Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions Chapter 236 Weeping Woodlands

The Vestal mother, Indiravasanathārekalee, Grace of the Seat of Séltand, was bent over a study map with Corazón, Aya Naamah and Ravenna when Israfel walked in twenty minutes later. He held his head high as he entered the high priestess's office, but there was no lying to the eyes of his harem. Not after all the shit they'd been through.

Ravenna took one look at him and saw release written all over his face. Cora smirked. And as for Aya, she could damn well sll the fox pussy on him. If she desired, she could taste it.

Through their [psyche bridge] she told him, "Was it good?" Find your next read on empire

Rafel felt cornered, but not judged. He gave a glum nod. "I think I just banged an Anima Dios."

"An animal god?"

"A story for later." Rafel ended, pulling up his mind wards to partition his [Bond] out of his head. The succubus understood and let be. Her [Sire] then returned his attention back to the room.

Indira's office was liveable. It had a very holy touch, from the misty painted walls to art and furniture that could induce sleep in seconds. Beyond the high table where they all stood, sturdy chairs and another burnished desk extended over by the window facing the West wing of the building. It directly overlooked the immaculate gardens of sanctuary, with flowers like moonlight in the night.

Rafel stepped forward. He ignored the Grace's sour look at being spurned as he leveled himself into the chair at the helm of the distant desk. Her office chair. Indira rolled her tongue inside her cheek and folded her arms strongly. For a woman of her gallant height, it drew all the attention.

"Be at ease, Vestal mother," he called across to her, "I do not desire to impugn upon your office." He waved a hand. "I believe you all have sothing to tell ."

Indira ca back with a question of hers: "Was the Central Core everything you expected?"

"That, and more." Rafel smiled. "That. And more." And then he quickly changed the subject. "So where are we? We looking at maps now, or what?"

Cora lifted her lithe body warmly to the high table and perched at the edge of it; the frayed corners of the ancient cartography caressed her left hip. Her small waist was accentuated in her brusk top. She had taken off the veils from their hot travels and smooth creamy skin was touched by the light of the wisping moon.

The Badlands lay aside her, splayed in figurines and ink. It was she who began the telling.

"Whilst you were... occupied, m'lord," she cleared her throat, "the priestess here was kind enough to give us an abridgent of the political structure of the Bonelands. While the rebellion stakes are well pegged among Deathlies of all three rider bands, their leaders themselves are not quite open to restructuring under a new banner. In lay terms, they call you the Lord of Rebels, but they will rebel if you try to lord them."

"How enlightening!" Rafel didn't hide his sarcasm. He dropped his fine boots to Indira's desk. This ti, she only gave a carefree glance. Rafel urged. "Apologies, mi Corazón. Do go on."

"Like we deduced earlier, our In into the other camps are Zaftig and Grone—"

"Zaftig is more anable to talks of unity." Indira spoke to reassure.

Cora's lips thinned—letting everyone in the office know she didn't like being interrupted, for the umpteenth ti. She harnessed a strict tone for her next words. "Like I was saying, Denta is not well liked amongst the male Skullriders. But not as much as they dislike each other. So we're good there. From everything we have so far, I believe we should start with Zaftig – work our way up to Grone. By the ti we'll be reaching his camps, news of uniting marauders will be wilder than a spiritfla. . .

The choice will be out of his hands."

Rafel went thoughtful a whole minute. He wanted to not draw attention to the Badlands, lest his auntie fall upon them with her [Furies] and make the Bonelands even hotter than it already was.

To start with Zaftig: the lesser evil of the two male Skullriders, was excellent advice.

"Very well." He nodded. "This is wonderful work," he complinted, causing the office to hold pink faces for a while, before he said, "where shall we begin?"

He intended the question for Indira; Cora fell back in her speech and let the tall Grace do the talking from there.

"Thanks to the benevolence and blessing of the Central Core, our sanctuary has stood the might and ruin of three hundred years. Threats have been leveled against the Seat, but those Graces co before have withstood strongly. Our path remains sure. We worship Visha and Magvath. Silco and the Martyr. Our vows unbroken.

"Thus, I, Indira will do everything to aid your sojourn, Israfel the Hellcaster. Thankfully, Central Core lets us have all we want; fields of corn and barley, and fresh spring water. Mage lights by night and [Rosecloud] by day. Because of this, the independence of sanctuary has stood sure. No conqueror has breached this Seat... And I certainly am not about to let one now."

Cora gave a mock bow. "Apologies, Vestal mother. Is there a plan in there sowhere?"

"—so here's what we're gonna do." Indira ignored her.

As he listened to the immaculately dressed, 300-year old virginal woman, Rafel hoped to his heart the black [Corruption] had ceased from Central Core. Perhaps, by his passionate tangling with Sadakä, he had cooled her head so to heal the Core of his demonic virus. If she was back in the amber Orb, he hoped he had put out enough to be deed a worthy lover.

