March, 907 Elsiran Conquest

The War of Subjugation was less a single war and more many wars fought in quick succession. The bid of the Elven race to place humanity under heel was a conflict that spanned over a long period of time and encompassed many different phases. First there had been the need to extinguish all of the human kingdoms upon their home continent after freeing themselves from the chains of slavery. Then it had become a matter of traveling to other continents and taking them as well. Of all of them, there was no greater roadblock than the Albar Empire.

Nalista was the Grand General of the Empire of Elsira. While she was not the oldest of her kind she had been born soon after Elsira had formed and soon enough fought in the army. She worked her way up over the decades to her position with her deep understanding of combat and war. She had yet to find herself outclassed. Yet to find a human that could outthink her wealth of experience and escape defeat at her hands. Until today. Until she stared at the map in front of her and realized what had happened.

She tapped her finger upon the table the map was upon, the silence in her war tent palpable. She turned and reached for a pitcher of wine, filling her goblet slowly. The only sound that filled the air of the tent was the water rushing into the goblet and the humans that had been inside of it letting out little pitifully squeaks as they were washed in the red wine. They pounded against the side of the goblet fruitlessly. Little good it would do them. The blonde frowned as she considered the forms squirming in her goblet.

"Your grace... we won the battle."

Her eyes turned toward the one to make that remark, the gaze of the towering blonde alone enough to cow the younger noble officer into silence again. She paced around the table and set the goblet down in front of the man that had made the remark. She didn't say anything yet, she just set her hands behind her back and waited for a few moments to let the silence fall over oppressively again.

"Tell me." She said, breaking the silence. "Are any of the pale little forms squirming around inside of this goblet right now the enemy general?" She asked.

The man glanced down and swallowed hard. "N-no your grace."

"Then we have won nothing." She said as she picked up the goblet again and lifted it to her lips.

The older blonde elf tipped the goblet over her lips and a cascading flood of the finest wine flooded into her mouth. The humans inside the drink squirmed and flailed and tried to swim to outrun the current. It was no use of course. One was tugged right in through her lips the same as the wine was and with a single flex of her elegant slender throat was swallowed down with the wine. She removed her lips and let the others and the rest of the wine settle as she returned to her chair and seated herself down.

"How many soldiers were said to be under Prince Rickard's command according to our scouts?" She asked blandly.

"20,000, your grace." One of the older officers stated at once.

"And how many did we make contact with once word reached us that he was on the move from Fort Ehbach?" She followed up, pinning him with a gaze.

"...2,000 your grace."

"2,000. Which left his remaining forces..."

She reached over to the table. There were a number of pieces that represented the bulk of their army and the bulk of the enemy army. The map showed a region of the Empire they had entered into and seized rather quickly. They had advanced to a forest that beyond had a river crossing. It made tactical sense for the Prince to force the battle here. She had expected him to commit and try to lure her to the river where she would have had to expend many lives to cross. Were it not for the mages in her army in any event.

Instead she knocked over a piece in front of their army and moved the bulk of his forces further down. Down where they had a clear line right for the city Nalista and her forces had just taken two weeks prior. Which was currently possessed of an anemic garrison as she had committed 40,000 to this fight. This fight which had given her nothing and now put her on her back foot.

"We can still take the river, your grace! He's left it undefended so we can cross and trap him on this side." Cried one of the junior officers and he got a chorus of nods from his fellows looking to salvage some face.

"You're lucky you have a noble name behind yours because if you didn't I'd have you scrubbing out pots in the latrine. Get out." She ordered the officer pointedly.

After he got out of her sight she leaned back in her chair and traced her fingers around the rim of her goblet. "Dalia, explain to the ones that nodded along with that why that was a stupid idea please." She requested her second in command.

The shorter dark haired woman stood up, the battle mage setting her arms behind her back as her spectacles gleamed in the light. "Of course, your grace. If we committed to the river crossing, we would leave an enemy at our backs. It would also be a disruption in our supply chain. Once we cross the river we also have no easy method of retreat and our movement options will be limited. With our front facing Fort Ehbach and our backs to the river where the Prince pin us from behind, advance is not an option." She leaned over the map, her eyewear slipping down the bridge of her nose. "That being the case, the Prince has forced it so that our only viable option is chasing him as leaving him at our back would be unacceptable. It is very likely he will take the city in short order as well."

Nalista lifted her goblet to her lips and took a longer drink. The remaining humans inside of it found themselves squirming and headed right for her mouth. Most were guzzled down while one managed to cling to her lips in desperation. The woman's massive tongue curled around his naked body and dragged him back inside, swallowing his booze soaked form down to join his fellows in her belly. As she finished she set the empty goblet down and considered what Dalia said as it was in line with her exact thinking.

The Prince would be able to hold the city of Ostreach. He had the numbers to pull it off even with the defenses left in a sorry state after the Elven attack. She wondered if that was his goal however. Since while he could hold it, he couldn't hold it forever. He would have the same issue they would if they crossed the river now. Supply chain. This hadn't been the moves of a desperate man, they had been bold and daring certainly but no more so than moves Nalista had made herself. She scratched along her chin.

"Vortmir." She turned her gaze to the rather effeminate form of a blonde haired elven man. He stood up at her call for him.

"Take five hundred mage knights and make the crossing over the river. Set the lands on fire and burn as many fields as you can. Travel fast and focus on the farming settlements." Nalista ordered the man. "As for the rest of you, make ready, we'll march back to Ostreach. Dalia, if I recall we took prisoners. Interrogate them. I want to know about this Prince Rickard beyond his name. Who he is, what he's done, how he fights, as much as you can get them to squeak out before you pulp them between your toes."

Dalia smirked. "Of course, your grace. I will relish the opportunity to carry out your will." She said as a gleam of sadism flashed behind those spectacles.

All of her gathered officers saluted before filing out of her command tent as she flicked her fingers in dismissal. She leaned back and plucked up one of the enemy pieces on her map table. She toyed with it between her fingers as she considered it. Was this a sign she was facing someone with tactical acumen enough to match her? Or was it a fluke? After battles such as these her tradition was to drink them down in a toast of victory. This was the first time in a while where there was no toast of victory and a screaming general travelling to her stomach.

She held the piece up before her face and tried to imagine the face of her foe. Tried to imagine the face of one that had outwitted her on the field of battle. What was the measure of such a human? Was he a dashing young man? A grizzled old veteran? Well. No doubt Dalia would find out between the screams for mercy of those taken as prisoners. For Nalista she allowed her mind to wander and for a moment allowed a smirk to cross her lips.

"Your move, little human. Let us see how long you can scurry around beneath the boot of your better." She mused aloud as she dropped the piece to the floor and stood up, the thing cracking beneath her boot as she left her command tent.

March, 907 E.C.

Ostreach had seen better days. The conquering Elsiran armies had ravaged the city with magic, breaking many of its walls and burning many buildings inside. To say nothing of the fate of the population. Rickard had heard rumors of course of the fate of civilians at the hands of the elven empire and those stories didn’t do justice to what he had beheld upon taking Ostreach back. Humans were sequestered into artificial pens and evidently processed by the mages there. Those that were… processed were shipped off away into deeper Elsira.

The Second Prince of Albar looked out over the fields beyond the city from his spot upon the ruined and wrecked walls of Ostreach. Around him were a few armored soldiers bearing large two handed swords. The Zweihander elite infantry that Albar was feared for among its neighbors. He was dressed in fine black painted plate armor and his helmet had a distinctive red plume upon it that fluttered in the breeze. 

“They say Nalista can see the future, pretty sure she didn’t see this future coming, eh your grace?” Remarked one of his captains. 

Armored fingers reached up and pulled off the full helmet, revealing a rather pretty dark haired young man. One would have honestly mistaken him for a woman at many angles, enough to earn a particularly unfortunate title. He pulled at his hair tie, allowing his long dark hair to cascade down his shoulders and across the red cloak along his back. He essayed a slight smirk at the captain. 

“Most likely not, however we must not allow ourselves to get complacent. One victory does not mean a war is won. It was a victory not without cost as well.” Indeed, he had to hope Captain Vismar had the good sense to remember his orders to retreat soon after making contact. If not… the prince shuddered to imagine really. 

Heavy metallic boots clanked along the walls of Ostreach as he paced along them, his war council and bodyguards walking along with him. There hadn’t been much of a battle when they arrived honestly. The Elsiran garrison had been much too small as expected and with the defenses in this state it didn’t take long for them to crush them. Rickard’s eyes played below, dark eyes briefly passing over the prisoners they had taken. Well over a hundred all told. All of them looked up at him as he passed by, nervous no doubt. 

“Should be simple enough to fortify the city in short order, your grace. The elves aren’t exactly good masons.” Another captain remarked. 

“We won’t be staying in Ostreach. The forces we have here aren’t enough for us to hold out over a protracted siege. As well, the supplies here aren’t going to be enough to feed our army for an extended period.” Rickard said as he looked over his shoulder and started walking down from the ramparts. 

“B-but your grace, we can’t simply give Ostreach back to the Elves! What would have been the point of our efforts? We have to hold what is rightfully Albaran!” There was a chorus of agreement there. 

Rickard let out a sigh. “If we try to hold Ostreach it will simply result in our loss here. So instead we are going to raze it to the ground. Every home, every fortification, every field that could be of use to the enemy. With that done, the enemy will have two options. Retreating further into their own lands to try and re-establish their supply chain or to hope to advance after us and crush us. I’m banking that Nalista isn’t impatient enough for the latter.” 

Ostreach was a place Rickard had spent his childhood days at. He had grown up in the castle. He knew the Count as well as he did his own father. A wise old man that had met an end in the cup of Nalista. It was not something he intended to do lightly of course but there was no choice here. To defeat or stall the Elsiran advances there were sacrifices that would need to be made. Sacrifices everyone, noble or commoner would have to make. 

He ignored the sputtering protests of his captains and instead made his way toward the one guarding their collection of prisoners. He looked over them. Evidently they had done quite a few cruel things to the survivors of Ostreach. Enough witness testimony to damn anyone and many had called for heads to roll. Rickard looked over them with an impassive gaze and then to the head of the guards. 

“Anyone capable of using magic, remove their tongues, fingers and eyes. The rest remove their dominant hands. Then set them loose.” He ordered. 

There were shouts of despair from within the crowd of captured elves. “We were only following orders!” “Mercy, Prince, mercy!” “I didn’t hurt any humans, I’m just a healer!” 

Rickard blinked at that last one and turned his eyes upon the mousey little elven woman that said it. She was staring at him with eyes filled with despair and desperation. The dark haired young man felt a stab at his heart from the plea. Looking at her face it was like any humans might look at the prospect of such a horrid fate. Blue eyes wide and animal-like. He locked eyes with her and the next moment he watched those eyes being put out as his soldiers carried out his orders. 

