The bath was indeed a breast-drowning experience that allowed him to pump an extra two loads into Helenn. Then there was another one after breakfast. A break was allowed for the cherub to get in her own fill of food, but otherwise she was confined to her ptter until Rykard was done with her which, at the earliest, would be noon. That was when he expected the first result of the pregnancy test to be viable.

  After the fifth time he had pumped her full, the slight bulge in Helenn’s stomach had manifested into a definitely noticeable rise. The cherub was entirely unresponsive at that point, tongue hanging out and just moaning whenever she was as much as breathed at. Rykard kept her in that state by twisting her nipples as he moved her around.

  Rykard carried what remains there were of their breakfast, alongside some of the unneeded slices of meat from yesterday, to an isoted room within the estate. The fuckable ptter that was Helenn, he left on a table outside that room. He wanted a bit of silence for what he would do next.

  The estate had many facilities dedicated to one craft or another. As with the library, their contents were far from complete. Rykard’s mother had decreed that the first priority of the building should be to show the splendour of the Troyk Empire. To equip everything with the kind of expensive tools required for advanced usage had apparently not been in the budget.

  Just another showcase of why that empire was doomed to fall.

  Rykard pced his tray of remaining foodstuffs on an avaible surface next to the many utensils of metal and shapes formed from clear gss. The alchemy boratory looked impressive to a newcomer, many enigmatic tools hanging and standing about the pce. For Rykard’s purposes, it would merely suffice.

  Once the door was closed, he let out a slow breath and rolled his shoulders. Being on the move all the time got slightly exhausting, even for a man of his calibre. The dominating and loving of his women, that he could do without pause. Still, he appreciated a moment of silence. It was novel, if nothing else, after the past two weeks.

  Rykard grabbed the vial he had stored his Stable Mutagen in and put it on top of an elongated wooden tube that protruded from a water basin. A bit of pressure, and water jetted out from the tip of the wooden tube, rinsing out the depth of the elongated vial.

  Cleaning it out with a cloth-wrapped stick, Rykard then pced the empty gss container at the end of a complicated contraption of gss and metal segments. It was still up from the st time he had used it, back before he had been summoned to this world. He was in the habit of keeping one of these Stable Mutagens on his body at all times. They were handy in all sorts of situations.

  ‘Only wish I could make more,’ he thought. As, alchemy still was a magical science and, as such, often required active upkeep. If he carried two Stable Mutagens with him, one would swiftly spoil. It was impressive enough that he could keep one permanently stable. Most alchemists were happy if their mutagens sted thirty minutes.

  Double-checking that everything was where it was supposed to be and as clean as it had to be, Rykard inspected every st segment of his contraption. He ran clear water through it all once. It came out the other side red for the first few seconds, then turned translucent. Everything was in order.

  Separating meats from the other foodstuffs, he reduced the tter to a fine paste using a rge grinder. It looked like something that had been chewed and spat back out, far from appetizing. Watering it down did not help. He filled the resulting soup into a container, then poured it all into one opening of the contraption. A closed valve made sure it remained where it should be.

  Then, Rykard turned to the meat. Pricking the skin of his thumb with a needle, he bled onto the raw flesh. Just a few drops, that was all it should take. Alchemy was, just as much as other magical disciplines, not an exact science. Only artifice could boast that it was always reliable in its outcomes and even that was doubtful once one left the realm of common applications. All magic was dependent on situation, will, and mana.

  Bloodstained meat was stuffed into a copper cylinder at the base of the contraption. Where the slices did not fit, Rykard cut them into smaller chunks. Otherwise, he left it as untouched as he could.

  A fire was ignited under the soup of bread and vegetables. The valve holding it all back was turned open. Then, Rykard pinched a little bit of cloth towards the end of the contraption and let his mana flow.

  A blueish green shimmer went through the gss and metal. Liquids suddenly flowed up through pipes, ignoring all suggestions of gravity and pressure. Openings whistled, as dispced air made its way out of the system, making room for advancing liquids. Often, they would travel through gss one colour, and emerge from metal cylinders another. Alchemical liquids were often shy to give up their secrets.

