Rykard counted two dozen warships.

  Most of them were of modest build, big enough to hold about twenty people, carrying enough armaments to be a threat without compromising on speed. Supportive and scouting vessels, crafted from wood and metal, existing to support the three vessels at the heart of the fleet.

  Two of the three rge vessels at the centre were simirly made from wood mostly, and metal secondly. They were as rge as any warship Rykard had seen during his upbringing as the prince of a militaristic empire. Balistas and runic circles allowed the delivery of pure kinetic force or empowered spells. Each had a massive mana crystal on board, glowing a light blue as the magic was extracted from them to create the winds that kept the entirety of the fleet moving in this windless world.

  The st vessel was a titan. Rykard couldn’t even begin to comprehend how it was crafted, in rge part because it did not seem to have been crafted at all. Its surface resembled the carapace of a crab, the segments glued together with corals and cartige. Yet, it clearly was a ship, not a live creature. It had a variety of installed armaments, and a figurehead at the front that depicted a massive mia whose tail disappeared under the surf, becoming one with the spine of the ship. Like a horn, the bolt of an enormous ballista extended from the top of the mia’s head. A second yer on top formed a pointy ptform.

  The enormous vessel had no sails, just stacks upon stacks of quarters and spell batteries. To call it a fgship would have been to call Rykard a frontline mage. It was a marvel of naval, magical, and alchemical engineering that the king desperately wanted to see the blueprints for. Even just contempting about the man hours and skill that had gone into it made him feel like he advanced in the crafts.

  As the stag trampled down the path, the ships got rapidly rger. A variety of fg signals were exchanged between them. To them, a dot in the distance had just become what the carriage truly was.

  GREET.

  The singur bit of communication from the cosmic conjuration made Rykard’s head ring. Dazed for a moment, he recovered swiftly. The offer by the stag was clear and the king sorted his words to deliver.

  “Welcome to New Eden, armada of mine!” his voice bellowed over the ocean like the ever-shifting sound of crashing waves. “Your king welcomes you!”

  _______________________________________________________________________

  Rykard bowed his head in thanks to the stag.

  The stag bowed his head in respect to the king.

  Then, after three days of existing in this realm, the conjured being and construct finally disappeared. It shifted out of reality gently. That it could have decided to stay even longer seemed clear, but its purpose had been fulfilled.

  Rykard turned to the ocean. The armada had stopped where the water became too shallow for the rger ships to continue. No smaller boats had been lowered from the massive vessels. Instead, a vast variety of people had dived off-board in orderly ranks.

  ‘I did ask for aquatic monster girls, after all,’ Rykard thought, patiently awaiting for them to surface. He did not have to wait for long.

  First among those that surfaced was a woman of outstanding beauty. Pale blue eyes rose, courtesy of their colour, sharply from her face. Her skin was a deep shade of blue itself, as was the pair of curved horns and the ornament that kept her bck hair tied up in a ponytail. Blunt bands and long strands framed her features. Where ears usually were sat a set of fins. Algae-green was the membrane between them. Her hair turned into a simir colour as it fell past her neck, a gradient transition from the bck.

  She was tall. Very tall. Taller even than Rykard, if not by much. What little was visible of her naked skin, her arms mostly, was clearly toned, and the armour covering her hinted at a banced hourgss figure. Decently rge breasts, shapely hips, and long legs, all of them in perfect bance to shape a woman that looked every bit as alluring as she did dangerous.

  The armour, Rykard quickly realized, was not a worn article. It was attached to her like the scales and spikes that covered her shoulders and the ridge of the notably long tail that she lifted out of the water behind her. She wore no weapons, but the long cws that extended from her scale-pted hands seemed sharper than most bdes anyhow.

  From top to bottom, she seemed as straight as a rim rod. The militaristic gait cut through the soft waves of the calm sea. She stopped where the water met the sand and beheld Rykard with the disciplined, unmoving face of a seasoned soldier.

  Behind the leading woman rose the core crew of her armada. First were two monster girls that, no doubt, lead the two other rge ships, then the leaders of the smaller vessels, then several members of each of the ships, orderly lined up behind their respective captains. All of them were female, all of them were moving with the certainty of veterans, and all of them had the various markers or unusual colours of monster girls.

  No two were fully alike. There were no uniforms. Despite the formation, it appeared this military had decided to let every st sailor go into service armed with what their birth had given them. Carapace and scale armours, cws and sharp teeth, stingers, tentacles, poison, hypnotic gazes and alluring voices, all of them were around. Slimes, mias, sea elves, dragon girls, nymphs and a rge selection of species that Rykard could not put a specific name to were all represented. From the shortstacks to the tall, fit leader of the armada, all the body types that could keep up with the demands of active duty were present.