He listened for a moment, forced himself to listen. The Prince burned it into his memory. Once he did he turned and continued on his walk of the city. He hated war. Hated that battle had come to Albar. Hated that there was such destruction being wrought upon the land and he especially hated ordering such things. His jaw clenched and his veins filled with fire as he continued on his way. 

“You did well your grace.” Came the voice of one of the Zweihanders following after him.

Rickard’s gaze half turned to the taller man. Franz, his longtime bodyguard and confidant. The sandy haired man had a grim expression on his face as he regarded Rickard. Perhaps, by the standards of Albar and the judgement of his people he had done well. Perhaps to the people of Ostreach remaining, he had punished evil. Perhaps to the elves the deed would be taken as a measure of a human unafraid to return the same cruelty afforded them in captivity. Perhaps all of that was true. It wouldn’t quell the screams of that healer girl in his dreams. It wouldn’t make him feel better when he would hear them tonight. 

“We’ll set the city to the torch tonight. Have the civilians remaining gather whatever they have left here. Once we set the city aflame we’ll make our way back to Albar through Gerbach.” Rickard addressed one of the captain’s behind him. 

“At once your grace.” The captain said. 

Funny how their protests all seemed to evaporate at that little display. “We can’t dismiss the chance Nalista smells blood and tries to pursue. If she does we will quickly find ourselves needing to move. Let every man and woman know that those that fall behind will be left behind. We can’t afford to pause until we are safely back in Albar.” 

Everyone nodded in affirmation and scattered to carry out their duties as would be needed tonight. The Prince allowed a long breath to escape him as he looked up at the sky. There would be more unpleasantness to come, he was very sure of that.

April, 907 E.C.

Nalista leaned back in her chair, letting out a sigh as her bones creaked and popped and relaxation rolled through her body. It was as though all at once all of the tension in her form was flooding out of her, one of the rare instances where she wasn’t in an army camp and instead surrounded by the plush finery of civilization. Whatever she desired would be provided to her almost instantly, her needs and wants the highest concern for the noble lord of Lylaserien. 

There were a series of frightened little squeaks below as her feet rolled along the plush carpeted floor, the human slaves leaping out of the way as she curled her pale flawless digits into the fibers. The pitiful little things looked nervously at the feet of the Grand General of Elsira, a woman that could crush them into stains and not have a single protest levied at her. Who cared about the deaths of a few playthings after all. 

She rested her feet on their heels, her mature sole forming slight wrinkles above as she curled her toes again for a moment in the free air. The command was implicit. Every human in Elsira knew what command she was giving, almost a bred and beaten in instinct by this point. They crawled along the floor meekly and got to work. Some rubbed at her heels while others swallowed hard and made the climb up the sides of her feet toward the toes above. They were there for a purpose and it wasn’t to stand around gawking at their natural superior.

Their march back to Ostreach had been diverted along the way straight to Lylaserien after they had encountered a group of maimed elves. Survivors from the garrison. The mages had been very much made so they couldn’t do much of anything. The fighters were missing their dominant limbs. Elsiran compensation for loss of limb in the line of duty was generous but she doubted coins would make those life altering injuries any better. It had been a message more than anything. A message that Albar would not tolerate its people being used as toys and those that did so would pay a high price. 

She had honestly half expected Ostreach to be burned to the ground. It was the move that made tactical sense. The Prince couldn’t use it, but he could remove it from play for the elves and disrupt their invasion plans. For now, his ploy had worked. Nalista had to retreat further back and consider the situation and their next plan of action carefully. Which in the end was what she suspected he wanted. Time. Time to rally the forces of Albar and give the country time to react to their invasion. 

She curled her toes, the digits catching a couple of her little slaves as they got between them. She idly squeezed ever so, not enough to crush, enough to be considered a slight fidget. They squirmed and writhed below in a particularly pleasing manner before she released them and allowed them to get back to work. They whimpered and a couple started licking the webbing between her pristine toes, hoping only to not incur her wrath. Her mind couldn’t have been further from them really. 

There was a knock at the door of the rather impressive suite she had been provided. “Enter.” She allowed. 

The door opened and in stepped her right hand, the shorter dark haired Dalia. She set her hands behind her back and bowed her head ever so to the Grand General. She waited a tick as was proper before lifting her head back up. There was a slight gesture from Nalista’s fingers that she fall at ease and the other elf allowed her posture to relax ever so. 

“Dalia. I take it you finished with your interrogations of our guests?” Nalista asked. 

“Indeed, your grace.” The dark haired elf reached down behind her uniform and pulled up a chain necklace from between her breasts. There was a ring adorning it and upon the ring was a very tiny human spread out with limbs bound to the ring. His head was bent and his lips quivering as he was reduced to mere jewelry for Dalia to display. 

“This one was quite helpful. A captain under the Prince evidently. So very fiery and defiant. Then I removed a few bits he won’t be needing. Stepped on a few insects in front of him. Really didn’t take much to get him to sing.” She said. She dropped the necklace back between her breasts. 

“The play by play is quite unnecessary, my dear, I know how you enjoy your off hours quite well.” The blonde remarked as she arched an elegant brow. “Tell me what we now know.” She said as she gestured to the chair across from her. 

“Of course, your grace.” She said as she slid onto the chair across from Nalista and crossed her right leg over her left. 

“Prince Rickard Albar III is the second line for the throne of Albar. Rather an effeminate appearing man, it earned him the nickname the Black Rose of Albar as a rather crude joke. He responded by taking a black rose as his sigil and his armies march with the symbol held high. He evidently fought in a war against the Grand Duchy of Rothethia to the south and was quite a competent commander, managing to rally one of their armies and extract them from an otherwise disastrous defeat. He regrouped and managed to strike a number of impressive victories that saw Albar attain victory and some of their formerly lost territory.” Dalia started. 

She reached down and idly pulled off one of her boots, tossing it to the side. She used her toe to pull and tug her other foot free before stretching her legs out before her. Nalista noted a pair of toe rings, one on either foot. Stretched around the bottoms of them in a very uncomfortable manner were a pair of chained humans. No doubt they had been in there for most of the day and the cool air was akin to a whiplash. Dalia was a competent right hand and logistics officer, a lovely lover, as well as a woman that could put any human in their place Nalista had found. 

“So a man that is rather fine with turning jokes at his expense into strength and skilled in the arts of war. I suspect there is more to it than that. Go on.” Nalista prompted. 

“Yes. While his success on the field has earned him much fame but he is in fact not much of a fighter himself. A middling swordsman at best, his older brother, Prince Grimnar is known as a very powerful and strong warrior. His strength lies in the realm of the tactical and logistical sides of things. I’ll be honest your grace, the more I learned the more I regretted him not being taken in battle. I’d be delighted to have him in my collection of playthings.” Dalia laughed at the end there. 

“Perhaps I’ll allow it. We shall see. So a thinker rather than a fighter. Not much of a warrior. What does your necklace have to say about his failings?” 

“Evidently he is softhearted and has a reputation of hesitating to make morally questionable decisions to advance his objectives. Something of a moralist I’m told.” She responded. 

Not so much that he couldn’t do what he needed to do judging from those maimed elves. Still it was something. Morality in war was an interesting paradox. As a general one’s words often sent many to their deaths on both sides. Nalista had long since grown numb to this over her centuries. Even seeing her own people in such states did very little to move her anymore. Some would say she had lost sight of her soul, but rather it was that war had been what she trained for and all she knew. 

“Does he appear to be an aggressive commander or mostly conservative? Is he unwilling to spend the lives of his troops? As well, what are his general opinions on our empire?” To defeat one’s enemy, one must know them. 

“Believe it or not, your grace, most of his knowledge on the ways of war comes evidently from studying your tactics and battles over the years. Imported Elsiran literature made up a good portion of his library. He is very much familiar with the elven language both written and read. As for his troops, he is well known for abhorring waste and will avoid spending unnecessary lives.” Dalia stated. 

Nalista blinked. Her? The thought had honestly never occurred to her. The idea that one of the humans had studied her tactics and methods… she wasn’t sure how that made her feel. Her gaze turned toward one of the struggling things squirming between her toes. The same species she considered absolutely lesser to her and all of the elven race was also one that probably had studied her weaknesses and strength. He had a wealth to pull upon. It was probably how he had felt confident about his move. Due to her age and her fame that ultimately put her at a disadvantage here. All she could pull upon for him was secondhand knowledge. She curled her toes around that little human between her big and second toe, feeling a pop of a spine after a few moments. 

She let the tiny form of the human man fall away from the tops of her toes and to the carpet below before she smirked. “A human with an edge on me. What a novelty.” She felt something in her veins at the thought. A rush. 

“Your grace, I’m certain he is no more a match for you than an ant is to your boot.” Dalia assured, silenced by a raised hand. 

“No, no. I rather find myself hoping he is a match for me. So many years now without a decent challenge. Once I remember fighting actual wars, the threat of loss or a plan not going perfectly always a threat. Now that is a fiction, an illusion. I’ve ground out so many beneath my steps in the name of Elsira. I wonder if this man will help me recapture that feeling. That rush. The feeling that I might lose at any moment.” Nalista grinned, standing up as she did. 

This had rather dire consequences for those working at her feet. Those before her heels had the least time to react to her suddenly shifting to her feet. The tiny little half inch tall humans let out little squeaks of fear before they were pressed down beneath her bare heels. A couple were broken and crushed outright while others were saved by being pressed into the plush carpet. The ones between her toes were scattered out before her as she stood. 

She turned to walk toward a little table. As she lifted her foot up the imprints of her large and flawless feet were left in the carpet from the bent carpet fibers. The humans sprawled out in the impressions left behind either dead or very dazed from being stepped on by the massive elf. Nalista poured out a shot of whiskey into a pair of glasses. Both glasses had a pale little human at the bottom that was caught up in the harsh booze. 

She walked back over to Dalia and offered her a glass. She held hers up. “To dreams of a good war and glory for the Empire.” She said with more good humor than most had seen from her in a while. 

“To you, your grace, and to your trampling steps upon the back of those that stand before you.” Dalia returned. 

Both elves pushed back their shots. The humans inside their glasses had moments to let out screams before vanishing into their vast maws and being swallowed down with the fiery booze. Nalista tossed her glass down to the floor, the force of the throw enough to shatter it even upon the carpet. Glass shards flew around and a few scored her flawless feet but she didn’t even wince from the easily healed wounds. 

*Don’t disappoint me, Prince Rickard.*

July, 907 E.C.

With the summer warmth, the Elsiran Imperial Army mobilized in force against the armies of Albar. This push was two pronged. A force of 30,000 from Fort Lylren would approach from the north under the command of General Astryn and attempt to deal with Fort Ehbach. In the meantime Grand General Nalista would lead a force of 20,000 down from Lylaserien. They would cross the Pothmer River in their own territory and loop up toward Gerbach. It would mean passing through a good deal of thick forests, but that was simply the way it would have to be. 

