Something odd.

Seamus finished up his food and quietly talked through the events of the day with Alice and the others at the head of the table whilst waiting for everyone else to finish and depart. After, Seamus then checked his watch as he meandered back to his room. That was when he sighed, realizing he still needed to have a conversation with Mandy and her sister. That...was going to be awkward.

Seamus wondered where the best place to have this conversation would be. Finally after much wandering about the castle, looking in one room after another, he just asked Sireah. Sireah was fidgeting a bit more than usual, well, a lot more than usual given that she didn't usually fidget. But, after a brief moments pause, she recommended the throne room, which Seamus initially shook his head at, negating the idea. 'Really! Why do I need a throne room?'

But, after brief consideration, Seamus decided to follow her advice, and started to stride confidently...to an unknown location. Slowing, he was about to ask for directions when a tail slipped between his legs from behind and rubbed to the right.

Gratefully, Seamus accepted Sireah's not-so-subtle tail flicks indicating the right and left turns, doorways, and stairways. It was after he recognized the same painting and the same marble statue of a nude woman hanging from ropes from the ceiling, with another marble statue of a man striking her butt with a flogger that Seamus smiled wryly and used his own tail to whip around and strike her on the butt.

A short yelp, and two more turns later, Seamus stopped in amazement as he strode into the throne room. In front of him was a medium-sized, outrageously extravagant receiving room, with a single chair in the middle, and lots of gold encrusted chests with gem studded rivets.

Persian rugs lined the floors, the ceiling had a fresco in colored tiles illustrating a scene of twenty or so succubi and incubi holding a masquerade party, wearing naught but their masks while they danced. "I thought the succubi and incubi had lost most of their battles?"

Seamus admired the gorgeous chandelier in the center of the room, gold and crystal glinting in the mirrored reflections, shaking his head when he realized each delicately wrought metal candlestick holder was a succubus. Each one of the miniature succubi had her hands grasping the base of her candle, her wings outstretched and linked to the wings of the succubus next to her, and her body arched sensuously with a flat metal serving tray acting as the candle base attached to the nipples with gold chains. Her feet were flat against the central column, tied in place with gold rope that linked to a spot about a foot up the column where it branched down to go between her legs and around her waist. It was exquisitely beautiful, insanely erotic, and it had to go. Maybe. He really liked it. 'Did it have to go? Focus!'

"With Lucifer, yes, Your Majesty." Sireah responded with a brief smirk that faded quickly after his attention returned to her. "We have won battles, many battles against hundreds of races that have tried to capitalize on that fact." Sireah was quiet in a way he hadn't heard from her before, for a long, contemplative moment. Then finally she continued, her eyes on a fixed point on the ground, not blinking. "Some...resolved to give us few alternatives except annihilation, ours or theirs."

Seamus frowned at her statement, but he was, to be quite frank, not entirely surprised by what she said given his observations of their abilities thus far. Looking around the room he idly wondered how much of their wealth resided here. Or if, since they could use wormholes to go nearly anywhere in the universe, this much opulence was just an architectural choice he'd have to get used to, the display of such common to their culture.

Hmm...that word: 'anywhere? Could they really portal to anywhere? Or were there distance limitations? Gravitational eddies? Quantum lensing?' A puzzle for another day, Seamus decided. Then corrected himself, reasoning that the answer might have strategic or tactical impacts. Opening his mouth to ask, he was startled when he was interrupted mid-thought.

"Thank you for inviting me to eat with you at the dinner table, Your Majesty." Sireah firmly shook her wings, squared her shoulders and finally looked up, smiling carefully at him.

"Certainly!" Seamus looked at her quizzically. "Is there a reason I normally wouldn't?" Walking around the throne, he nearly tripped and looked down to see his own tail curled around one ankle. He cleared his throat and directed his tail to leave his ankles alone...for now. He looked back up at her.

Sireah first shook her head, then her smile changed in that familiar way. "At one time, I would have been under the table, instead of at the table, Your Majesty."

"Ah." Seamus initially decided to circle back to her statement, the massive chest just behind his throne drawing his attention. "What is this chest and why is it so much bigger than the rest?" Wait... "Hold on, you were Velvet Midnight?" He whirled back around, his wings snapping out to stabilize him.

"I was, yes, Your Majesty. For quite some time, until after a point when I was taking R&R at home when our village was attacked by a demon lizard race." Sireah was quiet for a long moment, her tail still, low around her calves, her wings bent and folded close behind her back. "In the aftermath, while I was recovering from my wound, Her Majesty visited me and asked what posting I wanted." Her right hand twitched up towards her side a little and then dropped back down again. She stared through him, seeing something not there, flickers of emotion fleeting across her face too fast to follow.

