FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

In The Mist Of The Erie Isles

By Mantrid Brizon

Episode Forty-Seven: Reunion

The wind flutters the short fur on the Helngar's face. He feels the sea spray, his glowing eyes admiring the ocean's waves. They glisten in the morning sun. Moving past him, he feels a body brushing his tail.

“My apologies!" A man exclaims.

Growling softly to himself, his clawed hands grip firmly to the wooden railing. The ship is so overcrowded. Dozens of bodies litter the main deck, making moving about the ship more of a chore than it ever has been. Turning from the railing and pushing his way through the crowd, he searches the ship. It isn't long before he finds what he's looking for.

“Great King!" Icefang exclaims.

“What is it, Einyr?" Vashalak turns to him.

“Forgive me for saying so, but while I understand this quest for the Grand Athenaeum, do you really need to join us? After all, it's quite the risk!"

“Hah! You're just tired of tripping over my many bodyguards!" Vashalak chirps.

“Yes, I am." Icefang smirks.

“I'll tell you, Einyr..." Vashalak speaks, resting a hand on the Helngar's pauldron. “I just want to see the documents with my own two eyes. I'll feel better knowing that even though they've stolen my future wife, that I don't truly need her. I'll have the name and location of Euralian's heir, and then I can kill him and rule unchallenged. Humor me, and put up with my minions until we return victorious to Vaspania!"

“I understand that, but Great King, don't you think we should focus our attention on Lord Donogew and his theft of your Queen?"

“I know where he lives, Einyr." Vashalak chuckles. “We can deal with him soon enough. As much as I'd love to burn his island to ashes, this is more important right now."

“But Great King, what about-"

“That sounds like arguing..." Vashalak's expression changes, turning cold and sinister. “You know how much I hate that, Einyr..."

“My apologies, Great King." Icefang bows his head.

“Stop worrying, Einyr. We'll deal with that pesky human and my race-mixing whore of a Queen in due time."

Opening his eyes, Salman yawns and stretches an arm. The other is held in place. He glances to his right, looking at the woman who sleeps peacefully beside him. At a full ten inches taller than him, Lapira's bare legs stretch far beyond his, her shins brushing his toes. He can feel the heat of her loins and her soft, silvery-white pubic hairs against his upper thigh, a result of her larger body pressing against his. Her head rests on his shoulder, her thin, pointy nose nuzzling him as she slowly awakens. Once again, they'd fallen asleep as soon as they'd finished.

The pair hadn't had sex in several years, not since their last clandestine meeting. Now that they've been brought together, however, they've been enjoying each other often and vigorously. Looking at her features brings a smile to his face. She slowly opens her beautiful, silver eyes, staring deeply into his. Her thin lips curl into a little smile and she leans closer, nuzzling his face very softly.

“Mmm-good morning, darling."

“Hello, my blue lotus. Did you sleep well?" He asks, brushing locks of her silvery-white hair from her face.

“After last night, how could I not?" She coos, softly kissing his cheek. “I've never felt so full, darling. Hehe. What about you?"

“After last night, how could I not sleep well? I've never felt so empty, my blue lotus."

“I had an appetite." She seductively winks.

“You always have an appetite." He retorts, his smile growing.

“Well, I'm a big girl, in case you haven't noticed." She giggles.

“I certainly have..." He says while tenderly stroking the flesh of her sloping side. “But I like you that way." He adds, grabbing hold of one of her large breasts.

“Mmm-so do I. You're so cute as you lie there, beneath me and between my legs. You're like a doll..." She coos, her hand sliding down and grabbing his flaccid phallus. “An adorable doll, with the manhood of a stallion. I'm so lucky! Lucky that I have such an endowed and talented lover, and lucky that my loins can accept such an organ, although not with some difficulty." She winks, slowly stroking his member. “I love how thoroughly he stretches and fills me."

“You always know just what to say." He smirks.

Lying together in bed and embracing each other tightly, Lapira basks in the human's warmth, while he enjoys her subtle, feminine scent and her playful affections. He's missed her ever since they were first separated, and though he'd moved on with his life, he's always pined for her to some degree. Having her with him now makes him feel complete. Lapira opens her eyes, her expression changing. She appears quite melancholy, taking her hand from his manhood and resting it on his chest.

“You're such a comfort, Sal. I wish this could last..." She murmurs, stroking the pale skin of his bare, hairless chest. “I'd love nothing more than to keep you."

Disheartened, Salman feels a familiar stinging in his heart.

“It could last, if you wanted... My offer is still on the table."

Sitting up in bed, the Vizheki woman doesn't so much as bother to cover her ample, E-cup breasts. The perky, perfectly formed orbs stare at him with modestly sized, dark blue nipples. She rests her hands upon the bed, one on either side of his smaller body.

“You know as well as I why that can never happen. Where we any other Vizhek and human, I'd accept you as my husband in the blink of an eye, but sadly that will never be... Please, let's just enjoy our time together, while we still can." She speaks softly as she leans closer, pulling a leg over his and gradually straddling him.