  What mattered was that, in the end, little drops of meaty red fed into the vial. Bit for bit, accelerating as Rykard watched, the container filled back up. Exactly at the point that he could fit the stopper on top, it stopped. The meat and broth was gone, all organic compounds bound into the much denser and magically potent soup of mutagens he now held in his hands.

  “Wonderful,” Rykard hummed and left the vial on the workbeck. Usually he would have pced it on his belt, but that would have to wait until he was wearing clothing again. He headed towards the door and pulled it open. He was met by borderline sane, golden eyes. “Can’t have that,” he tutted and pulled the seal off Helenn’s cunt.

  He was back inside her before she could waste a single drop.

  _______________________________________________________________________

  “You have to appreciate her ability to take punishment.” Miyo inspected Helenn’s body, covered all over with the many aftereffects of rough sex. Lovebites, spank marks, the stringy bruises of choking, those were just the most apparent of the bunch. The little angel was worn like a well-used toy. Her belly, by now bloated with the ten loads he had pumped into her over the course of the morning.

  It was near noon now. Rykard and Miyo were outside, ciming a part of the back of the estate that had been made level. The ground was compacted red dirt. Firm enough to walk on, yet soft enough to make certain the worst injuries were minor bruises, provided one was smart enough not to fall on their neck.

  It was an imperial training field, albeit of the smallest variety. Less than ten metres across, it was just about good enough for duels and such, not for the rge-scale drills that had made the regiments of Troyk the bane of all neighbouring realms.

  For the purposes of the king and his queen, it would suffice. Both of them wore padded leather armour, designed fully for the purpose of protection. By Rykard’s design, magic took over most of the padding duty, allowing the armour to compromise on its thickness. After all, what was the point if the sparring did not involve his beloved fox woman in tight, bck leather?

  Miyo gave the hovering sex toy a shove, causing Helenn to float to the edge of the duelling field. That she managed to remain airborne, even while so utterly out of it that Rykard had not seen her eyes focus on anything for ten minutes, spoke either to her dedication to serving or to a particur aspect of the way Subana equipped her angels. Likely, it was both.

  With a calm face, Miyo fastened her gloves. Every bit of leather stuck to her banced hourgss figure like a second skin, leaving almost as little to the imagination as her previous nudity. Six tails moved behind her wide hips, each waving in an individual pattern of excitement.

  “I never quite understand why you enjoy these sparring matches so much,” Rykard confessed.

  “That’s why you are the dom and I am the sub,” Miyo retorted in a matter of fact tone. “I do find enjoyment in being tossed around.”

  “If you put it like that…” Rykard pnted a foot on the ground and suddenly was in front of Miyo. The redhead’s six tails consolidated into one, in the same swift half-step she took to dodge his grabbing motion. He let her get away with it and effortlessly caught the knee aimed at his jaw. “Now that’s not nice,” he chided her.

  “No, it is not,” Miyo agreed and immediately reversed course. A second kick followed, smming against Rykard’s left arm. The leather bracers budged, but his arm did not. Again, she retreated and again Rykard let her. She hurled a punch at his chest. He caught her fist in his considerably rger hand.

  The tingle of mana under his fingers was undeniable. Miyo’s green eyes almost glowed with supernatural might. She sought to eliminate any differences nature imposed on them through the means of magic. Against a normal man, she would have easily succeeded. Rykard, however, matched her output without any concentrated effort.

  Miyo clenched her teeth and leaned more intensely into the stubborn contest of strength they were now engaged in. Acknowledging her efforts, Rykard hummed approvingly, even as he twisted her fist off to the side.

  What began as a struggle gradually turned into excitement. Inevitably, Miyo had to give in, letting her straining muscles suddenly rex, when her posture was too compromised to even pretend to have a chance. Rykard caught her with his chest and arm.

  “By Amaterasu…” Miyo’s controlled tone was ever so slightly compromised by agitated breathing, lust and exhaustion equally represented in each exhale. “...your strength really does keep endlessly increasing. Soon, I won’t even be able to win one in five.”

