Chapter 12 - 18+ Lasthold

[The way of the sovereign is not just about dominance. It is about responsibility, loyalty to the people who serve you, and the willingness to endure anything for their sake. For standing up for your people rather than letting them suffer in your place. You have shown the quality of a sovereign. +5,000 Sovereign Points.]

Kren watched the message with a blank look on his face, then dismissed it, shifting his gaze to the waters ahead. The ocean gleamed like a pearl in the distance, and on both its eastern and western banks, the town of Lasthold came into view. This was home — where Kren had grown up, hidden from the rest of the world.

Its population was mostly Black Panthers, White Leopards, and White Cat tribesmen. The town made its living from fishing the ocean beyond and farming, carried out mostly along the western bank, which was actually the South bank, but the town was built between the river, so it had an east and west all of its own. The west bank made that side the industrial heart of the settlement while the eastern bank held the homes and commercial buildings. It wasn’t much to look at, if he was honest.

The town itself looked and felt like it was clinging to its last legs. Everywhere he turned, buildings stood that had clearly seen better days. The streets weren’t cobbled, just packed mud — one of the less charming perks of living beside a river — and a faint mustiness seemed to hang in the air itself.

But the people. Every single one of them lined the eastern shore, and more crowded onto the single bridge connecting the two banks. Kren studied their faces. Bernice might have kept him isolated for the last ten years, but many of those he saw now were still familiar to him. And now, he was responsible for every one of them.

He couldn’t help but worry about the people of Oro Village. In the end, he’d gone looking for trouble by killing those militiamen. The village would suffer under the snakes’ retaliation for what he’d started, and he had run. He hadn’t stayed to finish what he’d begun — he had bloody run.

"My king. Your people are watching you. Is this the image you want them to carry — a brooding boy, unsure of himself, when it falls to him to steer us all toward survival?" Bernice’s voice was soft in his ear, but the sting of disappointment ran thick beneath it. He frowned and turned to look at her. She tilted her head and arched an eyebrow, daring him to argue.

"Stop sulking. We have days, at most, to prepare for the Ale’s reprisal for that attack. We need to start building and training an army. You’ll have to start forging alliances and listening to the worst grievances of your own people. You do not have time to be weak, boy!" Kren growled low, a warning flashing in his eyes as he held her gaze. She didn’t flinch.

"You’d better get up and become the king you were always meant to be. Or is fucking and sulking like a cub the only thing you’re good for?" Kren didn’t back down from the challenge, though he had to fight down the urge to backhand her. He wasn’t that kind of man. Not that kind of king — even as the beast in him snarled at the sheer audacity of the insult.

He stood, watching the boat drift toward the pier. His people watched him in return, the entire town gone silent at his arrival. Kren smirked, tipped his head back, and summoned the echo of the beast from somewhere deep in his chest, deep in his soul. He felt the crest resonate. Felt his power rise to answer the call. Felt the connection spill outward, into every one of them.

ROARRRRR!

Lasthold answered its king. The air filled with matching roars, echoing and rippling across the surface of the river. The boat came to a stop, but before Kren’s feet even touched the dock, a chant had already risen.

They poured out from every corner of the town. Black Panthers with their telltale dark hair and eyes. Snow Leopards with their soft ears and mottled black-and-white coats. White Cats, Aki’s own kin. Three clans, all that remained of his once-illustrious people, and they welcomed him home like a king.

Kren!

Kren!

Kren!

Kren!

There was no word in Kren’s vocabulary that could describe what he felt in that moment. For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel alone. As he moved through the crowd gathering around him, arms outstretched to touch the prince who had become their king, he understood that the coronation itself was only a formality now. What he represented was salvation.

Ten years without power. Ten years watching for assassins and enemies who would have stopped at nothing to erase the bloodline of the Black Lion from existence. The danger hadn’t lessened — but after a decade without a king, his people, however broken, could finally say it aloud: the king had returned.

<<<<<>>>>>

It took Kren almost an hour to make it through the town. Everyone wanted a moment with him, and he was more than willing to give it. Meanwhile, Aki and Bernice had already thrown themselves into work — they had subordinates and contacts scattered throughout Lasthold, and it wasn’t long before word spread that the king was ready to begin recruiting for his army and doing whatever it took to help the town survive. But all of that could wait until tomorrow.

Kren was exhausted. Days on the road, dealing with every conceivable disaster, had worn him down to the bone. So the first thing he did once he had a moment alone was draw a bath. The heat of the water eased the tension out of his muscles, along with some of the weight the last few days had piled onto his shoulders. It wasn’t enough to fully unwind him, but it was a start.

He had no illusions about getting real rest anytime in the next few days. With the crest reclaimed, a hundred things that had been impossible before were suddenly within reach — and needed doing. He was ready for it, not that he had much choice. Their survival depended on it.

The bathroom door slid open. The room itself was modest — the only private bath in the small townhouse that doubled as both royal palace and Lasthold’s town hall. A far cry from the mountain palace his father and forefathers had once ruled from.

Bernice stepped in. clad in nothing but flimsy bathrobe that did nothing to hide the sheer curves on her body. Kren raised an eyebrow as she walked closer, moving until she was standing over him.

"How are you doing my King." She asked, as she knelt down besides the bathtub, pulling back the sleeves of her dress, one side of its fold slipping, as her right areola started at him. Kren raised his head to look at her face, amusement still etched on it, as Bernice placed a hand on his chest, letting it slide down until it disappeared beneath the water.

"I’m fine regent, relatively speaking. You should mmmm-" Kren was forced to cut himself off as the feel of her hands around his cock. She squeezed softly.

"Are you sure you’re okay? The Militia back at Oro-" Kren did not let her finish, he reached out and pulled her into the bathtub with him. Bernice let out a startled yelp, but Kren held her close. Her back against his chest as she rested against him.

"We don’t really have time for this." She said to him as she tried to adjust herself, but Kren was already moving her wet clothes aside without having to take it off. His fingers found her nipples and Bernice scoffed, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

"You wouldn’t be here, if you didn’t have time for this. Though I should have you arrested." Kren murmured as he took a soft bite out of her ear lobe. Bernice shuddered again, another tremor following it as Kren’s hands teased her folds, her wetness prevalent even under the water. She clamped her legs together.

"No!" Kren raised an eyebrow in confusion. "No?" he asked back, but she was already standing, turning around until she was facing him.

"We have neither the time or the energy for anything longer than a lingering touch. Besides, if you spend too long here, the bath water will get cold, and you need some rest. It’s going to be a whole other different ball game from tomorrow."

"So what are you saying?" Kren asked her with his head cocked to the side. He got his answer when she raised up slightly to align her folds with his dick. His eyes winded as she looked at him, holding his gaze before burying him to the hilt Within her.

Kren could not help the grunt that escaped his lips as the feel of her. She was wet and ready, but most of all, she was so warm inside the feeling was almost enough to send him over the edge. A mischievous smile crossed her face as Bernice wrapped her arms around his neck, then leaned forwards so that her lips were directly over his ear.

"Let me serve you, My King."

She followed her words by lifting herself up softly, and then down, water parting as her ass slapped against it. She moved slowly, letting the friction of their coupling linger as her folds squeezed him.