In the year 7171, Emperor Sagittarius IX commanded the Landhaus Collective to reassign Landhaus Prospero to Sycorax, sole source of the Sap which gives the Collective its power to rule and the Order of Vyraxi their preternatural abilities.
Landhaus Trantor and its Lords had governed Sycorax for five generations, but the Vyraxi had used their special influence over the Sharnaxian Emperor to persuade Him that a more virile rulership was needed on the Vine-Sap Planet to protect the continued strength of the Sharnaxian Throne.
And so events were set in motion that would change the Landhaus Collective forever . . . .
It was utterly silent in Castle Corian when the Gorgon Mother of the Vyraxi entered the corridor which led to Prince Baltor's bedchamber. She glided across the even stone tiles to the half-open door and waited there in the torchlight, listening. Nothing stirred, but with her sensitive ears she could hear the Prince's breathing from where he lay on the big wooden bed, a simple white sheet and nothing more drawn over his body in the summer heat. There lay the future of Landhaus Prospero -- alone, asleep, defenceless and naked.
In a moment she noticed that two little glistening points of reflected torchlight met her glance as she stared into the darkness of the bedchamber: the young devil was awake and watching her! She chuckled to herself. He was already his mother's son, keen of mind and cunning. It would be interesting to watch him bend to her influence.
From her place in the corridor, the Gorgon Mother conjured a subtle mist which poured from the tips of her fingers and crept across the floor of the bedchamber, slowly filling the room until the mist's ceiling was even with the Prince. She saw the little points of light finally darken, and she admitted herself into the room.
She could already smell the Prince's musk, the precious smell of a man who was not yet twenty but whose organs and tissues were thrumming with the chemical signals of a Landhaus Scion who was born to rule. It was an intoxicating smell, especially to one such as the Gorgon Mother whose very position was dedicated to the evaluation of talent in men: talent for war, and talent for rule.
The old woman paused by the edge of the bed, listening to his breathing again for a few moments, and then hung her lantern on the hook by the bedside and drew back the sheet, exposing the Prince's sleeping body.
She let in her breath slowly. Not a gasp -- she was a being of intense physical discipline and did not gasp. But he was breathtaking, his temporarily-paralyzed body a specimen of such perfection that even the Gorgon Mother found her heartbeat quickening. It was no tremendous surprise: all the arts and skills of the Vyraxi had contributed to his breeding. But to see the results of her Order's generations of work was always tremendous. She could see at a glance that they had done extremely well.
Of course, seeing alone was not enough.
The Prince was long and substantial of frame. His broad chest, toned stomach and powerful thighs were covered in a layer of dark hair which contrasted with his pure, alabaster skin. The thick cluster of glossy pubic hair which would otherwise have clustered around the base of his oversized sex had been boldly pared back by his grooming women. The expertly circumcised penis, swollen testicles and their plump foundation had been meticulously denuded of all hair.
The Gorgon Mother retrieved a special piece of carved bone from her robes and quickly measured the sleeping penis from base to tip, finding it equivalent in length to seven silver drachmas in a row. She warmed her hand with her breath and wrapped it around the dramatically-veined shaft, squeezing up and down its length to appreciate its dimensions and constitution.