  “You don’t sound especially sad about it.”

  “To lose to my protector is natural. Why else have you around?” Miyo pced a kiss on the point of his chin. “Besides, there are other reasons why my martial expertise will diminish soon.”

  Rykard had already put a hand on her belly. They were far away from any kind of sign on her supple body, yet he imagined he could feel the little life of his firstborn pulse within her. Presumed firstborn, anyhow. Pregnancies were not always clean, who knew who would suffer a dey or an early delivery. That being said, none of his current haremettes were average people and the magic imbued in their veins would all but guarantee a healthy course of events. Still, he would monitor things with Restoration whenever he was at home.

  “It will be a waste of your physical talents, but not spreading your looks and mind to the next generation many times over would be an even greater waste,” the king stated.

  “So it is,” his queen agreed, then stepped out of the embrace. “Entertaining as it is to be pinned down, you should reign your superiority in for the rest of the exercise. You will have plenty of opportunities to demonstrate your physical supremacy.”

  “I seem to remember you goading me into it,” Rykard pointed out, even as he followed her example and built some distance between them.

  “I did,” Miyo freely agreed, a hint of a smile pying around her pale pink lips. “A simple wish to experience the extent of your new power, my love. With that established, I wish for a sparring match that we both profit from.”

  “What do I learn from this?” Rykard asked.

  “How not to annihite your opponents immediately,” Miyo pointed out.

  He nodded. “That will be a habit that will only grow more relevant.” Raising a hand, he let Miyo have the first attack.

  The vixen dropped into a ready stance. Her overpped tail spread out into six again, consolidated back into one, then spread out once more. The fan of white-tipped red, fluffy fur constantly threatened to draw Rykard’s attention to them. However, the emerald of her eyes was just more beautiful to behold. When Miyo surrendered that her distraction would not work, she charged.

  Dirt crunched under her heel and Miyo came to a sudden stop. Too far in front of him to deliver a strike, she twisted into a high rise kick. Rykard moved to block the attack, only for Miyo to suddenly stop and throw her arm out instead.

  As predicted, it failed to connect with his face. Rykard knew the dimensions of her body better than he did the back of his hand - he certainly spent a lot more time looking at her than he did at himself. Her hand stopped an arm’s width from his nose. It wasn’t bunched up into a fist. Middle finger pressed intensely against her thumb - then slipped off.

  The audible finger snap was accompanied by a spark of blue fox fire. The magic was incredibly simple and that was what made it so potent. The mixture of illusion and manipution glued Rykard’s eyes to it, forcing him to follow the azure spark upwards for a split second. In that moment, Miyo crossed the rest of the distance.

  Smacking aside her left hand, Rykard prevented a hurtful punch to the gut at the st second. He smmed against her with his broad shoulder. Their difference in weight and force caused the slender woman to stumble backwards. She caught herself before she could fall, then went right back on the offence.

  If a single loss could have deterred Miyo, she would have stopped challenging him years ago. Not even a single shadow of annoyance mingled in her calm countenance. Circling around Rykard with long strides, she waited for him to present an opening. Something he gave by simply not turning to keep facing her.

  Miyo charged at his back. He delivered a backwards kick, not as fast as he could have been, but certainly fast enough to have caught her had she not been ready for it. To hurt her went against his instincts, but he trusted the armour he himself had enchanted and to handle her with kid gloves would have been an insult unworthy of her.

  Proving all the thoughts he had about her right, she dodged the attack before he had even fully raised his foot. Taking the outstretched limb with both hands, she lifted him up with supernatural strength, pulling him over her shoulder.

  Rykard bent his back and caught the impact with both hands, then curled his midriff with enough force to lift up Miyo instead. The redhead let out a surprised yelp as she was catapulted into the air.

  Somersaulting back onto his feet, Rykard stood straight just in time to extend both hands forwards and catch the flying vixen in the bridal carry position. Without a moment of hesitation, he went in to kiss her. Miyo, fuelled by more than mere instinct, wrapped her arms around his neck and reciprocated eagerly. Her lips tasted mildly of salt and of the dust their bout had scattered.

