Dorian The Everlasting Ch 01

NOTE to readers:

This is the first book of this type that I will be publishing. I have several chapters that are already near completion, and I will upload them as I get a chance. This will be a series and will have a variety of erotic themes, but it also might have chapters with a purely narrative focus. The overriding theme will be the building of a harem. Along with this will be some world building as the world I started to create has become as interesting to me as the erotic scenes, I hope you enjoy it.

NOTE: I have taken some feedback and this is an edited version of the first upload. Hope you enjoy.

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Title Summary

Dorian the Everlasting, the last Emperor of Tell'Dora.

A chronological compendium of the recovered journals of Dorian I, also known as Dorian the Everlasting, Dorian The White Lion of Vel'Loren or Dorian, the Great Patriarch.

Written by: Prof. Melfius Den'Ardo, Director of History, and Prof. Klia TaLos, Dep. Director of the History Studies at the New Harbor University of Enlightenment

Edited by: Prof. Radion Prior, Director of Record Keeping at the Institute of Historical Care

Preface:

Until only a few years ago, historians and archeologists considered the legend of an immortal Emperor of the Tell'Doran Empire a myth at best. To be accurate, the existence of Emperors named Dorian who ruled over the Tell'Doran Empire is not disputed. However, what is, or at least what was disputed, was the notion that he was a single individual who ruled for a thousand years.

The mention, depiction, and record of Emperor Dorian and his many titles are found in writings and artifacts dated even a thousand years after his reign had ended. These historical records are more than four thousand years old and have proven to be authentic, if not previously considered unreliable. If taken at face value, the evidence points to a single man founding and ruling over a vast empire that spanned much of the central continent of Tell'Dora for more than a thousand years. We now know it was close to one-thousand, three hundred and twenty-eight years.

Of course, the notion of a single emperor reigning for more than a thousand years was disregarded out of hand. After all, the lifespans of men and women are far less than a tenth of that in the best of circumstances. During the time frame of this empire, the average lifespan of people was in the mid-50s. In addition to this scientific fact, numerous pieces of evidence were found that named hundreds of vassals who seemed to have lived several centuries, according to the previously disregarded historical evidence.

The conclusion by the scientific community was to either believe that a ruling class of immortal men and women existed two thousand years ago and vanished without a trace or that the Tell'Doran Empire had adopted a system of referring to rulers by one name regardless of their generation. This theory had its own flaws, as no two sets of remains ever had the same name attributed to them. Some argued that when deceased, the ruler would receive their birth name, but the argument that such a system would ever be adopted by a rational society is hard to believe.

To date, only sixty-eight physical remains associated with the ruling class of the Tell'Doran Empire have ever been discovered; this number is tiny when considering it is believed that Dorian the Everlasting ruled over hundreds of vassals in over a dozen kingdoms. Much can be written about the long-standing debate regarding Dorian the Everlasting and the mythology of his reign. However, in the month of Alumini, in the year 2044 AE, a vast underground ruin was discovered by construction workers at the site of the new terminal at Ludinon Airport.

What was found there would forever change the historical perspective of the first and only Emperor of the Tell'Doran Empire, Dorian the Everlasting. In total, one thousand seven hundred and ninety-two perfectly preserved journals were discovered in a sophisticated vault, and experts agree that these dates back to the height of the Tell'Doran Empire. The overwhelming consensus is that these journals were written by Dorian himself. What was first understood about the Emperor, the Empire, and its end has forever changed.

This work is the chronological collection of these journals, translated, written, and edited for laymen's reading. Please enjoy, and parental guidance is advised.

Chapter 1 - Arla

My name is Dorian, the First of His Name—The Everlasting, The White Lion of Vel'Loren, The Great Patriarch and Protector of the Realm. These are the titles I hold as Emperor of the Tol'Daran Empire, by which my loyal subjects know me. To my enemies, however, I am Dorian the Tyrant, The White Beast, and, perhaps most amusingly, Dorian the Queen Stealer.

