Tactical Arson

With Nelith clinging tightly to his shoulders, Fenrir streaked through the forest towards the oni camp. The skies were overcast and a strong wind was blowing up the valley from the southwest, carrying with it a faint scent of rain. Conditions were nearly ideal for his plan.

He paused in the undergrowth on the edge of the camp. There were no sentries, the oni not anticipating any need for such while actively battling their enemy, but there were still oni in the camp. Some were wounded from past battles while others were preparing to care for the wounded from the upcoming fight. Still, they were few enough that Fenrir wasn't too concerned.

He began working his way around to the upwind side of the camp, explaining his plan to Nelith as he went. She listened quietly, nodding every so often. Pausing on the edge of the clearing where only about thirty feet of open space separated the camp and the forest, Fenrir glanced up to where Nelith's face hovered close beside his. "Ready?"

"Let's do it," she answered, her grip on his fur tightening ever so slightly.

Fenrir tested the air one more time. The scent of rain was stronger than it had been before, but he estimated it was still at least half an hour away. Far stronger was the scent of fresh blood; the battle had already begun.

Activating Shroud, Fenrir dashed across the open space. Once among the tents he paused again, ears straining to pick out any movement nearby over the sounds of battle only a few hundred feet away. Detecting nothing, he slipped over to the Kata side of the camp, dodging the occasional oni moving among the tents.

No words were needed. As Fenrir worked his way towards the far side of camp, Nelith began to let loose with fireballs. Only small ones that wouldn't make much sound when they hit, but since she aimed exclusively at wood piles and other such flammable objects, they didn't need much to get going, and once aflame the wind was quick to whip them into an inferno.

By the time they got to the edge of camp, there were already shouts of alarm rising along with the flames behind them. Fenrir took Nelith into his arms, hiding her from chance observation from behind, and made the short dash across the open into the forest.

Once they were safely hidden in the underbrush, he turned and looked back. The fire was spreading swiftly, and it wouldn't be long before the currently fighting oni would see it, if they hadn't already. Satisfied, Fenrir transferred Nelith back to his shoulders and began working his way around the camp back towards the lookout where Katari waited.

As he ran through the forest, he glanced up at Nelith. "Nicely done. That was much quicker than if I'd tried to do it on my own."

Nelith smiled, obviously pleased. "Happy to help. But aren't you worried the fire will get out of control?"

"We're going to get some rain in an hour or so. Between that and the oni's efforts, I'm not too worried," Fenrir shrugged. "I did notice the fires caught quicker than usual though, is that due to it being your fireballs that set them ablaze?"

"Yeah, when you set something on fire with a fireball it burns quicker for a couple seconds. More powerful fireballs do it better; I remember my old mistress was powerful enough that her fireballs could even set metal on fire for a bit."

"Interesting." Internally, he wondered, 'Does that mean fireballs contain the magical equivalent of napalm or something to help them hit harder, burn hotter, etcetera? I've noticed that when Kira's practicing her magic her fireballs actually explode, though the explosion doesn't seem to contain all that much energy. Perhaps more powerful variants would explode more violently. Nelith's fireballs just now splashed more than exploded, but they were also smaller than what Kira generally summons.'

Both of them lapsed back into a comfortable silence for the remainder of their journey. Reaching the lookout revealed Katari still standing and watching the activity in the valley below. Fenrir lowered Nelith from his shoulders and stepped up beside her, taking in the view himself.

The battle had been broken off, all of the attackers retreating back to camp to try to fight the fire that was sweeping across it. Clan Aqun had chosen to hold their positions in case the attack was renewed, but Fenrir rather doubted it would be considering the state of the camp. Fully half of clan Kata's tents were ablaze, and nearly a quarter of Issala-Bas'. Despite their best efforts, the oni were having serious trouble containing the blaze due to the wind.

Katari looked up at him as he came up beside her. "Distraction you said you would cause, and so you have. Were it not that I could smell a storm on the wind I would scold you for careless use of fire."

Fenrir grinned. "I smelled the rain too; if not for that I would have chosen another method of convincing the oni not to fight considering this wind. Setting half the valley ablaze is more of a last resort kind of plan."