  “You were not able to do that before,” Miyo observed.

  “I think you underestimated just how much stronger I have become,” Rykard told her. “My spell puts it into numbers, my lovely redhead. When we entered this world, I was at 5, now I am at 16.”

  “Tripled.” Miyo shook her head and wiggled into a slightly more comfortable position between his arms. “I hope our descendants will inherit a quarter of your absurdity, Rykard… perhaps an eighth would be more prudent. I am uncertain if the world could bear the weight of too many of your descendants at that level of power.” Gently she massaged the muscles of his neck. Suddenly and yet with complete certainty she added, “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” Rykard responded in kind. He found her lips for another kiss, before letting her down.

  The training that followed was of much slower pace. Miyo practiced straight punches and kicks against him, knowing that he could take them. He, in turn, trained his reflexes and the measuring of his force. To use more than the minimum necessary against her would be unforgivable, especially these days.

  “The harem life agrees with you?” Rykard asked.

  “My time with Vyra has been… exceptionally pleasant,” Miyo responded, still throwing straight punches all the while. Leather cshed loudly against leather, knuckles against palms. “She has made it her mission… to support my every endeavour… as pledged, she is my handmaiden… and I have taught her what I could about submission thus far…”

  “Enough of the sex talk, for now,” Rykard made it clear. “I want to know what you think about the life, not the bedroom alone. I can see that you enjoy that easily enough.”

  Miyo twisted into a kick. Her lusciously long legs nded a hit that had his arms actually tremble softly under the impact. Satisfied with having done that much, the vixen took a pause. “Ignoring the sex, I can only repeat that Vyra has been exceptionally pleasant to be around,” she assured him. “She’s a skilled conversationalist and she abides to the position she wants to hold in the hierarchy between us. Simultaneously, she does not grovel, she does not lie, and she certainly does not brownnose to garner my favour. She is, I believe I can say that with certainty, already the greatest friend I have had in my life. Far removed from all the other handmaidens that always just served me due to my position - or yours.”

  “That sounds like a long ‘yes, I do enjoy the harem life’,” Rykard analyzed.

  “You may take it that way.” Miyo gestured for him to follow her to the edge of the field, where they had left two bottles of water. She took a sip, before continuing. “The retionship with new women is fundamentally simple and that is refreshing. We are connected through you and the expectation is that we will spend the rest of our lives together by virtue of that connection. We will forge bonds, because we know our children will share blood. All of that makes our retionship more honest than the court life we are used to. There is a delight in that.”

  Rykard just nodded and took a sip of his own water. “No jealousy?” he asked.

  “Not as of this moment,” Miyo responded and looked him up and down. “I know you are man enough for the four of us, Rykard. We’ll see if the assessment holds as the number increases.” The redhead rolled her neck, loosening muscles that had grown a little tense.

  Taking the opportunity, he did for her what she so often did for him. His hands soon kneaded the stiff muscles of her neck and shoulders, turning them soft through rhythmic application of force. “I suppose you can’t finish your evaluation when you’ve only really lived with the one so far,” Rykard stated.

  “The one has been a pleasant precedent. I certainly have not been given a reason to regret my decision thus far,” Miyo purred, melting a little bit into his touch. “Hey seems to be of equally pleasant conviction. Her haughty exterior is easily peeled back and beneath it is another dy of character. Helenn, I am less enthusiastic about.”

  It was doubtful the angel was in a position to understand them, still twitching from the st time she had been fucked. Even if she had been, Miyo was no stranger to speaking her mind. Doubtlessly, she was as sly as vixens came, when she wanted to be, but in her own house she would not have hidden behind deception.

  “Too much energy?” Rykard guessed.

  “Too much energy,” Miyo confirmed. “If she focuses most of it on her work, we will be fine.” With another sip of water and a stretch, the redhead stepped back into the duelling field.

  They continued to spar for another hour.