---Lord Klar POV

“Well met, Lord Torngul,” I announce as I drop to one knee and bow my head.

His eyes blink as if waking up, and a wide, cheering smile grows across his face as warmth reaches his eyes. “Can you tell me what has happened?” he replies.

“Don’t you know? Think, search for your memories.” I notice the High Priestess try to retreat further into the darkness of the corner, where she and her entourage have sought refuge.

“Her blood,” he mutters and glances down at his forearm, which is now clear. “My blood against her blood… This makes little sense. I said something, no, I issued orders…”

The back of a hand caresses Lord Torngul’s cheek, and he doesn’t even glance to check who. “Lord, your commands favoured the High Priestess to an absurd level. This shocked all your loyal retainers and followers. We waited and hoped this confusion would be temporary.”

A female hobgoblin in fine armour, a sheathed dagger and an empty sword scabbard steps forward. I assume one of Lord Torngul’s Honour Guard. He took only one?

“No, Lord. Your wife sells herself short. She counselled us to wait. Lady Trela Truehearted is pure and steadfast in her opinion and protection of you. Then, even we witnessed the questioning on your face and the struggle. Our concern for you permitted their cowardly attack. So, you owe your life to your goblin servants, Lord.”

I didn’t know the name of his Honour Guard, but she seemed as much to favour Lord Torngul as she did Lady Trela. Given Lord Torngul was in command again, I scoop up the dead goblin and climb to my feet. With a nod to Lord Torngul, I carry the brave servant out to find an empty room.

Tearing a gash in my thumb, droplets of my blood enter her mouth, which I cradle open using my other hand. Ripping her shirt away reveals the lack of any armour underneath and a deep blade thrust to the stomach. I water this wound with my blood as well.

Scanning the room, I cannot find what I’m looking for. I notice a lineup of weapons, primarily swords, though. Did Lord Torngul and his visitors check their bigger weapons here before the meeting? Why this Manor House? Many escape tunnels exist; many more undoubtedly remain hidden. A perfect way to sneak armed troops or assassins.

First things first, to the kitchen.

---

Pots and pans litter the floor. A heavy cutting bench lays over on one side. Flour, vegetables and an assortment of other ingredients cover the stone floor. In this mess rests Zinia, catching her breath with two other goblins. Oddly, Zinia waves a nine-tail whip about and, as I am about to speak, stabs a trussed-up hobgoblin in the stomach, laying on his side across from the three of them.

Three pairs of eyes focus on me. The hobgoblin groans.

“Lord Klar, it seems you received my message. A little late, aren’t you?”

I beam. “Perhaps you could have sent the message earlier?”

She shakes her head. “Your lack of haste will, I am certain, count against you in the eyes of my father!” she snaps while waving her hands about the kitchen.

“Let’s leave that to your father.” I reach across and pluck a waterskin from the wall. “We will meet again, I am certain.”

---

With careful dribbling, I feed my patient the entire water skin. With the careful directing of my nanorobots, I control the surprisingly large number within the goblin and put them to task. Confident she is safe from death, I instruct my nanorobots to improve hers. Possibly sentimental, but something inside me sees Luda lying before me.

“I presumed I cured you of this softness. Why save a goblin?” he screams inside my head.

“Leave it be,” I growl back at my inner hob.

“The goblin is not one of your wives, not Luda. You are strengthening someone who is not loyal to you. It is a waste.”

“Who are you talking to?” asks a familiar voice. I didn’t realise I had spoken aloud. My three-word response would be meaningless, yet it still requires some sort of explanation.

“My patient,” I lie. “She is trying to examine her wound.”

“Pfft, if you say so. Anyway, my father wants to speak to you, Lord Klar.” Her voicing of my name suggests I am about to be in trouble.

“Right behind you.”

---

As I enter the Hall, I gain the attention of all present. Am I in trouble?

“We have decided that the High Priestess needs to holiday with you, Lord Klar. She certainly can’t remain in Hobgoblin Town after her attempt at whatever that was over me. Further, I don’t wish to see her free to return to her temple and be able to plot again.”

