Vaid Empire: Conquest

Vaid Empire: Conquest

is a massive fantasy series that aims to mix

erotica

with the quality of a published novel. New chapters and artwork are released every month absolutely free, with the completely optional possibility to receive early access. The Series focuses heavily on worldbuilding, story, and characters.

The world of Ayphieal is shattered and chaotic, with kingdoms and tribes of six distinctive races vying for territory amongst themselves. It is only when a young human warrior finally pushes back against the chaos that the world begins to shift towards order.

***

2nd of Silla, 1 BVE.

Kingdom of Vaidrin, Domani.

Hesin entered the throne room, ignoring the guards as they attempted to refrain from staring at his unsettling mask. He appeared to be the last of Dominax's advisors to enter, all called upon by The God King for a private announcement.

He found a place beside Salduin, all except Xenia standing before Dominax. The sensual healer remained by his side, standing proudly as she held the four-year-old Vixin in her arms. Just as Lalian had asked, Hesin had been diligent to keep his eye on her. She had a...

frustrating

talent of avoiding scandal, as her actions granted him little more than petty gossip to report back to The Lanthian. The frequent dalliance with a female slave, the occasional cruel punishment of a subordinate, nothing that the entirety of the court was not already aware of.

Eye narrowing as he gazed at her alluring body, Hesin grinned to himself. She'd make a mistake eventually, and when she finally did, he'd be there to report it all. Every. Detail.

Dominax arose from his throne as the chamber's doors were sealed, standing above the group of four men. Instinctively they bowed, with Lalian lowering himself the furthest before they all straightened up.

Folding his arms behind his back, The God King brandished an insidious grin. "I am pleased that we could all be in the capital at this time, as I have received excellent news." He said before nodding in The Lanthian's direction. "Just this morning Lalian and I received confirmation that High-Chief Foin's men have subjugated the Chiefdom of Pir, expanding our borders further."

"Was such an outcome ever in question? The guidance of a God cannot fail." Salduin stated firmly, granting no hint of the sliver of doubt that crept through his core. Shifting his view slightly to the right, he watched as Xenia granted him a knowing smirk, just subtle enough for him to wonder if it had simply been his imagination.

"In truth, no. Such was inevitable. We have forged an unwavering faith in our people, a wave of fervor that Pir could not have hoped to stand against." Dominax replied with visible amusement. "Only Niria remains before our borders finally caress The Northern Kingdoms, which brings us to the subject at hand. High-Chief Tilnir of Niria has informed me that he is prepared to join us peacefully."

Lalian held up the message cylinder that had delivered the information. "Specifically, he wishes to sign a treaty that will pledge himself and his lands to the crown of Vaidrin."

Clin nodded with relieved satisfaction. "The man wishes to prevent bloodshed? A very honorable choice."

"Indeed. In the coming months we shall make preparations to travel to Niria, as I wish to demonstrate the full power of our newly organized legion in person." Dominax continued. "Allow them to witness the might of the realm they will soon belong to. We shall march peacefully through their streets and sign the treaty for all to see."

"Is such a show of force necessary?" Salduin asked, folding his massive arms. "I see no reason to gather our warriors into a single settlement when their presence could be utilized elsewhere."

"Ah, such a display is

indeed

necessary, my friend." Dominax chuckled. "For I intend not only to accept Niria into our borders...but to officially crown myself as Emperor."

A reaction of pleased surprise intermingled throughout the group, as even Xenia's mouth opened in shock before sinking into an ambition filled smirk.

Hesin stroked his chin in contemplation, peering through his mask. "I would say it's about time, we have waited long enough for a human empire!"

"Human at

first

, Hesin." Lalian calmly corrected. "The whores of my homeland shall fall to us as well, as there shall be no inch of Magnius that will resist our eternal peace."

Dominax glanced approvingly at the green man. "We stand on the verge of a new age, one of order and progress. Vaidrin has merely been an experiment, a sliver of what we shall bring to bear. For when the moment arrives, the instant The Empire is finally born, such is the moment we truly begin."

