PRESTIRA
Yavara was in good spirits, having gotten the message this morning that both Brock and Elena were alive and well. From what little Zander had risked putting on the parchment, I gathered that he'd set plans in motion for finding a Froktora. I liked Brock, truly I did, and the Terdini were renowned for their strength and size, but they were just too small a clan. The Protaki were the largest tribe in The Pines, but even they paled in numbers compared to the hordes of The Tundra. The ten tribes of The Tundra (aptly named 'The Ten' since orcs are so fucking creative) would be outraged if anyone other than one of their own was named Froktora. Even then, their hatred for each other ran so deeply that simply naming one of them a candidate might spark a war. Still, that was better than outright rejection, which is what I feared Yavara would get if she presented Brock to the Ten. A war could be ended swiftly with a few key deaths, but political embarrassment lasted a lifetime. Yavara had shown some political acumen when she'd spun the rescue mission, but she still had a lot to learn. Her fierce loyalty to her friends was her greatest weakness, and would be used against her. So, I categorized her friends as 'assets' and 'liabilities,' weighing the benefits and risks each brought. Zander was certainly an asset, and I believed myself to be one as well. Brock wasn't yet a liability, but he was bordering on it, and Elena... Elena Straltaira was a ticking time bomb. If there was any benefit to the wayward ranger, it was to keep Yavara centered. For I'd seen a shadow of what Yavara could be without her moral anchor, and it was terrifying.
I shook myself from my contemplation, and focused on the task at hand. None of this would matter if we couldn't secure a loan from King Dreus, and to do that, Yavara would once again have to rely on her raw political acumen. As the high sun baked the stench of dead fish into the air, I coached her to the best of my ability.
"We need to be careful with our words, Yavara. He will want to be treated as above you. You cannot allow that to happen, but you cannot disrespect him, or he will be compelled to save face." I explained to Yavara as we walked along the docks. The hood of my white robe covered my face, the symbol of the Holy Mother stitched across it. Yavara wore a similar priestess outfit, the hood covering the top half of her own face. Even savage gangs respected the work of the church, and attacking priestesses would be a violation of street law. We traveled incognito for two reasons: one, because even though we were in the docks, where there was no shortage of Alkandran loyalists, Yavara's safety was still not guaranteed; and two, because of optics. Now that the world knew who Yavara was, her reputation had to be nurtured like an ailing infant. If everyone knew that Yavara had gone to Drake Titus to ask for aid, it would make her look weak, and though Yavara's subjects could overlook many undesirable traits in their Dark Queen, weakness was not one of them.
"So, I should show him respect, but use subtle language that tells him I'm better than he is, without disrespecting him completely?" Yavara asked, "I'm confused; this man is the leader of the most notorious gang in the city, and I'm supposed to talk down to him in his own court?"
"Don't talk down." I explained, "Just use prefixes of an equal, but make sure he calls you 'queen.'"
"I suppose it won't be as easy as sucking his cock and promising him money." Yavara grumbled.
I snorted. "No, this situation calls for more tact than that. Just think your questions to me if you have any, I'll guide you through it."
"Do you know Titus?"
"I was close with his blood-mother, Gloria Titus, for a time." I said as we rounded the corner, "She went across the sea to Hektinar to chase heathen idols, as she was one to do. That's the place there." We came to a large loading door, with a smaller pedestrian door embedded into it. I knocked three times. The window opened, and two black eyes stared down at us.
"What business do you have here, sisters?" The orc asked.
"We are here to speak with Drake Titus." I responded.
"What business do two sisters of the church have with Mister Titus?" He growled.
"His business, and not yours." I replied. The window slammed shut in our faces.
"Nice one." Yavara hissed at me.
"Just wait. Titus runs a smuggling operation beneath the city temple. He'll be curious as to why we are here."
The window opened again, and the orc spoke. "Titus will see you now."
I smirked at Yavara.
You smug little bitch.
She telepathically replied.
We stepped through the door, and our ears were immediately assaulted by loud thumping music. Flash pots blasted the dark room with a strobe light, making it seem like the dancing crowd was shifting rapidly. Cages hung from the ceiling where naked dancers of different races gyrated to the music, their sweat dripping from their bodies, flinging from their tossed hair. People were fucking in the middle of the dance floor with wild abandon, their movements synchronized with the beat, their faces that of animals. The orc guided us along the perimeter, parting the crowd as he did.
This place is fucking amazing!
Yavara's shrill voice echoed in my head.
It makes our little spectacle at the bar look like child's play.
I mused.
The orc guided us to a door on the side of the room with "V.I.P." crudely painted over it. "Open your robes and put your hands in the air." He commanded.
Yavara and I complied, and endured his thorough and dispassionate search of us. Our hoods stayed over our faces, and thankfully the orc didn't deign to blasphemy by making us remove them.
"You may speak with Titus, sisters." The orc opened the door and beckoned us through before slamming it behind us. My eyes were greeted with yet another scene of depravity. Masses of pale flesh writhed together like some pulsating beast of sex, it's many moans and screams forming a discordant drone. The room was poorly lit by torches burning red flame, giving the orgy a hellish glow. Every member of the orgy had skin as white as snow, hair as black as jet, crimson irises baring feline pupils, and blood-red lips parting to expose white fangs. If there was a benefit to vampirism, it was eternal youth and beauty, for all the women were statuesque and voluptuous, and all the men were tall, lean and strong. Their gothic features were sensually predatory, and focused on the smell of fresh blood.
"Sisters!" A man called jovially from the center of it all. I didn't have to guess that it was Drake Titus; the extravagant chair, the adornment of jewels, and the two women worshipfully licking his cock were all the evidence I needed. Gloria would be proud of her blood baby. Taking a steeling breath, I stepped through the debauchery, watching errant limbs retreat before my path. I wasn't an extremely adept telekinetic, but I could blow the roof off a building, and expose everyone to the high noon sun. I'd picked the time of our arrival purposefully. I stopped ten paces from Titus, wary of the hungry eyes and sharp fangs that lurked at my periphery.
"Remove your hoods, sisters." Titus commanded, "I need to see the eyes of the people I'm dealing with."
Yavara glanced at me, and I nodded. Together, we drew back our hoods. There were no gasps to accompany the reveal of the Dark Queen, for vampires were not prone to such human exclamations. There was only a sudden muting of the revelry, making the room quiet enough to hear a pin drop. For her part, Yavara didn't seem the least bit out of sorts. She held her head high and proud, unflinching before Drake Titus.
"The Dark Queen herself comes to my home!" Titus exclaimed, "I wished you had warned me in advance, Your Highness; I would have made myself presentable."
"You're fine as you are." Yavara said wryly, her eyes navigating the length of his cock. Titus smiled back at Yavara, though I could see he was simply looking at her neck.
"And what brings royalty into my humble chambers?" Titus asked.
"We have a proposition for you, Titus." I said to him, not liking the gleam in his red eyes. They turned to me, but the wanting glint did not diminish.
