• TITANS LANDING, THE RAVEN CAPITAL
The Empyrean Empress was in her royal carriage for her usual weekend cruise through the golden city. That Titans Landing had survived just about three Great Battles through the past decade made it a favorite of merchant parties across the Cold Sea and islandic Moors of the Corynthian peninsula; more than the fact that it was Raven Capital of the Nine Realms – the name changed from the fae Capital after the fall of House Imperia and rise of the demon rule of the House of the Raven.
The last great war of the Empire, which saw the desert marauders of the Badlands united under one strong Southland revolution banner, and led by [S Rank] Commander Israfel Bludthirste himself left Titans Landing more in Victorian grace than destruction.
After the explosion of the Mechas—cosmo-enhanced natives of the Bonelands—into the city; and with them the astute steampunk revival that splashed like poured water on a tavern table to other parts of the Continent, Titans Landing now graciously had handy gadgets with which to collect mana and the more lethal [darkfyre] or [red cosmo], better than the rude [godstaff] or longbrooms with which druids and witches pranced about. Even at the moment, the Empress's small caravan of horses travelling the north coast was a medley of horse-drawn buggies and the fancier, levitating [shuttle wagons] which just about floated on after the clopping horses hooves.
Ravenna de Vries, the Empress of all of glorious Eldoria was in one of such.
The title of [Empyrean] to her name meant much to the cities under her grace: to some the Seer of the Martyr, to others the darling of the [S Rank] Lord Bludthirste, and towards the far eastern plains of Flamecrest and Kyhir, she was the Jade Dragon reborn; the Empyrean.
In her own might Ravenna was upper [A rank]. And Half-angel. Her Celestial descent granted her unique ability to summon divine-tier weaponry and mythic magic when it counted. The fact that she'd been taken to bed first by a Hell monarch evolved her hidden abilities, unlocking her [Mana Core], exposing to the rest of the world—abyssal and mortal the most rare species of Paradise. This young wench of the Rhobine Inns was not only Jade Empress but the sacred [Redeemer].
Simply venerable, it was all in the name—she could redeem damned souls, and even Archdemons.
But this supernatural Empress had not redeemed anyone. Not even the love of her life.
Him she had sent to the Republic of Rocasus to find—and murder them who would sabotage her reign. One could say she had inherited the ruthlessness of her father, the Usurper. But Ravenna would argue on her life she was nothing like him, nothing like Mephistopheles, or as he'd gone by before Rafel diced him up—King Thebault de Vries.
With Rafel faraway in the west, an Ambassador to wealthy Roa, there wasn't much to do in the Imperial Castle but listen to Highborns bitch about what and what borders of their country estates were seized during the months of battle. In the days of gloom of the [War of Three Cities], borders had been changed to suit the purposes of the army, homes made into pseudo-camps and wartime zones from which the forces of the Dark Dowager could fight from. Lilith had been an exceptional General, her one default being her nephew, the young man who'd now forgotten her in the hollow chains of Eragonn.
And she would've won: her Conquest; her and her [Fallen] brethren, if not that she loved the boy so. And still did rotting in his dungeons.
Lilith's crazy devotion was one of the reasons why Rafel did not lock her up in the [Hyperion Cell] with the other S-ranked Principalities of Hel. That and she was his literal mum.
It was thus to avoid said bitching of unscrupulous, scandalous, slanderous, sycophant, fucking-annoying Nobles that Ravenna eagerly anticipated such days when she could use cruising her kingdom as an excuse to leave the troubles of Hillside and the rest of the Lords District.
Her [Black Guard] kept the rear and front lines of the caravan and were in charge of leading the campaign through the city.
As it was a dusky evening of the Autumn season the sides of the streets were mostly empty, like a forsaken elf thorp. Hillside wasn't a merchant town—mostly Erythian Brownstones that survived the cannons of war and now went for a fortune to Houses that could afford it. The buildings with less aesthetic vigor had lost their ancient shine to when the fireballs hit. In the days following the vanquishing of the [Fallen], masons were employed to try and forge of brick and graphite the former Elizabethan glory of the destroyed homes—and then the mouths of the realtors did the rest.
Looking out the little windows of her fine shuttle, the only pedestrians on the sidewalks that Ravenna did see was of housemaids in puritan caps hopping up from the markets to no doubt begin a night feast for hungry aristocrats. She deigned to leave this place and get to the 'real' part of the city soon.
The entire left area of the [shuttle wagon] had been converted into fancy glass one could view the passing through. But Ravenna was a girl who until she met a certain red-haired devil was groomed by slaps of washerwomen and guttural barks of sailors; she preferred to stare out the windows, to feel the refreshing wind on her face and the promise of cold rain. Her cruise eventually departed the clean cobbles of the Lords District. To distract the small miles it would take to get to the Undercity—where she really wanted to go—she turned her eyes into the cozy swag of her carriage and the gossip piece in her hands.
She had picked it up from an arty salesboy a while back.
The Headlines on the paper read: A SABBATH SLICE!
And the font was Yataghan.
The image below this dreadful piece of news was of a black-robed Executioner standing next to a grim, blood-gushing Guillotine, on his chest the symbol of the Martyr and in his upraised hand the cut-off head of the Patch-work Man.
