Part The Second Into The Capital

Author's Note - This story is basically one continuous narrative in three parts. The sex scenes are different in tone, reflecting the stages of the protagonist's journey. The first part is heavy on story and light on sex, and the third part is heavy on sex and light on story.

Tags for Chapter 1: Female/demon, Female dominant, handjob, cunnilingus.

Tags for Chapter 2: Female/Female, Female dominant, makeout, tribbing.

Tags for Chapter 3: Male/Female, Male Dominant, reluctant?

NARRATOR:

The Protectorate is near the end of the current Age. The Flame of Masculinity is dying out. Protector Potentate Gabriel (father of twins, Gabriel and Gabrielle) - the most powerful and sexually potent man in the land due to his proximity to the Flame - is aging and decrepit. Gabriel has withdrawn to the Citadel of the Eternal Flame and has not been seen for years. His Silver Knights no longer attempt to maintain order outside Royal properties. Bereft of the Masculinity spread by the Flame, the men of the land are devolving into empty, shrunken caricatures of themselves. The Hysterical Curse, once merely a legend, has been seen on a number of women. Those who bear the Curse use the femininity it brings to perform the duties once the province of men - commerce, warfare, even government. When found by the women keeping a marginal society going, women with the Curse mark are often sent to the Asylum of Sisterhood, to be safely caged away until they die.

CRADLE OF ANCIENT LORDS

With the afternoon sun at her back, Probity climbed over the unguarded Capital wall, using a gargoyle statue to anchor her climbing rope. From that vantage point, she surveyed the ancient home of the Protectorate. Its buildings seemed intact but vacant, boulevards no longer populated by crowds of citizens, but only by animated guardians.

On her breast under her leather jerkin, the mark of the Hysterical Curse pulsed gently, in time with Probity's own heartbeat. Its guidance had helped lead her this far. As the Champion, her business - her quest - was taking her to the Palace. But the Capital's occupants weren't about to let anyone just walk in. Still, she had to find a way.

As Probity surveyed the Capital, she was struck by its beauty. The smooth, pale stone of the buildings and streets was warmly splashed by the radiant sun. The whole place was gleaming, and Probity even caught the glint of sunshine off real glass windows that had never seen winter storms.

The animated guardians - tireless clockwork contraptions in the shape of men - would be trouble, though. Unintelligent, they'd be relatively easy to avoid, but relentless once alerted. Not to mention extremely heavily armed and armored.

Probity watched the nearest guardian carefully. It marched in a straight line, stopping and turning in place rather than deviating its path. And its eyes swept metronomically back and forth in front of it, but never showed any interest in anything that might be to the guardian's sides or rear.

Timing her move carefully, Probity waited for the guardian to turn away before dropping and tucking into a graceful, quiet roll. The guardian, perhaps hard of hearing, showed no interest in leaving its guard route. Probity watched the guardian as it moved away before slipping quietly across the boulevard, where she was shadowed by the eaves of the building beyond.

The location of the Palace was obvious. Not only was it at the very center of the Capital, but lesser buildings were all seemingly restricted from growing tall enough to hide the view of the spire from anywhere in the city.

Probity began to work her way slowly towards the Palace, careful to never be seen in front of a guardian. She hid in the shadows between buildings when necessary. Even a Champion knew that discretion was the thing here. There was no way she could defeat one of those monsters in one-on-one combat.

When she slipped past the last guardian in her way and the Great Square in front of the Palace steps opened up in front of her, Probity noticed a change of the guard. No more clockwork guardians patrolled near the Palace itself - the seat of power was guarded by Gabriel's own knights.

However, when Probity watched the sentries standing at their posts, and the patrols of two to four knights walking the streets, Probity noticed that, like many things in the Protectorate since the Flame had abandoned the land, the knights were not what they once were.

Oh, they were still hearty and strong, with well-tended gear. And they showed discipline and training. But they were lacking ... something. They were going about their duties by rote but seemed to just be going through the motions. In a way, they seemed almost as mechanical as the clockwork guardians of the outer city.

Maybe they'd have a pattern Probity could exploit, too.

