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A Little Less Counselor, A Little More Concubine

Part 14

For FyacinTia

By Draconicon

Naked as the day he was born, Fyacin returned to the throne room with Alys trailing at his heels. It hadn't started that way, of course, and the hybrid woman looked to be trying to change it up again. They had been racing all the way down the halls, only slightly slowing as they reached the doors.

The lion made it through first, however, and with a smirk, he drew himself from a not-quite-frantic charge to a not-quite-relaxed strut. Alys, barely less controlled than he was, stutter-stepped for half a pace before maintaining a similar sort of gait, matching him as they walked down the center of the room to their Emperor.

As the white-furred fox looked down on them from his throne, his head slowly cocking to the side, Fyacin was once more reminded of his nudity. One day, he hoped that his lord and master would reward him with the chance to wear clothing again, but until that day came, he would have to do his best to just ignore the way that his hips swayed, that the caged clenched against his cock, how his rump -

No, no need to think about that. It was hard enough to stop thinking about that once he started.

The lion walked to the appropriate spot several paces before the rise that led to the throne proper, bowing at the waist and then continuing down to his knees. He remained there, his head to the floor, before the fox grunted softly.

"You may stand, Counselor-Concubine."

That new title still didn't fit well with him, but it was something. It was better than being cast aside, or executed at the fox's order for his indiscretion, even if that hadn't been his fault. He stood, bowing his head in mirror of his body.

"Thank you, oh great lord."

"I have been told that there was a situation while I was...indisposed."

The fact that there was even the slightest hint of hesitation left the lion with a hint of a smile of his own. It was rare for the Emperor to feel even a passing semblance of embarrassment, but in this case, he seemed to be concerned with the appearance of things. If others knew that he had descended into any sort of hedonism, it would cause quite the stir in court.

Then again, he had already named his counselors his concubines, so there would be little new for the court to talk about, surely.

Regardless, Fyacin nodded, bowing his head once more.

"Yes, oh lord of my life. There were messengers from among our allies, begging for the right to speak with you."

"And they were placated, so that they might speak to me later?"

"We found that they were not to be placated, oh lord," Alys said. "They came here with temperaments and furies such that they would not be soothed without direct answers. Had not Kisari already occupied your attention, doubtless you would have done such with ease, but left to our own devices, we were forced to take different steps."

"...And what steps were these?"

They looked at each other, and sighed. Fyacin, as they had agreed, stepped forward again, putting himself between the Emperor and Alys. Their master arched an eyebrow at that, cocking his head to the side, and it was as close to an expression of shock as had ever crossed the fox's face.

"In truth, oh great lord, we were forced to impersonate you."

"..."

"The people of the east and west, the lowlands, were adamant that they would speak to none but you. We forged a deception of you, facing a throne away from them in the Garden of the Serpent, and aped that we spoke with you and heard your commands while you faced away from them."

"...And what did you promise them?"

"The delivery of weapons, some fifty swords and a hundred spears to each faction, with more to follow."

"I see. That is not...unforgiveable."

"I have..." Fyacin took a deep breath. "I have also pledged your affection to them."

That was the great one to fear. The others were somewhat acceptable, if irritating to the great smiths. This one, however, was a pledge of loyalty and friendship to two nations that were not at all linked to the Empire proper. They were not even client states, such as might have been the case in the past, and lower in class and in substance than even the most meager of the nobles of the Empire.

He chanced a glance at the fox, half-expecting to see his master utterly livid.

Instead, he saw a fox that stared straight at him, his face frozen as if in ice. The fox did not shift his position, nor did he say anything. He seemed...

Contemplative. Yes, that was the word.

Fyacin held his breath, daring not to say or do anything until he knew where things would fall and how they would do so. He kept himself still, half-bowed before the Emperor, waiting for a word, a chance in expression, anything that would tell him what would happen next.

And finally, it happened. The Emperor...smiled.

"You have done well, Fyacin."

The relief in the air was palpable, and the lion nearly sagged to his knees as he was given freedom from punishment. Or at least, from any new punishment. Alys let out a huff of relief, as well, as the Emperor continued.

"And you have given me an idea for how to free up more of my time."

The smiles on the counselors' faces suddenly stopped rising, beginning a trip in the other direction.

"Yes," the Emperor said. "For if my counselors have such knowledge of how to run the Empire, then what use is the Emperor in sitting in on the meetings? If there is need, then you will stand beside an empty throne and deliver this ruse again and again, while I rest myself."

"Your Majesty, oh lord of ours," Alys said. "Would that not deprive you of information that you need to know?"

"I will learn from you every night. As I have one of you, the others will attend me, and teach me what I have missed."

Fyacin and Alys shared a look that said the same thing. They had created a monster, one which would never allow them a moment's peace again.

Before they could attempt to argue the Emperor out of this insane concept, there came a beating fist at the door. The naked lion turned, shocked that someone would abuse the hospitality and traditions of the palace so much, while Alys snorted softly, crossing her arms under her breasts in annoyance. Her red and gold gown flared out at her legs as she shifted her footing.

"What is this, then? Some barbarian that does not know when court is in session?"

Thump, thump.

"Certainly someone that doesn't seem to know that there's a chime," Fyacin muttered.

Thump, thump.

"Let them in," the Emperor commanded. "Fyacin, at my side, if you would."