She nodded and turned her gaze back to the conflagration below. "You have saved clan Aqun for one more day at the least. Thank you."

Fenrir put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. She stiffened reflexively, then relaxed into the embrace.

On Fenrir's other side, Nelith gave a mock pout. "No thanks for me? I helped too, you know."

Katari stiffened again. "Of course, you have my gratitude as well. I apologize that I neglected to make that clear." Pulling clear of Fenrir, she bowed to Nelith.

The dark-haired succubus looked faintly embarrassed. "I was just pulling your leg," she said after a moment. "I didn't actually do all that much, just set some stuff on fire."

Katari looked up. "Oh. I apologize; I am still somewhat unaccustomed to your style of humor."

Silence descended between them, broken when Nelith let out an almost nervous little chuckle. Katari echoed her, then Fenrir, who had been holding his own laugh back, joined in. "Gods, we're so awkward," the succubus giggled. "I haven't had a joke flop that hard since I don't know when."

"You two are adorable," Fenrir chuckled, tousling both their hair. "But we had better get back to camp and weatherproof it; this storm is promising to be a rough one."

"Okay," Nelith replied. She linked arms with Katari and started the both of them along the trail towards camp. "So Katari, what sorts of jokes do oni make?"

Katari looked faintly alarmed at being pulled along so suddenly, but she answered, "Well, on occasion we will..."

Fenrir took one last look at the oni camp. Very little progress had been made towards containing the fire, but he doubted it would have a chance to spread outside the camp before the storm hit. Turning, he followed Nelith and Katari down the trail, listening as they chatted back and forth.

The storm did in fact turn out to be a rough one, but Fenrir and his girls weathered it by all cuddling together under a large pine whose branches hung particularly low, covered in Fenrir's cloak to ward off the drops that made it through the canopy. Being in such close proximity for so long, it was no surprise that the succubi ended up between Fenrir's legs, vying with each other for another helping of their favorite treat. Even Katari got in on the action for one round, but her libido couldn't match that of the rest of the party and once she'd had her turn she contented herself with cuddling up to Fenrir and watching the branches sway above them.

Once, Fenrir braved the wind and rain to check on what the oni were doing. It was difficult to see through the downpour, but as best as he could make out the oni had with the help of the storm finally quelled the fire. There being no indication that they meant to renew their **** on clan Aqun, Fenrir concluded he wouldn't need to worry about them until the storm let up.

Once he got back, both Nelith and Koreen complained about his fur being wet, but that didn't stop them from returning to their previous activities. Fenrir smirked as Katari snuggled up to his side, resting her head on his chest. "It's a good thing I don't smell like wet dog, eh?"

Koreen popped her head up. "I'll say." She buried her nose in Fenrir's stomach and took a deep whiff. "Ahhh... If you swapped out this for wet dog smell I'd be super mad."

Fenrir watched her, amused. "What do I smell like to you?"

"I dunno. You smell like ...you, I guess. I've never smelled anything like it before."

"Neither have I," Katari chimed in. "To me you smell of danger and power, but also warmth and safety."

"That's because that's who he is to you," Nelith said, lifting her own head and giving Koreen a turn to worship Fenrir's cock uncontested.

"She's right," Fenrir agreed. "Most likely you associate the smell of me with those concepts because that's what you think of when you think of me. Or in other words, my scent only picked up those associations for you after you got to know me."

Katari shrugged. "I enjoy your scent. That is enough for me."

"Ditto. -Hey, stop hogging!" Koreen dived back down, Nelith having taken advantage of her momentary distraction to deepthroat the whole of Fenrir's cock.

Fenrir had to suppress a groan at Nelith's expert attentions. She seemed to have decided it was time she got another helping of cum, and she wasn't shy about making it known. His free hand fell to stroke her hair, causing a pleased hum to vibrate around his cock. Koreen pouted at being denied, but contented herself with fondling and licking his balls.

Katari turned her eyes up to Fenrir's face, being careful to avoid jabbing him in the chin with her horns. "Do you believe clans Kata and Issala-Bas will give up after this?"