From the alleyway Probity was in, she broke the lock on a side doorway and entered the unoccupied building. Moving swiftly up the dark staircase, Probity came out on the top floor and found a much better vantage point to survey the movements of the guards.

Their pattern was more complex and less regimented than the literally mechanical clockwork guardians, but after fifteen or twenty minutes, Probity had a good feel for their movement patterns, routes, and timings. And she was able to estimate by eye the field of vision the static sentries might have.

An army couldn't get across that square. Even an adventuring party would be seen. But a single small woman, if she was quick, might be able to cross via one specific route near the rear of the Palace on the east side and hide in foliage at the base. If she could get across without making noise. In less than thirty seconds.

From there, if she stayed low, she could work her way back north along the base of the wall, where she had spotted a pane missing in a ground-story window. An opening a slender woman might be able to exploit.

Probity worked her way back down the stairs and into the alley. Circling carefully away from the square side of the houses, she worked her way parallel to the Palace towards where she would have to start her dash. Once there, she found another shadowed hiding spot under the eaves of a different three-story building. There, she watched the guards for a couple of circuits, getting the timing down inside her head.

As the patrol came up even with her on the next trip 'round, Probity started forward in a quiet crouch. One, two, three, four, five marching steps, their boots clanking on the stones of the street.

At the count of "six," Probity began to sprint for the Palace wall, as fast as she could while remaining crouched. By the time she reached the wall, she could feel the strain in her calves and thighs, and dropped gratefully prone behind a row of low, green bushes.

Then, once Probity had recovered her breath, she began the mentally draining slow creep back along the wall. Freezing when a patrol came around. Making sure to keep low and avoid openings in the wall of bushes. It seemed like an hour of worm-wriggling before Probity was beneath what looked like it had to be the right window.

The wait for the patrol to come around again was an eternity, but eventually Probity heard the jangling of their armor and the stamp of marching booted feet. Now or never.

Probity's thighs protested as she shot to her feet, but she had no time for pain. She practically dove through the missing pane, with heart-wrenching pauses to squeeze first shoulders, then bust, then hips, through before collapsing to the floor inside.

As she raised herself to hands and knees, Probity felt the Curse mark flare with warning under her jerkin. Almost immediately, she heard a masculine voice from the doorway. "What have we here?" came the slightly amused baritone.

Probity raised her head to see a member of the household staff. That is, one of Gabriel's knights, only wearing a surcoat rather than armor, and armed with a dagger and not a sword. She sighed and got to her feet as the confident knight approached. Apparently so confident that he didn't call for backup.

Soon, he was regretting his overconfidence. Without an advantage in either reach or armor, he should have been careful, but that was seemingly beyond the capacity of Gabriel's knights.

There was a flash of motion. The tip of the knight's dagger skidded off the leather of Probity's jerkin. At the same instant, Probity's sword bit deep in the knight's belly, barely hindered by the cloth of his surcoat. He folded over and collapsed, his death rattle somehow conveying both surprise and pain.

Probity carefully proceeded through the inside of the Palace, trying to work her way toward the heart. She moved from one abandoned wing up to the next level via a spiral staircase, then down to a different abandoned wing. Occasional servant/knights accosted Probity, but with her earlier experience the lightly armed military men could be handled one on one. And her Curse mark was watching out for her, so she was never surprised.

At last, Probity entered a massive entry hall through an upper-story doorway. Before her, broad staircases descended a full three stories to the bottom level, where massive doors were shut against all comers. Probity could not see any winch that would open them - but in any case such a contraption likely would take two strong men or a horse to turn, even were it in good working shape.

As she descended, Probity saw - directly opposite the massive doors - a smaller staircase that must lead to the inner keep. Going down the final stairs, Probity saw an enemy watching her malevolently from the floor below.

It was neither a construct or a knight the likes of which she had encountered previously, but a construct of a knight, 12 feet tall with a massive stone sword. Though on its knees, it was several feet taller than Probity, and it was putting all its effort into standing up. The effort was not accomplishing anything, though. The clockwork knight raised up no more than a few inches, then crashed back to its knees. Again and again with inhuman malevolence.

As Probity began to sidle around the construct, she began to realize why it couldn't stand. The gears powering its lower legs, and the struts that served as tendons, were corroded and practically useless. Could no one remaining in the Palace repair such a thing? Even if it did manage to stagger to its feet, its arms were doubtless in equally poor shape...