The first title I ever received was Kinslayer. My father, Earl Garler VI, spat the name at me with anger and bitterness the first time he laid eyes on me. My mother died giving birth to me, and though he was initially overjoyed to have a son—especially one born with the white mane of the Lion Born—that joy vanished the moment my mother, Andrena II, took her last breath. What followed was a childhood steeped in resentment and grief, a dark chapter of my life I have little desire to revisit.

I was born Dorian of House To'Riken, son of Garler VI, Earl of Vel'Loren. As the son of a nobleman—albeit a lesser one—I enjoyed a life of comfort, a broad education, and rigorous training in sword, shield, and bow. I also learned the intricacies of estate management at our home, Harvest Hold.

My father never remarried, and as his sole heir, it was my duty to be well-prepared to inherit his lands and responsibilities. For centuries, House To'Riken had governed Vel'Loren. While we were not a great house in terms of influence or might, our lands were fertile and prosperous, bringing us considerable wealth. We owed fealty to House Tur'Ael, whose Ducal seat was in Val'Talor, the capital of the Tor'Ruk Valley Duchy—a region known as the breadbasket of the Del'Mari Kingdom.

Our house descended from House Tur'Ael, as evidenced by the traits shared by many in our noble line: olive skin, silver hair, and pale blue eyes—clear signs of the Blood of the Lion.

The Tur'Ael bloodline was remarkably strong, and many nobles within and beyond the kingdom could be recognized by their distinctive eyes, hair, or both. It was said that our blood had been consecrated centuries ago through a powerful magical ritual, rumored to have taken place in the Tor'Ruk Mountains, at the border of my father's lands. At the time, I dismissed this as mere legend—a potent myth used by nobles to bolster their claims of "powerful blood" or to curry favor with those who shared the Tur'Ael lineage. What I later discovered, however, proved these stories true and more.

Unlike in the kingdoms of the Far East, inheritance in Del'Mar was not bound by gender. Men and women could hold titles, marry as many spouses as they could support, and keep concubines equally. Every noble position carried expectations regarding both the number and quality of one's spouses and concubines. A key aspect of lordship was mastery in the art of lovemaking, for nothing secured loyalty and harmony among one's partners more than skill in this ancient practice.

As the heir to a small but wealthy house, it was in my best interest to excel in pleasing a woman. The number and status of one's spouses and concubines were reflections of power, and it was expected that the lord of House To'Riken should have at least two or three wives and several concubines. My father, however, had neither inherited the Lion's Blood nor distinguished himself in height or wit. But as the firstborn among several siblings, he secured his position while his brothers and sisters were married off as first, second, or third spouses to other nobles—or in some cases, became concubines themselves. Such was the fate of houses with only a single title to their name.

It is one thing to have multiple lovers, but quite another to keep them content and loyal. Stress, after all, can be as deadly as any illness. And nothing is more taxing on the body and spirit than a household full of spouses who despise you.

Because of this, as soon as I came of age, my father introduced me to a pale, dark-haired beauty, Mistress Casandra. She was to be my teacher in the art of pleasure. And the art of pleasure I was taught. From the pleasure of conversation, which stimulates the heart and mind. To the pleasure of romance, writing poems, composing songs, and the languages of love. Understanding what a woman wants but does not speak aloud. And finally, the pleasures of the flesh.

I can remember the first woman Cassandra brought to my bed. As a wealthy noble house, we could afford the most exotic of courtesans. Her name was Liana; she was from the South Islands and a recurring favorite of mine. She had entered my room wearing only a robe. Her long dark burgundy hair shaped an alluring face, with bright green eyes, high cheekbones, and full arousing lips. She greeted me coyly, "Good evening, my Lord. My name is Liana, and I am here to instruct you."

Smiling nervously at the time, I replied, "I am honored to meet you, Liana. I am here to learn."

She returned my smile and shrugged off her robe. Her golden bronze skin flowed unchanging over her large and firm breasts, taut stomach, wide and firm hips, and well-defined legs. Swaying her hips, she languished towards the bed, her eyes never leaving mine. I can remember standing up nervously, pulling my hands up to undo my buttons, only for her to gently grasp my hand as she leaned over and whispered, "Let me, my Lord."