Salman's lips sag, his eyes turning away from her and looking down at their genitals, which slowly inch closer together. Reaching out a hand, she grabs his wrist and pulls it toward her. Sitting upright on his lap, her womanhood pressing against his flaccid meat, she plants his hand firmly on her chest. She makes the human squeeze her plump breast, regaining his attention.

“What're you doing?"

“Today is the day when we return to Mishgan, right?" She asks.

“Yes. It ought to be! We ran out of food last night." He replies.

“So, would you like a little snack before breakfast?" She coos, grinding her nether lips against his manhood.

“Oh, you." He grins.

“Is that a yes, darling?"

“Could I ever say 'no' to you?" He retorts.

“Not that I recall." She flashes a toothy grin.

Walking through the overcrowded hall and toward the stairwell, Steingar is careful not to step on any of the still sleeping refugees who crowd the hall. As he passes the cabin doors, he pauses and turns his head. He can hear the soft moans from the Princess, and the subdued grunts of her human lover. A faint plopping sound makes him silently chuckle.

“Those two are worse than Valan and Jarae." He thinks quietly aloud.

Moving further down the hall, he nears the stairwell, stopping when he hears similar noises coming from the cabin that Valan now shares with his Jaliscan lover. No sooner than they confessed their love for each other, they'd moved into the same cabin and no longer hide their affections.

“I stand corrected. I guess I shouldn't be surprised by twins keeping up with each other."

“Ready for some good news?!" Trellan's hologram appears above an onyx plate.

“Ahh! Stop doing that!" Steingar exclaims, rousing some of the refugees who sleep on the floor.

“Sorry. I often can't help myself! Anyway, I can see Mishgan on the horizon. In a few more hours we'll be there." Trellan replies.

“Oh, thank the Seraphs!" A groggy woman remarks.

Looking back, Steingar can see the joy on the faces of the many refugees, who quickly lift themselves off of the wooden floor. With the food already rationed before it ran out, some of the villagers look quite feeble.

“And not a moment too soon." Steingar murmurs.

Just before noon, as Valan, Jarae, Salman and Lapira finally join the others, the Arona-Dahl slips into the modest harbor of Mishgan. The guards wait with eager anticipation, and Nazir, Salman's elderly Falmun manservant, stands at the docks. Everyone knows the look of the unique ship, and have waited for their Lord and his companions to return. However, no sooner do they lower the gangplank are Nazir and the soldiers swarmed by the refugees. Walking ahead of them, Salman and Lapira approach the flabbergasted Nazir and his men.

“My Lord, you're back! ... And you have guests! Is that Princess Lapira?!" He exclaims.

“It is!" Salman chirps, looking toward his elven lover.

“Lovely! But who are all these people, my Lord?!"

“Oh, just some refugees." Salman dismissively waves a hand.

“Silly me. I should've known." Nazir smirks.

“We'd better get back to the castle. I have a lot of explaining to do."

“Clearly!"

“We can talk over breakfast. We're famished! I hope the chefs work fast."

“Of course! As soon as we saw this ship on the horizon, I took the liberty of waking the chefs and putting them to work. They're preparing a little feast as we speak."

“You're a wonderful Steward, Nazir."

“Thank you, my Lord!"

“Just make sure that our new citizens are also fed. They've been through an ordeal and they need care."

“As you wish, my Lord!"

With the refugees free to eat, rest and explore their new home, the crew follow Salman, Lapira and Nazir as they walk with the elderly Falmun to the Lord's castle. As they sit in the dining hall and enjoy a lavish breakfast, they explain the shocking developments to the old elf. They reveal the truth behind Vashalak's illegitimate rule, and his plan to wear down Lapira's willpower until she'd consent to marriage. During their meal, the sky darkens and thunder claps. Rain begins to fall and the island is soon pummeled by a powerful storm.

By the time they've finished eating, it's clear to the old man that there's a maelstrom on the horizon, and tempest far more powerful than the downpour outside. For as hungry as they were, it was difficult to enjoy the feast. The uncertainty of their future, not just that of the crew, the Lord and the Princess but of the very Empire, fills them like a dense fog.

“This... Is not what I was expecting." Nazir remarks.

“What exactly where you expecting?" Steingar asks.

“I suppose I was expecting that they'd be pirates, and that after some adventuring you'd do some noble level groveling and see them pardoned. Or perhaps they were treasure hunters who uncovered a powerful and mystical artifact from our ancient past?"

“Those would've certainly been preferable." Irzain remarks.

“And more fun!" Kirsta chirps.

“I could live with fortune and fame." Mairlynn sighs, her mind enjoying the pleasant fantasy.

“To learn that the King shouldn't be the King, and that there's a dark conspiracy to keep him in power for some nefarious purpose is... Far more than I was prepared to swallow." Nazir sighs.

“Sometimes swallowing big things is fun." Mairlynn winks at Salman.

“... Anyway..." Nazir murmurs. “What's the plan, my Lord?"

