Abandon
Stepping into a small but finely furnished study chamber, you are surprised by its opulence. Generally, as their order’s name implies, the Sisters Mendicant live simple and aesthetic lifestyles. Perhaps because of her clerical rank, or her coveted position of Royal Advisor, Glory-Matron Mahlia seems to have forgone this austerity. Aside from a broad fireplace, the room holds a large, polished oak desk, paired with a garishly embossed and fur upholstered chair, and a pair of matching leather loveseats, on either side. The wall opposite the fireplace is fitted with tall bookshelves, over-stuffed with ancient-looking tomes and scrolls.
As you close the door behind you and approach her perfectly organized writing desk, the dark-skinned, beautiful nun stands and gestures toward one of the elegant loveseats, greeting you, “Welcome my Lord. Please take rest while I attend to some refreshment. Surely you must be thirsty and fatigued after your performance of the Royal Sacrifice.”
She smiles widely and turns away to a short cabinet next to the fireplace. From it she takes a tall wine bottle and two golden goblets. You seat yourself on the surprisingly plush and comfortable sofa, watching her brown and gold satin habit struggling to confine her curvaceous, round ass. Having always thought it odd that the Sisters Mendicant wore seductively form-fitting uniforms, you did appreciate it greatly. Many times you had found yourself admiring the Glory-Matron’s tall, alluring form through her embroidered satin dress.
Although you have just, minutes ago, seen her naked of all but her veil, you are still curiously aroused by the sight of her exotic body, moving within her nun’s habit.
After filling the matching goblets, she crosses the room and seats herself beside you, handing one to you with a dutiful nod of her head. She raises her own in toast and chimes, “Long live King Belamvohrax! May his reign be filled with glory!”
You touch your cup to hers and meet her gaze. She stares intently into your eyes for a brief, but breathtaking moment, and then downs her wine in a single, long draught. You match her display and she takes the goblets, returning to the bottle and filling them again.
You notice that she is softly humming a strange, winding melody as she again joins you on the loveseat.
Eying you with a surprisingly childish grin, the older woman sips her wine and begins speaking, “My Lord, thank you for taking time to hear my concerns. For nearly two years, I have advised you, to the best of my skill and ability. Due, in no part to the powers granted me through the Holy Reliquary, I have come to know your heart, and believe that you will be a great and glorious king, of many many lands. I have asked you here to discuss two different issues, and the first has to do with your future as a ruler.” The Glory-Matron pauses to finish her drink and stands, placing her goblet upon her desk. As she seats herself again, this time turning toward you and grasping your hand, she continues, “The true measure of a great king, is the permanent legacy he leaves behind. The kingdom he builds, and...”, she stops again for a moment, as if trying to decide how to proceed, “...the princes he fathers.”
You now understand her meaning, as this isn’t the first time she has presented the topic. You realize the wisdom of her counsel, but also greatly enjoy unmarried life, holding the maidens of your harem above all your wealth and fortune. You finish your cup and she takes the goblet from you, placing on the wide desk, next to her own. She stands before you, her hands folded as if beseeching you to listen and hear her, “You know the great importance of securing an heir. More, specifically, my Lord, a natural son, born of a princess. The lifespan of a warrior-king is never assured, and it would be most wise of you to begin seeking out such a bride. Not only will an heir assure your line to hold the crown of Valantia, into the future, but taking a Queen, from amongst the daughters of the other lands you conquer, also serves to cement to bounds between the two realms.”
Seemingly done with her argument, and awaiting your reply, the nun falls silent and looks away into the glowing fireplace.
You take several moments, deep in thought, before you answer the advice put before you. Mahlia is one of your two Royal Advisors and has never been wrong in the guidance she has offered you. You do know that her present argument is sound and is in the best interest of your future empire. You should produce an heir while you can, and one born of a princess of a subjugated nation would surely be the best political method. It occurs to you that you can even take more than one queen, from each of the lands you plan to rule.
On the other hand, you feel inside that you are still young, and full of passionate desires. Taking even one official wife would mean giving up your harem and other paramours, as per the ancient holy laws and traditions of Valantia. You hold your freedom to pursue your sexual desires as essential to your status as a warlord and king.