"Nngh- I rather doubt it," Fenrir replied. Between both his succubi bringing all of their considerable expertise to bear, it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold anything resembling a conversation. "They won't be happy, however. What with Kata having lost far more tents and supplies than Issala-Bas, there will likely be quite a few oni shouting foul play. Especially considering -ahhh, that's the spot, Nelith- considering everything I've already done. They were already looking for an excuse to turn on each other before we even showed up."

He let out a long sigh as the succubi pushed him over his peak, depositing most of his cum directly into Nelith's stomach. She pulled back for the last few spurts, however, collecting them in her mouth before feeding them to Koreen via a kiss. Unlike the time she had done the same with Chellise, not so much as a drop escaped the liplock, something Fenrir noted with faint amusement. 'Seems the mess back then really was just for show. She's perfectly capable of avoiding losing any if she wants to.'

Katari watched the two succubi trading semen back and forth, one of Nelith's hands still absently fondling Fenrir's cock, and unconsciously licked her lips. Fenrir had to grin. "You know, if you want another round, all you have to do is ask," he said.

She jerked, and flushed. "It is not that. I was only remembering the taste of your seed."

The two succubi broke apart, and Nelith grinned, "I can share the next load with you if you want, Katari."

"That is..." Katari's blush deepened. "...Alright."

"Fuck off," Koreen objected. "It's my turn to get his cum. I'll share it with Katari, if she wants some."

Nelith rolled her eyes. "You got fucked just a couple hours ago, but whatever. You can have the next load if you want it so badly. So long as Katari doesn't mind kissing you instead of me."

Everyone looked at Katari, and she shrugged, her blush deepening. "...I do not mind."

Fenrir smirked and relaxed back against the tree as Nelith and Koreen returned to enjoying his cock, more lazily this time. Katari laid her head back on his chest, but now some of her attention remained focused on the succubi. His hand came up to stroke her hair, the moment full of warmth despite the storm raging around them.

Lady Murtell stood on the deck of the riverboat, watching the white stone walls of the capital grow in the distance. Despite her fears that the assassins might chase her downriver, the trip had been uneventful, and though she was grateful there had been no further attacks, she could not help but wonder what her husband's erstwhile associates might be planning. Beside her Felicity bounced on her toes, straining to see over the ship's rail; no hint of her mother's worries appeared on her young face.

After some maneuvering around the busy port, the boat docked and Grace and Felicity along with several other passengers prepared to disembark. A moment's conversation with the driver of a carriage-for-hire assured her that the hotel she had stayed at on some of her prior visits was still in business, and she directed that herself and her luggage be taken there.

Grace had written to Princess America telling her about the **** attempt and her plans to come to the capital before setting out, but considering the speed of the post it was entirely possible the princess hadn't even received her letter yet. After getting herself settled at the inn, she intended to send another note letting Princess America know she was in town; court etiquette forbade her making a personal visit without an invitation.

However, she had only just made it to the hotel and freshened up when a visitor was announced. "Did they have a card?" she asked the inn servant who brought her the information.

He bowed. "No, my lady, but the carriage bears the mark of the citadel."

So soon? What could this mean? Aloud, she told the servant, "Show them up, please."

"Right away, my lady." He bowed again and left.

Grace prepared to receive her guest, her thoughts whirling. This visitor could be nothing other than a messenger from the princess, but for them to come so soon after she had arrived herself implied some matter of import was afoot.

She was not given long to wonder. The door to the private sitting room opened, and the princess herself was shown into her presence. "Your highness!" Grace sank into a curtsy, Felicity beside her imitating her, though a little clumsily. The princess returned the gesture, though with the corresponding dignity of her higher station, and Grace caught the barest hint of a concealed smile as Princess America's gaze fell on Felicity.

Once formalities had been exchanged and they were both seated, the princess spoke. "I apologize if I caught you off guard with this visit. I received your letter just yesterday, and considering how dangerous the trafficking ring has proven itself to be, I thought it best if I wasted no time. I'll come directly to the point. I would like to extend an invitation for you to stay at the citadel, at least until we have neutralized the threat to your life."