Seductively, she undid the buttons of my shirt, revealing my strong, well-defined physique to her obvious pleasure. She stroked her fingers over my chest and underneath my shirt, pushing it over my shoulders and caressing my arms. Shivers raced up my spine at her delicate touch. Never breaking her luscious stare, she knelt and proceeded to undo my trousers. Only when she removed my manhood from my britches did she look away from me and towards my cock.

Her eyes widened, and her jaw slackened in shock, "My Lord, the rumors were true after all."

I smirked, "And which rumors where those, my dear?"

She regained her poise and smiled at me devilishly, "My Lord, there are rumors in your lands about the White Lion of Vel'Loren having a member to match his name."

I laughed, "It appears the castle's maids have been gossiping."

Pulling my trousers to the ground, she giggled before standing up. She gently grabbed my sizable manhood and guided me to the bed. She eased backward onto the bed and pulled me along by my cock. Letting go of me, she laid back unto her elbows and spread her soft copper thighs. Her moist center was presented to me fully, the hair expertly shaved, leaving only a single strip of short curls above her clit.

"Your first lesson, my lord, is how to make this," She gently rubbed her honeypot, "turn to bliss by using that." She finished her sentence by placing her fingers at my mouth. The smell of her sex drove me mad with desire. I wanted nothing more than to drive my savage manhood into her and claim her body as mine. My instruction with Mistress Casandra was extensive, and I was taught to anticipate this desire. I could, of course, go ahead and give into my base impulse. I was the lord's son, after all.

Even though Liana was a courtesan and perfectly able to focus purely on my desires, it was not her purpose. She was here to help prepare me to be an excellent lover to my future wives and concubines. Not to give me an easy release to my rock-hard cock. Pure vaginal penetration would never be enough for any woman of high standing whom I would call wife or concubine. No, the art of pleasure was more than rutting like a wild beast. It could, of course, include that, but normally, it began slow, sensual, and equitable. Unbridled fucking was, of course, possible, but only when a woman was well prepared and fully receptive, especially when a larger manhood was involved.

I was also instructed that with any woman I was with, her pleasure would heighten my own and increase the shared pleasures of any union. In addition, bringing a woman to climax regularly would elevate my standing with her and assist in developing a mutually satisfactory relationship. As a future Lord of my house, I would ensure their love with kindness and fairness. But the great pleasure I bring them often would restrain their jealousy and keep their beds free of other men.

That first night, I made many mistakes; I went too quickly, then too slowly, and often in the wrong place. However, I was persistent, and soon enough, Liana's nectar flowed over my lips as she climaxed. She taught me where to place my hands to support my questing tongue. Where to be hard and where to be gentle. Timing was also instructed, and so soon, her howls of pleasure were echoing down the halls of my father's keep.

And yes, once her passage was prepared, I fucked Liana, and in the three years to come, I fucked many different women, courtesans mostly, and also Cassandra, my most persistent instructor. She would speak to me gently, guiding my hands, mouth, and cock. Instructing me on the art of reading a woman's body. To detect the oceans of need from the slightest shiver. I was tasked with finding the non-carnal erogenous zones of various women, trained to detect the slightest reactions and interpret them as either indifference, desire, or repulsion.

I soon built a reputation in my father's land as a wonderous and vigorous lover. Many nights I claimed three or even four of Casandra's "instructors." The endurance built up by hours upon hours of weapons training and my unquenching arousal allowed for such exertions. Many times, I left a pile of exhausted whores in my wake. A level of endurance and hunger that a future lord of a wealthy house would find advantageous when gathering a large harem of wives and concubines. Being able to please multiple women in one night would allow me to share my attention with my future partners and help grow affection amongst them as well.

And so, my days were filled with education in writing, reading, fighting, leadership, administration, courtship and fucking. It seemed the gods had blessed me with many talents as I progressed steadily in all my pursuits. I could often see my father smiling with pride, although thoughts of my dead mother would always keep the warmth from his eyes. Fortunately, that was the extent of my father's pain. He had overcome his bitterness for the most part, at least in the latter stages of my childhood. His wife had given him a son, one that was gifted and the envy of many lords, so he found purpose in honing my considerable potential.