Gerbach was a strategically important place for the war, its position would make it so a major section of the Pothmer River would be controlled by the Empire. With control of Ehbach as well it would enable them flexibility for how and what direction to continue the invasion from. It would have been a rather flawlessly executed plan if things went as predicted. Unfortunately it seemed that wouldn’t be happening. 

Nalista had miscalculated. Badly. Rather than bother to defend Gerbach, Prince Rickard had evidently ordered the town burned in much the same manner of Ostreach and the population evacuated to Oberzarken across the next river crossing. As for the attack on Ehbach. An absolute disaster. The siege had started and once their backs were turned Prince Rickard reamed them up the ass. Caught between the Black Rose and the defending forces of Ehbach sallying forth it was a complete route. They had lost half of the army as General Astryn was evidently killed. 

Nalista scratched her chin as she dismissed the rider that had rode hard to inform her of the defeat of General Astryn. Her war council had gathered in the ruined hall of the town’s lord. Everything of value had been stripped of the place. All of the fields burned and all of the livestock slaughtered. She had to give it to the Prince, resource denial made her actions much easier for him to predict. 

“Your grace, it's a temporary setback. We can regroup with the scattered forces and-” One man started but was silenced by an upraised hand. 

“Stop talking. The noise is making it difficult to think.” She said absently as she bent over the map. She shifted the pieces around on her map to get a better idea of the tactical situation with a bird’s eye view. 

She paced around the map as though a different angle would tell her another story and shooed the noble elf standing on the side of the map out of her way. The position was very unfortunate. They were unable to establish a decent supply chain where they were. The hope had been bloodying the Prince’s nose here and forcing him back. With both Ehbach and Gerbach in her hands she could have established a chain to supply the war effort. The bigger picture of what he was trying to do wasn’t lost on her either. 

The thing preventing her from staging attacks into greater Albar was the inability to get a foothold that could be held. She knew this because she employed similar tactics in the past, not of burning her own towns and such but in disrupting the enemy’s internal supply chains. Armies without supplies had their movements easier to control. War was a dance of control and currently the board was being dictated by Prince Rickard. The sensible move was to return home and try to attack by sea. Since attacks by land without a decent network and multiple directions the enemy could attack from would result in her death. That was what Rickard intended for her to do. 

“...Dalia. I want our mages to work on something.” She stated. 

“Your grace?” She cocked her head. 

“Within the Imperial Heartlands, they have implemented the use of teleportation gates. Essentially ways to link cities together without the need for long overland travel. I wish to implement this here to a rough approximation and link our current position to Lylaserien. Enough that supplies and people can be moved freely between our two locations to enough of a degree to support our army.” The Grand General said. 

Dalia’s eyes widened. “Your grace, that will be quite difficult to do-” 

“Can it be done? Or can it not be done? That is all I need to know, Dalia.” Nalista’s eyes cut the woman and caused her to wince. 

“...Given a couple of days of testing, yes. I believe we might be able to do this. It won’t be anything fancy like the ones in the homeland but it could theoretically be done. Also we would likely be limited to just the one with the supplies we have on hand.” The battlemage answered. 

“Excellent. You have one day to test and verify its function. We don’t need fancy, we need functional and if this works one will be all we need.” Nalista said. 

August, 907 E.C.

After the victory at Ehbach and the routing of the Elsiran army there was high morale among the forces of Albar. Prince Rickard had been hailed as a hero of the hour and defender of humanity against the elven menace. He had little mind for such celebrations as his attention was to the south and where the Grand General’s army was. He had immediately set to work deploying his forces along the border of the north. 

At least that had been what the plan had been. Then it reached him that Oberzarken was under siege by an enormous and well supplied Elsiran warhost numbering 40,000 strong. Needless to say that had rather been something of a shock. There was no way the Grand General could have found the supplies to cross the river and then lay siege to Oberzarken with such numbers. It was beyond feasible belief. Then he actually read the scouting reports of Gerbach. 

“Cursed Elven Magic.” Spat one of his captains. 

“Cursed but effective. I didn’t consider the possibility she might try something like that.” Rickard mused. 

That left them in something of a tricky situation. If Nalista was capable of instantly transporting supplies and troops across vast distances that would mean attempts at forcing her back by disrupting her supply chain would be trickier. He scratched his head as he looked over his map. Things were not looking so good. Oberzarken was the gate to the Albar heartlands. If she managed to penetrate there it would make stopping her advance quite difficult. Especially with her magical support now. 

He scratched his beardless chin as he leaned in, wracking his brain for what to do. Fort Ehbach wasn’t terribly far away. If he forced marched his way down there it was likely they could make it in time. However it would mean directly facing the Grand General in the field. Not ideal. Something he would rather avoid. 

“Your grace!” There was a pounding at the door as a messenger entered with a scroll. He bore the livery of his brother. 

He held out his hand for the scroll and opened it up. His eyes scanned the parchment and he felt icewater fill his veins. He read over it once, twice. Then he set it onto the table. He had a stricken look on his face as he looked down at the map, trying to take deep calming breaths. His captains looked at him with clear concern as one looked over the message and read it aloud slowly for everyone. 

“Prince Grimnar has sallied forth from Areshamber to aid the defense of Oberzarken. He marches with 15,000 and requests aid from Prince Rickard and the forces under him in breaking the siege.” 

“That damn fool… This is bad.” Rickard said. 

On the surface that seemed like excellent news. His brother was marching to the defense of a vital strategic asset. He would likely arrive before Rickard, ever the gloryhound. His brother was a strong man. A gallant, strong, powerful warrior. A straightforward and honorable soldier through and through. The kind of general that Grand General Nalista had been drinking from her goblet since before their entire family line first sprung up. 

His first impulse was to march to Oberzarken. To hope to save his brother. However that would play right into the hands of Nalista. Above all, Rickard wished to avoid facing her on the field of direct battle. Her mages granted her an overwhelming tactical edge. As well, her command staff had countless years under their belts facing many different human armies. He stared at the message brought before him and then to the map. 

“Your grace?” His captains were looking to him for orders. 

He considered the situation at hand, warring between emotions and logic. He already knew what his plan was, putting it into words was proving difficult. “We march south, toward Gerbach’s ruins and their teleportation setup.” He ordered. “Have our own mages on standby. Their talents will be needed.” He had to hope and pray his brother’s strength would see him through.

August, 907 E.C. 

It was interesting how most humans seemed to think. They were not incapable of tactical thinking, however what most lacked was a bigger picture mentality. They couldn’t look beyond the immediate. Likely due to the short lifespans. Perhaps that was why Prince Rickard interested her. He, like her, seemed to have a view toward the bigger picture. He could look back from a situation and see how things were. 

Not a trait that ran in the family it seemed. The second Nalista’s scouts reported Prince Grimnar’s forces she had swiftly set about redeploying her army. They had enough to maintain their siege and also split off to deal with Grimnar. She met him with ten thousand. No more would be needed from what she had deduced of his overall composition and strength. His method of attack and formations honestly were very simplistic. More like what she had expected when she invaded. 

She sat astride her unicorn mount, the horned beast armored in the finest of equipment. She overlooked the battlefield from her spot upon a hill. Oberzarken’s most costly part of the siege had been crossing the river to the other side. Now that she controlled that side of the river, it did leave them exposed to attacks coming from the direction Prince Grimnar was coming from to the east. Though fortunately the terrain was suited for her to defend her army when it came down to it. He would have to cross the hilly terrain she had arrayed her ten thousand upon. 

There was no request for parlay, no negotiation. That was typical as well. It was after all well established there was no lasting peace between Elsira and its neighbors and a well known fact that Nalista herself was famed for her total war approach. She couldn’t recall the last time she had brokered for peace. It certainly wouldn’t be today. The forces of Albar surged forward and truly the charge of their cavalry was a spectacle to behold. An impressive sight of gleaming armor in the daylight. 

Nalista smirked as the ground shook and was torn asunder before their charge. Hundreds of spikes shot up from the ground, formed from their mages. The horses whined and screamed as the sudden wall of sharp objects was presented to them. Some ran straight into them, while others ended up scattering from it. The result was a charge thrown into chaos and from there it was a simple enough task to have her own cavalry enter the fray. 

The dividing matter of their two races was the value they placed on magic as a strategic resource really. The elves regarded it as their tool to break the chains placed upon them by humanity. It was deeply embedded in their culture and indeed almost all of the ruling class were mages to some degree. Nalista was no unmatched master of the arcane but even she knew a decent amount. Humans regarded it as a curiosity more than anything else. They overlooked its full tactical use in war beyond a few fireballs. 

She watched the infantry come up behind to support the cavalry, Zweihanders weidling their impressive two handed swords. Evidently the Prince was among them. They were certainly impressive she had to admit, their weapons carving a bloody swathe whenever they were swung. They seemed to raise the morale of those around them significantly. Elite troops of Albar really. 

Little good it did them. There was a pulse of purple energy that fell over them and suddenly all of their troops found themselves moving quite slowly. By contrast another pulse of energy saw their own troops speed up. Time alteration magic. Honestly she was surprised more humans didn’t make use of it or at least come up with defenses against it. There was a reason that fighting her in the field was a poor idea. She was very much liberal with using magic to crush her opponents. 

She held up her own hand and a surge of energy welled up within her as her eyes glowed a brilliant green. She blew on her hand and sent out a wave over green energy pulsing out over the battlefield. Foul energies twisted around the bodies of the fallen warriors and soon enough they rose up, hundreds of shells that once had held life all over the field shambling to their feet and lifting weapons against their comrades. 

It was an absolutely chaotic madness for the human forces as they faced magic raining upon them. Those that managed to make it to their foes found them moving with swiftness that defied human ability. Those that rained arrows upon them found them plink against energy barriers erected against her gleaming army of ten thousand. Dead men rose from the grave at her behest, striking fear in the hearts of their fellows. It was an offensive that no human army was used to facing. No human army could face it. To face Nalista in the field was to step into the domain of a Goddess of War and Battle.

So it was that in the matter of about twenty minutes after the initial charge against her, the Albar forces broke. She snorted in disdain and started to move her unicorn mount back toward the siege. “What a disappointment. Take the Prince alive if you can. I intend to toast our victory in the halls of Oberzarken in a few days and he’ll make a fine addition to that I think.” She ordered blandly. 

This victory meant nothing to her. In the larger scheme it was no doubt a psychological blow to have their crown prince defeated and soon to be drunk down by the Grand General, however her eyes were on other matters. Beyond this siege and to the movements of Prince Rickard. Was he riding to the defense of his brother? Or did he have another plan? 

“The true test, little prince. Let us see what rules you, logic or impulse.” Nalista smirked. 

September 907 E.C.