I pause for a moment and notice the confusion on Zinia’s face. “As my Lord requests.” As I am about to pivot to leave, I swallow down some rising mirth. “I have a request, though.” He nods. “I would like to leave you with one who let us say, caused some delay in my journey here. We will need to speak in private, though.”

---

I return to the room from before and find my patient gone. Not unexpected, I guess. Blood stains paint the table she recovered on.

“Is this your doing?” he asks in a playful voice while pointing out the blood stain.

“No. A moment of weakness, which I will probably pay for.”

He leans against the table and chuckles. “So, who is this prisoner of yours?”

“Most recognise her as Vrozila. Stone Blood wolf rider pledged to Milga Stone Blood the Fifth. But she is Suda the Faithful, the former wife of Zeb Stone Grim.”

His face changes, colouration to deep green, his bottom lip drops, his head shakes from side to side and many other performances. He tries to reply at least twice before saying, “How does that happen?”

“I am uncertain, but probably similar to Milga Stone Blood. I have heard your wife’s tale, her re-life’s, all particularly unpleasant, until this last one. She likes it best, and slaying her is probably the best threat, although cutting her heels and breaking her hands is another fate that settles her occasionally. Make no mistake though, if she can escape, she will.” I chuckle. “Since I am taking care of one for you, perhaps you can take care of one for me?”

He wobbles his head and laughs. A full, deep, agreeable laugh, with lacings of irony, I am sure.

“Alright, when can I expect her?”

“Now!” I shake my head, trying to cover my mirth. “Her complaining was the reason for my delay.”

“You intended this all along, then?”

“Maybe,” I confirm. “Call her an envoy from Stone Blood, but keep her under surveillance. Don’t allow her to leave your Manor or be alone within it. Plus, an opportunity for you to catch up.”

He grimaces, and I can’t fault him for his reaction.

I continue, “It should be an even match as you have landed me with another High Priestess of Klug. I already have a former one, and if the stories are true, there is a third with an army at the entrance to this valley.”

He crosses his arms and rests them on his chest. “And another army of goblins led by a Warrior Hob. They were a distance apart for some time, a standoff for some reason. Then this third Priestess of Klug advanced enough into the valley to block pilgrims, and some say refugees, from joining your prisoner and her temple.”

“The Warrior Hob is going to be a problem, to me at least. We caught one of his scouts, and it seems I am on his target list, but I don’t grasp why.” I study Torngul’s face and take a breath. “I propose we reunite the worshippers of Lord Klug, as in my two High Priestess’ of Lord Klug, step down, and we empower the third to take over. That would mean a more substantial Klugite presence within the valley but may delay the Warrior Hob, or they could wipe out or at least weaken each other?”

“I seem to remember something similar in the past when the goblin tribes united against Rexa, and only for the Warrior Hob would they have succeeded.” His face blanks, and then some gibberish spills from between his lips. “Rexa, your former wife who founded a religion in your name…”

I nod, confirming. “I am sorry…”

“Rexa clung to power until the end.” He scoffs, “Never one to readily surrender what was hers.”

“What do you know about the High Priestess you have placed into my care?” I ask.

“She is a High Priestess of Klug. They don’t seem to like the idea of relinquishing power. That is why we have so many now!” He slaps me on the shoulder and laughs, deep and guttural.

“Perhaps threats?” I mumble. “The rest of her days as a cripple with broken ankles and hands. Offer the Oath Keepers a mission and purpose once again.”

His face loses all humour. “I trust the Oath Keepers have done their duty and found their High Priestess. Their watch is done,” he replies with great conviction.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Yes, that is my simple reply. I did not instigate their creation and dedication, but another did. One I betrayed in the end. I took away her chance to reconnect with her son. Murdered them both…

Torngul nee Zeb Stone Grim’s voice awakens me to the present, enough to hear his words at least.