“First, stop calling me that, Nazir. Second, we need to prepare them for what's to come. As soon as this tempest has passed, have a crew restock their ship with whatever they need, even if it's a hindrance to us. Food, water, coal, more raw Pitania, medicines, gunpowder; whatever they need they're to receive. This is far too important a quest to do anything less than everything possible."

“Of course, my Lord, I mean Salman!" Nazir begins taking notes with a quill and inkwell.

“That's very generous of you." Naemen remarks.

“I'll do what I can, but the rest will be in your hands." Salman murmurs.

“We mostly need food and water." Irzain comments.

“And medical supplies for the journey." Lutala adds.

“How much supplies will you need?"

“Enough to take Lapira to Ogrodin. She'll be able to seek asylum there. King Albrecht is a friend." Salman answers.

“Yes, I remember. So, several months of food and water?" Nazir speaks softly as he writes on the piece of parchment.

“More like two weeks." Steingar corrects the elf.

“Two weeks?!" The old elf gasps.

“Better make it three, just to be on the safe side." Mairlynn adds.

“Good idea!"

“Are you sure that's not a little sparse for such a long journey?" Nazir asks.

“We'll be fine. Arona is a very fast ship." Steingar smirks.

“Clearly..."

“As fast as the Arona-Dahl is, I think we have some time to prepare. Two days for certain, maybe three. We've outrun any pursuers, so there's no need to rush; we need to make sure we're properly prepared." Kirsta remarks.

“Oh, so we can take a break?!" Salasha chirps.

“I didn't say that..." Kirsta sternly replies.

“I don't know. I'm technically Arona's Captain, and I wouldn't mind taking a break, especially after those past three days. We should balance that out with three days of rest!" Steingar says as he stretches out his legs and leans back in his chair. “It's so nice not having to worry about stepping on people."

“Speaking of, what're we going to do with those newcomers? I counted eighty-four new heads." Nazir asks.

“Find them places to stay in the city or the outlying villages. Let it be known to all of my subjects that anyone who shelters a refugee in their home until we can construct more houses will receive a substantial tax break. If any choose to stay at the various inns, I'll pay for their stay until they can be properly placed." Salman answers.

“Generous and thoughtful, as always." Lapira coos.

“If that's the case, do you think we'll need to construct new homes for them?" Nazir quips.

With Nazir caught up and his orders in place, Salman once again invites the crew to stay at his castle. This time around they're more than happy to accept his offer. Every crewmember is given a room, with certain exceptions. Sitting inside a large study and waiting out the storm, Jarae and Valan cuddle on an ornate couch. Irzain examines a bookshelf while Lutala watches Roak stoking the fire with a brass poker. He seems mesmerized by the dancing flames. Mairlynn lay across a wingback chair, her head on an armrest and short, spindly legs dangling over the other. After a short wait, Steingar and Kirsta join them, bringing along Naemen and Salasha respectively.

“Sorry about the wait." Kirsta apologizes.

“Finally!" Mairlynn lets out a frustrated sigh.

“So... Who wants to start the secret meeting?!" A jovial Steingar asks the group.

“I guess I will..." Kirsta sighs.

“Please do. This was your idea, anyway." Mairlynn sits up.

“We all know what we need to do; get Lapira and the documents to Ogrodin where we'll meet with King Albrecht under a diplomatic banner. The question is... What comes after that?"

“What do you mean?" Salasha cocks her head.

“I mean, what are we going to do after that? Are we going to step aside and let the world sort itself out? Are we going to stick together or are some of you planning on making your own way? What comes after this is all over?" Kirsta elaborates.

“I know what I'm going to do..." Steingar steps forward, his expression austere. “I'm going to fight Vashalak and his followers until they're all shoveled into the soil. Whatever that entails is what I'm doing, and as the owner and Captain of Arona, anyone who likes that plan is free to join me."

“Figures." Mairlynn murmurs.

“I'll see this through. This is all my fault, after all, and I'll stay with you until this is finished. True order needs to be restored." Irzain chimes in, to the surprise of everyone else.

“Well, well! Spoken like a real man! I promise not to tell anyone." Steingar smirks. “What about you, half breed? Ready for an adventure on the mainland? I could use a new shield."

“I'm sorry, but I'm not going."

“What's that?! Did I mistake your dress for tattered rags? Where's your spine, man?!" Steingar gasps.

“I won't abandon my best friend when he needs me the most! He's already asked me if I'll stay and help train and lead his men. War is coming, and he can't just leave, not like we can. After all he's done for me, I owe him more than my life. I owe him my loyalty." Naemen retorts.

“I see... So, you're out?"

“Yeah, I'm out."

“Well, at least you have a valid excuse... I'll, uhm... I'll actually kind of miss you, but not your cooking." Steingar remarks.

“Just overcook it. It'll be like I never left." Naemen grins.

“I, uh, I won't be joining you either." Salasha sheepishly speaks up. “I already lost my home to this misadventure. I can find a new one here, and I feel safer being close to my brother and Sal."

“Jarae and I have been talking..." Valan swiftly speaks up.

