---LORD KLAR POV
“Tinuna, lead the twins to my village, but only go some of the way yourself. They will set up as merchants and be my eyes and ears amongst the village folk. Being pregnant while caring for a baby should engender much sympathy and be good for business.”
“I will go with my mistress,” says the crone.
“No. You will stay with me.”
Everyone waits for her protest, which doesn’t happen. I didn’t have a particular reason to stop her except to show who was in charge. Tinuna and the twins bid us all farewell shortly after.
Facing the crone, I say, “Bring me some more rabbit.”
She trudges from the cave without saying a word or even grunting.
“Follow her and bring back some wood for the fire. I need the bodies thawed as soon as possible.”
Linmere hastens after the crone.
An eerie silence surrounds me. The air in the cave is cool and still. Lying out not far away are the three corpses, two wives, our bonds forever broken and a concubine, who protected me with her final breath. The loss of someone you cherish and share hardship within your life is always an emotional tumult. I have suffered and survived this loss before, and I will again. I must.
The severing, no, call it what it is, removal of the spiritual bond between me and my wives is something deeper still. Something once a given assumed permanent is now gone. An emptiness exists where previously I had no awareness. I didn’t know what I didn’t know. But now I do. I drop to my haunches and wrap my arms around myself. The need to express the pain wells up inside of me.
“Don’t be human! Your wives and concubines are tools to ensure your survival and do your bidding. Everything else is false. This humanity you show will only weaken their faith in you. You have been decisive and replaced the two easily, so move on, fool!”
His presence in my mind is now the strongest he has ever been. I want to accept his way, the hobgoblin way, but I have a past before this planet. My human nature resists being cajoled so easily. My chest tightens. A hollowness grows in the pit of my stomach. Tears. How can I feel so deeply about them? They aren’t human, like GPA005.
Am I going native?
I must consider the possibility because that could be the only explanation.
When informed about GPA005, I blamed the system and the scientific boffins. Going native would be their ultimate control over agents, was my reasoning. An ability to end a career early before any could reach twenty-one missions. I didn’t want to examine our marriage as a reason because my memory of that time together was one of happiness and perfection. Against the odds, as two GPAs, we were a success. We made a promise to remarry with youthful, different bodies during our next leave life.
One mission later, they told me she had surrendered her humanity and gone native. I couldn’t accept the weakness this implied: her betrayal of us, our future leave lives together, and more—the throwing away of the grand success we oath swore to each other. The plan was to complete twenty-one missions and claim our pension lives. Essentially, we would live for an extremely long time near immortality—together, forever.
There it is. Together, forever. GPA005 was my first loss. Luda and Koria are my present loss. There would be no together, forever with any of them. Worse, with Luda and Koria, their spiritual link, the tithe of their spirit, was now missing from my spirit. It would always be empty. It would be a permanent reminder.
I tackle my present grief like I did my past grief. I relive and re-explore the happy memories to find a way forward. Remembering my former wives at their best.
“Human, you are pathetic! Feelings, you insult and denigrate all that it means to be hobgoblin…”
---
I blink my eyes open. I look up. The cave’s roof is still there. Good. I have lost time but not place. I glance about and spot the shuttle first and then the cave entrance. With an effort, I sit up. The campfire, now out, is on one side of the cave, the corpses of the three on the other.
I recall a searing burst of pain enveloping my mind. His hobgoblin face, now my face, consuming my awareness. A sharp stab of impossible hurt follows and continues like surgery without anaesthetic. I remember a third surgery and then no more. Nothing afterwards until I opened my eyes.
“I have cured you. I must rest now. You can thank me later.”
I shake his strange words off and climb to my feet. The bodies. I approach them because I have unfinished business with the corpses. They still have value. Their dust.
The smaller of the three bodies responds first. Smaller? Unwrapped first? Who cares?
Several of the nanorobots respond and begin consuming water. Once they start, their progress becomes exponential as other nanorobots respond and assist.
Linmere returns with firewood, and the campfire blazes away once again. Shortly after, the second body leaks water. I command the nanorobots within; this body follows the same pattern as the small one.
I need to remember something about the third, but the memory is fleeting. Each time I feel I am close, it slips away. The corpse has a terrible gash across the stomach. Perhaps that is what I am trying to remember. Never mind. I sense nanorobots, so good enough.
In the end, I have three finely crafted bags of dust. The bags were gifts from my concubine merchant twins. Exactly three, and no more or no less. Strange.