“She controls her nanorobots.” His face blushes. “I probably need to thank Zinia for defeating her. My daughter fed me some mystery dust and while touch and go, I managed to control the nanorobots before they turned me into another Duzsia.” He pauses in thought. “The black ooze is disgusting, by the way. Luckily, she warned me about that as well. I think I will kill them all.”

“What?” I gasp.

“Where did you go?” he asks.

“Lots of things on my mind at the moment.” I try to smile away his concern.

“I don’t doubt,” he murmurs. “In the end, it came down to numbers. I had more nanorobots than the High Priestess.”

I grab a mug and slit my thumb on my teeth. “I need to offer you some of my blood. It will contain nanorobots, and I will instruct them to strengthen your nanorobots. Before I leave, I will train you on how to control them. What happened to you today will never happen again.”

He chuckles. “I was so looking forward to your seed.”

I pause the bloodletting. “If you prefer.” He sways his head. “The blood works because you already have enough nanorobots. They simply need lessons.”

“I will take your seed,” says a feminine voice.

We both face the owner. Zinia. I wonder how much she overheard.

“You will not!” admonishes Lord Torngul. I raise an eyebrow. It seems that Zeb has taken his fatherly duties forward into his new life.

She pouts. “Such a spoilsport, father. Well, perhaps a cup of his blood and some lessons then?”

I clear my throat. “Time for us to return to the hall and inform everyone that the show is over.”

Zinia play-punches my shoulder. “Not yet. We have the slaver I have captured. He was her protection or escape. Confident brute and all. He knew about the same escape tunnel we did.”

Torngul and I share a glance. Death would be the most straightforward fate for someone so dangerous.

“What? Did I capture him so one of you could murder him in cold blood?” spits out Zinia.

Torngul wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s see if we can reason with him first, shall we?”

As he guides her back to the Hall, I doubt the possibility, but I am prepared to be surprised.

---

“Zurlaga, everyone behaving themselves?” asks Lord Torngul.

“Yes, Lord, thanks to your daughter’s goblins and some handy rope. I have also sent for Azesia, Xormora and Mayia.”

The High Priestess, her priestess, and two guards, arms and legs bound, squat in one corner of the Hall, with two goblins guarding them. The slaver shares their fate, although he slumps in the opposite corner. A bandaged arm goblin and the one I aided watch over him.

The crash of a body draws our attention. At the entrance to the Hall, a female goblin in armour, head hooded and hands bound, wiggles and swears at our feet.

Voria stands over her, a hand covering her toothful grin. “Our prisoner is so clumsy, Lord. No wonder we took so long to reach Hobgoblin Town.”

“I instructed you to wait for me outside the Manor. What if I hadn’t yet discussed her with Lord Torngul?”

She shrugs. “I spied a couple of goblins scurry off and called out to them. One recognised me as a former Honour Guard of Lord Torngul, and they told me the fighting was over. So, either you had told Lord Torngul, or her appearance would conveniently raise the need for such a conversation.”

“Voria?” calls Trela.

Voria screams in delight, and the two females meet in a warm embrace, joyful tears streaming down their faces. Next, they cup each other’s cheeks, studying their faces.

“You look well,” says Trela.

“Being a Lady suits you,” says Voria.

Lord Torngul clears his throat. “Later, you two can talk. Lord Klar will stay for a couple of days.”

“Will we boss?” shouts Voria in surprise.

“Lord Torngul has spoken, and we obey,” I reply.

“We are dumping the bitch here, though, aren’t we? Immediately?”

I tasked Voria with attending to Suda’s basic needs and preventing her escape during our brief journey. Suda adapted to her new body all too well and escaped twice, but because of Voria’s vigilance and dogged pursuit, she recaptured her. If we handed Suda off to Lord Torngul, the promise of my seed probably had nothing to do with it.

“Shouldn’t you warn Lord Torngul of her tricks, provide him with hints on how best to guard her?” I offer.

