Not well at all

When you finally lift Alexia from your penis, the cold of the high altitude air quickly shrinks you back down to your normal size and for the first time you take note of just how high Spook has climbed. The air is thin like high in the mountains and below you a layer of clouds covers the land below like a fleece blanket. A normal drake could never reach this altitude with even one Rider, and Spook has done it with a double load. You are so high that even the United Armies high-guard are nothing but tiny dark specks beneath you.

"OK Spook," you lean forward to take the mighty drake's reins in your hand enjoying the softness of Alexia's bare skin against your arms as you pull her firmly to your chest. "Take us back down, my friend." With a contented sigh you turn your attention to your spymaster who is only now beginning to recover from this, her first time.

"Are you alright?" You remember how she cried out when you first entered her slender body, and the way her eyes rolled back in their sockets when you began thrusting into her with full ****. Her pretty green eyes take a moment to focus on yours but then she smiles contentedly.

"I'm a little sore, Your Majesty." She snuggles closer in your arms taking the sting out the words that could be seen as an indictment. "I still can't believe that whole thing fit inside me. I'll probably be walking funny for the next couple days." She waves off your apology before it leaves your lips, "Don't be sorry, Bruce. It was exactly what I've been dreaming of for the past six years." You make the descent in contemplative silence. For all your vaunted perception, somehow you missed the fact that this beautiful woman wanted to be your lover since she had first started her menses. In hindsight, you understand better why her father sent his only daughter from court for much of that time. You're not sure you would have had the moral strength to send a determined sixteen year old away if you found her waiting for you naked and eager in your bed.

Once safely on the ground, not far from the Command Tent of the United Armies, Alexia shakes off your attempt to hold her hand and follows in your wake as you are announced to Lord Raxius and his assembly of advisors from each of the allied forces. Before you are twelve men and three women, you recognize the High Priestess of Helios sitting at the Lord Marshal's left hand, and Siege-Master Venitious of Polares. Others, like the Huntress representing the small **** from Polartemis, a small scowling man in Rider's leathers, the jowly **** Master in the guild's golden robes and the General in Red and Gold from Apollopol, you can at least identify from their distinctive clothing. The rest, including the petite raven-haired woman in a long red dress that clings to her figure attractively and who looks completely out of place at the far end of the war council's table you could only guess at.

You begin your appeal about the dangers of replacing one great evil with the rebirth of a new even more powerful city eager for vengeance for the indignities suffered. Turning directly to the High Priestess you direct your persuasive argument to her maternal instincts.

"Your Holiness, as a mother, you know more than anyone else at this table the horrors of losing a daughter to the slaver's guild." If you were hoping to soften the woman's heart you are disappointed by the measured way she meets your gaze but you continue on gamely. "It is not only for the sake of the women I make this appeal, my Lords, but to break this cycle of war, enslavement and retaliation..." Your hosts allow you to go on politely for a few more minutes, but the gift of persuasion is unfortunately not one that the gods gave you at your naming and the radical experiment that your father started in Kalion is clearly not likely to spread to the rest of Helena, at least not any time soon. You find yourself lowering your own standards in an attempt to find some sort of concession from the assembly.

"Why as young as sixteen? Surely a girl that young should be allowed to grow into full maturity before she is subjected to the consequences of her city's defeat." The snort from one of the gold-robed slavers is echoed by more than a few of the generals seated at the table and you remember hearing that initially the cut-off age was to be as young as thirteen. The only member of this council that looked at all sympathetic was the small dark-haired women in red. But one out of twelve is a dismal success rate. You try again, throwing out ideas hoping for at least one of them to find traction. "Would you claim the lawfully wedded wives of other men? I imagine there will be enough widows to satisfy the desires of those men looking to take a woman for themselves." This time the smiles are not just from the slavers, and you realize with a sinking heart that your efforts are doing nothing but making you look out of touch with reality. Your address ends weakly and you cannot help but glance at where Alexia is standing to the side. She warned you that this meeting would be counter-productive.

"Thank you for sharing your progressive views from Kalion, your Majesty." The contempt in the tone of the **** Guildsman who rose to meet you is impossible to miss, but you promised Alexia that you wouldn't pick a fight with anyone during the meeting so you return the fat bastard's smile with one of your own.

"I believe that all parties have much to learn from each other, and as a gesture of good faith I have prepared a gift for you so that you might better explore the position from our perspective." With clap of his oiled hands he summons forward two dark-haired women bound with chains around their wrists and ankles. The timid young woman had been stripped of their veils and outer robes and you hear a murmur of appreciation as the two are brought forward. Their undergarments flow over the sister's young bodies like water and you can see every feminine curve of their figures. "Allow me to present the twin daughters of the House Iraklidis; the pair were found hiding in the wine cellar of Lord Micras' estates and were brought to our attention by the fine fighting men of Polhermes." The sisters are truly stunning, and just about every man in the tent (and some of the women too) are staring at the pair of trembling brunettes with undisguised desire.

"Normally, under these circumstances, my Guild would be presenting you with highly trained ****-girls with the skills needed to please a man in every possible way -" he lifts his ring-covered hand to stop you before you can tell him what you think of that idea, "We all know that His Majesty has strong views on this matter, so instead of slaves, I am here to offer you the lovely twin daughters of one Lord Micras." The pair step forward and lift their tear-filled eyes shyly tugging at their skimpy garments that have been artfully snipped and torn to provide glimpses of their youthful bodies when they move. The silver necklaces that encircle the girls' throats, while much finer than the crude shackles locked tightly around the pair's slender wrists and ankles, are clearly **** collars no matter how beautifully fashioned. The leering Guildsman allows everyone to examine the twins for the space of four or five breaths before turning his attention back to you.

"After hearing your impassioned plea to spare the young budding beauties of Athenapolis this fate, you will be pleased to know that these lovely nymphs turned eighteen a month ago." By now you can hear the chuckles of the leaders of the United Armies watching the exchange, "It is the Guild's hope that once you" the man stresses the word theatrically, "have fully matured, that you'll discover the pleasures of mastering prizes such as these ... perhaps in the future we will be able to provide you with other tasty young women ... or boys?"

This time the laughter is shared by almost all. Only the Siege-Master of Polares and the woman in red look displeased by the man's mockery, even the Lord Marshal himself has a grin on his usually dour face.