The Executioner's shadowed gaze held no mercy.
Leafing through the pages of the paper, Ravenna learned more about the murderous shemale who liked to wear the limbs and faces of his two hundred or so unfortunate victims. And that it was her Beloved whom had apprehended this dreadful creature. A sweet voice cut into her thoughts:
"I miss him."
The young Empress raised her heavenly jade eyes to the only other person in the nobly innards of the moving car with her; her Lady of the Court, best friend—and waifu of her Beloved.
"—so much." Aya Naamah added.
Ravenna took one last look at the gory page of the newspaper. Then she shut it and put it away at her side. "I miss him too," she told the very sexy succubus. Her green eyes took pleasure at the form of the other woman. Since ascended demons were now also citizens of Eldoria, Aya did not need hide her infernal identity anymore. On this cruise with her Empress—for this is what she called Ravenna: My Empress—she wore with pride a red complexion.
The scarlet in her skin was amazing, made her flesh appear most luscious and sinful. Ravenna studied her warmly. She took Aya's hands in her own and met the succubus' purple eyes.
She then continued her earlier statement as to missing the man to whom they both loved dearly. Ravenna said, "but you know I had to send him away. Him alone. I knew [Legata] Ursula Romanov of Rocasus would be more accepting of the man who owns a third of her military. I guessed she'd like him because… well, because he's pretty." Ravenna's jaded stare slid to the folded newspaper for a second. "Turns out I was right. He's doing really well there. Says so in his letters. He's fully integrated into the Romanov family, he's met Mikhail—our old friend, yada, yada, yada…"
"But you never anticipated just how much we'd miss him." Aya Naamah intelligently completed Ravenna's thoughts out loud.
"Yes." Ravenna sighed. She pouted and folded her hands. It caused Aya to go way back in her memory to when she was Mistress of Emberfall and a seventeen-year old Ravenna had first walked into their lives; wet, beautiful, with glorious dark hair like midnight. But that was beside the moment. Still, she smiled as the firebird Ravenna her [Sire] had fallen in love with came shining out: Ravenna told her. "I'm jealous! Hmph! Why does the freaking Legata get my man for a month! And she has five daughters, Aya, did you know that?! FIVE! Plus I hear Rocasian women like sharing—a lot! And it doesn't help that Cora's always in the Fort, doing drills or whatever. I-I just. . ."
Aya put a sweet hand on Ravenna's left thigh. It was where the slit in her Imperial green dress showed her gorgeous white skin.
Aya for sure knew that what Ravenna was, was horny.
Israfel, her—their [Dominus] had been gone twenty four days. That's a lot of slow hours.
She also knew Corazon was probably horny too—that's why she spent all her time shouting at soldier boys and leading goddamn tours.
They missed Israfel's dick.
They wanted…his dick.
In the scented interior of the [shuttle wagon] Aya could think of only one way to alleviate her Empress's distress—the way her kind were best at. She let her latent palm slip higher on Ravenna's thigh, pushing under her gown. She moved her thumb slowly just as she sent a very slutty image of herself into Ravenna's mind using [Fucksight] influence.
She was naked, gloriously red-skinned, black horns and all, and stroking a very satisfying dildo strapped to her waist.
A futanari wet dream.
And even better—the fake cock matched her knees.
Aya could tell the second her nude entered Ravenna's head. The Empress choked on a soft breath and Aya heard her heart beat faster using her own demonic senses.
She pushed her hand deeper under Ravenna's royal gown, saying softly, a true succubus with a voice like that; "I mean I'm no Israfel…but I can promise you'll like my tongue," she watched Ravenna's hot green eyes drop to her full lips, and she continued, "my breasts," Ravenna was now primed and ready. Aya was not stopping with the dirty words; "…my fat ass…my co—"
"APOLOGIES, YOUR MAJESTY!"
A Black Guard's stout voice called from yonder. His interruption almost made Ravenna order a public whipping. When the soldier heard no response from inside the car he took the incentive and went on with his message. "Your Majesty, I beg your pardon. Yours and the High Lady Naamah. But we are now into the foggy depths of the Undercity," It was clear in the man's sturdy tone he was irritated by this part of the cruise, "…and there appears to be a …deviant on the roads."
Ravenna and Aya heard the unmistakable sound of steel singing into the air; longswords. And then the officer's final ask: Searᴄh the NôvelFire(.)net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.
"YOUR MAJESTY, SHALL WE ENGAGE?"
And that was the first time all evening that Ravenna used the viewing screen of the [shuttle wagon].
Right outside, less than forty yards before them was a figure standing in the midst of the quiet streets. No one would expect the roads of the Undercity to be empty at this time of the day. Yet it was. And the rolling mists of this part of the Capital made whomever stood out there into an apparition.
Eerie lights of a malfunctioned streetlamp flashed yellow. And Ravenna saw it was a man.
But he was well over twelve feet tall. A Titan. A Ghost of the shadows surrounding him. And his terrible, terrible red eyes were more intense than the sunset behind.
"Fuck." Ravenna said inside the car. Well, this was one way to dry up a girl.