Voria growls and stomps toward Suda, who had by now gathered herself and rested upright. I have no doubt she could have sprung to her feet, but I am certain she is trying to listen and take in all the information she can. With a not-so-gentle tug, Voria loops a rope around her neck and has Suda standing.

Three more female hobgoblins, with armour identical to Zurlaga’s, make their way into the Hall and present themselves to Lord Torngul. After some words, they take control, commanding the goblins as well. One grabs the rope and custody of Suda from Voria. Voria, though, gains the rope around the High Priestess’ neck. Honour Guards and goblins escort the priestess, slaver and two guards out of the Manor. We tag along behind. Voria, High Priestess and me last.

---

“Where have you been, Lord Klar? I have been waiting for my reward,” purrs Voria as she spreads her naked self across the bed in our room in Lord Torngul Manor. A familiar room. Assigned, I am sure, on purpose.

“I suspected you and Trela would still be catching up,” I retort.

She pouts, of course. “No. He hushed us and said to save any chat for the morning.”

I put on a dismal face. “Well, I am here now and ready to reward you.”

“No. If we plan to stay for a few days, I’d rather not rush things since it’s late. I wish to saviour our union, as it is so rare to be alone with you.” That said, she curls under the sheets and closes her eyes.

I am certain she wants me to take her, but the night is late, and I still need the night for dark deeds. After discussing options with Lord Torngul, I decided that the High Priestess and her entourage required prompt treatment. The longer they had nanorobots in their blood, the longer they would be a threat to those who didn’t. In particular, anyone trying to guard them.

Starting with the guards, I fed them my blood and commanded my stronger nanorobots to convert any other nanorobots they encountered. The nanorobots within the guards were few and passive. Most likely, there was a natural increase in the number they were born with, transferred from mother to child. Then, an additional number was introduced by the High Priestess to ensure loyalty. After converting them all, I ordered them to self-destruct. The horrified faces of the guards relaxed immediately, given there wasn’t any pain. The guards were loyal pawns. Maybe they expected physical torture.

The priestess was different. The number of her originals was much higher. They were active instead of passive, and maintenance of the physical body was their primary task. No one had instructed her on how to control and direct her nanorobots. There were also additional nanorobots, more potent than the originals, which would have been from the High Priestess to ensure loyalty. The disarming took longer because my nanorobot invasion was identified as an infection. The nanorobots in her blood automatically responded and moved to the point of infection. I needed to concentrate on the task, this time converting her nanorobots, forcing them to recognise my commands. With these ad hoc reinforcements, I reached a tipping point in numbers, and it became a matter of time before I could finish. This challenge prepared me for the High Priestess.

I am certain dawn wouldn’t be far away, but I needed to rest and drink. As I draw from a second waterskin, one empty waterskin lay on the dry, dusty cobblestones of the dungeon hallway. Lord Torngul’s Manor had six prison cells, which needed hasty preparations to accommodate his guests. On one cell, the lock wouldn’t work on another, the lock was troublesome. The single certainty was the lock on the High Priestess’ cell.

“Have you finished? Is that wine you are drinking?” she asks.

Her voice was familiar now. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

“I promised my father I would ensure his prisoners wouldn’t escape, especially since Lord Klar dismissed any guards sent to assist.”

“So, your confidence in me is low, then?”

“One thing doesn’t infer the other. Little young me wouldn’t want to question your male confidence, even though you seem a little older than me, and yet the way my father holds you in high regard…” Her finger slides down my upper arm. “Plus, talk of your blood.” She giggles. “Your seed. My father’s protest.”

“I will not go against your father’s wishes,” I state with finality.

She hisses. “I am not the little girl you first met at my father’s table. While Thalgora was all muscle and threats and Shaza thought of nothing but marriage, I observed and learnt. Preparing for the day, I would be my father’s right hand and, eventually, on his passing, his natural heir. Your seed and blood will ensure I have every chance to succeed. Name your price.” She swings a leg over and deftly lands on my lap, staring into my eyes.

“Your father’s blessing.”

