"The Director will see you now, Captain."
Captain Rhoelt swallowed, downed the rest of their tea, and set the cup aside. They locked eyes with the clerk—a blonde woman with narrow spectacles and a too-bright smile—and nodded, rising to their feet. "Very good, then."
They followed the clerk to the office door. The Captain of the Silver Knights spared one glance back at the cramped waiting area—mostly full of miners with grievances, broken limbs, broken bodies, broken minds—and locked eyes with the clerk. "Is he in a good mood?"
The clerk giggled and beamed at them. "No."
Rhoelt tried to swallow, but their mouth was dry. They entered the Director's office.
The Lacratian Continent had few true corporations nowadays. With no kingdom to protect them, they rarely survived long before some enterprising band of villages decided that the land was better-suited to their hands than the hands of some suited bureaucrats.
The city of Enterprise was one of two urban sprawls in Lacra, and considerably smaller than Nyaska, off to the east. Originally, it had housed the kingdom's largest silver mine, as well as an order of knights dedicated solely to defending it.
Now, there was no kingdom. The Horny War had exterminated the Royal Family, exterminated all but a scattering of knighthoods. Most had gone vagrant. A few orders, like the Venom Knights, had dissolved into the growing ranger orders, or joined with the old inquisition nonsense.
"Captain Rhoelt." The spinning chair was faced away from Rhoelt. The Director appeared to be admiring an ugly kind of map on the wall—a map of the mines and regions under Enterprise control. There was a lot of gold paint on that map. "Captain of the City Watch. Knight of the City.
Current
head of the Silver Knights." He stressed the word 'current' in the manner a chef would stress a belladonna flower accidentally dropped into a soup. "Do you know what this map means, Captain Rhoelt?"
Nobody ever heard Rhoelt laugh. Nobody ever saw Rhoelt show fear. To their knights, Rhoelt was a stone, an immovable force to to pleaded with. Rhoelt gave a nervous laugh. "I-It's a remarkable thing, sir. No force has
ever
held a Thriae incursion off this long, to my knowledge."
Director Mavlin turned to Rhoelt, and Rhoelt withered beneath a yellow-eyed stare of total contempt. The Director took a sip from his thick, fruity-smelling drink—no doubt dosed with trace amounts of expensively distilled Thriae honey—and set the glass down. He was a comfortable sort of man, t in contrast to Rhoelt's austere shape and manner. His face was pale, but full, for the Director of Enterprise ate well. His ears were slightly pointed, betraying a hint of elven lineage. His hair was dyed a whitened gold and hung in loose ringlets. He was dressed in fine blues and purples, his suit embroidered with elaborate silver thread patterns. His silver earrings jangled as he locked eyes with Rhoelt. "We lost another shipment today."
Rhoelt nodded slightly. "It's difficult to avoid, sir. The Thriae have almost surrounded the city."
Mavlin snorted, leaning over his desk and fiddling with a pen. "Rhoelt, I don't know what more you want from me. This has been a very
expensive
operation since we disturbed the Hive. My job—and therefore
your
job—depends on keeping certain investors very happy with me. They are
not
." He raised dark eyebrows. "Do you know what that means?"
"Um. No, sir." Rhoelt was fairly certain they knew well, but it didn't do to interrupt Mavlin when the Director was on a rant.
Mavlin stabbed the pen into the desk, his voice raising in both pitch and volume. "It is fast becoming clear that they want to
cut their losses
! You'll be lucky if all they do is replace me—they
might
decide that this whole
city
is a waste of money, and come to take everything here back. Including the Knights whose lives they've bought and paid for."
Rhoelt tapped their fingers together. "Sir, the trouble with the Thriae is—"
"What?
What
is the trouble?" Mavlin's eyes flashed to Rhoelt's, full of rage. "Haven't I given you what you asked for? I pulled all our workers back into the central complex! I bred an entire generation of employees immune to that damned honey!" Fingers trembling, they took their glass and took a deep drought of the drink. They never broke eye contact, glaring fiercely at the captain.
Rhoelt nodded quickly. "Th-The alchemy sprites have helped, but... the side effects have made it challenging. And the Thriae are still fearsome warriors, and numerous. We don't have enough mages. If we had more magical support..."
"I don't
care
." Mavlin slammed the glass down, eyes narrowed. "I want the Hive
destroyed
! So tell me, Rhoelt—what are you doing to achieve that? Why have you called all your Knights back?"
"There's nothing more they can do now. They'd only encourage the Thriae to push. Right now, we need most everyone behind the walls. We... we need to buy time."
Mavlin lurched to his feet, eyes blazing. "Are you listening?" he snarled. "We don't have time! The investors will pull out any goddamned day, and you've apparently
given up
on solving this mess!"
"I have... things in motion." Rhoelt cleared their throat. "Okino's group—"
"That's a suicide mission," Mavlin spat. "Five knights against a whole Hive?"
"It won't be a head-to-head struggle, I assure you." Rhoelt raised an eyebrow. "Believe me, sir, Okino is one of the best. And he picked the best."
"I don't believe you." Mavlin glared up at Rhoelt for a moment, then slowly sat back down, reaching for his glass once more. "But you had better hope I'm wrong."
Rhoelt swallowed. "Okino knows what he is doing. I am confident he won't let us down."
~ ~ ~ ~
As Minixi led him by the hand down a dark, narrow corridor pocked with doors along every few meters of both sides, Okino mulled over everything that had happened in the last couple of days and wondered just what he was doing. Over the last day days, Okino had undergone a transformation from respected Knight of the City to mewling honeypot to infatuated sorceress boytoy to...
He stared at Minixi's large, shapely rear as she swayed forward, her wings fluttering ever-so-slightly. And now he belonged to Minixi. Now he was just a slave to her and his bimbo cock.
He bit his lip. Minixi was helping him escape. That was good. But she would probably want to keep him as her toy after—especially since she'd been so careful earlier to make sure he was addicted. And that was bad.
He needed to remember that that was bad.
He needed to escape and reunite with his group. That would need him. They didn't know what he knew about the Hive. They didn't even know where the Hive was.
But even considering leaving Minixi made his heartrate quicken. Minixi took care of him. Minixi let him cum whenever he wanted. Minixi had made him a good boy. His bimbo cock would submit to anyone—best to submit to her, Minixi, who would take care of him and protect him and make him feel good.
Okino swallowed. He had to find a way out. Had to fight his way free. When the time came.
For now, he and Minixi would work together, but he had to have a plan for when they escaped this place. He had to keep his head as clear as possible, so when the time came, he would be able to resist. He had to keep his mind as free as possible.
