals provided for her three times a day: snacks, sugared refreshments, naps, cartoons and books about magic that mysteriously offered unto her the entirety of their lofty secrets with but a touch of her hand. Royalty could only be so lucky. She stretched, yawning without care towards the time of day or cultured decency, scratching herself with shameless abandon as she drifted towards what should be tantalizing smells but were strangely absent all the same…

Hmm, maybe her father was late in rising as well… though icky to think about, she hadn't been obtuse to the—sounds her parents had been making throughout the night. Thankfully, they were focused enough upon each other that neither had bothered to check in to see if she’d actually been sleeping; thus, a night filled with cartoons later and, Tulla was feeling satisfied like never before.

A sudden howl of what almost sounded like terror resounded through the house as a familiar crashing and rhythmic thumping ensued from somewhere behind a closed door. The noise causing her to freeze like a startled cat, eyeing the direction down the hallways\ with—uncertainty… Idly, she wondered if she’d get a little baby brother or sister with the way they seemed to still be going at it—though she did pause to offer her father a small prayer of good wishes given some of the—distressed sounds he made and apparently continued to make…

Oh well, it was no real bother; Tulla just so happened to know Arthur liked to keep leftovers in the fridge. A short time later and several cries for help which were promptly ignored, Tulla left her dishes at the table and wandered off to the bath. She wasn't about to go try and pry her mother off of Arthur, and it wasn't even like she could get very far with such a goal to begin with, so she just left it up to her mom’s good judgment. She wouldn't kill him—probably…

Life was—good for the pampered young lady, and she rather agreed that it was well deserved considering everything leading to it. For once, she was getting a sense of what her mother's and aunt's childhoods had been like living in polite society rather than slumming it with grizzled and surly veterans whose idea of a good time boiled down to gambling and playing cards. Barbarians, the lot of them! Never again would Tulla allow herself to be subjected to such feral company; she would be a noble young lady. Wealthy and powerful of influence and magic, someone who was important, the center of a prestigious organization perhaps… yes, yes, she rather liked the sound of that… She’d have a rich mahogany desk in which she could sit behind, bellowing orders at her subordinates while controlling her army of machines that would do her bidding without a moment's hesitation… Hm… she’d need a larger house, and servants, and baths, oh so many baths! Yes, no more foul and stinking bal like the village! Oh no, she would have rules. A bath twice a day so she would never again be subjected to the stench of sweat! Everyone required to wear the brightest and cleanest of linens so as not to befoul her sacred abode!

“Oh Fuck! Dianna, p-please!” The screaming that she’d so far managed to ignore finally reached a despairing crescendo in which Tulla opened her eyes a fraction, staring through the delightfully scented bubbles in slight puzzlement, gaze focused towards her house, which had suddenly gone disturbingly quiet…

That last outcry had sounded positively heinous in its primal instinct… Her mother hadn't just—murdered Arthur by accident, had she? No… he was too wiley to die in such a depraved and, likely, embarrassing manner—yet, some of the man's cries had nearly been concerning enough to invoke a spark of fear for the man… P-perhaps, after her bath, despite how gross it was, she’d go and check in on the pair, knock at the door and see if anyone needed ugh—medical attention and the like…

A shadow abruptly appeared in the water not long after her uncertain musings, stretching out in the shape of a familiar figure that had suddenly manifested behind her like a wraith in the night. Tulla froze, every instinct standing on end at the scent of fresh blood, adult fun and baleful intent that radiated from behind her, spread through the air like a ghoulish miasma... She only had a moments instant to squeal as she felt something wrap around her ankles with blinding speed, dragging the screeching girl bodily from the realm of massaging jets until she hung limply in the air, her face coming within a hand’s breadth of her mother who was grinning at her in a most unpleasant way…

“Ugh…. h-hi mum…” She squeaked, sensing the imposing woman's mood as water trickled down her form, small rivers pooling back into the bath below…

“Good afternoon, sweetheart, are you perhaps—enjoying your bath?”

Trap! This was a trap! Every modicum of self-restraint held her damned tongue from admitting to the sadistic creature before her that she was pleased with any portion of her new and wonderful life! Yet, for all her attempts at a neutral expression, to wash away the joys she’d experienced since her mother had been gone, she couldn't help the small hint of extra flesh that had grown on her from eating more than was presumably needed, couldn't help how her skin glowed from therapeutic bliss nor how her hooves shone, outlined by a beautiful shade of blue, the same as her fingernails after her father had invented something he called the manicure machine for both…

“Decadence…”

The word rang through her ears, bouncing in her mind in a way that hardly retained the knowledge that it had been her mother's own lips that hissed the phrase rather than something born of her own thoughts. Tulla winced as Dianna’s sickly smile transitioned to one of familiar disdain, a face that had drilled her to exhaustion again and again with remorseless efficiency as she’d begged and pleaded for a moment's respite, making itself known to her as it inevitably was prone to.

Tulla was tossed on the ground like a stinking burlap sack filled with old onions, all too familiar clothes, the same legion rags she hadn't bothered with in weeks being thrown atop her a moment later.

“Dress.” Her mother rumbled with dripping delight, standing over her daughter like some horrible task mistress from the deepest pits of nightmares themselves. The girl did quickly as she was bade, knowing full well what lay in store for her now that her mother was armed with so much—leverage… Her breakfasts, her lunches, her dinners, snacks, cartoons, fluffy pillows, blankets, robots and everything else she’d grown so attached to… all would be ruthlessly stolen away at her mother's hands were she to resist… Oh gods… it was going to be so much worse than the days when the woman's greatest threats were of violence and withholding miserable rations she already could have down without… she was screwed! Soo freaking screwed! Oh, the injustice of it all! The unfairness! M-maybe, if she found Arthur, found her dad, just maybe she could convince him to rein his mother in! Y-yes, Arthur would help her; he was her best chance! His mother’s only weakness!

S-sadly, as Tulla put on her clothes, falling into marching step behind her mother who turned without another word, the young girl was—quickly disillusioned of her new father coming to her aid like a knight in gleaming armour… The young woman all but gasping as she saw the man in question, a man who controlled golems that could bisect Tricen with the ease of stomping a flower, a man who commanded such wonders as to confuse and enrapture the hearts of all those around him, a man who, given his gift, had seemed—almost godlike in his abilities… a man who already stood in the field, nearly naked save a pair of boxers, smothered in raw wounds, bleeding scratches, bruised flesh and a broken spirit…

“Wh-what happened to him?” Tulla muttered, gaping at the weary ghost of a figure that stood as though his mind had already left him. Arthur hardly even seeming to notice their arrival…

“Worry not, girl; nothing was done that he did not—enjoy in some manner of speaking. Now, I know where he stands and what he can handle, what he can—physically endure…” Her final words were accented by a shamelessly hungry gleam as she regarded Tulla’s father like a starving lioness, tongue flowing across her lips in a manner that her daughter had never personally seen. And that terrified her with its implications… “What comes next will be much less—enjoyable for him, as I'm sure you can remember, dear girl.”

Tulla gulped as she noted the trio of training swords that her mother began planting in the ground, wide-eyed with absolute horror, which only redoubled as she gazed upon her father’s shivering form… A broken and battered body which operated on little but instinct to survive as it tried to take a backward step, only for Arthur’s lower half to crumble beneath him as he collapsed to the dirt like a broken puppet…