The halls of Oberzarken once bore the red and black livery of the Albar Empire. Now it was adorned with the trappings of Elsira and the Grand General. The feast tables once home to humans now housed the officers of the army of elves. Nalista looked down from on high, seated upon the throne formerly held by the Count of Oberzarken. A count that tried to outrun her seating herself down on his now vast seat. It was no use of course as she sat down, pinning his now small form beneath her rear. 

“A hard won and hard fought victory. We’ve bled for our gains in Albar more than many places. Today we have a true triumph over our enemies. Oberzarken’s people will tremble in the shadow of their natural superiors. All humans of Albar will soon know their place, under elven heel.” Nalista said, a cheer erupting through the hall. 

The ruling and wealthy of Oberzarken and the commanders of their forces were upon their tables, upon the floor scrabbling in panic, they were reduced to mere entertainment for their betters. Crushed, eaten, drank down without a concern. The lucky ones would be rendered playthings and toys. Nalista for her part gripped her goblet and gestured for a servant to approach. She crossed her right leg over her left and felt a pop beneath her rear as the Count popped from the idle movement. How pitiful. 

She looked down inside of her goblet and saw the rather well muscled and impressive half inch tall form of Prince Grimnar. Handsome, for a human anyway. He was currently trying to claw at the inside of her golden cup, trying to escape from his inevitable fate. She instead imagined his brother inside and felt a shiver of pleasure course down her spine. What a drink that would be. 

“You are my first taste of Albar royalty. Do try to struggle and fight going down with all your strength. It's so very disappointing when they meekly accept their end.” She chuckled. 

He opened his mouth to respond but Nalista simply presented her goblet to the servant. The elven woman poured out a rushing torrent of wine into the cup, swirling around the royal of the Albar Empire. He coughed and sputtered when he rose up and Nalista lifted her cup high in the air, a motion echoed by her subordinates. All of them hung on her every word and action with the fervor of those that worshiped a goddess of war. 

“There will be many more bloody battles to come, my followers. March with me to the ends of the world and help me sample the leaders of all the human race! March until the last human cowers in our shadow! Hail Elsira! Hail the Empress!” She shouted. 

“Hail Grand General Nalista!” Came the response from her followers as they lifted their cups up. 

She lifted her cup toward her lips slowly, giving the little prince inside the pool of wine to see his doom approaching. Those pristine and perfect lips, beyond anything a human could ever hope to possess. Those glittering blue eyes above, burning with the joy of her victory. Anticipating the taste of her victory. Gravity started to shift as she tipped her cup ever so toward her mouth and the man inside screamed before everything stopped. 

Nalista paused as from the side of the room an aide had approached her and was whispering in her triangular ears. Her fingers loosened upon her goblet before the eyes of everyone in the hall and there was a ringing noise as the golden cup landed upon the floor. Perhaps this was a mercy for the human inside as his death came not from slow digestion within the Grand General but from the crashing impact below. Wine spilled out upon the floor and the room went deathly silent in shock. 

The towering blonde took a few moments to process those words. She understood what they meant of course, she understood the words but she didn’t quite process them immediately. “Enjoy your feast and celebration tonight, my followers. Tomorrow we have much work to do.” 

There was general confusion in the air as Nalista stepped out of the room and toward the room set aside for their war meetings. She left a servant to clean up her mess, the whole thing forgotten in the face of the news she had just gotten. She moved numbly toward her map and looked it over. She moved the forces that had been at Fort Ehbach and placed them where they had set up teleportation between their base camp in Gerbach. 

That was not what had caused her to feel like victory had just been snatched from under her wings. She had expected that as a potential move. What she hadn’t expected was what followed. She moved the pieces from Gerbach over to Lylaserien. He had brought mages with him and they had used their construction to get a direct invasion right into the heart of their lands. It wasn’t a recent conquest like Ostreach had been. No, he had managed to reach Elsiran territory. For the first time in centuries a human had managed to penetrate and attack Elsiran settlements. That was enough to turn all her victory to ash in her mouth as she stared at the unprotected heartlands he had access to now.

February, 908 E.C. 

The Great Sacking was what they called it. In September of 907, it was the single most devastating loss of Elsiran territory in centuries. An army of 25,000 Albar troops had managed to cross over into Lylaserien over the course of a few days. From there they had a direct line up to a number of valuable and important settlements within Elsira. The banner of the Black Rose was synonymous with devastation. They had destroyed the teleportation setup behind them, however given the lush and well supplied Elsiran countryside their army had plenty to loot and plunder. 

The Albar mages blocked magical communication between the cities and towns in their path and the army of the Grand General to prevent another attempt to teleport her army from Albar. All she could do was march back as the first signs of winter took hold over the region. Short of supplies this saw attrition set in for Nalista’s army. They had been robbed of friendly strongholds. Robbed of places to stay in. Where the Black Rose of Albar went, the lands were raised, the people scattered about into the freezing winter and all potential salvage claimed. 

Defeat. This was actual defeat. Nalista had been forced with nowhere else to go to retreat deeper into Elsiran territory. It was a long and miserable march that saw them lose thousands to the cold and starvation. Her hope had been to take the capital before snow had set in but this. This was not something she had predicted in her wildest nightmares. 

The Grand General had been forced to retreat all the way to Rethelielat, stewing over her defeat at the hands of the Black Rose. Many of the elven army had wanted to pursue him. They had the numbers yes. However they failed to understand his goal wasn’t to hold territory. It wasn’t glory on the battlefield. It wasn’t a single decisive battle. It was to bring the cost and horror of war to Elsira. It was to rob them of resources and force them to reassess the cost benefit of fighting in Albar versus other regions. 

Umyemelluven had fallen after Lylaserian had been burned to the ground completely. Fort Lylren had been depleted in manpower due to their offensive. And now he was laying siege to Elnead. The casualties were staggering. There was no more a person that was aware of this than Prince Rickard himself. 

The cold winter air stole the heat from his lungs with every breath. Albar winters were always quite cold so this wasn’t anything new to him. Sieges in winter were a tricky thing. However they managed to blockade the port city as well. With the surrounding villages and fields taken and stripped by Albar, Rickard knew they would have to surrender eventually. The Elsirans were not used to the conflicts being taken to their lands. It was evident in how unprepared they were. Time was of the essence of course. 

“You shouldn’t stand outside so much, your grace. Nose might fall off.” Remarked Franz next to him. His bodyguard was offering out a wineskin for him. 

“Tent is too warm and insulted for the season, feels unnatural.” The prince chuckled as he took the wineskin and took a long drink. 

“Concerned, your grace?” The man asked.

As the booze warmed his insides he shrugged. “Constantly. We managed to take advantage of Nalista not accounting for my using mages. She’s probably already started to work on responding to this.” He sighed. “The same trick won’t work twice. Not on her.” 

“You sound like you admire her, your grace.” The man took back the wineskin. 

Admired… that wasn’t a bad word. “She has ended whole nations. Crushed opposition wherever she could find it. Defeated countless enemy generals across the ages. She’s a brilliant commander. A mind unmatched by any humanity has to offer. When I was growing up I would have called her something of a personal heroine. I’d have loved for all the world to meet her in person and just ask her so many questions. Part of me honestly would still enjoy that.” He answered. 

Franz seemed taken aback by that. “An elf? I do hope you aren’t spreading that around to those that aren’t your close friends.” He said. “Half the nobility would string you by your ankles for that statement.” 

Rickard started walking along the hill overlooking their siege camp. His boots crunched through the snow and another breeze nipped at his exposed face. The night was alight with little fires through the camp, really it looked like a city all of its own and indeed it was to some degree. A city of tents and siege equipment. 

“Of course I don’t share such things beyond you, my friend. I’m also not blind. She’s the leader of an army that enslaves and casts down humans. She has no doubt happily stepped upon countless innocent people. Sentenced them to slavery forever. No doubt she would happily do it to me as well. I’ve humiliated her in the theater of war after all. I can’t imagine she appreciates that.” The Prince remarked. 

There was some part of him however that wondered what such a woman was really like. Was she an irredeemable cruel tyrant? An inspiring leader? He had never seen an illustration of Nalista. He didn’t even know what she really looked like. He closed his eyes and tried to picture the face of his enemy. The face of the one that he was fighting for the survival of his nation. A desperate struggle. 

His eyes played out over the city in the distance and the sea beyond there. He could see the firelight in the distance of the ships in the blockade. Count Lastrem was a great friend of his, a brilliant sailor as well. His contributions were what made this siege possible. If they could just take the city in a few more days… then they might be able to sue for peace. Losing such a major hub would be a blow hard to recover from. 

The firelights of the fleet were dwarfed moments later as a massive green plume of flames fell over them, lighting up the whole of the night. Ships splintered under the force of an explosion large enough to be seen for miles around. The shockwaves of it sent snow and water flying into the air. The heat from the explosion was such a massive wall of steam filled the cold winter air. Rickard’s dark eyes reflected the green glow as he watched in disbelief for a few moments. 

Another explosion further down the fleet lit up the night however there were also more flickers of light in the vast distance of the sea. More ships. He didn’t have to look long to know who those ships belonged to. He gritted his teeth as more explosions shattered through the fleet and more magic burned through the night. They might as well have been toy boats before the Elsiran ships coming in. 

“Your grace…” Franz sounded mesmerized by the sight like so many in the camp were. 

“Looks like we took too long.” Rickard said with gritted teeth. “Find as many of the captains as you can. We are breaking the siege and redeploying. I have no doubt she’s got another army marching here as well by land.” 

Damn it, if only they had a few more days. Just a few more days would have seen the city break. No chance of that now. If they stayed here they were going to be pinched between her fingers. He looked back out into the darkness of the sea now lit by hellish flames born from magic. Perhaps she was out there. 

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Nalista gazed out from her flagship as the ships of the Albar burned to magical flames. She saw the flagship of the enemy was trying to turn and mount a defense. At least until it seemingly vanished into the waves. It didn’t vanish of course. A simple flick of Dalia’s wrist nearby had sent the vessel and all of the crew reduced to a mere toy ship in the waters before her own glorious gleaming white and gold vessel. 

The tiny human vessel bobbed in the water as the shadow of Nalista’s hull fell over them. They screamed before they were crushed to splinters by the massive elven vessel passing through the space they had once occupied. They weren’t even a speedbump on her path. Not worthy of notice. Her eyes were searching for something else. On the shoreline beyond them. The sharp blue orbs set upon the firelights on the shore. A grin split her lips as she saw the lights starting to move. 

“I’m coming for you, little prince. Run toward Albar as you like, soon enough you’ll realize you are an ant trying to scramble from my palm.” The Grand General spoke aloud.

March, 908 E.C.

A year. It had been a year since first Nalista had been outwitted by Prince Rickard. A year they had spent dancing around one another. A year of both victory and defeat. In that year they had never faced one another on the field of battle. They had never come within a mile of each other. Something that ended today. This was the day Nalista would pluck the Black Rose from the dirt and hold it between her fingers no matter how many thorns cut her. 