So Probity continued towards the stairs to the innermost keep, feeling the inhuman stare of the construct knight burning into her back as she moved away from it.

After climbing the short final staircase, Probity opened the double doors leading to the innermost keep. Revealed to her was a large room, with a high vaulted ceiling held up by two rows of stout columns. Sunlight spilled in from windows high up on one wall, lending a surreal glow to the arena.

At the end of the room, between the rows of columns, waited eight feet of gleaming gold-washed armor, lightning snaking around a two-handed spear. Doubtless this would be the Knight-Commander, the ultimate challenger defending the Palace.

The Knight-Commander strode forward, movements graceful as a dancer, approaching Probity in the entryway with equal parts drama and inevitability. He stopped twenty or so feet from Probity, and saluted as if to an equal. Confident on his home ground, the Knight-Commander was clearly happy for the intruder to make the first move.

Probity saluted him back, Champion to champion, and moved out of the doorway towards him.

As soon as the Knight-Commander raised his spear to guard position, Probity realized that he was the most dangerous foe she had yet faced in her whole life up to now. He segued directly from a standing position into fluid movement without apparent effort. His approach was a swooping, darting charge as sensual as it was dangerous. He was familiar with the environment and entirely comfortable with his skills.

Probity barely held off even his first attack. His second graceful sweeping attack saw his lightning-shrouded spear whoosh barely past Probity's ear. Probity was overmatched.

Instinctively, Probity realized that she couldn't match his footwork, and that his full plate was too strong for her sword. But she needed to defeat him to pass. She would have to find a way, fighting defensively until she could spot a chance.

So Probity stopped even trying to force the issue. She didn't give ground but didn't press the Knight-Commander either. She waited, parried, and dodged. His lithe attacks were visually impressive, but Probity was holding her own.

Her entire attention centered on a single focus. Minutes passed. The Knight-Commander circled Probity - probing, thrusting, disarming. But Probity didn't bite, biding her time. Holding on. Warm on her breast, the Curse mark spread feminine patience through Probity's mind.

Finally, a chance! Probity saw her enemy put just a little too much weight on his front foot as he lunged, unbalancing himself - if only for a half a second.

In that half a second, Probity struck. The Knight-Commander's head was immobile for just long enough for the tip of Probity's sword to penetrate the slit in his faceguard - as well as the flesh and bone beneath. Dead instantly, the Commander collapsed lifelessly, the sword wrenched out of Probity's hand, wedged inextricably in metal and bone.

Breathing like a bellows with stress and exertion, it took Probity nearly as long to get her sword back from the Knight-Commander's corpse as it had to defeat him in the first place.

Still adrenaline-charged, Probity moved slowly towards the other end of the hall. There was a dais, three marble steps leading up. On the magnificent carpet was an empty throne. A light film of dust covered it. Behind it was an alcove.

As Probity approached the throne, in the alcove behind an elevator platform descended from ceiling. Ten seconds later, it rose again. And descended after ten more seconds.

Probity was being invited up. With no real choice at this point, she stepped on the platform and ascended. She emerged in a very different place.

The Curse mark on Probity's breast was practically vibrating with excitement. Probity must be approaching somewhere very important to her quest to find the Flame.

The room was dim, with no obvious source of light other than a shaft of sunlight shining down from the roof towards the back of the room. Near the front of the room was a raised audience area, with a couch flanked by statues of snakes and warriors. Nearer Probity, directly between her and the couch, was a wide basin - copper, with gold lining. Pure water filled it. "Purify yourself, champion," an ethereal voice rang out throughout the hall, from no identifiable source.

Probity looked down into the wide, gleaming bowl. There was an internal glow that seemed to come from the depths of the water, reflecting off the bowl's gold inner surface to shed a liminal light on the immediate area. Probity obediently cupped her hands and rinsed her face with the pure, cool water.

Out of the light behind the audience area, a tall, young, attractive woman stepped into the shadow next to the couch. The woman was a vision of nobility and, particularly, femininity. She was in the flower of her womanhood, perhaps a scant few summers beyond twenty.