---
On Tinuna’s return, we stay overnight in the cave, where I service her perfect hobgoblin body several times. As she saunters from my bedroll, I summon Linmere to replace her. My seed is the key to their usefulness, I decide. The spreading of which has suffered because of my absence, so I need to make up for lost time.
Linmere’s skin colouration is pale green. She has no tusks and is skinny, lacking curves in areas where Tinuna is perfect. An almost mirror image of beauty and ugly if both are hobgoblins. Linmere, though, has a vaguely human appearance. Someone has deliberately meddled. As she approaches, I wonder why I made her a wife.
After the first time, I roll her over to service her again, and then I am done. Servicing her will be a duty, not a joy, but I have invested too much seed in her to cast her away now. I remember doing the deed, but I now wonder how I could for so long.
In the morning, we break our fast. Linmere and the old crone decamp while I service Tinuna again—this time for my joy rather than her improvement. The result is the same. I led them down the mountainside and then over the forest-covered, rolling hills to my village, which was uneventful.
We stroll by the twins, hawking their wares without paying them more or less attention than other vendors. I notice the looks of revulsion the villagers are giving Linmere. When not doing that, the villagers point at Tinuna and huddle to whisper. The occasional conversation I overhear is about her mask and what she is hiding from or an assessment of her round, firm buttocks. I hasten things along and shepherd the crone and my two shifter wives to the hill fort’s front gates.
I didn’t recognise the two female guards and needed to weave a story about setting up a trading venture, asking who I needed to talk to. They allowed my three females and me entry and directed us to the Scribe’s Tower. There is a laxness in the way the guards handled our entry into what should be a secure part of the settlement.
At the Scribe’s Tower, two more guards stand ready. One climbs the rope ladder to announce my arrival while we wait. My cover as a merchant is weak because, unlike the twins, I have no wares with me. My company comprises a goblin crone, a masked female hobgoblin, and, in hobgoblin terms, another ugly female hobgoblin. Hardly the company, a successful and accomplished merchant, would keep. Or a Lord, for that matter.
While we wait, I check the surroundings. One female hobgoblin warrior pretends to not pay us any attention. Even examination from a distance reveals the superior level of craftsmanship in her arms and armour, far surpassing that of the guards who have questioned us.
I hear her footsteps approaching from behind. She passes me, waves at the guard, and grabs the rope ladder. It swings around slightly, and we recognise each other. Shiliga squeaks and then drops to a knee.
She hisses at the guard, “Drop to one knee, fool. Lord Klar has returned and stands before you.”
She grabs the guard’s tunic, who is still trying to figure out what is happening.
“Now! Flay your stupidity!” Her eyes sneak a look into mine. “I apologise, Lord Klar. They are new. Many of those who knew you are, well, you know, full of child.” Her face flashes bright green.
The guard slaps Shiliga’s hand away. “I mean no slight,” she says. Perhaps my youthful face counts against me. “I swore an oath to Head Scribe Solgia, in Lord Klar’s name, but until she identifies her Lord, I will stand my ground.”
The first guard climbs down the ladder, and Tigliga follows. The guards stand side by side while Tigliga smirks at Shiliga.
“Head Scribe, Solgia, will permit the one who requests an audience with her and only him to climb the ladder,” says Tigliga.
“Most generous,” I reply while catching Shiliga mouthing to Tigliga my name.
I hear her reply, “Ssshh, silly. Solgia knew it was him.”
Popping my head up through the trapdoor, Solgia is easy to find in the modest square room. Once inside, she leaps at me, and I grab her mid-flight into my arms. She plants multiple kisses on me. The final smouldering kiss ends with her biting my bottom lip and drawing blood.
“Hazovorga, you may leave me now. I am under the protection of Lord Klar.”
I catch sight of her as she leaves through the trapdoor. I thought I saw her outside.
Solgia giggles. “My bodyguards are twins, Lord Klar. Oh, how I have missed you.” She fishes for what is on top of her mind.
Shortly after, we are as naked as we need to be and no more, to couple. Several bouts of pleasurable screaming lovemaking later, and we decide to rest.
“We best go announce your return, Lord Klar. Especially so the guards know who their true Lord is.”
“Where are they from?”
“Lord Torngul, Hobgoblin Town. Initially, volunteers and then mercenaries. We asked the few we trusted to swear fealty and kept them. Our former guards are dealing with impending childbirth. I don’t suppose…”
“Yes. You will quicken with a child.”
She flashes me a radiant smile.
“Also, I have gained two wives.”
