This consists of long introduction of characters and what is happening in the story it will not have many sex scenes but kindly ready this as it has character descriptions.
Chapter 1: The Fall of Dravenmoore and the Heat of the Courtyard
The continent of Eldrath stretches across from snowing lands to deserts, magical forest and hidden ruins, ruled by five families in five kingdoms. In the north rises Feldrek, a realm of frost. At the center stands Dravenmoore, a kingdom of jagged mountains and shadowy forests, guarding Feldrek from the threat of Orrken, a brutal land of iron-clad warriors and blood-soaked plains. To the south lies Sunmere, a sun-drenched expanse, Verdantreach, a verdant sprawl of ancient woods. For centuries Dravenmoore made its enemies tremble with its power forged by marriage to feldrek, but its strength faltered under King Urgok Orr of Orrken named as urgok the greedy, whose savage horde shattered its defenses, leaving the kingdom humbled and its soldier thinned losing its once powerfull past.
The late King Celderic moore of Dravenmoore, a weathered lion of a man, fell not to steel but to a wasting fever, his death mourned with bitter ale. His son, Theodoric Moore The unlucky king, 45, broad-shouldered and stern, his dark hair was crowned amidst the ashes of defeat, his reign a fragile hope against Orrken's shadow. Beside him stands Queen Lysandra, a vision of mature allure golden hair tumbling in soft waves, her piercing blue eyes sharp with unspoken hunger, her lips full and curved in a subtle smirk. Her busty figure strains against a crimson gown, her massive breasts spilling into a plunging neckline, her hips swaying with every step, her body radiating a primal heat that belies her deep love for Theodorics failure to repel Orrken has left her Disappointed in her husband.
The royal kin gather in the castle's shadowed halls. Roderic, Theodoric's younger brother, 40, limps with a staff and one wooden leg, a lean frame, his sharp mind honed by scrolls and secrets, his missing arm and leg a silent scar of war. Their mother, Melissa, 60, exudes a raw, untamed sensuality silver-blonde hair, her enormous breasts heaving with each breath, nipples pressing against the fabric, her plump ass a tempting curve. Theodoric's sister, Alyssa, 42, is a study in noble grace raven hair coiled elegantly, her dark eyes smoldering with restrained fire, her full lips soft and inviting, her lithe form clad in sapphire silk, her breasts firm, her ass a perfect arc. Her husband, a genius scholar, resides in Verdantreach, sent as a diplomat with promise of verdantreach stopping Dravenmoore's ruin to end the war, his absence leaving Alyssa to uphold her dignity alone. Her son, Gavyn, 23, tall and wiry, trains under Roderic as his aide.
Theodoric's children complete the lineage. Alaric, 22, lean and dark-haired, is a kind soul, his weak constitution made him follow Roderick in the ways of scholar honing his intelligence so he can aid his fractured family one day, Cedric, 21, the youngest, is the unspoken heir, his chiseled frame rivaling his father's, his strength surpassing it, though he hides his power out of respect, a knight whose might shines in silence. Their sister, Elyse, 20, is a budding beauty long chestnut hair framing a delicate face, her wide brown eyes sparkling with innocence, her slender body draped in a cream gown, her small breasts pert, her hips hinting at a grace. Theodoric and Lysandra love both sons dearly, but Cedric's quiet power edges him as a subtle favorite, a light in their darkened reign.
In the courtyard below, Cedric spars with Theodoric, their swords ringing against steel, their bodies slick with sweat, the air thick with dust. Lysandra leans against the balcony railing, her crimson gown slipping to reveal a canyon of cleavage, her breasts nearly spilling free, her breath quickening as she watches Cedric's muscles flex. Alyssa sits beside her, her sapphire gown pristine, her posture stiff as Lysandra leans close, her voice a husky whisper, "Look at Cedric, his strength, his body, so young, glistening like that, Any noble lady could lose herself watching him move, all that power rippling." Alyssa's eyes narrow, her voice sharp, "Lysandra, he's your son mind your tongue, such talk is improper!" Lysandra smirks, her tone teasing, "I wager he'd leave any woman panting."
She leans forward, her cleavage a bold display, her voice rising in a sultry call, "Take him down, Cedric show your father your power, teach the old man how strength feels when it's fresh and unyielding!" Theodoric grunts, "Come on, lad--best me if you can!" hearing only a mothers encouragement, deaf to the erotic lilt in her words. Spurred by his mother's encouragement, Cedric surges, his blade flashing, pinning Theodoric to the ground with a swift move, his chest heaving, his victory making Lysandra's thighs clench, her gown damp between her legs. Alyssa catches the flush on Lysandra's cheeks, the quickened breath, and snaps, "You're shameless! I won't sit here for this." She rises, her gown rustling as she storms off, her irritation crackling, leaving Lysandra alone, who gently bites her lip, her fingers brushing her nipples through the silk, a soft moan escaping as she murmurs, "God, Cedric you're so.."
Footsteps echo Roderic's staff tapping, Gavyn and Alaric trailing with armfuls of books snapping her from her reverie. She descends in a shadowed path, her hips swaying, of arousal witnessing the training. Roderic bows, his voice steady, "My queen your grace honors us." Gavyn, 23, adjusts his load, his hazel eyes flicking to Lysandra's cleavage before darting away. Alaric, 22, offers a gentle smile, his arms full, his kindness shielding him from the tension. Lysandra nods with a gentle smile and walks away. The teacher and students move toward the study, A chamber of oak shelves and parchment, the air thick with ink and paper,Roderic's staff setting a rhythm, Gavyn and Alaric following.