"I am Gabrielle," the woman said simply. "My father is the Protector of this Land. I rule the Capital in his stead."

Flowing tresses of long hair, deep red rose in color with gold highlights, spilled down over Gabrielle's shoulders. Her skin glowed with an internal radiance, shining with femininity. Gabrielle's face was striking - eyes narrow and smoky, lips full and red, and nose haughty and aquiline - awesome and captivating rather than merely beautiful.

She was naked.

Gabrielle's figure was the perfect realization of youthful femininity. Her breasts were impressively large and firm, round and smooth, hanging full and set apart. There was a dark bronze medallion hanging in the fingerswidth of alluring cleavage between Gabrielle's majestic orbs. Gabrielle's large desert coral areolae covered almost the entire front surface of those splendid breasts, naturally drawing the eye to her discreet pebble nipples. Gabrielle's belly was trim and flat, but her elegantly slim hips flared out into a classic silhouette. Slightly in shadow, Gabrielle's pubic hair was an alluring crimson forest, appearing shades darker than the hair on her head.

"I was expecting that the champion who defeated my Commander would have come as a conqueror. Bursting with masculinity, barely under control. My duty was to keep him calm for long enough to give my brother's soul sufficient time to influence him. To convince the invader to merely displace my father and establish a new Protectorate rather than destroy the age in fire and plunder."

Gabrielle stepped closer.

"My duty was to channel my femininity. In order to make myself receptive. To offer my body for his use. To quench the flame of his masculinity," the beautiful young woman intoned. As Probity watched, Gabrielle summoned her femininity to herself, and even her skin began to glow with its light. "To present my breasts for his fingers, for his tongue. To offer my pussy for his rampant cock. To spread my legs willingly. To take his sperm."

"My duty to my father is to seduce the Champion," the taller woman said, gracefully crossing the remaining space between them. The Curse mark on Probity's breast flared warmly in response to the woman's nearness, and she felt her heart beating faster.

"But how can the Champion be female? You are not masculine, not a conqueror. You are feminine. You are receptive," Gabrielle said. "As a woman, your feminine nature is your true destiny."

She was so close that Probity could smell her sweet breath and feel it on her face. "You know what it's like to be accepting. To surrender. To be fulfilled as a woman."

Probity gulped. Although the Curse was warmly agreeable, Gabrielle was getting too intimate - in both word and action. "I don't like women," she blurted desperately.

Gabrielle looked down the few inches difference to meet Probity's eyes and, smiling, ran a hand idly through Probity's hair. "I do," the younger woman said simply. And, holding Probity's head in place, Gabrielle kissed her. Hungrily. Like a man. But gently. Like a woman.

Probity had never kissed a woman before. Gabrielle's lips were soft on hers as she nibbled and tasted them. Gabrielle's tongue was equally soft, probing insistently but not aggressively. Though the angelic, radiantly feminine Gabrielle was taller than Probity, her mouth was strangely smaller than most men's, and the sensation was compellingly different. Gabrielle's lips felt soft, and pliable.

Probity felt her nipples hardening from the knowing kiss and the swiftness of the seduction. Instinctively, Probity fought Gabrielle's tongue with her own for a few moments, but then with an explosion of breath opened her mouth to welcome the invader. Probity shivered and moaned into Gabrielle's mouth as the taller woman explored Probity's moist lips before plunging her insistent tongue between them again.

As she receptively welcomed Gabrielle's insistently dueling tongue, Probity felt a strange sensation from lower down. The queenly Gabrielle, obviously experienced with women's combat armor, was undoing the buckles and straps fastening Probity's leather cuirass together! Faster than Probity could do herself!

Feeling obliged to make some kind of display to slow down the aggressive foreplay, Probity protested feebly into Gabrielle's mouth. But her words were muffled by the probing tongue still dueling with hers.

When Gabrielle suddenly broke the kiss, Probity's eyes snapped open. Probity looked entreatingly up into the taller woman's confident eyes, which were glowing with inner power. Gabrielle's expression was determined but not hungry like any man Probity had ever known. Not like her husband, or even the demon Saggy. Probity realized the noblewoman was drawing power from her femininity, and Probity felt that power wash over her.