“You two make time for that?" Steingar smirks.

“Ha-ha... Anyway, we've been talking and we've made a decision." He continues, turning toward his lover.

“We'd like to start a life together. A real life. Valan wants to be close to his brother, and I don't have anyone else. I go where he goes." Jarae takes over.

“But it still feels wrong to just abandon you without seeing this through... We'll leave with you on the condition that we can come back to Mishgan once we've delivered Lapira and the documents. Promise us that, otherwise we're staying here." Valan finishes.

“Are you serious?!" Steingar gasps.

The shock on his face in plain to see. The Helngar warrior looks hurt, even offended by their decision. The others aren't quite so surprised, though none expected the couple to make such a demand.

“I love you like a brother, Steingar, but I love Jarae like a wife, and when the time is right to marry, we're going to want more than what Arona can provide. I'm sorry."

“..."

Jarae leans into her lover, nuzzling his face with her short, felinesque snout. Steingar remains deathly silent, his mouth agape as he processes the shocking news. As the tension fills the room like a mist, Kirsta clears her throat.

“Ahem, well... I don't have a problem with a return trip. Anyone else?"

“Nope." Irzain answers.

“Sounds fine to me." Mairlynn adds.

“Steingar?" Kirsta turns to the Helngar.

“..."

“Okay then... Moving on!"

“I hate to bring this up, but, uhm... It should go without saying that Roak should stay behind, too." Irzain cautiously interjects. “Without trying to sound like an ass, he's not exactly stable, and we can't always devote time to him, or guarantee a steady supply of Lutala's potions."

“I agree... He's improving with each day, but with the dangers we're facing, he should really stay here, where he can be properly cared for." A heartbroken Kirsta adds.

“That's one problem solved." Mairlynn murmurs.

“What about you, Mair?" Irzain turns to the dainty Falmun.

“Hm? Oh, right. I guess I'll stay with the crew! What else am I going to do?!"

“And you, Lutala?" Kirsta turns to the priestess.

Waiting expectantly for her response, Lutala can only shrug her shoulders. She's torn between wanting to stay on Mishgan and leaving with the others. As badly as she'd like to ensure that they complete their mission, and as desperately as she'd like to discover the fate of her parents and siblings who fled to the mainland weeks ago, a considerable piece of her has grown attached to Salman. Her heart looks for any excuse to stay behind and be near him, and the list is endless. However, seeing his affection for Lapira has left her scarred. She finds herself incapable of making a decision one way or the other.

“Well... You have some time to think it over, I guess." Kirsta murmurs. “Meeting adjourned?"

“Seems that way." Mairlynn remarks.

“Steingar?"

“..."

“Steingar!" Kirsta yells.

“Huh?!"

“Meeting adjourned..." She grumbles.

“Oh, damn! I don't have a table to bang on!" The Helngar exclaims.

“Just use your head. There's plenty of wood there." Valan quips.

“You don't get to make fun of me anymore, traitor." Steingar crosses his arms before his chest and turns his back on the gunman.

“Aww, don't be that way! Do you want a hug?" Valan teases him.

“Maybe..." Steingar can't help but grin.

Making their way back to their room, walking hand-in-hand, Valan and Jarae repeatedly trade glances. Opening the door for his lover, he reaches into a pouch as Jarae steps inside.

“Now that we're alone, again..." He begins, closing the door behind them.

“Ready for more?" Jarae coos, slowly opening her jade green blouse.

“Yes, but we can get to that in a minute! I have something for you..."

“Oh? I like presents!" She chirps.

Pulling his hand from the pouch, Jarae cocks her head and furls her brow. Valan produces a knife and a small, rectangular block of wood, roughly five inches tall by two inches wide and deep. The wood is ebony, a rare and expensive material, used exclusively by the elite. Her eyes grow wide as she admires the dark block, little swirls of silver running throughout the grain.

“What's that for?"

“It's come to my attention that you have a talent for whittling. I was hoping that you could make something with it."

“What would you like me to carve?" She asks, taking the knife and block of wood from his hands.

“Do you think it's big enough for a human and a Jaliscan? Maybe a man and a woman standing side by side and holding hands?"

She pauses, reflecting on the coal figurine that she destroyed. Only two had ever seen it, Lutala and Trellan's spirit. Her heart beats faster and harder. She lifts her head and stares deeply into his eyes. Setting the block of wood and the carving knife aside, she continues to open her top. Exposing her perky C-cup breasts to him, she steps closer, pushing her furry mammaries into his chest as she wraps her arms around his neck and gives him a passionate kiss on the lips.

“You know, that night when you learned Salman was your brother, you came in here, into this very room. My top was opened and you saw everything... I told you it slipped, and not to look at me. That wasn't the truth. I opened it for you when I let you in; I wanted you. I was ready for you, just as I am right now."

“I wondered." He smiles.

“It wasn't just because I wanted to enjoy your body, Val... It's because I love you, because I love being with you."

Over and over she kisses and nuzzles him, showering him with love. It feels good to no longer hide her feelings, unleashing them upon the human who responds in kind. She basks in his affection as his soft skin grinds against her warm fur.