***

Laying atop the expensive cot that had been placed in her cell, Irith stared up at the stone ceiling of the dungeon as her right hand brushed over her thigh. She had spent nearly three years inside her spacious cage, slowly growing more accustomed to her captor's luxurious gifts.

Glancing over at the stairs leading up to the exit, she was assured that she was alone before finally allowing herself to relax. She gently placed her left hand onto her midriff, lightly caressing her flawless skin as she released a breath of pent-up arousal.

Her fingers traced over her body, patiently exploring her delectable form as the heat fluttering deeply in her loins steadily increased. There was no reason to rush, no incentive to quicken her pace until she was fully prepared.

Gliding over her virgin skin, her fingers made their way up towards her full breasts, igniting every nerve they passed over. With delicate movements she pulled away the thin fabric holding her round mounds, allowing her perky nipples to taste the cold air of the dungeon.

Carefully, she ran her fingers over her sensitive buds, parting her lips slightly in building lust. She softly squeezed her breasts, feeling their firmness before continuing to stroke her chest.

Allowing her beautiful blue eyes to close, her imagination played with her senses, conjuring the image of a lover fondling her alluring form inside her mind. She moaned, sliding one hand down towards her navel.

The lover came into sharper focus, a body crafted by the gods, his masculine hands holding her firmly beneath him. Her fingers crept past her belly button, her flat stomach tingling with desire as she began to spread her feminine thighs. Her fantasy became clearer, allowing her to see that the man's face was that of Dominax.

She attempted to brush her captor from her thoughts, focusing instead on the sensation between her legs as her fingers reached their target. Pushing aside her asymmetrical skirt, she ran her digits lightly over her virgin slit, feeling her wetness increasing as her outer labia slightly parted.

The intrusion of Dominax into her thoughts came as no surprise, as the image of his face and body had begun to make their appearance in her intimate moments several months ago.

Pressing slightly deeper with each caress, she used her center finger to tenderly slide between her folds. She moved it up and down the length of her tight entrance, gliding between her lower lips and passing over her clitoris each time.

The imaginary form of Dominax returned to her mind, his hands running tenderly over her body as he stubbornly clung to her thoughts. She released a frustrated moan, unable to think of anyone else as she massaged her soaking womanhood. In all the past three years she hadn't spoken to another human besides her captor, as even Lalian had stopped making an appearance in her solitary dungeon. Only Dominax.

Pressing her head slightly back into the cushion of the cot Irith's breathing remained deep and lustful, caressing her breast as her finger stimulated her entrance. The internal heat of her desire gradually increased with each passing moment, imagining the moment she would press her lover's cock between her legs. She could almost feel it, almost sense its weight.

Every time Dominax came to speak to her she was forced to ignore his body, forced to ignore his hard muscles just beneath his black one-suit. She attempted to think back to before her imprisonment, trying to visualize other males to distract herself. She thought back to the countless war camps she and Enil had stayed in, thought to her fellow warriors as they bathed openly. Yet despite her efforts only the thought of Dominax remained, his imaginary manhood sliding deeply where no man had ever been fortunate enough to enter.

Her hand left her breast, moving downwards until she was able to spread her labia open further, pulling back her clitoral hood to allow herself easier access to her most sensitive area.

Irith's stroking finger pulled away, instead shifting to use two fingers to rub her clitoris in a circular motion. Each movement built the heat of arousal in her core, causing her thighs to begin to quiver.

She thought of her captor's throbbing cock, claiming her precious virginity with each hard thrust. She wanted to feel him against her cervix, knowing that at any moment he could erupt.

Her circling movements steadily quickened, now fully intent on satisfying her desire. Fast and faster, her fingers stimulated her sensitive bud until her vagina felt as though it were on fire.

She could imagine his climax, imagine the moment he would finally drive his cock as deep as he could and spurt his life creating seed into her womb, granting her the family she had always sought.