Seeing you deep in contemplation, Mahlia softly adds, “My dear King, do not be overly frustrated by this consideration, but only take it seriously and please promise me that you will give it the thought it deserves.” She returns to the sofa and again takes your hand in hers. You sense her great respect and love for you in the warmth of her grip and the motherly look in her eyes.
(What will you tell her?
Will you agree with her and promise to seriously consider marriage?
Or will you stand by your sense of independence and reject her advice?)
As you close the door behind you and approach her perfectly organized writing desk, the dark-skinned, beautiful nun stands and gestures toward one of the elegant loveseats, greeting you, “Welcome my Lord. Please take rest while I attend to some refreshment. Surely you must be thirsty and fatigued after your performance of the Royal Sacrifice.”
She smiles widely and turns away to a short cabinet next to the fireplace. From it she takes a tall wine bottle and two golden goblets. You seat yourself on the surprisingly plush and comfortable sofa, watching her brown and gold satin habit struggling to confine her curvaceous, round ass. Having always thought it odd that the Sisters Mendicant wore seductively form-fitting uniforms, you did appreciate it greatly. Many times you had found yourself admiring the Glory-Matron’s tall, alluring form through her embroidered satin dress.
Although you have just, minutes ago, seen her naked of all but her veil, you are still curiously aroused by the sight of her exotic body, moving within her nun’s habit.
After filling the matching goblets, she crosses the room and seats herself beside you, handing one to you with a dutiful nod of her head. She raises her own in toast and chimes, “Long live King Belamvohrax! May his reign be filled with glory!”
You touch your cup to hers and meet her gaze. She stares intently into your eyes for a brief, but breathtaking moment, and then downs her wine in a single, long draught. You match her display and she takes the goblets, returning to the bottle and filling them again.
You notice that she is softly humming a strange, winding melody as she again joins you on the loveseat.
Eying you with a surprisingly childish grin, the older woman sips her wine and begins speaking, “My Lord, thank you for taking time to hear my concerns. For nearly two years, I have advised you, to the best of my skill and ability. Due, in no part to the powers granted me through the Holy Reliquary, I have come to know your heart, and believe that you will be a great and glorious king, of many many lands. I have asked you here to discuss two different issues, and the first has to do with your future as a ruler.” The Glory-Matron pauses to finish her drink and stands, placing her goblet upon her desk. As she seats herself again, this time turning toward you and grasping your hand, she continues, “The true measure of a great king, is the permanent legacy he leaves behind. The kingdom he builds, and...”, she stops again for a moment, as if trying to decide how to proceed, “...the princes he fathers.”
You now understand her meaning, as this isn’t the first time she has presented the topic. You realize the wisdom of her counsel, but also greatly enjoy unmarried life, holding the maidens of your harem above all your wealth and fortune. You finish your cup and she takes the goblet from you, placing on the wide desk, next to her own. She stands before you, her hands folded as if beseeching you to listen and hear her, “You know the great importance of securing an heir. More, specifically, my Lord, a natural son, born of a princess. The lifespan of a warrior-king is never assured, and it would be most wise of you to begin seeking out such a bride. Not only will an heir assure your line to hold the crown of Valantia, into the future, but taking a Queen, from amongst the daughters of the other lands you conquer, also serves to cement to bounds between the two realms.”
Seemingly done with her argument, and awaiting your reply, the nun falls silent and looks away into the glowing fireplace.
You take several moments, deep in thought, before you answer the advice put before you. Mahlia is one of your two Royal Advisors and has never been wrong in the guidance she has offered you. You do know that her present argument is sound and is in the best interest of your future empire. You should produce an heir while you can, and one born of a princess of a subjugated nation would surely be the best political method. It occurs to you that you can even take more than one queen, from each of the lands you plan to rule.
On the other hand, you feel inside that you are still young, and full of passionate desires. Taking even one official wife would mean giving up your harem and other paramours, as per the ancient holy laws and traditions of Valantia. You hold your freedom to pursue your sexual desires as essential to your status as a warlord and king.
Seeing you deep in contemplation, Mahlia softly adds, “My dear King, do not be overly frustrated by this consideration, but only take it seriously and please promise me that you will give it the thought it deserves.” She returns to the sofa and again takes your hand in hers. You sense her great respect and love for you in the warmth of her grip and the motherly look in her eyes.
(What will you tell her?
Will you agree with her and promise to seriously consider marriage?
Or will you stand by your sense of independence and reject her advice?)