“I love you, too, Jarae. I've loved you for some time, and I will love you until the day I die."

“Mmm!" She lets out a delighted sigh, her tail swishing gleefully from side to side, dancing behind her. “I'll make you a new carving, my love."

Wandering the halls, Lutala's mind races. She cannot come to terms with the desires of her heart, not when she also wishes to aid her companions. The dichotomy overwhelms her; she struggles to make a decision without promptly changing her mind. Stopping in her tracks, she leans against the wall and sighs. Pinching the top of her snout with her thumb and index finger, just before her fiery eyes, she releases a melancholy sigh.

“Why is this so hard? Is this what love is like? If this is what love does to people, I could do without it." She speaks quietly to herself.

“Lutala?"

The familiar voice snaps her out of her confusing thoughts.

“Sal!"

“I've been looking for you, Lutala!" He says with a warm smile.

“R-really?!" Her cheeks darken as she flushes.

“Yeah. I wasn't sure if you were staying or leaving, so I wanted to find you."

“Here I am." She flashes a warm smile.

“Yeah... So, uhm, I know you've already taught me a lot, and I don' meant to impose but..."

“But?" She steps closer.

“But I was hoping we could spend some time together. I haven't seen you much, these past few days on Arona."

“Yes, well, it was hard to make time for your lessons when with a sea of frightened people crowding the ship and demanding the attention of a healer."

“I know. You were very good to them." His smile grows wider. “So... Would you mind if we caught up?"

“You don't really need any further lessons, Sal. My training as a priestess is on par with yours. Read the Book of Yashuva and memorize it and there will be nothing I know that you won't." She replies.

“Then could we just sit together? I've missed your company, Lutala..." His cheeks take a rosy hue.

Her lips curl around her blocky snout, forming a subtle grin. Her heart skips a beat at the thought of being near him. Perhaps she was wrong in her doubts? Maybe Salman does feel for her, as she feels for him? Perhaps there's hope for them? Her pleasant thoughts are derailed, however, and her chest begins to sting. If he does care for her, if he truly enjoys her company so much, why then has he spent so much time with Lapira? Lutala may not be worldly, but she isn't a fool; she knows that the Lord and the Princess have enjoyed a sexual relationship almost as soon as they had the privacy and the time to allow it.

Her hand trembles, though the priestess isn't sure if it's from anger, pain, or the anxiety brought about by being so close to the object of her desires. In order to stop him from seeing, she clenches a fist and hides it behind her side.

“If you'd like, we can spend time together. We can continue your lessons or merely pray. I, uhm... I enjoy your company, too." Her cheeks darken as she flushes.

“Oh, good! I'd like that." He chirps.

Following behind her like a loyal pet, Lutala brings the Lord to her room. He walks beside and just behind her, as if he didn't know where in his own castle the Lahnyt was staying. Nearing her room, Lapira notices Mairlynn peeking into the hallway, watching the pair. The Falmun woman with the childlike appearance gives her a strange look. Is she amused, jealous, or concerned? The priestess cannot tell. Entering her room, Lutala closes the door and turns toward Salman, who takes a seat in a backless couch that sits at the foot of her luxurious bed.

“Well, then... Where did you want to start? Did you have any questions?"

Before he can answer, there's a knock on the door. Holding up a hand and bowing her head, Lutala turns and opens the door. Standing before her is Mairlynn.

“Hey, Lutala. Could we speak about something? It's rather important. I need your advice." The dainty elf asks.

“Of course!"

Stepping into the hallway and closing the door, Mairlynn ushers her toward her own room. Standing halfway between both, however, the petite elf stops and turns toward the Lahnyt, looking up at her.

“What's wrong?" Lutala stares down at the four-foot-nine elf.

“So, I have this problem. There's a priestess on our crew who doesn't seem to know what she wants. Does she want to stay and pursue a man who's clearly very special to her, or does she want to stay with us? I'm not sure, and I'd love to know how to ask her..."

Lutala's face flushes as Mairlynn quite casually describes the Lahnyt to herself. She turns away, staring intently at the floor. Bringing a clawed hand to her face and resting it upon the left side of her blocky snout, she slowly rakes her flesh with her claws before slipping them into her mouth and nibbling on them.

“Well, Lutala? What would you do if you were me?" Mairlynn innocently asks.

“I-I... I don't know..." She murmurs.

“Lutala, I don't know what's going on in your head, but I know what I see with my eyes. This is a problem, and it isn't good for anyone to let this simmer."

“I know... But I don't know what to do. I've never cared for a man before!" Lutala whimpers.

Mairlynn's ruby eyes grow wide with surprise and she scans the Lahnyt's form. Could she really be so inexperienced with men? As beautiful and voluptuous as she is, men would be lining up to enjoy her company, and several times more would fight each other for the chance to bed her.

“What can I do, Mair? What would solve this problem?"

“Not allow it to simmer."

“... What would you suggest?" Lutala turns her fiery eyes toward the little elf.