She had sailed with well over 15,000 soldiers to break the siege of Elnead. A further 15,000 had marched from the south. Once they linked up they had taken to hot pursuit of the Albar army. The Prince rode his troops hard toward Albar, indeed they were close to it when it was clear that there was no way to avoid conflict. He had chosen rather uneven terrain to set up. Very hilly. Plenty of places to set up archers and mages. Both of which he had deployed as well evidently. 

Nalista had once more taken to the field in her unicorn mount, sitting high above the army upon a hill. Her formations were picked out and ready. Her numbers were better than his. She had gone over plans and countered those own plans with what he might well do. She was prepared for this battle. 

What she hadn’t expected was a lone rider coming bearing a flag of parlay. That was almost unheard of. Indeed the archers almost shot the rider. Dalia looked at her incredulously however a smirk crossed Nalista’s lips. “It's fine. Respond in affirmation. I think it's time we finally meet our enemy face to face.” 

So it was that Nalista herself rode to the center of the field along with Dalia and a pair of her battlemages. They were well out of range of any weapons. She then spied a few riders from the enemy army. One was indeed an armored warrior bearing black armor with a red plume upon his helm. The two parties looked upon one another for the first time. Nalista wore fine and immaculate white and gold armor, a circlet of gold upon her elegant brow. She looked like a warrior out of some old legend stepped forth from the pages. She dismounted and watched the Prince do the same. It was then she noted he was easily two feet shorter than her. Something that drew a smirk to her lips. It wasn’t that he was short. It was that Nalista stood at a towering 8 feet tall.

He removed his helm and… the stories were true. A Black Rose indeed. Nalista found her breath taken that a human of all species could look so pretty. A cascade of black hair fell about his face and framed its soft and elegant features. Womanly was indeed correct. Yet this same soft and lovely creature had managed to humiliate and outmaneuver her across a year. She realized for a moment she was gawking. 

“So we meet at last, Prince Rickard.” The blonde started, speaking in common. “I have wanted to meet you for some time across this past year.” 

The man lifted a brow. “I do hope you aren’t disappointed.” He replied in flawless elven.

Her smile widened. “On the contrary, you’ve my compliments for your flawless execution in the theater of war. You have handed me a number of defeats. Snatched victory and its joy from my fingers. That has not happened in… many many years. I had long forgotten what it felt like.” The Grand General said. 

The Prince looked up at her, having to crane his neck back to meet her blue eyes with his own dark eyes. “You know. In another time. I would have been overjoyed at this meeting as well, Grand General. To simply stand before you and speak of matters of war and philosophy. To soak in your presence. To put a face and person to one of my longtime heroines.” He chuckled, essaying a wintery smirk. “A pity that such a time is not the one we live in.” 

Nalista sighed. “I myself would enjoy the chance for us to put aside the matters of nation and race and simply speak of such matters as well. Alas, that shall never be so.” 

“Did my brother suffer long?” He asked outright. 

The blonde paused for a moment before managing a wry little smirk. “I never had a chance to partake of the taste of that victory. Word of your offensive reached me right at the moment. I suspect he died as soon as he hit the floor. So it was rather instant.” 

Rickard managed to let out a breath of almost relief. “I see. Perhaps my actions had some mercy toward him in the end at least. In any event. I would like for us to avoid conflict this day if possible, Grand General and spare many lives. Is such a thing impossible?” 

“Quite impossible.” The blonde said almost immediately. He lived up to the moral rumors it seemed. An almost innocent notion that she could simply allow him to leave when across the field from her. “The fate of humanity is beneath their natural superiors. All of humanity. As you know, I am not in the habit of stopping with the enemy in my sights. You have no chance in the field now that I have forced the conflict. Your mages are few and mine many and battle trained. I have the numbers, as well as vastly better supplied and trained soldiers. To allow you to leave would be stupid.” 

“I figured. Still, can’t blame me for asking I suppose. I am curious. Do you hate humanity that much that you are willing to do all of this? Willing to crush all humans that stand against you? Willing to enslave all humans and render them non-entities? Do you think this is right? I ask you, personally, Grand General. Not what Elsira believes but what you believe.” He asked. 

She scratched her chin at the question. “A complicated question, one of different clashing morals across two different species. Let us work backward there. Do I think this is right? Just? I do not know the answer to that. The pretext of Elsira’s war against the human race is revenge for the centuries of slavery. A pretext which one might say has long been fulfilled. We have reduced most of your species to playthings, food, pests, lesser beings in all things. We have gone to extremes not even the humans that enslaved us so long ago did. Yet still we march on, unable to be satisfied until everything is under our thumb. I believe therefore, in a sense of our culture. What we do is right and justice through the lens of surface level. Below that however, the war was long since won. The revenge was long since had. This is simply fueled by greed and ambition now, the ambitions of the Empress and the Empire itself.” 

He frowned. “So you would argue it is right under the context of an Empire simply seeking to claim all it can? That the imperialism of a regime simply seeking to extend its rule is what grants your cause its legitimacy?” He asked. 

“I would. From my view as well, what humans see as right and wrong is a bit like… concerning yourselves with what animals think. Do you bother to ask for the consent of a boar before setting it out on a table? It is the same here. Humans are not elves. They are shorter lived, weaker, generally shorter physically as well. However I would not say I particularly hate humans. I do not harbor the same zeal for the enslavement and punishment of your race as many of my fellows do. I recognize and subscribe to the idea of a natural order. A way the world will work best. That way is very ethnocentric of course. A world united under an elven race, with humans scurrying beneath.” She answered, setting a hand on her hip. 

He seemed to digest that particular viewpoint before nodding. “I see, so from your perspective, we aren’t people and therefore you are free to do as you please. Since that is the natural world view. I would point out that an animal rather gave you some trouble over the course of a year.” He remarked. 

Dalia’s face turned red at that insult and she could already see sparks forming around her fingers. “You filthy animal, you dare to contradict the Grand General? I’ll show you just what the world order is-” 

Nalista lifted a hand to forestall that tirade on her behalf. “A fair point. You must however acknowledge that one such as yourself is exceptionally rare. A single golden egg does not stop one from eating all eggs. There are exceptions to every rule, that is simply the nature of things. Even as an exception you are damned by your humanity. If I truly wished to not deal with you, all I’d need to do is wait. In sixty years perhaps you would be dead of age. I would be the same as you see before you. How can one compare the two and argue one is equal to the other?” She responded. 

Rickard seemed to pause at that and consider that for a moment as well. “Maybe you have a point. Maybe humans are lesser. Maybe there is a natural order that exists as you describe it and we are simply fighting against the inevitable. However there was a natural order many many centuries ago and it was the order of elves in chains under humans. A natural order that was overturned.” 

“A fair point. However, simply because you failed to maintain it does not mean we will do the same. I would also counter with the fact that your people were sloppy in establishing their world order. We have rather perfected the dehumanization of our enemies into something else. I’ll be pleased to give you a demonstration. A first hand one.” Nalista said, crossing her arms. 

There were two different ideologies at play here and it was evident for the groups of onlookers. A clash of the worlds they represented really. There was a moment longer that they regarded one another before Nalista spoke and placed her foot forward in the snow. There was a crunch of the white substance as she shifted her weight there. Rickard looked down at the mirror polish upon the metallic boot. 

“I am not without some mercy, Prince Rickard. I recognize you as a worthy opponent and one that has granted me feelings I’ve not had in centuries. Kneel, place a kiss along my boot, and I will grant you a place as my pet. Your soldiers will survive another day to die or serve their betters as is the place of humanity. Resist, and I will ensure you know true despair and make it my mission that you break under the weight of the new world order.” Nalista said. 

Rickard regarded the boot offered to him for a moment. Then she saw the gleam of something in his sleeve. As did Dalia. The dark haired mage was about to throw out her hands, but another look from Nalista stopped her. 

“Ahhh… now I see. You are a delight. Truly, a man unlike most humans. You kill me, and it would absolutely shatter much of the elven war effort. One of our greatest heroes, dead. I’m curious, Prince Rickard. Are you capable of that? Sticking a blade into the heart of a woman offering you more mercy than others would?” Her brow arched elegantly. 

“Guess we’ll find out.” He lunged for her. 

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The moment he had rode out into the middle of the field, the Prince had known there would be no going back to the army. There was only really one way to buy Albar more time or at the least buy the army enough time to run. It was to kill Grand General Nalista. Her interest in him had given him the necessary excuse to lure her out under a banner of parlay. It was dishonorable to the extreme. It was also something that he knew she’d probably condone herself given her doctrine was anything but honorable. 

Meeting her… it had been like standing before an ancient being of ages past. Her sheer presence was overwhelming. It was almost like a physical force that demanded those beneath her bow to her presence. Her blue eyes were sharp and it took everything in him when she slid her boot forward to fight the almost automatic muscle response to do what she said. When she spoke it was with such surety that one was almost able to believe what she said. This was more than he had expected. So much more. 

It didn’t change what he had to do as he lunged forward. She was two steps from him. Within reach. The gaps in her armor were easy to see and even with her larger size she would fall like any elf did when stabbed. He didn’t pay attention to what his bodyguards were doing. Franz had orders to kill the others with the Grand General fast.

He made it one step, his dagger out and gleaming in the daylight. Then there was a flash of light from the hand of the General. He continued taking that second step and thrust his blade out even without the ability to see. He was running on pure adrenaline. Pure impulse and drive to end this leader of the elven armies. To drive that dagger up into her heart and save his country the only way he could. 

*CLANK*

He felt his arm jerk from the impact of his dagger against a hard surface. Like he had thrust it right into a wall. As the blindness faded from his eyes he saw what he had just stabbed. A vast wall of gleaming and flawless metal. His dagger had bent from the impact with it, not so much as leaving a scratch. Not a single scratch for the effort. He swallowed and felt ice water fill his veins as he dared to look up. 

Above a pair of large blue eyes gazed down at him in amusement, flawless lips turned up into a smirk. The wall of metal in front of him was Nalista’s boot. His fingers loosened upon the dagger and sent it tumbling down to the snow he found himself standing in. His own soldiers were dispatched with laughable ease. Franz incinerated with a flick of the dark haired elven woman that appeared to be Nalista’s right hand. All in the span of an instant. 

“Ah… it was a good attempt. Really, logically speaking you didn’t have another choice. Which was rather what damned you there, Prince Rickard. You didn’t strike me as a man to want to simply speak to me at the end. There was a motive here behind it. If anything, I’m impressed you were willing to go so far.” She boomed from on high. 

Dalia ran over to the side of the Grand General, the battlemage’s booming steps shaking the ground and spraying snow over the shrunken prince. The young man let out a cry as he was buried up to his head in the snow. The elven woman was checking the General, concern and worry clear in her eyes. 

“Are you injured, your grace? Oh that worthless little shit. I’m going to stomp him into a red paste-” She turned a furious glare upon the prince and lifted her boot up over him. 