Throwing her head back and arching her hips, her burning arousal finally reached its boiling point, forcing her to seize in shaking ecstasy as she found her orgasm.

The moment it faded she relaxed her muscles, lying flat on the cot as she basked in the feminine afterglow of her pleasure.

She opened her blue eyes, taking deep breaths as she returned to reality.

"

What...have you done to me...

?"

41st of Senin, 1 BVE.

Dril Tundra, City of Nelzarshi.

The stone towers of Nelzarshi stretched into the snow weeping sky, their heights rivaling even the tallest buildings of the capital. Named 'The Anvil' in the Dril tongue for the unique shape of the peninsula that it sat atop, Varse could find no other title that better suited the prominent port city as he gazed down from the roof of the local Tower of Departure.

Having spent a considerable amount of time traveling by land to reach the port city, he was quite eager to set sail. With the information gained through spies that the creation of a Human Empire was imminent, The Council had fallen into shambles. Their unending debates and accusations of blame had shoved Varse's nerves and patience to their breaking point, yet he would not simply wait around for an unfortunate 'accident' to befall him. The thought that another Dril may use an outsider to assassinate him sickened him to his very core, yet the possibility remained all too real in a time as unprecedented as this.

The human

'God King'

remained The Council's priority, and though many agreed that the man's death could potentially create a martyr more dangerous than a living man, it was decided that he could not be left alive to continue his expansion.

"My Potentate? Are you ready to begin?" The ceremonial Cut-Master asked from behind, standing near the altar placed in the center of the flat roof. A Dril of considerable age, he wore a flowing white and black robe that seemed uncontrollable in the harsh morning wind.

"Of course..." Varse quickly replied, snapped out of his thoughts as he turned around. He viewed the group of Dril guards that would discretely accompany him on his journey, ten capable men who would all give their lives for his in an instant. Any one of them could have completed their diplomatic mission on their own, yet Varse desperately sought to put some distance between himself and The Council, even if only temporarily.

They would travel to The Wandering Desert, the black sand covered homeland of the Arkos situated on the far side of Magnius. They would seek the court of The Kromak, and there, Varse would find the answer to his little God King problem. After all, Holy Kromak did

owe

The Council his life.

"I must say, I have never had the honor of performing the departure ritual on a Potentate." The cut-master mused, unsheathing his ceremonial dagger.

"Do not expect to grow used to it." Varse replied coldly, loosening his wrist cuff as he approached the altar. He then slid his robe sleeve several inches up his arm, exposing the majority of the marble-colored skin of his forearm.

"One can only pray that you are correct." The man replied in a solemn tone. "Now, hold out your hand."

Giving no hint to his reluctance, Varse held his palm upright just above the surface of the altar, the stone's edges carved slightly upwards to form a bowl-like shape. While certainly an unpleasant experience, all Dril that departed their snow blanketed homeland were required to endure the same ritual.

The cut-master laid the edge of his blade on Varse's inner forearm, pausing as he closed his eyes. "May your blood remain while your body departs, may you return to us, unharmed..."

Varse gritted his teeth as the dagger sliced across his skin, leaving a gash just deep enough to allow his dark blood to spill forth, leaking into the altar. The cut master allowed it to drain for several seconds, and just as Varse was beginning to feel lightheaded the man removed a strip of cloth from his robe and applied it to the wound.

Varse stepped back, making room for the next member of his group to place their hand above the bowl. He glanced upwards as he held the cloth tightly, gazing at the winged creatures circling above them. Known as Idrae, their fur covered forms would swoop down the moment the group departed the roof to drink the combined blood. Completely eyeless, their keen sense of smell always attracted them to nearby Dril blood.

Of all the rituals and traditions of his people, Varese could only find himself reluctant to engage in this particular ceremony. While the idea of leaving a small portion of his blood in his homeland would have been comforting in the past, it now felt like a wasted gesture. His blood would have already been in the safety of the Shai Domain, as his son remained alive and well.