I thought I should feel guilty, or circumspect, about gaining new wives somehow, but the moment passed.
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She rests the back of her hand on my cheek. “You are Lord Klug and my husband. Your will is my will. We all felt the loss of Koria and Luda. Not immediately. It was like even that shock needed time to travel to us somehow.” Her eyes moisten. “We also felt your pain, Lord.” Her hands run over my bald head. “We hope these two deserve their place and help you heal.” She wipes her eyes. “Now, enough of this. Let me meet these two wives and reintroduce you to your holdings.”
I nod, only to be supportive. It seems this wife valued the two highly enough to grieve their loss. In the future, I must be mindful of mentioning their names, Koria and Luda, in case my other wives feel the same. To allow their emotions to impact their worth to me is unacceptable, especially since their loss is of little importance to me.
---
“Lord, I thought I would save the best for last.” Solgia waves her hand towards a pit.
I step forward and peer in. Two large mud-covered hobgoblins rut around like pigs within. Gouged mud on each side hints at escape attempts, and the depth of the mud is also a sign.
“Even through layers of mud, I recognise you both.” They slowly lift their heads towards me. “I wonder if your father misses you?”
A glob of mud streaks my way. I lean back, and it sails over my shoulder. I chuckle as I step back.
“With help, we captured them a while ago, and we released those with them every so often so they could report news of them to their father. An assurance they still lived, but in misery,” quips Solgia.
“You think Jarlgren to act impulsively? He, unusually, has too many sons. I doubt he even remembers these two.” I side nod at the pit.
“Our father will destroy you, young upstart!” shouts one of them.
We stroll away, and like every step of this tour, her bodyguard of few words, Hazovorga, leads while the other, Kregvorga, follows. I am unsure if I should feel insulted or not, but their closeness, pace, and familiarity with how Solgia walks and talks suggest an intimate closeness. Perhaps they truly care for her.
“What do you plan to do with them?” I ask Solgia.
She missteps. “Lord, erm, I thought that now you have returned, you will decide.”
“Have our watchers reported any plots? Given that you haven’t alerted me to breakout attempts, it seems that Beastbane spies have ignored them. Perhaps they are worthless?”
“So, it would seem, Lord. Although our efforts to neutralise the spies have been most fruitful, if cautious and slow, we wanted accidents and misfortunes to take their lives. We may have, without knowing, eliminated all the spies.”
“And so?”
She cackles. “Their father may not know their current situation.”
Linmere, Tinuna, and the old crone meet our stroll, their faces dour.
“Out with it,” I offer.
“They politely shun us, Lord,” says Linmere.
I recall my scribes formally meeting them at the bottom of the tower. The villagers gawking at them on our way in. They surprised me when they asked me if they could explore the village alone. What did they expect?
I assess what everyone else will see when they meet them. A short, skinny, with mosquito bites for tits, no buttocks and lacking tusks female hobgoblin. A tall, full-figured female hobgoblin who hides her face behind a superbly crafted mask. Finally, contradicting expectations, an old goblin crone surprises with a touch of youth in her eyes. What’s not to be cautious about?
“You must be mistaken,” I suggest, suppressing my mirth.
“Perhaps, Lord, if you had a badge or marking that clearly identifies those who directly serve you, we could avoid misunderstandings?” suggests Solgia.
For the guards, perhaps, I think to myself. For these wives? Never.
“Bring me some suggestions for the guards. I am thinking a piece of cloth that goes over their heads and has the same design front and back but doesn’t line up with the heart.”
---
I request some personal visits. Solgia opens the door to the cottage of the wet nurse.
As we enter, the large female has one of Thalgora’s sons suckling at each tit.
“Lord, grab the third from the crib and look into the bright shining eyes of your loins, bounty.”
The moment our eyes meet, we are certain of each other—father and son. His chubby fingers curl around one of mine and squeeze. The display of infant strength is pleasing. More pleasing is the instinctive way I can assess the number of nanorobots in his blood. They are simply autoprogrammed to do maintenance for now. I command them into five groups: maintenance, intelligence, agility, strength, and growth.
“Do you see their father’s look of care for his son? Hand the third to me, and I will give you the second.”
We exchange sons. The look the wet nurse noticed was me concentrating on programming the nanorobots. I don’t correct her. After putting the second son in their crib to sleep, I hold the first son next. Eventually, all my sons are sleeping.
The wet nurse is in no hurry to tuck her enormous, firm, and full breasts, with nipples still dripping milk away. Without asking, I capture a pool of droplets of milk on a fingertip and taste.