The vast shadow of the elven woman’s boot was cast over him and he felt his eyes widen. This was the view of many, many humans in the world to hear it told. It was one thing to hear it and it was another thing to see it. To gaze up and see the woman’s foot coming down toward him, moving to squash him like he was a mere insect. Rickard let out a scream as he felt her boot sole pressing him into the snow, burying him between her dusty metallic sole and the icey cold all around him. 

“Dalia, enough. I am fine.” Came the booming words of the Grand General, halting the step of the other elf. 

Just like that the descending boot sole was stopped. Rickard was gasping and panting, his little puffs of breath visible as he breathed directly upon the boot above him. Animal fear had filled his veins as the woman slowly lifted her foot back up and glared down at him for a moment before turning her attention to the General. The fear had numbed his body and he almost couldn’t feel anything. 

“Understood your grace. We should get moving before the other army mobilizes. Won’t take them long.” Dalia said. 

“Of course. Store him away for later, my dear, I will not be robbed of my fun so early.” The blonde commanded idly as she turned on her heel and started to walk away toward her towering mount. 

The dark haired battlemage lowered her head in a bow. “Yes your grace.” She said before the shadow of her hand came down over Rickard. 

He tried to get up and run, purely on instinct. His mind was running fast and hard as he tried to adjust to this new state of being. It was useless of course as Dalia’s pale fingers grabbed him between them. Roughly. Roughly enough that his lips opened in a soundless scream and he felt his ribs groan as his armor bent. The half inch tall human squirmed between her fingers as he was brought up to her scowling face. 

“You should be honored, you worthless ape. Her grace considers you worthy of serving as her plaything. It is more than you deserve for humiliating her.” She hissed as she pulled out what appeared to be an empty vial. She dropped him inside before slamming the cork in with her thumb, sealing him inside. For now.

March, 908 E.C.

Elnead was awash with celebration and revelry. The defeat of the army of the Black Rose was cause for endless joy for the citizens of the city, Nalista hailed as both the savior from their long siege and also the one that defeated one of an enemy of the Empire. The blonde had rode through the gates of the city, and was given a welcome usually one would afford to the Empress herself. Behind her rode her command staff and the heroes of the hour. Of course behind them was a series of wagons bearing cages. 

Around the neck of Nalista, hanging by his arms and on full display for those that gazed upon the Grand General was Prince Rickard. Stripped naked and rather exposed he seemed a far cry from the dark armored warrior that had struck some level of fear in the people of Elsira. Most of his army had been routed. The ones that had been captured alive had the misfortune of being in those cages pulled along behind the procession through the city. Tiny naked figures, soldiers and warriors made small and pitiful. Almost as a mockery, the cloak Nalista wore this day was the banner of Prince Rickard.

Her victory had never been in question once she had forced a field battle. Especially after taking the Prince the disarray had made the feared army very much mortal. Now they were carted along the streets of the city they had held under siege. Oh they had gotten inside at last, just likely not how they intended to be brought. 

The noble lady of Elnead met her at the steps to the palace, the governess of the whole region, Governess Idriana Valstar. The brown haired and dusky skinned elven woman offered her hand to help the Grand General down from her unicorn before pulling her into a light embrace before the crowd. An embrace that rather knocked the wind from Rickard’s lungs. The prince gasped as two walls of fabric pressed in against one another and pinned him. The governess was the same size as Nalista herself so it was a pair of massive breasts that pressed him, his bones groaning threateningly before they parted. 

“People of Elnead, our Grand General has ended a great threat to us this day and restored the proper order of things! Praise her worthy name and offer her our thanks!” The governess boomed above, her voice amplified off the walls. 

There was a thunderous cheer that almost deafened Rickard as thousands of elves over the city chanted Nalista’s name. It was enough to set his tiny ears ringing. He doubted it was any more pleasant for those inside of the cages. They had been defeated. He had known what defeat would mean of course. He had read enough elven literature to know what they did to those bested. He had read enough about Nalista to know she was not merciful to those she conquered. 

“The armies of Albar are in disarray, good people of Elnead, citizens of our glorious empire. Soon enough our armies will tear through Albar and drag its people to the feet of their true masters. Their monuments cast down, their wealth granted to us, their lives in our hands. Until that day I offer a gift to the people of Elnead.” The mature elf’s lips curled into a smirk above. 

“The cages bear the survivors of the army of the Black Rose. I can think of no finer fate for those that defied our world order than to serve the city they rose a sword against. To toil and die in service to their betters is the highest honor truly.” She boomed, earning a cheer from the crowd. 

Rickard’s heart sank at that. She had promised him despair and watching those cages casually opened to the elves and knowing the fate that awaited his soldiers was despair. He writhed and tried to break free from the chain links holding him around Nalista’s necklace. Of course it was no use there. He burned with anger he couldn’t express beyond crying out, his sounds drowned out by the speaking of the elves above him. 

His dark eyes beheld some of the finest soldiers he had worked with torn from those cages, tossed to the streets, crushed beneath the feet of an angry populace. Devoured by others. Still others simply saved for later use. It was a state of absolute powerlessness, the royal unable to do anything but watch what Nalista declared made reality. Unable to do anything but look at the world order that Nalista fought for win out over his. 

“Grand General if it pleases you.” Idriana’s voice drew attention. 

A pair of servants approached Nalista. One bore a pitcher of the finest wine and the other held a golden goblet encrusted with diamonds. The one with the goblet offered it out to her and she took it with one hand. Rickard knew well the tradition Nalista had for all her defeated enemies. He squirmed and writhed but it was no use as her massive fingers nimbly worked his tiny bindings and sent him tumbling down into the bottom of the cup. 

Rickard grunted and rolled down the smooth slope of the goblet’s interior. He was surrounded by rich and gleaming gold on all sides, really it resembled a bowl from in here and looking up he could see the smirking expression of the Grand General on high. His breath was stolen. Like this she truly resembled some manner of deity. A goddess of war that had claimed her spoils and decreed how things were to be for the defeated. It was a sight that books and scrolls couldn’t capture. 

The sound of rushing liquid above was the only warning he had as a torrent of ruby liquid washed down within the goblet. He was washed up in it, the alcohol burning at his eyes and filling his mouth and nose as he clawed his way to the surface. He managed to surface upon the lake of wine, coughing and sputtering and wiping his hands upon his face. He had heard nobles talk about wine baths but this was probably not what they were talking about! 

He blinked away the stinging in his eyes before looking up again. Nalista had held her goblet above her head for all to see and her booming words rang out from his prison. “This victory is for all of Elsira to enjoy. We have ended a threat and a strong enemy, so we consume that enemy and add their strength to ours. Hail the Empress and hail the Empire!” 

It wasn’t the name of the Empress those people were cheering as Nalista’s face returned to his sky. He was able to see what his brother probably saw, only there would be no interruptions this time. No surprise that would save him a rather gruesome end in the belly of the blonde elf. She tipped her cup over her lips and started to drink deeply of the wine inside. It was a torrent, a riptide of liquid that Rickard fought his way through but it was no use. No matter how hard he swam, the force of the current headed for her lips was too great. 

He let out a cry before he was pulled under the wine again and pulled inside her mouth and past her lips. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t understand exactly where he was. What he was aware of was the sensation of being pressed against something warm and fleshy. The air was muggy and sticky and humid. He had no idea where he was but he could hear something fairly nightmarish nearby. The sound of Nalistra gulping down a river of wine, powerful throat muscles dragging it down to its final end. 

That noise stopped and then he opened his blurred eyes, able to see some dim light as her lips were parted slightly. Enough to know he was stuck to the inside of her right cheek. Moments later her tongue, the massive fleshy member, came in and pulled him from the wall of her cheek. He was settled out on the rough taste buds, saliva pooling around him as they greedily drank the wine flavor from his naked body. Her tongue curled around him and toyed with him, tossing him around, his body little more than a toy for her to amuse herself with.

Eventually light flooded in again and he was aware of a sudden drop. He fell away from her mouth as she spat him out with a generous amount of saliva. His tiny form fell into now empty goblet and she looked at the confused elves around her with a broad smirk. Rickard was as surprised as they were, just the shock of what had just happened rather made it difficult to form many coherent thoughts. 

“No. He will not get such an easy end. This one challenged Elsira. Made Elsira bleed. Killed the people of Elsira. He doesn’t understand the natural order. So he will be taught it. He will know the order of the world and shatter as all humans do. That is the fate of the one to defy Elsira, an example of all that reject the natural order.”

Her booming words drew chuckles from nearby. Chuckles that followed Rickard into blissful darkness in unconsciousness.

Victory. It was not something Nalista was unfamiliar with but it was different this time. Fresher. It tasted better. Over the eons it had started to feel like a formality. Like she simply won by default. There was never any actual doubt to her victory, the effort was minimal. There was no loss or defeat worth mentioning. This victory had come after she had been outwitted and defeated a number of times. Blows traded between two enemies. And now that enemy was here. He was defeated, battered, and cast down at her feet. 

Her toes curled around the squirming form underfoot, the Prince struggling mightily against the digits that utterly dominated his half inch form. She had him pinned against a carpet as she was seated down in a study, the blonde letting out a long sigh of bliss and pleasure as she felt another surge of victory flood through her. A defeated enemy rendered so very low, made into a plaything. It was a delight few could fathom really. 

“Enjoying the win, Nalista?” 

Governess Idriana was seated across from her, the woman pressing a rather fancy looking fan to her mouth. She did a poor job hiding her amusement. They were both around the same age, women that were usually watching their children head into adulthood. Mature and seasoned ladies that had seen enough of the world in their own ways. Honestly, Nalista found her one of the easiest nobles to get along with in her long life. 

“You might say that. Such a lovely little plaything. Full of fight and fire. A sharp mind as well.” She remarked as she curled her toes again and knocked the wind out of him, stopping his squirming for a few moments. 

The Governess chuckled. “A sharp mind you’ll turn into a dull thing interested in one thing, pleasing his betters. How delightful. I do enjoy those ones myself, though I’d imagine for you there is a special spice to it.” 

“Mmmyes, I would say so. It's a rare pleasure. A true delight.” She mused as she idly propped her bare feet up on the table between her and the governess. She splayed her toes and sent the tired and ragged form of the Prince to the table below. 

His breaths were heavy and he was trying to gather his wits no doubt. Probably didn’t help that when he looked up he gazed upon two massive elven beauties. The governess chuckled as she peered down at him, her eyes alight with amusement. “My he is a rather pretty little thing isn’t he. Young as well. Their younger men are always my favorites personally. Inexperienced often.” The woman remarked. 

Just as he was recovering and managing to stand up the dusky skinned governess propped her own feet up on the table, the shaking knocking him onto his back as she crossed them at the ankles. Nalista felt some wicked glee at the sight. The sight of the commander that had given her so many problems dominated by such an idle movement. Ah, it was truly the simple things in life that made it worth living. 