The cut-master took his time collecting the blood of Varse's companions, making his slices separate from previous scars on the rare few who had already departed in the past. As if crude tally marks, the scars would display the number of occasions that an individual had left The Dril Tundra throughout their life.

When the ritual finally came to an end, the cut-master carefully cleaned his blade before they all made their way towards the tower's entrance. Within seconds the numerous Idrae dropped from the sky, violently fighting each other to dip their long beaks into the dark liquid.

Varse's face hardened as he held his wound, mentally preparing himself for the long voyage to The Wandering Desert.

"The God King's days were limited

..."

39th of Iahta, 1 BVE.

Kingdom of Vaidrin, Niria.

The streets of Niria bloated with crowds of nervous onlookers as tens of thousands of men, women, and children gathered to witness the arrival of their new lords. With the towering settlement gates parted wide to welcome the approaching invasion, a hush seeped through the masses as the booming of drums grew closer and closer.

Nirian warriors gradually pushed through the swarm of citizens, parting the sea of humans to form a straight path for the coming Legion that led all the way to The Main Hold.

Riding atop a massive gray lixidion draped in white cloth, the fully armored form of The God King led rows upon rows of white cloaked warriors through the gates. Both Clin and Hesin flanked Dominax on their own mounts while Salduin rode just behind, sitting tall on the monstrous creatures.

Cries of adulation, alarm, and dissent intermixed as the river of white armored men poured down the main street, marching towards the large stone structure placed in the center of the settlement.

A caravan of numerous intricately carved thrones remained nestled in the center of the moving legion, carried by subservient slaves and protected as each one held a valuable member of Dominax's royal Court. Xenia, Lalian, even Irith were granted their own seat, hoisted into the air as if they were rulers in their own right. Cendra and Vixin both sat on Xenia's lap, gazing out with curiosity as they passed by their father's new subjects.

Irith wearily smiled down at the crowds, retaining her composure even as she felt the cold steel of the shackle locked around her left wrist, connected to her throne by a chain. She waved with her right hand, wrestling with her emotions. Could she truly accept Dominax as her lover, to submit to him despite all he had done? Her time to decide was nearing its end.

The drums continued to pound as Dominax approached The Main Hold, entering the wide courtyard packed to the brim with curious observers. As instructed his target waited patiently, surrounded by his own guards. A lanky but fit man, High-Chief Tilnir knelt as Dominax's lixidion came to a halt before him.

"God King Dominax of House Vaid, I, High-Chief Tilnir of Niria, humbly welcome you to our great settlement!" The man announced from the ground, gazing upwards at his conqueror. "I humbly bow before you and pledge myself to your crown in the hope that we may all prosper under your rule!"

Unsure what to make of the display, the people watched as Dominax wordlessly dismounted from the oversized reptile and walked to stand over their leader. After an agonizing moment of silence, he held out his hand, inciting a roar of elation as he mercifully lifted Tilnir to his feet.

Dominax let out an imperceptible breath of relief, knowing that their act had paid off. Had the crowds known that he and Tilnir had planned this moment for several weeks, their reaction would certainly have been less than joyful.

"Rise, as this is not a day of subjugation, but of peace!" Dominax announced in his most convincing tone. He then turned around, shifting to address the rowdy crowds. "Let us come together, joined as one! A single realm, one that may endure the chaos of our world!"

Eruptions of agreement burst throughout the population, as faced with rows of fearsome legionaries many who would otherwise voice their dissent remained silent.

"You shall no longer fight amongst each other, no longer die over trivial squabbles!"

As he spoke, several slaves struggled to haul a large white stone from the rear of the legion, having been transported with the rest of the supplies. About the height and width of an average man, it had been carved to possess four symmetrical sides that tapered on the top and bottom until the tip came to a dull point, while the bottom remained flat. Nearly the entirety of its surface had been etched with symbols, detailing an approved version of The God King's life and the history of Vaidrin. Yet its true value lay near the bottom, an official declaration of the birth of a new empire.