Legend of the Winged Knight Ch. 8 (BTACDragons)

Chapter 8: Emasculation

While the city fell around them, the Authoritarian Council were gathered in the Grand Tower within the walls of the inner keep around a sizeable round table, having gathered hastily in response to the turn of events surrounding them.


Ione brushed her tousled hair, having had little time to make herself presentable for this meeting given the circumstances. She gazed around at each, noting one notable member missing.


“Where is Remeira?”


The circlet-crowned drow at the head of the council table simply grinned knowingly, stroking his pointed, pale chin - the ashen skin marking him as one of the elder drow, descended from the Evylonian high elves. “Preoccupied. No need to worry about her. We have more important things to attend to. Much more important.” The smirk dropped from his face as he continued. Tenting his fingers, he took a deep breath, brushing back his black locks before speaking. “...As you may be aware, the gold queen’s army is at our gates.”


“What is being done with it, High-Councilor Klyte?”


“The Faction has responded with the entirety of the soldiers stationed here. Additionally, they have unleashed...the beast. We must commit our forces to this as well.”


The council fell into hushed whispers exchanged between one another.


Half of them had been opposed to siding with the Faction in the first place. However, the fall of Albronel as well as the death of one of their council members had forced them to yield. They reasoned it had to be done. Yet, it was one thing to permit the Faction a foothold in D’issan. It was another to take up arms in their name.


Suddenly, Klyte rose from his seat and slammed his hand on the table, as if to crush the silence. “Then you are content to sit on your hands and allow for Verridith to knock down our doors by force, and slaughter us like cattle!? Fools, I should-”


Suddenly, the fine black mahogany of the council doors were sent as debris all over the councilors.


"Good evening, my lovelies.” The dancing words came from a sultry voice at the doorway. “The guards had the most terrible of manners, and refused me entrance to my room, demanding that they escort me elsewhere. And the gifts of these suitors were in such poor taste."


A spear flew from the drowess’s hand like a javelin, impaling Klyte by the shoulder to the back of his chair with a high-pitched, emasculated screech. Her white cloak flowed behind her as she leapt atop the marble tabletop, past the stunned silent council, even as the councilman fumbled to pull the spear out from his shoulder with his still good arm.


“You! Y-you’re supposed to be-”


“The chauffer was unnecessary, so I sent him off by himself. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, dear Klyte.” A sly smirk danced upon her lips. “But you, little boy, clearly need someone to change your linens. Pissing yourself in front of a lady, tsk tsk.”


Klyte yelled out as he finally yanked the spear free and brandished the tip at Remeira. Or, that is what he would have done had Remeira's own armament cut off the attempt at his wrist, leaving it a bloody stump. The drow felt his fine cloths instantly moisten with the drained lukewarm fluids at the sight of his missing hand.


“Isn’t the man is supposed to take the lady’s hand in marriage? Pathetic.” With a swift motion, Remeira’s boot smashed the councilman in the jaw, and sending him tumbling back - heavy chair and all - toward the unforgiving marble floor. And as she leapt off the table, she made sure to land square on his shriveled manhood, causing a high-pitched whimper as she applied a slow, intense pressure against the clothed sack.


She brandished her rapier, and pointed it right at his throat. "Klyte, I name you traitor. Betraying your queen. Allowing scum into the city. These are dire crimes indeed. Under our law, I claim the right of execution...so long as I hear no protests.” Her eyes darted to the other councilman, as did Klyte’s own.


Ione just looked away. It was far too much for her to take in. The hand had slapped lifelessly into the wall beside her, and the spectacle had nearly forced her dinner from her lips.


Klyte whimpered, before screaming out. “You can’t do this to me! She’s an outsider! A-”


He found the thin blade of the rapier choking his throat with a single filling thrust. His eyes rolled back in his head as he gurgled.


Remeira cast a glance to the others as she wiped her blade clean of his disgusting, unworthy life fluids. “The meeting is not yet adjourned. However, I suggest you make the right choice.” She smirked, as crossed her arms across her voluptuous chest, and allowed herself to fall out the window as to join the battle below.