Finally he managed to find his voice. “Is this what you elves do to people? Just cast them down like they are nothing? You have to see how wrong this is, how can you disconnect from addressing me at an even size to this?” He demanded. 

The Grand General considered that question. “Well firstly you were already a couple feet shy of even size.” She remarked blandly. “Secondly, it takes no effort since I didn’t regard you as a person to begin with.” 

That statement seemed to surprise him so she actually chuckled. “Oh you are absolutely one of the finest commanders I’ve ever met. I’d wager you’d best anyone under my command. I certainly think you are a delight. You are human however. Before anything else, that is an absolute truth. Humans are lesser. That is simply fact.” 

“It isn’t fact! You just contradicted what you said when you said I’d best anyone under your command. That means humans aren’t lesser.” He shot back. 

He was rather silenced by the Governess idly stretching a leg out and pinning him down under a single toe. The human let out a little cry as the woman fanned herself and watched the pale little thing try to push off her big toe. It was an impossible task. All he could do was struggle and strain and fight against her vainly. Nalista smirked at the other woman and arched an elegant brow. 

“It's not fact yet perhaps.” The governess herself mused. “However soon enough it will be a fact. When the last human is where you are now. When your whole race is bred and trained and bought and sold like animals, it will be a fact. An irreversible fact. The term human will become less a name for another race, instead simply a lesser species like any livestock or pet.” 

“T-thats insane…” He breathed before the toe pressed on him. 

“It's insane to a human perhaps. To us, it is the way of things. Most of the human population is already where you are right now, tiny, insignificant. Bought and sold like things. Really you are just slow to this new reality.” Nalista said as she inspected her fingernails. “You are very bright but also very much infected with the morals of your race. It's alright though, I think it's adorable. Don’t you, Idriana?”

“Oh very much so, it's absolutely precious!” The woman cooed as she lifted her foot off of the man. “You are fortunate Nalista took you for herself, you’d not have a night of rest with me I fear. I wouldn’t be able to help myself.” She mused with a predatory glint to her golden eyes. 

He frowned as he shot a glare at Nalista, not appreciating her patronizing tone it seemed. She responded by pinning him immediately beneath her soft and flawless mature sole, the doughy flesh pinning him between it and the table. She mouthed the words to a light protective spell to avoid accidentally crushing the tiny thing before she slowly ground him into the table. He couldn’t even squirm; he was so very tightly pinned between her foot and the table. 

“In the end, what you think or feel about the situation is amusing but ultimately doesn’t matter, my little Rose. You belong to me now. I wonder how long your mind will remain sharp? How long will you manage to remember things you believe to be important? How long until you end up like… well.” She looked over to Idriana in amusement. “Why don’t you show my little flower here that noble girl I gifted you with?” 

“Oh, that's a lovely idea.” She laughed as she reached down between her ample breasts. She dropped the tiny form of a rather ragged looking blonde upon the table a moment later. 

Nalista lifted her foot. Rickard stuck to her sole momentarily before a flex of her toes and wrinkling of her sole sent him falling as she lifted up. The little prince coughed and sputtered, wheezing before looking up and around to see the blonde woman. She was rather a wreck of a thing, her pretty hair matted with sweat and she looked ill fed. Not at all a pampered and cared for pet. 

“I believe she was some noble girl in one of the lesser kingdoms I crushed. Such a fiery and proud little thing if I recall.” She boomed from on high. 

“Speck. Why are you away from your proper place?” Idriana asked. 

The blonde scrambled to her feet and all but bolted over to the bare heel of the governess, getting on her hands and knees and licking with an almost religious relish. “I’m here, Mistress! S-see? I’m here! In my proper place, like a good speck!” She said desperately as she licked and lapped along bare flesh. “I’m a good speck, a good speck Mistress, please.” She gasped out. 

“Good, I’ll forgive your oversight then.” Idriana said. “She fought me quite a bit to be honest. At least until I started tying her to my sandal strap all the time.” She remarked to Nalista. 

Nalista looked down at Rickard and could see him watching. Seeing firsthand what it often meant to be a human in Elsira. She leaned in and smirked. “Remember my offer, little Rose? Surrender and serve me as a pet. Or. I will drown you in despair and have you know your place.” She purred. 

There was a shiver that went down the man’s spine as he seemed at a loss for words. “Look at her. Look at how natural she looks there. At the feet of her natural superiors. Almost like humans were actually placed on this earth to serve us. Give it time. You’ll believe that with all your heart and soul and crave nothing but service to me.”

She didn’t get a response but she knew she didn’t need one. He was enraptured, unable to look away at the blonde lapping and kissing and worshiping Idriana like she was a goddess. Unable to look away from what happened to many many humans. She supped deeply at that despair she knew was entering his soul and leaned back, licking her lips. Time to twist the knife and grind it in. She idly rang a little bell. A servant entered. 

“Fetch Dalia.” 

It took all but two minutes for Dalia to appear, the shorter dark haired elven woman bowing her head low to Nalista. She rose and adjusted her glasses primly. “Your grace. My lady.” She nodded to the governess. 

“Dalia my dearest. My little Rose here is still rather at the whole humans are people talk. I would be very appreciative if you corrected him. No removing any parts.” The blonde said. 

Dalia’s eyes flashed behind her glasses and her lips were tugged up into a very pleasant smile. On the surface anyway. Nalista had seen her pull off the limbs of prisoners with that same smile. The eyes behind her glasses had a sadistic light to them as she looked down at the pale form on the table. 

“It would be my deepest pleasure, your grace.”

“What is 2+2?” 

“Ahh… ha… four.” 

The pressure that came over Rickard from the response was immediate and harsh. It was a crushing step that fell upon his leg, the boot of Dalia pressing down until there was a snap and a scream echoed out through the room. Moments later there was a healing warmth that surged through him and the tiny limb was just as it had been before. Rickard was gasping and panting from his place on the floor. 

“Tsk. How long have we been at this, little Rose? Two weeks now? Yet still you seem unable to grasp basic addition. 2+2=5.” Dalia boomed from on high. 

Rickard was splayed out upon the tiled floor of Dalia’s room, his limbs tied down with pieces of sticky tape adhered to the floor. Since he had entered Dalia’s tender love and care he had seen two places. The inside of her boots and this floor. Those were the only two places he had managed to see in his time. He had no idea what was happening in the world beyond this one. He hadn’t seen anyone else. Only Dalia. Only this dark haired tormenter. 

She paced over to a table nearby and lifted a cup of water to her lips, taking a little drink. Ah, what he wouldn’t give for something to drink. He eyed her with envy as she sated her thirst, the Prince finding himself being worn down from the weeks of constant and unending torment from Dalia. He knew. He knew what this was all for. Logically he understood what Dalia was trying to do. What Nalista wanted her to do. Even logically understanding that it did little to help him though the days. 

“Thirsty?” She asked. “I can’t well have you dying of thirst on me I suppose. Her grace would be terribly disappointed.” 

Her booming steps came back over and she took a drink of her water again before leaning over where he was. Her lips parted and sent a constant dribble of saliva mixed with water down upon him. The water falling from such a high distance struck him harshly in the head, black spots dancing before his eyes as the liquid smashed into him. He found it impossible to breathe as well without inhaling the water which he also did. By the time he was done he was coughing and sputtering, wheezing as his body was covered in water mixed with her saliva. 

“Not to your tastes? Perhaps you prefer my sweat after a long day of walking after all. Fitting for a worthless animal.” She sneered. 

Rickard vastly preferred the patronizing of Nalista and her friend. This was just a constant stream of abusive torture. Her boot lifted up and was placed over an arm this time, it hovered there, the massive thing now very much an instrument that saw him flinch out of reflex when it came near him. It always came with that question. That terrible terrible question that he wished she would stop asking him. 

“What is 2+2?” 

“F-Four! It's four!” He cried out, trailing off into a pained squeal as she broke his arm as easily as she would a twig and healed it moments later as she always did. 

So many times. So many times he had almost said five. His mind went through the mental gymnastics to try and rationalize something so very basic and fundamental being not true. That 2+2 didn’t equal 4. Because Dalia said it equaled 5. She always told him the correct answer afterward. Always without fail in some manner. Giving him the cheat sheet to stop the pain but to answer that. To give in like that. It meant she could make him say anything. 

“Five. Like the five toes you’re trapped with on a daily basis. The five toes you have to lick moisture from in a vain attempt at self sufficient survival. Picture them in your head, I’m sure that will help you answer it correctly.” Dalia said with a sneer. 

She lifted her leg back and reached back, tugging off one of her boots and tossing it aside. Once she did she hovered her pale and flawless bare foot above him, flexing and curling toes slightly marred with the faintest bits of sweat. She wrinkled her nose as she looked down at him through splayed digits. 

“See? Lets help you count shall we?” 

“P-please… no more…” Rickard managed to wheeze. 

“One…” Her big toe pressed down on an arm and with the slightest pressure there was a crack before she lifted it back up. “Two.” Her second toe broke his other arm, Rickard’s world becoming nothing but absolute and sheer agony. He couldn’t even pass out from shock due to her spells placed on him. “Three. Four.” Her third and fourth toes moved dexterously to crush both his legs next. “Five.” She tapped his head with her pinkie toe, not crushing it but causing it to smack into the floor. 

“Isn’t counting fun, little Rose? Teaching math to animals can be so very difficult at times.” She remarked as she snapped her fingers. 

A healing warmth washed over Rickard again, tears springing to his eyes as the warmth mended his broken limbs and rendered him whole again. Gods it was so terrible. He just wanted to go somewhere far away. Somewhere this woman wasn’t. Somewhere in his head where he could just escape to. In the darkest depths of his mind, he wanted to go back to Nalista. She engaged with him to some degree at least. When it amused her. 

She tapped her finger along her thigh as she seemed to be pondering something, her eyes calculating behind those glasses of hers. Finally a smirk essayed its way across her lips. She snapped her fingers and spoke a series of words he wasn’t familiar with. He felt another warmth for a moment before it was gone. 

“W-what was… was that?” He gasped. 

“A spell to keep you nice and alert. I use it on myself at times when I need to work tirelessly for her grace. I’ve heard you disgusting little animals need a full eight hours of sleep every night. We elves can last days without it and not notice an issue, moreso with the help of magic keeping us alert. It's why we can catch your armies.” Dalia remarked as she reached down. 

A well manicured nail scraped the sticky tape from his limbs painfully before she held his limp and pale form up between her fingers by the arm. He was before her rather lovely and beautiful face. It was hard to believe such a face hid a creature capable of depths of cruelty even the torture masters of Albar would balk at. A woman with centuries to master a particular craft she seemed to enjoy. 