It was near my twentieth name-day when I was introduced to my future wife, Arla Tur'Ael. Tall and exquisite, with dark hair, the will of a dragon, the body of a goddess, and the heart of a queen. She was the sixth child of Duke Travian Tur'Ael, born to his third wife, and destined to marry one of the Duke's vassals.

Had she been a daughter of the Duke's first or even second wife, she would have been betrothed to a Duke's son to secure an alliance or curry favor—perhaps even put forward to be married into the Royal family.

On the other hand, she could have easily been given as a concubine to any high-ranking nobility as a gift. Fortunately for us both, she had distinguished herself amongst her peers, allowing her to excel in all the instruction she was given. I would soon discover that she would be every bit as capable as the queens of legend.

Only a few weeks from turning twenty, I had ridden with my father and his knights for Reapers Rock—the mighty fort and home of Duke Travian. The ride into the imposing fort was always exciting. Its white stone walls had repelled many would-be invaders over the centuries and were well kept by the riches of the bountiful lands of the dutchy.

The impressive gates of the fort swung open, and we rode into the vast courtyard, where the Duke's chamberlain awaited us.

"Good tidings, Lord Garler. Reapers Rock welcomes you and your son," the elderly man said with respect.

"And to you, Sir Torval," my father replied, dismounting from his horse with a visible strain that came with age.

Sir Torval's eyes appraised me. "Ah, young master Dorian. You've grown much since I last saw you," he said, a note of pride in his voice.

I clasped his wrist, offering a firm handshake. "Thank you, Sir Torval. My father's lessons and training in the yard have served me well."

"Well?" A booming voice echoed from the battlements above. "I hear your prowess with the sword is unmatched among the squires of your house. Some say even among the knights."

Both my father and I bowed our heads in unison. "My lord," we responded.

The Duke descended from the battlements with ease, his silver hair and pale blue eyes a clear reflection of our shared bloodline. Unlike my father, he carried his age well—tall, strong, and commanding. As he approached, he repeated his question, "So, boy, is it true? Are you already besting your father's knights?"

I knew courtly manners well, and humility was always wise in the presence of one's superiors.

"My lord, my skills have indeed improved since our last meeting, but I still have much to learn. I would not presume myself worthy of a knight's pauldrons just yet," I replied with a bow.

The Duke studied me for a moment, then glanced at my father. "You've trained the boy well. We'll need good lords to rule these lands. It's clear you've done an adequate job preparing your heir—seeing as you only have one," he added with a hint of irritation.

His eyes returned to me. "I do hope you'll be more diligent in securing your bloodline than your father. House Tor'Riken, rulers of Vel'Loren—the jewel of my domain! An Earl should have no less than three wives and twice as many concubines." He jabbed a finger against my chest. "It'll fall to you to fill the halls of Harvest Hold with sons and daughters. From what I hear, it won't be an overly taxing responsibility for you," he added with a wry smile.

I smiled back. "Not at all, my lord."

"Good!" he barked. "Torval, see our guests to their rooms. Tonight, we feast, and you'll meet your future bride. I dare say you'll be quite pleased."

After settling in, with daylight still lingering, I joined my father's men in the training yard for our daily practice. It wasn't long before we drew an audience. The heat of the summer sun had compelled me to shed my shirt, and the long hours spent training with sword, shield, and bow had sculpted my body into one strong and pleasing to the eye. I noticed the appreciative glances from several female onlookers, though they were quickly shooed away to attend to their tasks.

One set of feminine eyes, however, had no duties to fulfill. I spotted her on the balcony overlooking the training grounds, and she was hard to miss. Her eyes were as blue as arctic waters, framed by a hauntingly beautiful face. Black waves of long hair framed an appreciative smile that I found myself returning.

The knight captain, Douglas, came to my side and whispered, "Stop eyeing the pretty ladies, lad. We are not done yet."

I nodded but stole another glance at her before resuming my training. During my many visits to Reapers Rock, I had never met Arla. She had been sent to the capital for her education for much of that time. Yet, I knew instantly that this blue-eyed goddess was my future bride.

That evening, dressed in my finest attire, my father and I entered the feasting hall. My eyes scanned the large room for my betrothed, but none of the Duke's wives, daughters, or concubines were present.