Her face twists into frustration and then relaxes. “So be it. No point in straddling your lap any longer…” She wiggles her arse, pauses, and when she receives no reaction from me, bounces off my lap. “Aren’t you done?”

“No.” I take a deep drink from the waterskin.

“Are you thirsty, or is water important?”

I eye her and chuckle. “You recognise it is, don’t you? Didn’t you instruct your father on how best to swallow dust?”

“Dust? Crazy talk!”

I push myself up and off the stool while leaving the deflated water skin behind. “Time for you to guard from afar. Keep company with your two goblin assassins from a safe distance behind the dungeon door to this hallway.”

“I don’t need to keep the company of assassins…” I place a finger over her lips.

“Go before I retract the gaining of your father’s blessing.”

She waddles away, glancing once over her shoulder to ensure I appreciate her departure. Despite the occasional torch in the hallway, my enhanced sight effortlessly catches every provocative sway.

The clang of the dungeon door fastening is my signal to open the High Priestess’ cell door. Twirling the key over in my hand, I step forward, insert and turn the key. With a final click, the lock shifts, and I push open the door.

A flickering torch light in the hallway enters the cell. The cells are narrow; at the end, wrists and ankles are chained to secure the prisoner to the wall. The slight spread of her feet allows waste to drop into the bucket between them.

Her head lifts, and the hate in her eyes is something real. She sees a youth before her, not the former Lord Klug, who she is supposed to worship and who is the head of the Klugite Religion.

“Lord Torngul has sent me to ensure you can’t infect others with your will.”

“Is that what you did to Lord Klug’s priestess? Where was once warmth is now hollowness. Our gentle awareness of each other vanquished. She drew strength. We drew strength from each other. This is a mistake. Tell Lord Torngul he is mistaken. We will leave this valley and build a temple elsewhere if he desires.”

“I doubt he will permit such leniency. His word in this valley is final, and I am but his instrument.”

“Kill me! I don’t wish to lose my connection with Lord Klug, I would rather die instead,” she screams.

I ignore her and wrap a heavy bandage above each knee and another around her waist.

“What are you doing?” she protests.

Drawing my dagger makes her glow. I surmise the purpose of the bandages is now unimportant to her. Tears pool before her eyes.

I slice several V incisions on each thigh as she screams, although I sense they aren’t real. She has practised control over her nanorobots; they are blocking the pain. I expected some skill, given her attempted takeover of Lord Torngul and her enforced loyalty over her priestess and guards, but I needed confirmation.

Her blood oozes down her thighs until stopping at the bandages where it pools and soaks the cloth black.

I repeat the same at her waist, the V starting high under each breast to meet below her belly button. The blood once again soaked the bandage black.

Between fake screams, she asks, “What are you doing?”

I left a small canteen to her lips. “A drink before we continue our conversation?”

She nods, and I tip. The instance the taste hits her tongue, she bucks, but I am ready. With my other hand, I pinch her nose closed with my fingers while using the heel of that same hand on her chin to ensure the canteen stays in place. She spits out some of my blood, but this dribbles down her chin and will gradually be absorbed through her skin. Late arriving reinforcements, perhaps.

After battling with the priestess, I realised I would need volume to defeat the High Priestess. I contemplated adding seed to my blood, but for some reason, I couldn’t go through with the self-extracting step required. Instead, I decided to bleed her. Nanorobots would flow out with her blood until she commanded them to tend the wound instead. Her skill in commanding the nanorobots would determine her losses; others would remain occupied, unable to immediately defend against my invasion.

I remove the canteen, grip her mouth, shut it, and secure her head in place. Then, I press my forehead against hers.

My immediate command to my nanorobots is conversion. I need as many of hers as possible to become mine. She has nanorobots travelling to the wounds, healing them, and suppressing pain. She will need to re-prioritise. That will be my window of opportunity.

P.S. If you are not reading this chapter for free on Royal Road or Scribble Hub, then the website you are on has stolen my story.