“A sharp knife will cut cleanly, Lutala."

“I don't understand."

“Yes, you do..."

Mairlynn steps closer. She reaches out her dainty hand and slips it into Lutala's.

“I may not be the best of us, Lutala, but that doesn't mean that I don't care about you..." Mairlynn begins, giving her a squeeze. “I certainly have my own views of men that differ greatly from yours. They'll only ever be objects to me, things to satisfy loneliness and carnal desires. My marriage to Tormin taught me that much... I know that I treated Salman badly, but you wouldn't. You're better than I am. He's a good man, as far as men go, and this isn't something you should allow to fester."

“What would you have me do?"

“Speak with him and ask him plainly. Tell him how you feel and hide nothing. If you love him, say that, if you're confused about your feelings, say that, and if you only want to enjoy his body, say that too. Demand to know what he thinks and insist that he shares how he feels. No matter how hard it is or how afraid you are, don't hesitate to make those demands; you may not have the strength to continue if you take your time. Don't accept anything less than his honest answers, either."

Lutala is left speechless. The tiny Falmun looks up at her with a warm smile, her ruby eyes holding a startling warmth. Reaching out her hand, Lutala uses her claws and carefully brushes the elf's wavy, golden locks from her face, hanging them over her pointy, elven ears.

“Thank you, Mair. Who knew you could be so wise?" The Lahnyt speaks softly.

Turning back, she leaves the elf standing in the corridor. Lutala pauses as she stops just before her door, glancing back at Mairlynn. The elf with a lightly tanned complexion nods her head and motions with a hand, ushering her inside. Taking a deep breath, Lutala prepares herself. Stepping inside, she finds Salman seated on the couch with the opened Book of Yashuva in his hands. Hearing her enter, he closes the book and sets it aside, smiling warmly at her.

“Is everything alright?" He asks, rising to his feet and approaching her.

“Yes... She just needed some advice."

“Oh... It's nice to have this time together. I was just re-reading the book of Luth. If I recall, that's your favorite chapter."

“It is." She smiles, slowly approaching him.

“So, uhm... Is that where your parents found your name?"

“Yes." She nods. “Lutala is the modern form of Luth. I honor her by trying to be a good woman, as Luth was."

“Well, you're a very good woman."

“Thank you."

Lutala's heart beats faster and faster. Mairlynn was right; the longer she waits the more her strength falters. Her body tremors and her temperature rises. The Lahnyt's nerves make her stomach churn. The sensation is unbearable. She must confront him, and she must do it swiftly.

“So, Lutala... What would you-"

“Please, Sal, we need to speak." She interrupts him.

Seeing the grave expression on her face, Salman falls silent. He steps even closer, standing within arms-reach of the priestess.

“What's wrong? Can I help in some way?"

As he speaks, he reaches out a hand. Gently resting it on her bicep, she feels herself crumbling. She turns her head and shifts her fiery eyes, staring at the soft, pale flesh of his hand as he very lovingly strokes her.

“I hope so. We need to talk about us, Sal..."

“Oh..." His eyes slowly turn toward the floor and his hand retreats.

“I'm not a worldly woman; I have very little experience. I'm twenty-two years old but I've done well to keep myself from breaking Yashuva's rules throughout much of my life. For example, I have yet to experience the pleasures of a man... I'm still pure..."

Her voice subtly shakes as she speaks, her nerves wreaking havoc on her mind and body. She finds herself stepping forward, already missing his touch. It's as if she's unable to be away from him. Even so, she gathers her strength and presses on, continuing through her embarrassment and fear as the human watches her in silence, his blue-green eyes locked onto hers.

“I've saved myself for someone I could love and one day marry, as Yashuva asks of his faithful; as He intended it, sex has only ever been for love. I only still have my purity because I've never felt love before, at least not that I can recall. I've never had a bond with a man strong enough that made me want to open my heart and body to him. When the temptations of flesh made it difficult for me to wait to first find love before enjoying sex, well... I quickly left the college and the city. I relocated to a small, filthy island with few inhabitants, and made my home among them.

There I spent the last three years studying my crafts and maintaining my celibacy, and I was doing a good job of it, too. That's where your brother and the others found me... As I said, I never felt love before, but when I'm with you, Sal, I feel something. Maybe it's love, or maybe it's what could one day become love, but it's there, and it's growing stronger. You're haunting every fiber of my being. I touch you and I want more. I crave you. I speak to you and I want time to stop so that we can continue without interruptions like hunger or tiredness. Every second with you makes my heart race and a smile spread across my snout.

I sometimes think about you when I'm alone at night and wish that... Well... If what I wish were to happen actually happened, I doubt I'd be able to hold onto my purity beyond that night. If I'm to speak as honestly as I can, my body yearns for yours, Sal. My desire for you is so great that it takes all of my strength to keep my robes from striking the floor, even right now... I'm sorry for doing this, but the crew wish to leave soon, and I simply cannot decide whether to stay here or join them. I cannot decide until I know how you feel about me!"

