A steely-eyed man stood at the hill's pinnacle, watching the slow approach of the procession in the valley below. It was not much more than a trail of dust, but Sarkon's outriders had already given him a close account of who trespassed in his domains. The Wujanian Empire had long snubbed its nose at the desolate lands of the steppes and the nomadic peoples who dwelled in them. All that had now changed, though, ever since Sarkon's dark ritual had cemented his immortality and control over the nomadic peoples of Easteros, forging them into a frighteningly powerful Confederation.
Now, below him, Sarkon saw a way to increase that power and enjoy some delightful fruits for his trouble. Three daughters of the Wujanian Emperor were on their way through the steppes of Easteros to the Empire of Zubia. Wujania and Zubia had long been enemies, with the steppes serving as a sort of neutral buffer zone. All too aware of Sarkon's rise to power, however, Emperor Gaoja of Wujania had decided to send his daughters to be married off to the princes of Zubia, thinking to form an alliance rooted in blood which not even Sarkon's growing power could match.
It was a skillful diplomatic move, and Sarkon admired the Emperor's cunning. But Sarkon had also anticipated it. The network of spies he had painstakingly built in recent months had also borne fruit, giving him advanced warning of the three princesses' route, which had to pass through Easterosi land unless the Emperor was willing to add months to the journey and have his daughters brave other strange countries and dangers equally foreboding.
Sarkon waited, patient as a lioness crouched on the savannah. When the Wujanian caravan grew near, the sun glinting off of the gold roofing of each princess's lacquered palanquin, he raised the battle horn to his lips and blew a deep, ominous note which reverberated through the valley below.
The hordes of Easteros descended on the Wujanian escort. Although the Wujanian were well-equipped and well-trained, their bastion of warriors stood like a sand castle being eaten away by a rising tide. Sarkon's mounted bowmen swooped in graceful maneuvers, launching droves of deadly missiles which found their mark between the joints of armor and beyond the lips of the defenders' shields.
Once the missiles had done their work softening the foe, Sarkon himself led the charge on his great warhorse, Darhivo. He crashed through the outer perimeter of defenders, scattering shields and men like chaff in the wind. He hewed with his broadsword left and right, blood spattering to cover his naked chest. The immortal warlord did not fear death. What wounds the Wujanian defenders did manage to inflict quickly regenerated.
At last the battle-lust seemed to ebb in Sarkon's blood. He surveyed the scene of carnage. Hundreds of defenders lay dead in their splinted yoroi armor and wide-flaring helmets shaped like dragons. For all of their beautifully ornate and ruthlessly effective battle armor, the Wujanians had been no match for the shock of Sarkon's cavalry and horse-lords.
Sarkon nodded to his trusted Chieftain of Secondary Rank, Vulnar. Vulnar was almost as big and muscular as Sarkon, but a long scar ran down his cheek, spoiling his good looks. Covered head to toe in battle armor, unlike his nearly-naked commander, Vulnar approached to give his report. In the distance a few final knots of resistance lingered, and the cries of men were a minor din which Sarkon and Vulnar spoke over.
"We have defeated the enemy and captured the girls, my Master. What would you have me do with them?"
"I will think of something," Sarkon smiled. "Show me to them."
Vulnar bowed and took his commander to three of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. The oldest had short, glossy dark hair and wore a crimson gown embroidered with dazzling peacocks. Her eyes were filled with defiance rather than fear. Her slightly younger sister wore a bright yellow robe embroidered with phoenixes, and her skin was the pale color of cream, unblemished and enticing. Her dark eyes looked at Sarkon with uncertainty before she cast her gaze downward. Lastly Sarkon moved his eyes to the youngest princess, whose green gown was emblazoned with flying dragons of purple and gold. She looked at him with a strange look, no fear in her eyes, only awe. Slender and petite, she seemed the frailest of the three sisters, but her jade-green eyes brimmed with vitality.
All three princesses had been forced to come to a huge tent hastily erected by Sarkon's commanders. Sarkon looked over each girl, imagining the curves hidden beneath those flowing silken gowns.
"Do you understand the language I speak? If so, tell me your names," Sarkon intoned.
The middle princess responded dutifully as if to speak for all three of them. "I am Umika, and this is my older sister, Culiko, and my younger sister Ishinai. Please, Great Sir, do not hurt us. We were but humbly passing through your land and meant you no harm!"
Sarkon nodded, but his eyes were grim. "Though you may not have meant harm to me, Umika, you were fulfilling your father's purposes, and those are detrimental to my own dreams and designs. You have failed in your mission, princess. Now you are my booty, to do with as I see fit."
All three girls shivered at the big warlord's harsh words. Nearly a dozen warriors stood at the perimeter of the tent watching this encounter unfold.
"Take off your clothes until you are as naked as the day of your birthing. I would have a look at each of you," Sarkon said.
The oldest princess paled, her arms instinctively jerking cross-wise to cover her chest. "You do us great dishonor, Sir! No one may look upon our royal bodies except one who we are betrothed to! You do not look like one of the Zubian princes who are our betrothed, and you have no right to do this!" The almond-eyed beauty had fire in her, Sarkon had to admit that. He smiled inwardly, enjoying the interaction.
"I will not say it again, Princess Culiko. But consider this: it may be more uncomfortable for you if I have my men rip your clothes off forcibly than if you simply obey me and shed the garments willingly."
Sarkon looked at all three beauties meaningfully, letting his threat sink in. Finally the three dark-haired beauties seemed to realize their predicament. They stripped out of their finery and then their underclothes. At last, they were naked, their sensuous bodies awakening a sudden pang of lust which surged through Sarkon's loins.
He saw Umika, her body perfect with medium-sized breasts, hips and a smooth belly that would mesmerize the eyes of any man if he stared at it for too long. Sarkon's eyes then roved over to Ishinai, the slender girl whose supple breasts and tiny, pink nipples seemed to beg for his mouth and touch. When the fierce warlord's eyes finally lingered on Culiko, he admired the woman's voluptuous curves, her full breasts jutting forward with defiant sexiness.
Sarkon tore away his leggings and threw off his boots and under-cloth, revealing his naked and brawny maleness in all its ruggedness. All three women gasped at the giant cock that sprang upward from between his well-muscled legs.
"Do you like what you see, ladies? I may consider ransoming you back to your father, depending on how well you serve me. Perhaps you understand, hm? He approached Umika, his hands gently cupping her breasts as she moaned. He felt the heft of them, lifting them at their undersides, before his eyes admired every curve of her creamy, pale nakedness.