  The leader of the armada put her heels together. Sharply, she raised a hand to her head in salute. Water spshed and rippled, as the entirety of the regiments mimicked the motion in perfect unison. With all the sternness her appearance made Rykard expect, the woman at the front spoke.

  “Admiral Lyvia Apothesia Allura of the house of the Abyss reporting for duty. Requesting permission to make ndfall, sovereign of this nation.”

  The salute and her tone made Rykard himself stand a little straighter. He was reminded of the years at the military academy, before he had discovered his exceptional magical prowess, and of the months after Mariksfield spent in camps and on the field. “Permission granted.”

  Lyvia took a rge step forward, delivering her from the calm waters onto the sandy beach. Her retinue followed, taking so perfectly coordinated steps it was hypnotic. She walked up to him, as close as was appropriate for a military commander, then a little closer when he waved with his index finger.

  There was no hesitation in any of her steps. She only stopped when her chest scales were about to make contact with his torso. “King Rykard of New Eden,” he introduced himself and gave her another up and down. “You’re everything I expected and more, admiral.”

  Rykard left it at those words and then just smiled at her.

  Since there was no question nor order, Lyvia stood there. She stood there and beheld him with all of her military discipline. They stood there, one with her hands orderly folded behind her back, the other with his in his pockets.

  They stood there and all was silent. One could have heard a grain of sand shift which, eventually, a few did. The admiral’s rim rod straightness was interrupted by a singur, tiny quiver. Then, the tip of her tail twitched.

  A deep, audible inhale through her nose was a complete break with her image. It was the first of many. She gulped, maintained her posture, but kept on breathing with increasing levels of loudness. She blinked at irregur intervals. Pupils dited.

  Rykard kept standing there, smiling his most mischievous smile. Behind him, a certain succubus let out a romantic sigh. “I know that feeling…”

  By now, Lyvia’s legs were actively trembling.

  “Requesting permission to speak out of turn, my king.”

  “Please, call me Rykard,” he allowed her graciously.

  “R-rykard… your presence is causing me to go into heat.”

  The king ughed. So straight and so clear was the delivery on this that he could not help but do so. The boured breathing only grew louder when he grabbed her by the chin. Dark blue lips parted softly, showing the fangs behind. A whispering moan escaped her. “How often have you gone into heat before, Lyvia?”

  “This would be my first time.”

  Rykard hummed, pleased and turned her face. “So it is unusual for your species?”

  “Leviathans only go into heat in the presence of a worthwhile mate. A man of character, determination, and genetic fitness.” Despite her strict tone, heat radiated from her face. Her tail was drawing non-sensical shapes into the sand, flopping about uncontrolled. Rykard could not help but note that the perfect discipline of her soldier had softened up a bit, several of the aquatic monster girls whispering to each other. “We mate for life,” Lyvia added, after a few seconds of panting.

  “Is that an offer?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Lyvia answered. “I was granted the honour of being sent to this world by the monster dy and the gods. As with the others granted this position, I accepted it hoping that I would be put in the service of a Contestant who either is or has close to them a Master worth serving. With your permission, I’ll become your woman.”

  “You’d join my harem,” Rykard informed her and gestured at the three haremettes behind him. Mena was following the scene with a heavy blush, Tena could not believe what she was seeing, and Hey wore a nostalgic smile. It was somewhat reminiscent of how she had joined up with him, just with all of the futile struggling cut out.

  “As is natural,” the admiral answered.

  Considering that she was the leader of an exclusively female military, Rykard could make the safe assumption that she came from a realm that was simir to what he aimed to build here: a wealth of various female species with few men building their harems.

  Now the question was only how to formute his answer.

  Rykard made his smile drop. The sudden change in the air around him made Lyvia shudder. They were practically eye to eye, the few centimetres she had on them making barely any difference. She kept her gaze straight, although her eyelids fluttered when he brushed over her lips with his thumb.

  “This mouth,” the sovereign said, then wandered down her slender neck. There were bumps and sharp edges there, scales covering any part of her that was remotely vulnerable. “This neck.” He went down her shoulder. “These arms.” He jumped over to her waist. “These hips.” The scales covering her torso were smooth, hard, and flexible. “These legs.” He traced back up, only coming short of touching her womanhood because it was hidden. He pressed against a certain point at her lower abdomen. “This womb.” Her constant, audible breathing stopped at those words, but he wasn’t done yet. His hand went up to the twin rises of her armour. “These breasts.” He knocked twice against the hardcover between him and the soft squish. “And the heart that beats behind them…”

  He stopped. In a whirl of motion that the entranced admiral failed to react to, he put his arm around her back and pulled her along in his dance. He bend the soldier backwards like she was a seasoned pymate of his. To keep her bance, she raised one leg up high. She id on his arm, entirely dependant on him to prevent the drop.