Only long practice of proper etiquette saved Grace from exhibiting a most unseemly display of shock. "...Your highness, I could not possibly impose on your kindness in such a manner," she eventually managed.

"Nonsense," the princess smiled. "It wouldn't be an imposition at all. In fact, I would welcome the opportunity to enjoy your company further, not to mention your adorable little daughter." She smiled at Felicity.

"If your highness is certain, then I accept, gladly." Grace bowed her head to show the depths of her appreciation.

Princess America waved it away. "Think nothing of it. I haven't forgotten that if it hadn't been for us, you would not be in this position to begin with. And please, just call me America, or if that is too familiar for you, princess."

Grace knew perfectly well what that meant. The princess being willing to forgo formalities to such an extent could only mean that she wanted Grace to be a favored friend, perhaps even a confidant. She wasn't sure what she had done to warrant such; after all, she had begun their acquaintance with a disastrous first impression, then there was who her husband had turned out to be. Had their positions been reversed, Grace wasn't certain she would have acted in the same manner, but there was nothing to do but accept the kindness.

"As you wish, princess." Grace paused, opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated again.

"What is it?" America asked, cocking her head slightly.

"I... Have you perchance heard from Ser Fenrir lately?"

The silence stretched just a little longer than was natural, but then the princess shook her head. "Not since he took leave of us at Eldfall. He did warn me that it may be some time before he contacted m- us again. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, simply idle curiosity. I thought perhaps he could assist in tracking down those hunting me, and even if not, he might still have some insights which could help us. I only had the opportunity for several short conversations with him, but he struck me as uniquely discerning, with a view of the world unlike anyone I have ever met before." Grace fought the urge to blush under the princess' curious gaze.

America nodded. "He certainly seemed to have a talent for perceiving people's true characters. Unfortunately, due to his ...unique circumstances, he left no means by which to contact him, so we shall simply have to wait until he contacts us. In the meantime, of course, you're welcome to remain as a guest of the citadel for as long as is necessary." She gave a conspiratorial smile and dropped her voice slightly. "In truth, I'd welcome the company. Things can get a little dull for me from time to time, especially now that both Ser Brandis and Miss Cree are away dealing with the trafficking ring.

"But before we become too deeply immersed in conversation, let's get you settled in at the citadel. You're no doubt fatigued from the journey, so it would be best to get it done sooner rather than later."

Grace expressed her assent, and before long she was standing in a lavish apartment in the citadel with Janet, her lady's maid, bustling about hanging up her dresses while Felicity admired the miniature scenes painted into the wallpaper. Briefly closing her eyes, she sent a heartfelt prayer of thanks to Marstolle for this turn of circumstances. There were few places she could be safer than in the very heart of the citadel, among the royal family themselves. Princess America was truly a wonderful woman.

One step closer to resolving the oni standoff, and a reappearance from our favorite MILF. Well, perhaps not anymore; unlike when she was first introduced, she actually has competition for the title now. America also pops in to say hello; do you think she's any closer to subduing her feelings for Fenrir? And do you think Grace will end up helping, or hindering that goal?
It's been over three weeks since my last chapter, and this coming after my prediction that there would be less time between updates, not more. My life in the past few weeks has been a perfect example of the old proverb: 'Men plan, and God laughs.' Rather than having less work, I had significantly more on my plate. Several other real-life issues cropped up at the same time, to the point that one week I didn't have the time to so much as type a single word.
But that wasn't the only cause of the delay. The fine people over at QQ have been going over my story with a fine-toothed comb, and a reader over on Scribblehub raised a concern about one chapter as well. In consequence of that, I've rewritten the first portion of Retribution, and 'Punishment' to make so Fenrir doesn't let go of his anger at the way Safara was treated quite so quickly, and added several paragraphs to Preparations, and Somebody Else's Problem to better explain Fenrir's motivations for going to the citadel instead of just retreating into the wilderness. There's several other sections that I may end up giving some more attention, but I'll let you know if and when I change anything else.
Enjoy!