Seamus felt his heart beating harder. He resisted the urge to step forward and hold her in his arms and never let her go.

Sireah paused, looked down, then looked back up and held his gaze steadily. "I asked if I could be in her guard." A deep breath, "She told me no, but that hopefully shortly, I could be in someone else's guard." Her eyes were moist. "Someone critical to the survival of our race. But I would have to train for an unknown period of time before I was able to defend him. And that my skills on the battlefield, and in the bedroom, would be necessary." Her tail stilled and her wings stretched and strained.

Seamus froze, not certain what to say to that.

Sireah smiled gently, her wings relaxing and she stepped past him to the chest. "Your treasures, Your Majesty. Tributes paid to you." Sireah opened the large chest, pulled out 2 pairs of panties from under the top of the corset between her breasts, and began filling out a clipboard she unstrapped from the top.

Peering carefully at the paper, best he could without disturbing her, Seamus could make out words like: Date, Person, Circumstance, Type. Sireah was carefully writing out a detailed description of one of the pairs of panties in the Type line.

Feeling slightly blindsided, but accepting the segue, "What's with the paperwork?" Seamus asked.

Sireah put a flourish to her signature at the bottom of the page, placed the first pair in the chest, started on the second item, and responded: "Tribute tracking, Your Majesty. Erogen production...who gave it, those sorts of things."

Seamus was feeling his worlds collide harshly and decided the prudent course of action was to drive straight through. "Okaaaay." He took a deep breath. "Let's ask Mandy and her sister if they are ready to have that conversation now."

Placing the other pair of panties delicately in the chest in a small box inside it, then closing the chest, Sireah stood up, bowed, and departed.

Seamus looked at the imposing throne and contemplated not sitting there. The structure was dark cherry with purpleheart wood accents, the planks were knurled cypress, and it had gold filigree inlay. Looking closer at some of the knurls, the scintillations he'd thought were tricks of the light were actually little gems carefully placed to avoid sharp edges but maximize the glint of each facet.

At that point, Seamus wondered if it would even be comfortable to sit in, so to satisfy his curiosity, he did.

And now Seamus never wanted to get out because oh wow this was better than any chair he'd ever been in! It was almost like the seat was specifically carved for his butt cheeks...

Actually, the more he thought about it, it probably was carved specifically for him. Seamus hadn't noticed when he'd initially looked at it but there was a slight curve at the bottom of the back that provided excellent lumbar support. The length of the seat was exactly right, all edges were perfectly rounded over, the arms were exactly the right height, and length. Seamus put his head back on the chair and felt his worries and cares start to drain away.

"Sea...Mr. Malone?" A pleasant female voice asked from the entrance to the room.

Fighting away the stab of irritation at the fact he'd had only a second or two to relax, Seamus forced a smile and opened his eyes. "Yes?" Seeing a vaguely familiar face, Seamus frowned. "Uh, Helen, right? Come on in."

The approximately 30 year old looking brunette nodded and entered. "Yes Sea...sir. Helen. Helen Daviidsdottir, Mr. ...uh... Your Majesty." Helen placed elegantly manicured fingernails on the lower edges of her pleated short black skirt and lifted it a hair as she crossed her ankles and bent her knees. The skirt lifting, even only a quarter inch, told him that black lace was the order of the day for her. She was a quarter of the way back to a standing position from her partial when she paused, and sank back into an even deeper curtsy, her hands lifting her skirt higher.

Seamus frowned. He really needed to go through the app to remind himself what the current rule status was for all the people in his care. "Are you okay, Helen?"

"Yes sir, uh, Your Majesty." Helen didn't rise, and didn't carry on speaking.

"Oh! Sorry, still getting used to the whole thing. Please rise." Seamus flushed. He didn't know royal protocol, why would someone else in their town know royal protocol either? Unless they came from a place with royalty, that is... Maybe...no...'pay attention to Helen!' he berated himself again.

"...through my nipple rings, sir... Your Majesty...uh." Helen was no longer curtsying, but she was still holding her skirt up.

Seamus berated himself silently and replayed the last few seconds of conversation in his head. Friday...8:00 soon...weekend rule...wrist cuffs locked to short chain through her nipple rings...okay, conversation all caught up! Wait... What?! "You need me to lock you into wrist cuffs for the weekend?"