“Invigorating, isn’t it, Lord? I am most proud of my milk.”
Like my seed, her milk contains nanorobots, which explains my sons’ high count. Since I have activated them and given them purpose, will my sons live longer and stay healthier than Xorbrim the Undying, the one who suckled on Lord Klug’s blood from birth?
“Will you do my family a favour?”
She glances at Solgia and then curtly nods in my direction. “If I can, Lord.”
“Suckle them for as long as you live?”
Her bottom jaw drops and then recovers. “All my life? Why they will be at least young men if no accident befalls them or me?”
“According to those who know such things, you have partaken of Klaria’s dust. Amongst other benefits, you will be healthier and be prone to live longer. I will ensure your well-being if you feed my sons for the rest of your life.”
I concentrate on her nanorobots. She has, through desperation, probably programmed them to produce milk. Programming the nanorobots in my sons was challenging, my will against theirs, but it wasn’t impossible. Our shared blood lineage and their blind trust in their father once they acknowledged me, probably because my seed conceived them, cleared the way. I wanted to program her nanorobots.
Nora trembles. “If I didn’t, I would have needed to choose one of them to die hungry, possibly two.”
“You misunderstand me. I agree with what you did, but you have told all your nanorobots to do only one thing. Your breasts are still full of milk, so who helps you empty them?”
Shas snaps the halves of her immense shirt across her chest to conceal her mounds as her face turns a bright, glowing green. I am sure the wetting of that same shirt by her leaking nipples would also cause her concern while in good company.
Solgia giggles. “Now I know why guard duty over this cottage is so popular. I thought it was because of the easy duty. But I now know Nora’s milk draws them here.”
In a whisper, Nora adds, “I have needed over two for many ten days, but only females. Males would be pigs about it.”
“Know that you can talk to your nanorobots and tell them what you want them to do. I would suggest a fifth stay producing milk, but you can change that if you find yourself short. Another fifth can repair your body and, in doing so, permit you to live longer. What is left can improve your strength, smarts, quickness, hearing, or sight.”
“How?”
“Concentrate. The same look I had when I held my sons. Seek your nanorobots, make them acknowledge you, and then order them to do your bidding. After a time, instead of communicating with them one at a time, you can group them.”
We leave her in silence. I wonder if the guards will miss their feeds of invigorating milk. Unfortunately for them, her long life is more important to me. Also, if a rumour started about a wet nurse who had milk that cured illness or strengthened the weak, the temptation to kidnap her would be high.
---
“Are your bodyguards more skilled or less than either of them?”
After leaving Nora’s cottage, I heard the ting of one blade against another. I led Solgia and her two bodyguards to the training yard. There, I found the two I wanted to talk to and possibly more. Vorlora and Voria.
“Vorlora is superior to Voria, who is still superior to Kreg and Hazo, although Vorlora trains them when I can release them from their duties.”
I inwardly chuckle at Solgia shortening her bodyguard’s names, but I recognise the advantage in a fight.
“Kreg, I am certain your mistress feels safe with me nearby. Would you be willing to train with Voria, please?”
She checks with Solgia, announces her presence, and begins training with Voria.
Vorlora, though, bites her bottom lip and cautiously walks towards us.
I stride out to meet her.
She drops to one knee. "I am Vorlora, Wolf Rider. A former apprentice of the legendary warrior, Duzsia, the Relentless. I am honoured to swear my allegiance to you, Lord Klar,” she says with reverence.
Both of my hands rest on her head. “I accept your allegiance in honour of Duzsia.”
“Take her, Lord Hob. She is wet now, remembering your handling of her to heal her face. Placing your hands on her head has driven all the will out of her legs to stand. Wait and see!”
I remove my hands to test Duzsia’s salacious prediction. She struggles. Lust, longing, and memories cloud her mind and purpose despite being full of nanorobots and as strong as any.
Taking her by one hand, I drag her to her feet. I look about and then lead her away from the training yard. I believe the nearby cottage we end up in is an equipment store.
I peel away the lower armour protecting her loins. Every buckle I undo, every slight touch of my finger or hand on her flesh, and she sighs or mews. She closes her eyes when I drop my loin cloth. She flattens the backs of her hands against the cottage wall and prepares herself to receive me. I serviced her several times because I wanted to prove a point, not to her, but to Solgia.
She tries to escape, half-ready, and I drag her back.