Thankful for the chance to prove himself as a counselor again, Fyacin climbed the sides of the great throne, sitting in the center of the chairs behind the Emperor. It gave him a chance to cover himself, as well, and he lowered his head to be slightly less visible. It was part of the role of a counselor to give advice without it being obvious, for all that they had been used in much more public roles before. To allow the Emperor to appear all-wise, they were to take a seat behind him and be as shadows.

Alys crossed the great room to the door and pulled it open. On the other side, readying another beating fist for the door, was something that neither of them had expected.

It was a wolverine, the beast covered in fur thick enough for the coldest of winters, garbed further in metal that shifted and slid against itself like the scales of a reptilian beast. He stepped into the room, and from his back poured white smoke - no, steam, and that steam was followed by the clicking and clanking of hundreds of gears that tapped and scratched against one another in perpetual motion.

He watched with fascination as the wolverine walked down the red carpet towards the Emperor, his eyes tracing the sides of the newcomer for weapons. A sword hung at his waist, but it was the rods along the arms that made him more concerned. They looked akin to the channels for crossbows, and he worried that there was a weapon concealed within.

The wolverine stopped before the Emperor, bobbing his head rather than delivering a full bow. Alys snorted in disapproval, but nothing further was said of it. The Emperor leaned forward on his throne.

"You come before me in strange apparel, and you yourself are stranger still. From where do you hail?"

"I come from the armies of the north, Emperor of Dol-Ma. I come here to demand your surrender."

Of course, Fyacin thought, shaking his head. He comes as a man of war, displaying as many threats as he can. Of course, he comes to demand a surrender.

"You believe one man can demand the surrender of an Empire?" Alys asked, almost amused. "I thought that the men of the north were supposed to be clever creatures, burrowing in the realms of science and mathematics. I suppose I overestimated the size of such realms, compared to the mystics of the world."

"You may laugh, woman, but I come with weapons beyond your ken." The wolverine faced the Emperor again. "I am a colonel of the northern army. I have delivered my message. I will return either with your surrender or your acknowledgement that war begins tomorrow."

"...You speak highly of yourself," the Emperor said, leaning back on his throne, one ear swiveling ever so slightly to point back at the lion. "What proof have I that you have such power to begin an attack on my Empire tomorrow?"

As the wolverine bragged, Fyacin whispered. There were things to be gleaned from the colonel, though perhaps not the things that the average man would see.

"His armor is strong, but it relies on the steam. They will have to travel with much water and fuel to power them. And listen, the clacking of the gears. They are running down already, flimsy. It is a show and little more," he whispered.

The Emperor nodded slightly to himself, concealing it as mere acknowledgement of what the wolverine was saying. As the 'ambassador' continued, Fyacin glanced over the armor, taking in more little things.

Alys might dismiss their realms of maths and sciences to be nothing more than shallow things compared to her fields of expertise, but he could see what had been done. No metalsmith himself, he could see that they had someone talented to create the folds and shapes in the metal that the wolverine wore. Whoever they had found knew how to fold steel in ways that even their master metalsmiths would be hard-pressed to match. If they were ever able to take access to the metals of Dol-Ma, they would be dangerous, indeed.

He remembered the first briefing, long ago, when Alys had told them that the enemy armies of the north marched with a great machine. That, doubtlessly, would be the main danger, something to break the walls and fortifications of the Empire. They would have to find it, and soon.

"Tell him that there is no surrender, and that any threat to the trees and waters of the Empire will be met with full force. Tell him that we will not consider another offer of surrender until their greatest weapon is in sight," the lion said. "And tell him that he best leave before he becomes so stiff that we'll have to roll him down the mountain."

The fox stifled a smile at that. The wolverine finished his speech, and the Emperor leaned forward once more.

"There will be no surrender."

"Then you -"

"Colonel. I have allowed you your speech. You have no power to forbid mine." The fox leaned forward, his fingers woven together. "There will be no surrender. The Empire of Dol-Ma has lasted for time beyond ken, and will stand for as long as there are those that remain to call it so. Your armies, your machines, your threats mean nothing before that. As Emperor of this land, I choose to keep it.

"So return to your people, and tell them that the Emperor holds his land, and his people, and all that it contains. Tell them that the trees and the waters are mine, and to touch them will be met with pain and suffering that you cannot comprehend. Until your machines come to our gates, there will be no surrender, no giving in.

"Now..." The Emperor stood up. "Run along while you still can, you stiffening, creaking pile of iron."

"..."

The wolverine bowed, turning on his heel and leaving the throne room. Alys closed the door behind him, leaned against it, and listened. When she gave a gesture that the wolverine had stomped out of earshot, Fyacin let out a breath he'd barely been aware that he was holding.

"Well...that was something," he muttered.

"Fortunate that they are bound by physical needs," the Emperor said. "And fortunate that you noticed it, my lion."

Fyacin smiled, but before he could bask in the compliment, the Emperor reached into the pockets of his robe, drawing forth a piece of parchment.

"However, they are not the only ones to send such demands."

"The south?" Alys asked.

"Indeed." The white-furred fox offered him the scroll. "And if you are so clever as to find the weakness of the north, my lion, perhaps you can do the same with the south."

"..."

Well, that's just perfect...

The End

Summary: Reporting to the Emperor of their success, Fyacin feels like he's on a roll, only for another surprise to rear its head.

Tags: no sex, M/solo, nudity, chastity cage, hiding, court, negotiations, tension, politics, fantasy, eastern, series,