Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions

Chapter 236 Weeping Woodlands

The Vestal mother, Indiravasanathārekalee, Grace of the Seat of Séltand, was bent over a study map with Corazón, Aya Naamah and Ravenna when Israfel walked in twenty minutes later. He held his head high as he entered the high priestess's office, but there was no lying to the eyes of his harem. Not after all the shit they'd been through.

Ravenna took one look at him and saw release written all over his face. Cora smirked. And as for Aya, she could damn well smell the fox pussy on him. If she desired, she could taste it.

Through their [psyche bridge] she told him, "Was it good?" Find your next read on empire

Rafel felt cornered, but not judged. He gave a glum nod. "I think I just banged an Anima Dios."

"An animal god?"

"A story for later." Rafel ended, pulling up his mind wards to partition his [Bond] out of his head. The succubus understood and let be. Her [Sire] then returned his attention back to the room.

Indira's office was liveable. It had a very homely touch, from the misty painted walls to art and furniture that could induce sleep in seconds. Beyond the high table where they all stood, sturdy chairs and another burnished desk extended over by the window facing the West wing of the building. It directly overlooked the immaculate gardens of sanctuary, with flowers like moonlight in the night.

Rafel stepped forward. He ignored the Grace's sour look at being spurned as he leveled himself into the chair at the helm of the distant desk. Her office chair. Indira rolled her tongue inside her cheek and folded her arms strongly. For a woman of her gallant height, it drew all the attention.

"Be at ease, Vestal mother," he called across to her, "I do not desire to impugn upon your office." He waved a hand. "I believe you all have something to tell me."

Indira came back with a question of hers: "Was the Central Core everything you expected?"

"That, and more." Rafel smiled. "That. And more." And then he quickly changed the subject. "So where are we? We looking at maps now, or what?"

Cora lifted her lithe body warmly to the high table and perched at the edge of it; the frayed corners of the ancient cartography caressed her left hip. Her small waist was accentuated in her brusk top. She had taken off the veils from their hot travels and smooth creamy skin was touched by the light of the wisping moon.

The Badlands lay aside her, splayed in figurines and ink. It was she who began the telling.

"Whilst you were... occupied, m'lord," she cleared her throat, "the priestess here was kind enough to give us an abridgement of the political structure of the Bonelands. While the rebellion stakes are well pegged among Deathlies of all three rider bands, their leaders themselves are not quite open to restructuring under a new banner. In lay terms, they call you the Lord of Rebels, but they will rebel if you try to lord them."

"How enlightening!" Rafel didn't hide his sarcasm. He dropped his fine boots to Indira's desk. This time, she only gave a carefree glance. Rafel urged. "Apologies, mi Corazón. Do go on."

"Like we deduced earlier, our In into the other camps are Zaftig and Grone—"

"Zaftig is more amenable to talks of unity." Indira spoke to reassure.

Cora's lips thinned—letting everyone in the office know she didn't like being interrupted, for the umpteenth time. She harnessed a strict tone for her next words. "Like I was saying, Dementa is not well liked amongst the male Skullriders. But not as much as they dislike each other. So we're good there. From everything we have so far, I believe we should start with Zaftig – work our way up to Grone. By the time we'll be reaching his camps, news of uniting marauders will be wilder than a spiritflame. . .

The choice will be out of his hands."

Rafel went thoughtful a whole minute. He wanted to not draw attention to the Badlands, lest his auntie fall upon them with her [Furies] and make the Bonelands even hotter than it already was.

To start with Zaftig: the lesser evil of the two male Skullriders, was excellent advice.

"Very well." He nodded. "This is wonderful work," he complimented, causing the office to hold pink faces for a while, before he said, "where shall we begin?"

He was speechless in relief when the Grace returned with a smile and humble shoulders. She announced. "All is well. Shall you depart now?"

Israfel nodded.

They were all out of Indira's benign office and sanctuary itself by the time nine o'clock hit the desert stretch. Khalifa was waiting by the stables close to the gates. The camels were pressed together in a herd. She drank from a water bag and waved as they strolled into the grounds.

"Oh, and by the way," Indira flipped her hair. "If a Vestal so wishes, there are loopholes to our vows."

Her aquamarine eyes were deadset on Rafel's.

"Translation: we can do other stuff." She pressed a scroll into his palm as Khalifa wrestled the beasts up, saddling subconsciously from experience. She whispered something for Rafel's ears alone.

"Take this. Find the Historian. His name is unique. But only when you survive the furious roads ahead shall his name be revealed. And again, Séltand is always open to you, Rebel Lord.

"Godspeed!"

Indira hailed them away.

Some distance later, Rafel looked back from the caravan winding into the moonlit night and spotted the Vestals in his glance; luminous as angels floating over sand, the castle of sanctuary a palatine backdrop.

"Peitho. Access [Digitum Map]."

[Ding!], his system resonated.

And a crystal clear holographic image of the same cartography he'd seen just a few hours ago appeared like a leading lamp in front of the caravan.

[File accessed by rank as Solitary Survivor!]

"Khalifa?" Rafel called back one camel for Dementa's handwoman, whom had now become his own... well, whatever he wanted.

"Yes." Her lilting voice exhumed from her veils.

"What's the first landmark to Zaftig's camp?"

"The Weeping Woodlands."

As she said this, an ominous chill swept in the night wind. But Rafel was not one for superstition. Not even while traveling the Badlands at night. He commanded loudly for everyone to hear.

"We set a course to break for the Woodlands."

"Aye!" His little troop hummed in unison.

The camels trailed slowly. Aya rested her head on his shoulders. He folded each one of Cora's hands in his. Ravenna just about sat in his lap. Their litter atop the camel was quite large. And Israfel was more than happy to ride a fucking camel with his harem.

'Winter in Eragonn had been no joke. All those cold, long months in that fucking prison. This, this was better. Whole lotta better!'