  Suddenly, her breathing kicked back in. The previous panting was repced with excited, rapid in and exhales that bordered on hyperventition. Her pupils were dited, despite the face that his head cast a sun-crested shadow over her face. Even if Rykard did not have the sense of smell she did, he could pick up the sweetness of releasing pheromones.

  “...they’d all be mine.” Rykard stated.

  “Yes, make me yours,” Lyvia was a the border of begging now. The sailors that had come with her were audibly talking to each other now. From what little Rykard picked up, they had expected their admiral to find a man swiftly, but not in this spectacur a fashion. “Please, Sir, mate with me.”

  “I’d not breed you immediately. I have a wealth of children come.”

  “My womb is in your service at the moment you command it, not a moment ter, not a moment sooner,” Lyvia submitted instantly. “May I beg, Sir?”

  “You already are,” Rykard pointed out. Her eyes pleaded and he gave. “Permission granted.”

  “I will not settle for anything less now that I have been touched by your supreme scent, Sir. Make me yours, I beseech you. Make me yours forever. Just say the words and I’m yours and I will love you.”

  Had all women been like this, things would be a little too easy for Rykard’s taste, but this rim rod admiral on this beach, right now, submitting fully to the unique biology of her species? That was everything he wanted. Still, he acted like he had to consider. “List your sexual interests, you desperate little thing.”

  Lyvia shuddered, clearly enjoying the situation. “I live to serve my mate, Sir. I wish to live out my pce in the harem, with those above and beneath me in ordered harmony. I wish to be commanded and degraded, as my betters please. I want to be disciplined by physical means. I want to be bound and used. I will be a good submissive haremette.” She listed it all off like they were prepared points for a job interview.

  “Erotic, physical attributes?” Rykard drilled a little further.

  “My species goes into a soft heat under circumstances such as the present,” Lyvia answered. “The heat is the prerequisite for our fertility. Your presence is causing me to ovute.” Not the sexiest way to put it, but the idea made Rykard’s cock twitch. “My throat is immensely sensitive. The magical biology that allows me to breathe underwater also allows me to keep my throat occupied endlessly without drawback on air flow. Lastly my species experiences a release of pleasure whenever we obey our mates orders.”

  “You can climax from being ordered?” Rykard asked.

  “This is correct.”

  “You really are made to submit, aren’t you?”

  Lyvia tilted her head slightly, it was the most emotional gesture she had made yet and it was a confused one. “I am a species of monster girl. Submission is my privilege, SIr.”

  The world she came from really sounded like Rykard’s personal heaven.

  “You’re mine, then,” Rykard stated with all the firmness of a king ying cim to a plot of nd. A kiss sealed Lyvia’s fate.

  All of the barely controlled quivers and trembles came to an immediate halt. Arms wrapped around his torso pulling herself in closer while he pried open her lips with his tongue. All too eagerly, she let him invade. She tasted of sea salt. More than that, she tasted sweet and needy. She moaned into the kiss. “Yoursh,” she managed to say, between the wrestlings of their tongues. “Sir.”

  “Master,” Rykard corrected her.

  “Mashtahr!” she excimed. Rykard could see, in her pale blue eyes, the moment her biology locked him as her mate. One moment she was ‘merely’ interested and aroused to a truly powerful degree, and the next she was delivered from infatuation to complete pair bonding. “I love you!”

  And she did love him.

  And even if Rykard did not have the benefits of falling so quickly, he was already falling for her in turn. What a perfect woman the gods had blessed him with here. An admiral, a submissive, a monster girl ready to submit instantly to him and him alone. Truly, everything he had asked for with that phrase.

  The kiss broke, a strand of saliva stubbornly stretching between them until it finally could not hold on any longer. Lyvia was back to a more reasonable degree of panting. “Off with the scales,” he ordered her while helping her stand.

  Lyvia gave a swift and strong nod. Like so many other monster girls, she was a minor shapeshifter. The protective yers were absorbed into her skin at a rapid rate, revealing dark blue nipples atop the rge breasts, and a toned midriff. Unusually, there was a blue gemstone embedded between her colrbones. The cws stuck around for a little while longer, but they too were quickly retreating. Besides the gem, nothing about the body revealed was a surprise.

  For just a moment, she stood as straight and disciplined as he had initially - then she was fully naked. The reward for obedience made her knees buckle. For a moment, Rykard thought she had already climaxed, but she regained control quick enough to dispel that notion. She was right on the cusp, but not quite there. Her pussy dripped sticky love juices.

  “That’s a good girl,” Rykard purred and she bit her lower lip in response. “No reason to deny you your first taste. On your knees.”

  She dropped like an anchor.