Nodding, Helen still hadn't let go of her skirt.

"Oh...you can drop your skirt, Helen, and please, just call me Seamus." Seamus sighed as he removed his glasses and ground the heel of his palm into his forehead. App...why hadn't he read through the particulars of everyone under his care yet?

"Are you okay, Your...Seamus?" Helen asked. A slight rustling sound suddenly ceased a moment later.

"Yes... Just a slight headache." Seamus sighed again, put his glasses back on, looked up and froze.

Helen stood in the same place, her hands rigidly at her sides, her white blouse buttoned to a few inches below her neck, and her skirt in a delicate pile around her ankles, a little red tinging her cheeks as she looked around at the multiple guards in the room.

Why had she...? Oh. Oops. Seamus opened his mouth...

"We gladly accept your invitation, Mr. Malone. We would love to know why we have tails now." Mandy walked in through the door, saw Helen standing just inside, glanced at the skirt around her ankles, quirked an eyebrow, shrugged, stepped up next to Helen, undid her skirt belt, and dropped her own skirt to the floor. "Interesting customs you have in your throne room, Mr. Malone." She crossed her arms under her breasts and her cheeks pinked a little but she steadily kept her eyes on him.

Her sister, not having noticed Helen initially, having been entranced by the beauty of the room, finished walking in and stood beside Mandy on the other side from Helen. But at Mandy's statement, made a quizzical noise, looked over at Mandy, blushed, stammered a little, and followed suit.

Seamus sighed again. And looked at Sireah, standing behind them, a bemused smile on her face, her wings out and fluttering quickly as she looked back at Seamus, winked, and fanned her face with her hand.

Seamus closed his eyes.

Sank back into his chair.

'Lord, help.' He prayed.

Opening his eyes, Seamus said: "Please put your skirts back on. That was my fault in badly wording something to Helen." Wincing, he turned to Helen. "Sorry, didn't mean to air out our laundry."

Helen shook her head, crouched and immediately pulled her skirt back up. "It's okay, Sea...Seamus. Um..." Looking at her watch, Helen bit her lip. "I can...come back later if you need."

Shaking his head, Seamus said: "No, we can take care of that quickly, I can step outside to help if you need."

Seamus hadn't been paying close attention, but Mandy and her sister had finished pulling their skirts back up, but both of them were now removing their shirts.

"Uh... Mandy, what are you...?" Seamus looked helplessly at Sireah who replied before Mandy could. "A King's Tribute is Heaven-sharp, Your Majesty."

Still confused, Seamus looked over to Mandy to see her standing with her shirt held in a tight fist, arms at her sides, her sister trying to cover her bra with her hands but failing until she looked up and pleaded with wide eyes.

Seamus nodded back at Samantha and she swiftly covered her bra-clad breasts with her arm. Samantha stepped forward and handed the shirt to him and then dashed back to her spot next to Mandy.

Seamus looked down at the shirt, shortly joined by a second one from Mandy, and then back up at Sireah. "Heaven-sharp. I take it this isn't entirely app related then?"

Sireah dashed his hopes with a brief shake of her head. "No, Your Majesty. You remember what Samuel advised the people of Israel?"

Sighing and slumping into his now heart-heavy throne, Seamus ran a finger along the smooth grains of wood. "Yes." Quietly he said: "Their sons and daughters and a tenth of their best possessions." Closing his eyes, he repeated woodenly. "Heaven-sharp indeed."

Seamus felt his other thumb run across the soft material of one sister's still-warm shirt. One of the sister's still-warm tribute. Seamus drew himself back up and steeled himself. Opening his eyes, he let the throne remind him that he was there for a reason.

Seamus had heard that reason from Vavnagal, he had just heard that reason from Sireah. He had seen that reason in the cautious hope of the villagers and seen that reason in their ecstatic faces during the aftermath.

If he had to endure the discomfort of being the recipient of what was to him ill-begotten tribute from those in his care, even those accidentally in his care, the least he could do was hopefully make it so that those required to give the tribute would feel at least a little less ill at ease.

God had been enough. Humans had demanded kings.

Seamus didn't want to be King.

But if he was going to be one, he'd do his best to be a good one. Even if it made him less of a good Man in the process. 'God, help me.'

"Mandy, Samantha, please turn around for a moment. I'll explain what has happened in a few minutes. Helen, step forward and I'll help you get ready for the weekend."

Seamus heard his voice ring out in command and watched the three women move swiftly to comply.

And despaired.