The flabbergasted Salman stares with wide eyes and a raised brow. His mouth hangs open and Lutala feels her heart sinking into the pit of her stomach. She trembles like a leaf in a strong breeze.

“I-I... Uhm... I had no idea that you felt so strongly about me. For the longest time I just assumed you were sweet to everyone. I've always thought of you as a sweet, kind, and angelic woman. Knowing how you feel is a shock, but a pleasant one. The truth is, I care for you very much, and you should know that you're quite literally everything I've ever wanted in a wife. Thoughtful, sweet, gentle, and very, very beautiful..."

Lutala's shaking slowly subsides and her lips curl into a faint, nervous smile.

“But Lapira complicates things..."

Lutala's smile quickly fades.

“... You love her, don't you?"

“Please hear me, Lutala. Lapira and I were young when we met. I was fifteen, just barely a man, and she was a youthful Vizheki Princess, an adolescent of twenty-nine years old. In fact, at twenty-two, you were only six when Lapira and I were growing close to each other. She and I were both pure when we met, and we took each other's purity... She was my first love, and I was hers. A part of me will always love her to some degree, but she's made it perfectly clear that what she and I originally wanted, to be married and live our lives together, will never happen. It can't and it won't."

Lutala's eyes turn glossy, welling with tears as he speaks. She can feel her heart breaking, as though someone had plunged a dagger of ice into her chest.

“What we have is just a fantasy and I've come to terms with that years ago. I know how we've been these past few days, and I'm sorry. Had I known you cared for me so much, I may have acted differently with her. I know the code, as I've taken my new faith to heart, but Lapira clouds my judgement; I pray to Yashuva daily for forgiveness and strength. For all of that, I know that I'll miss her when she's gone and living in Ogrodin. I also know that I'll have to accept the fact that I was a fool to think she and I could ever be together. Eventually, though, I'll be ready for the right woman."

Lutala sniffles. She can no longer hold back and sheds a tear. One tear becomes two, and soon the saline fluid runs from her eyes and over her vivid blue flesh like a river. Horrified by her pain, Salman reaches out and brushes her tears away before embracing her.

“You've saved me, Lutala. It wasn't just my life that you rescued from the depths of the sea, but my very soul as well. I owe you so much, and I'm so sorry this is causing you pain. I hate myself for this. I truly do. You need to know, though, that what I feel for you is exactly what I felt for Lapira, before we took that next step and claimed each other's purity. I care for you deeply, and I think of you often. Before Lapira arrived, I spent so much time with you because I enjoyed your presence. You radiate warmth and peace, and I find myself drawn to you like a moth to a flame...

If you stay here and give me time, my feelings for you can only grow stronger. This is a very difficult and confusing situation for me as well, and I know it isn't fair to ask you to live in Lapira's shadow until I'm ready. For that, I'm sorry, but I don't know what else to do. If you stay, I promise I'll try my best. She and I don't have a future, but you and I might. I would like that future. I would like to see what we could share one day. I... I would love the chance to make you happy."

Though she's heard his words and believes them, Lutala remains in agony. Heartbroken by his honest response, she feels her pain dancing around a growing rage. As much as she desires him, the humiliation of being asked to stand by while he forgets his first love is too much for her to bear.

“Sal... I need you to leave." She finally speaks, pushing him away.

“Lutala, I-"

“Go! P-please... Before I fall apart."

She sniffles and turns her back on him, a hand covering her eyes and another bracing herself against an ornate table. Nodding his head, he walks slowly past her, pausing only to set the Book of Yashuva and a bundle of scrolls atop the table, near her hand. She looks at the holy book and the related reading she'd added, the same work she used when she studied to become a priestess of her order. Sniffling once more, she turns her head and looks to him.

“What're you doing?" She asks with a tremoring voice.

“I'd hate to deprived you of these. You'll need them."

“But how will you continue your studies?!" She asks, using a sleeve of her robe to wipe away the tears streaming down her face. “You aren't... Are you?"

“No, I'm not turning away. Don't worry, Lutala. I'll find a way to replace them. Goodnight..." He reaches out and strokes her cheek, brushing away another tear. “I'm sorry."

“Goodnight, Sal."

With his head hung low, Salman shuffles slowly out of Lutala's room, leaving her with only her thoughts. No sooner does he step into the hallway, Lutala slams the door behind him. He can hear her weeping growing louder, and the Lord feels his own heart breaking. Why must life be so complicated? Why must a good woman suffer because his own past is muddied by his first love? A tear runs down his own cheek, cascading toward the forest that is his trimmed goatee.

“Well that didn't sound too good." Mairlynn speaks up.

“Yeah..." He murmurs, glancing over his shoulder at Lutala's door.

“Hey, Sal?"

“Hm?" He turns to the elf.

“Give her time... Until then, I don't suppose you'd like some company, would you?" She asks in a sweet voice, pushing open her bedroom door and slowly loosening her garments.

“..."

