March South to the Soulravage Spire

You find yourself sitting in your throne once again, staring around at your lieutenants that you've assembled in front of you. Your recently married wife Shaga sits at the great table in front of you. On her finger, made in the same black-veined, red, demonic mineral is a wedding wing, binding her to you as a wife. Across from her is her brother, Kilzul Maka Bloodaxe, who picks his teeth with a dagger. Morrigan sits next to Bloodaxe, who cleans his greatsword with a cloth. Lilith sits in your lap, gently stroking the side of your face as another hand gently rubs your cock through your pants.

"So... report?" you ask.

"Things are going well, master," Morrigan says. "The Orcs have learned discipline, and have been hammered into a formidable army."

"Pah! My orcs finally decided it was worth learning to click their heels, salute and bark "Sir" in order to get you cunts to shut the fuck up," Bloodaxe says. "You didn't make them any better at killing or looting or nothing, you just wasted some time."

"We've organised the army's push to capture the surrounding empire and make a little territory for ourselves. However, of course, we have three separate targets to attack, but realistically if we're to be efficient, we can only take one of them to wrest control of this county," Morrigan says. "The lord-manor, the monastery and the farmlands."

"Remind me what those are," you say. "I mean, I

"Forgive me, master. I always forget your... humble upbringings and... labor-based education."

You laugh as Morrigan's choice of words, before nodding.

"You're right," you nod. "Give me only a second and I'll explain all you need."

"If you want to do some research, I have more than enough information on anything you could possibly want to know," Lilith whispers in your ear.