“There is no shame in receiving your Lord’s seed. In fact, you know of the benefits.” I run a finger down her cheek. “So, absorb my gift and enhance yourself yet again.”
When she escorts me back to the Training Yard, she is the picture of warrior perfection. We stand with Solgia and Hazo.
“Vorlora and Hazo, please replace Kreg and Voria.”
She checks with Solgia like Kreg did and waits for Vorlora to announce their presence and begin training. Voria runs towards me with a broad, joyous grin and leaps into my arms for a hug.
Voria whispers in my ear, “Is your baby face still luring females to your bed and enemies to their deaths, Lord Klar?”
I whisper back, “Does my face still work on you?”
“No, I am more interested in what lies sleeping between your legs and the promise of your seed. I think my loyalty shown so far will earn me some deposits when you can spare me the time.”
“It’s a promise for services rendered. Perhaps a bonus wouldn’t be out of place either.”
Voria separates our embrace and slaps down on both of my shoulders. Pleased with her bargain, I suspect.
I grab her hand and lead her away to a particular nearby cottage.
“A pleasant surprise, Lord.”
---
When we return, I suggest Voria and Kreg once again dual. This time, I stay to watch. Vorlora nestles into my right side, and Solgia doesn’t allow herself to be forgotten. She cuddles into my left side.
As the training progresses, Voria’s endurance is the difference, not her superior skill. She has the energy to carry out the most arduous moves and forms. Several times, Kreg yields with Voria’s sword at her neck.
I call them over and send out Vorlora and Hazo.
I reach for Kreg’s hand. As before, she checks with Solgia.
“Do you wish to couple with Lord Klar? I will not order you to. This must be your choice.”
She swallows. “I am sworn to protect you, mistress, on my life. Hazo and I could never improve enough to come close to Vorlora’s skill. We are a heartbeat late to move or strike or tire too quickly. We have heard the stories of Duzsia the Relentless, and Vorlora feels she is but a shadow to her teacher’s skill! Now I know what the source is, I go willingly.”
I service Solgia’s bodyguards multiple times throughout the afternoon. As the training partners change, so does my partner. Solgia insists on being included in the rotation. The immediate benefit is endurance, but as I did with the wet nurse, I teach them how to focus their nanorobots to control where they improve first.
As we stroll away from the training yard, a content Solgia muses, “You must service Shiliga and Tigliga. They are of age, ingested dust, and with your seed, they will gain enough nanorobots to make meaningful improvements to themselves.”
---
The grand table occupied most of the one-room cottage, with me seated at the head. Solgia is on my right. The chair to my immediate left is vacant. Then, my two shifter wives sit in the following seats on the left side. The crone sits beside Tinuna, further down the left side. Shiliga and Tigliga sit beside Solgia, then Vorlora and Voria.
Mugs of Luda’s Mead rest at each place setting. On our plates, a serving of boiled eggs.
Solgia catches me up on everything and anything. However, of all the stories, Drulag, the last descendant of Duzsia, the Relentless, was the most amusing.
I lift my mug. “To old friends and new.”
The table answers my words, and we all swing from our mugs. We devoured our eggs over polite conversation, and then several goblins I didn’t recognise brought out plates of sliced boar and a pile of wild vegetables. More mead relaxed everyone, especially the two shifters who were perhaps new to the beverage. A couple of platters of fruits to share signalled the end of the formal meal.
My table separates my two worlds. The two shifters know of worlds and technology beyond this world, and this knowledge will always separate them from the inhabitants of this planet. I must ensure they value the lives of my native wives as much as their own. Otherwise, this will never work out for the best. Given the villagers’ reaction, sharing this meal is a good starting point.
I place my elbows on the table and form a peak with my fingertips. “Honour demands we value the bodies of our slain. The significance of the body is not only for traditional reasons but also because of its dust value.” Some heads fall. “I don’t mean to offend, but another way to view this is the dust your sister leaves behind is her legacy. Another can imbibe and benefit.”
Solgia taps the table with her mug. “I have seen the benefit of the dust when used by one in need, like the wet nurse. The small dose my scribes took proved beneficial. Unfortunately, we have lost Duzsia’s dust. Lord Klar has the dust from Luda, Koria, and Grolgia. We still need to bring home Izga’s and Zergoa’s dust. Their legacy is important and a gift to us all.”
“Yes, but there is still an unknown. The concentration of nanorobots in any I service is such that death probably awaits the uninformed. I wonder about others who have turned to dust because of the curse. What have the survivors done with such remains, potent or otherwise?”
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