That night, neither Salman nor Lutala can sleep. Even Lapira's nightly visit brings the Lord little comfort. The Princess is only able to sleep beside him, rather than enjoying his flesh, as she had been those past few days; he was in no mood for her desires, and did not hide what troubled him. Eventually the storm subsides, and for the next two days Salman's men prepare the Arona-Dahl for her journey. During that time, temporary homes are found for the refugees, while new ones are constructed at the edge of Lahnzing, the largest of the towns on Salman's verdant, twenty-one square mile island.

Word of Vashalak's treachery spreads swiftly, emanating from the guards who'd stood by and listened while Nazir was informed by Salman and the crew. Naemen takes his place at Salman's side, serving as his new Chief-General and rallying the growing horde of rebellious citizens. The first to join the force are most of the men from the group of refugees. Anti-Empire rhetoric begins to spread, and the crews of ships from neighboring Lords, moored in the harbor, hear these words.

They're sent back to their master's with a simple message from Salman. Something is brewing in the Empire, and they need to prepare for the worst. Salman offers the Lords nearest him an alliance, though he has no idea if any will come to his aid. Tensions are high, and everyone is on edge. Some, however, find themselves preoccupied...

“Are we ready to go?" Steingar asks the others.

They nod their heads and collect what's left of their things, ready to board the Arona-Dahl and depart. Standing on the grass on a warm, sunny day, the crew say their goodbyes. Soon, they'll be chugging along, heading for the capital of Ogrodin, a grand port city, and bearing a message for King Albrecht. Valan and Salman embrace, wishing each other well. Lapira gives the Lord a passionate kiss and holds him until the others finally remind her that it's time to depart. Lutala has still failed to make a decision and the others are concerned. What will she do?

Standing at the edge of the dock, the Arona-Dahl waiting patiently behind them, Lutala turns to Salman. After a long and intense stare, she turns her fiery eyes toward Roak, who stands with Salasha and Naemen. He won't be joining them.

“So?" Salman finally chokes out. “What're your plans?"

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Lutala reaches into her robes and collects a small scroll. Stepping forward, she embraces Salman tightly. He slides his arms around her. He can feel her trembling. She cannot help herself and softly nuzzles his cheek, her tail swishing. Everyone can now see the extent of her feelings. The crew prepare themselves for what will be the only outcome of a woman standing before her beloved. Pulling back, Lutala gives Salman a very soft kiss upon his lips. Lapira appears discomforted by what she's seen, and bows her head, looking toward the grass before her feet.

“I'm sorry, Sal..." She speaks softly, backing away from him. “I don't believe I have the strength for this; I'll be leaving."

Salman is crushed and the crew are left in shock. None expected her to turn away from him, not after such a display.

“Blue woman isn't staying with Roak?!" The dreadlocked man exclaims, his eyes welling with tears.

“I'm sorry, Roak, but I must go."

“But Roak will miss Kirsty and Luty! Roak doesn't want the blue woman to go, too!" He whines.

“At least you still have me!" Salasha gently pats his back.

“Watermelons have too many seeds!" Roak complains, amusing a handful of soldiers.

Lutala extends a hand, passing Salman the scroll. He unrolls the scroll and begins to read.

“What's this?"

“It's the recipe for Roak's potions. The ingredients are cheap and plentiful, and even a novice alchemist or healer would have no trouble making you his medicine in quantity. They should help heal his mind, without doing to it what I did to Irzain..."

“Are you sure you want to do this?" He asks, looking deeply into her eyes. “You can stay. I'll do my best. I'll always do my best for you."

“I don't feel like I have a choice, Sal... You'll manage."

Turning her back on the Lord and the others, Lutala leaves them standing on the grass as she crosses the dock and boards the Arona-Dahl, joining everyone else. Making her way to the railing, she stands and watches the Lord and his companions. Boarding the ship last, Steingar pulls the lever that retracts the gangplank. Trellan's spirit, ever watchful, retracts the anchor and automatically activates the furnace, priming the steam turbine. The sails unfurl and catch the wind, and the ship gradually pulls away from the harbor.

Lapira takes her place beside Lutala, standing near the wooden railing and watching as a devastated Salman witnesses both of the women he cares for leaving him behind. Salasha turns and speaks to him, though neither can hear what she says. The green Lahnyt half breed rests her clawed hand on his shoulder and softly rubs him, a gust of wind blowing her long, platinum blond ponytail.

“Well, that was unexpected. After the way you kissed him, I didn't expect you to come with us." Lapira begins.

“Yeah..." Lutala murmurs.

“If I were anyone else, I wouldn't have." Lapira turns to her.

“Hmm..."

Lutala stares at Salman, who watches the ship until he's only a tiny speck on the horizon. The Princess's eyes scan the Lahnyt from head to toe, noting her body language as she leans against the rails. She may not be a fighter or a scholar, but as a politician and a woman, she's well versed in the arts of charisma and reading another's subtle signals. She can see the turmoil in the Lahnyt's eyes and her melancholy posture, though she bears it well.

“I hope you've made the right decision, Lutala."

“Yeah..." She says with a somber sigh. “So do I."