Who knows, with Animal gods and their wanton needs? Right?

If the Corruption still resided in the Core, then a eting of integration in the Badlands was as far from him as Denta's camp in the canyon. He'd have better luck convincing Grone to unite bands of the Bonelands than Indira letting him out of her sight.

She said Central Core purified their Oasis: River Sana'a.

He'd hate to be here when the River turned black.

If the inky, viscous goo on the body of Sadakä was any on, he'd better hurry his harem out of her office and sanctuary before the Vestal mother found out her precious source of [Infinite Light] had been tainted by the touch of a demon.

Indira was saying, ". . . there's a way to avoid running into any of Grone's Deathlies on the road to Zaftig's camp. It's effing hard though. The NURs are the only nutjobs who use that highway—mostly to transport contraband cargo no Skullrider will take."

"Ain't this the Badlands? I hear there are no sanctions."

Indira had a shocker of a poker face for Ravenna, the one who spoke. She said. "There is... for baby corpses and kidnapped vestal intakes."

Everyone looked to everyone at that point. Indira took two steps to the window pouring soft moon rays on her desks; her pristine nails sparkled on folded arms. She continued.

"Sohow, those are only things all Skullriders agree to pace out on. The road I spoke about is furious, wardened by the Mole-n."

"Mole-n?" Aya chipped in intelligently with a bit of history, "I thought they all died off in the reign of Baeleon."

"Hanged!" Indira corrected. "And don't believe everything you read." She turned a swivel of her head without moving her body. And the lamps cast shadows of her limber 7ft on the side walls. In the silhouette, she was cut like so eerie painting of a frontier military bride. She told Rafel. "You are a Solitary Survivor rank; you should have access to the Epic-grade map—the hologram of it.

"I love your cause, but I can't possibly let you leave with this one. You must have heard: maps are pirate loot here. As for the road to Zaftig," she hit two spots on the exposed cartography with a lean cane. "Trail here and here. The south bypass will corner over this ravine, a small poisonous lake, and then the Trenches... where the Mole-n dwell.

"Careful not to hike it at night!" She admonished strongly. "The children of the Mole-n have adapted. They are quite fearful now. Blind and serrated from the mont they are born."

"Well, damn!" Cora dropped. "Zaftig had better hear us out after all this shit."

Indira bit back on a retort to correct her.

She showed for another ten minutes the most accurate detailing of Zaftig and Grone territories. And vanished for a brief while – in which Rafel held his breath – to check on Central Core.

He was speechless in relief when the Grace returned with a smile and humble shoulders. She announced. "All is well. Shall you depart now?"

Israfel nodded.

They were all out of Indira's benign office and sanctuary itself by the ti nine o'clock hit the desert stretch. Khalifa was waiting by the stables close to the gates. The cals were pressed together in a herd. She drank from a water bag and waved as they strolled into the grounds.

"Oh, and by the way," Indira flipped her hair. "If a Vestal so wishes, there are loopholes to our vows."

Her aquamarine eyes were deadset on Rafel's.

"Translation: we can do other stuff." She pressed a scroll into his palm as Khalifa wrestled the beasts up, saddling subconsciously from experience. She whispered sothing for Rafel's ears alone.

"Take this. Find the Historian. His na is unique. But only when you survive the furious roads ahead shall his na be revealed. And again, Séltand is always open to you, Rebel Lord.

"Godspeed!"

Indira hailed them away.

So distance later, Rafel looked back from the caravan winding into the moonlit night and spotted the Vestals in his glance; luminous as angels floating over sand, the castle of sanctuary a palatine backdrop.

"Peitho. Access [Digitum Map]."

[Ding!], his system resonated.

And a crystal clear holographic image of the sa cartography he'd seen just a few hours ago appeared like a leading lamp in front of the caravan.

[File accessed by rank as Solitary Survivor!]

"Khalifa?" Rafel called back one cal for Denta's handwoman, whom had now beco his own... well, whatever he wanted.

"Yes." Her lilting voice exhud from her veils.

"What's the first landmark to Zaftig's camp?"

"The Weeping Woodlands."

As she said this, an ominous chill swept in the night wind. But Rafel was not one for superstition. Not even while traveling the Badlands at night. He commanded loudly for everyone to hear.

"We set a course to break for the Woodlands."

"Aye!" His little troop humd in unison.

The cals trailed slowly. Aya rested her head on his shoulders. He folded each one of Cora's hands in his. Ravenna just about sat in his lap. Their litter atop the cal was quite large. And Israfel was more than happy to ride a fucking cal with his harem.

'Winter in Eragonn had been no joke. All those cold, long months in that fucking prison. This, this was better. Whole lotta better!'