“We’ll be marching tomorrow. Will be quite a long trip and I need to be awake and alert. So you of course have to remain awake and alert. You won’t be able to sleep a wink. No matter how hard you try. Until I remove that spell you will be awake. Aware.” She reached down with her free hand and pulled up her discarded boot. The dark haired elf held it under Rickard as understanding filled his eyes. 

“W-wait, yo-you can’t!” He protested. He had never actually heard of what happened when one went without sleep but it couldn’t be healthy. 

“I can do whatever I want, you disgusting worthless thing. Any elf can do what they want to you. Now, enjoy your proper place.” She dropped him inside. 

Rickard landed upon the rather plush insole of Dalia’s boot. He rose up and looked up just in time to see her sliding her foot down inside. He ran toward the section where there were imprints of her toes worn into the boot. The inside smelled faintly of leather mixed with sweat from a day of work. The dark haired woman served the Grand General with a religious zeal, tireless in her labor. Her labor now included breaking him for her. Her massive toes slid in place, Rickard only left with a slight spot of freedom. He knew he was relatively safe from being crushed underfoot unknowingly. Dalia generally ensured he had protective charms to prevent that. A very cruel mercy. 

The first day was not terrible. No more so than usual in any event. Rickard found himself caught in a constant motion machine of misery, her steps bouncing him around until he slid under her toes. Where his role often became fidget toy for the massive digits. The dark haired prince was of course quite tired by the end of it but as she had stated, there was no sleep. No escape in the land of dreams. He was awake and aware at all times. 

When she got on the road to march it was worse. There were very few rests. Simply him trapped in her boot and often trampled endlessly. The only moments he had of peace were when she took her feet from within her boots and massaged them for a bit or gave them some fresh air. Time was slowly, very slowly becoming harder to track over the course of those days. He could occasionally get glimpses of outside but they didn’t tell him how many days were passing. 

It was no doubt a number of days in when his mind started to mess with him. He could swear he could hear her voice. Whispering. 2+2=5. 2+2=5. 2+2=5. He would hear it when there was no way she was saying it. He would hear it in her voice. He would hear it in Nalista’s voice. Then, he would hear it in his own voice and he lifted his hand to his mouth. He didn’t think he had said it but what if he had? No, there was no way he had said it. 

Time became a soup. A soup where he couldn’t understand anything. He couldn’t retain much. He barely remembered times when Dalia removed her foot now. She had done so no doubt many times, water occasionally was poured down her foot and into her boot and he had to drink it off her toes. Crumbs lingering between her toes. These were times when she had not been walking but it was all a blur. 

His mind was becoming a slurry, a melted slurry where reason didn’t matter and logic didn’t matter. He couldn’t form thoughts without knowing if they were his own. It was insanity in its purest form. He couldn’t sleep, he tried to force it but it wasn’t possible. It wasn’t something he could do. 

Over and over it went on and on, his eyes seeing things that couldn’t be real. The crushed form of his brother beneath one of Dalia’s toes. The eyeless and tongueless face of that healer girl long ago that he had condemned, sneering at him. He curled up into a ball at times and just held his hands over his ears and closed his eyes, whimpering as it did nothing to stop the carnival of horrors. It did nothing to stop the hold Dalia had over his brain. 

He had shut down mentally in a number of ways. Before he was hesitant to eat and drink in the ways that Dalia forced upon him, now it was automatic. Now it was just something he prepared his body for whenever water cascaded down those toes. Whenever he spied crumbs of food between her toes. It was instinct by this point as he worked and functioned more in the manner of an animal like Dalia had called him. Over and over again. She had called him an animal. A thing. Worthless. Small. 

“Worthless Animal. Little Rose. Small Stupid Human.” He caught himself saying. Did he say it? Did it matter? 

The Prince watched Dalia pull her foot out at one point and then gravity shifted. The air rushed around him as he found himself falling through the air and he eventually landed in her open palm. The dark haired woman gazed down at his dirty, ragged, and absolutely tired form. Eyes half mad from sleep deprivation. He in turn looked up at her and felt fear lance through his heart at the cold orbs behind the glasses judging him, assessing him. 

“Tell me… what is 2+2?” She asked simply. 

“Five.” 

His lips moved and spoke it on instinct. Impulse. Without thinking. And on some level he must have realized that because his eyes went comically wide. He felt something flood his veins. A sense of some form of loss. A crushing sense of despair. 

“Good boy. Now. Sleep.” She snapped her fingers. The instant she did the world went dark as his body simply shut down.

One consequence of Nalista’s victory over Prince Rickard was that the war for Albar had taken on the shape of every war she fought now. Dull. Predictable. Utterly banal. Victory at this point was a formality. She had won the war the second she had shrunken down the Prince and shattered his army. Now the blonde was utterly bored again with the war, going through the motions of a victory already had. Fort Ehbach had fallen after a quick siege. She had retaken Oberzarken. With both of those points taken it would be simple enough to march for the capital. 

These were moments she almost regretted not letting him slip away from her fingers and back into Albar. If he had the war would have dragged no doubt. More lives would be lost. The Elves would have had to spend far more to get to this point. She knew all of this but still there was a quiet longing to recapture that feeling she had in their year of exchanges. A feeling few of her fellows would likely understand. 

It was also a feeling she tended to quickly lose in favor of sublime pleasure at the state of her enemy. Dalia was absolutely a terror to any humans that were handed over to her. To hear her tell it he had lasted almost a month in her care before showing the first signs of breaking down. Impressive really but the dark haired woman was very much a taskmaster. There were few that could make humans feel worthless and lowly quite like her. 

“Oh dear, Dalia put you through the ringer I see. Poor thing.” She cooed at the little thing in the palm of her hand. 

She saw the way his eyes lit up when they saw her over him instead of Dalia. A relief to not look up and see her right hand looming overhead and instead see her blue eyes gazing upon him. He looked quite tired and when she made idle movements he flinched away from them. That drew a smirk to her lips as she leaned back in her bed, well, formerly the bed of the ruler of Oberzarken which indeed made it her bed. 

“It’s quite alright, my little Rose. You are mine at the end of the day. So long as you recognize that you need never be returned to her embrace.” She said. 

“I’m not a little rose, I’m Prince Rickard Albar.” He managed to get out. 

She let out a chuckle. “Yet you don’t refute the rest of what I said? What a silly little thing to cling to.” She mused as she ran a very well manicured finger along his tiny form gently. “You are whatever I want you to be, little Rose. If I say your name is Rose, then that is your name.” 

“You can’t take that much from me. Mist- Dalia took a lot but that much I still have.” He gritted. 

A genuine elegant laugh left her lips. To the tiny human it was a booming and divine noise no doubt as she shook her head at the end there. She hadn’t missed that near slip of the tongue. Dalia had truly done a number on this one. Her conditioning was always a thing of wonder to look upon. Nalista lacked her flair for it really. It was an artform really that her second in command had perfected over the centuries. 

“Is that so? How about a little wager then, my little Rose. If, by the time I finish grinding out Albar’s capital, you still manage to hold onto your name I’ll let you go free. I’ll even give you a horse and supplies. If not… well. You’ll be mine truly anyway by that point so I’ll have what I want really.” She said. 

“You… you really mean it?” He asked carefully. 

“As Grand General I swear it. That said, if you think this has a happy ending then you haven’t been paying attention.” She said, her eyes dancing with amusement as the embers of hope rose to his eyes. 

She leaned in and opened her mouth, breathing a warm wash of air over the smaller man. She watched him shiver as the hot air blasted over him and noticed something curious. His member twitching between his legs. It stood *very* much at attention from the air washing over him from her mouth and it brought a spark of something to her eyes. That same patronizing amusement that infuriated him. 

“Excited are we, little Rose? Tell me, have you ever been with a woman?” She asked with an arched brow. 

The rather girlish looking man flushed deeply at the question and covered himself. “T-thats none of your business!” His voice even cracked. 

“Oh ho, so that is a no then. Just as well, rutting with those females of yours is a dreadfully clinical thing really. I’m surprised some of your men didn’t make a pass at you as well honestly. You are such a pretty little rose.” Nalista said. 

Nalista was amused at how flustered that seemed to get him. She felt a heat between her thighs. She ran her free hand down between her thighs, sliding between and beneath her white and gold robe. The fluster was a terror to him no doubt. His eyes were turning and looking in the distance at her massive hand idly rubbing at herself. He looked mesmerized. Like it was something foreign to him. He had just given her a lovely insight into a weakness there and it was a delightful weakness. 

“So pretty in fact, I can’t help myself from plucking you for myself.” The blonde breathed as she leaned in. 

His little squeaks were muffled and silenced as her hand lifted up and she pressed his tiny form between her palm and her flawless lips. She felt him go completely rigid for a moment upon contact and then start writhing and squirming. Meanwhile she was rather working between her thighs as her lips pulled in his legs and his lower half. The hand that had been holding him slipped inside her robe to start fondling her ample bosom.

“Mmm…” She let out a little moan as she curled her toes, a wash of pleasure coming over her as she felt the little human desperately struggling. He was trying to pull himself free from her lips but it was vain effort. 

She puckered her lips ever so and the motion caused him to go rigid again. She hadn’t fully taken him into her mouth or anything. Instead she was simply using her lips to massage his lower body. His protests became more fevered gasps and pants and his girlish voice rose in pitch as he was trying to resist his own body’s responses. Oh she could feel that he didn’t want this but at the same time it didn’t matter for Nalista. She was going to take it from him. 

Due to his relative inexperienced and Nalista’s *wealth* of experience in this realm it took perhaps a couple of minutes before his body jerked and a long moaning cry escaped his throat. His release coated her lips and she felt another flash of heat wash through her. Just like that she had deflowered him. With laughable ease really. That drove the blonde up a wall as she worked at herself. 

He was recovering and she snorted as though that was everything. Her lips parted and her tongue snaked out. There was a surprised scream as she dragged him inside her mouth proper. When she spoke, her words boomed all around him in her mouth. “By the time I’m done with you, little Rose you’ll be milked dry and unable to think about anything. Your mind blanked, dulled, body slack and unmoving.” She boomed. 

Her lips closed behind him and her tongue set to work. As she worked on him she attended to her own needs. It was a true delight as she felt the Prince struggle and writhe and squirm in her mouth. It was pure ecstasy in a way she couldn’t really put into words. Feeling him wriggle and squirm at her touch, unable to escape her. It got her going as she hadn’t been able to get going in years. Yes she regretted not being able to face him on the field again. However this, in many ways, was far better. 

Nalista felt herself reach her own peak, a lovely climax rolling through her body. The high of her just doing whatever she wanted to a person that had proven her peer in war. It was absolutely intoxicating. Something she had not recalled feeling before. The Grand General basked in her afterglow, her tongue mercilessly working at Rickard. It was different from Dalia no doubt. Nalista enjoyed a soft touch with her toys. There was a reason she had sent him to Dalia first. It was a comparison. Seeing what ends of the scale he could be upon. Anyone could abuse a human over and over and over again until they regressed. Nalista wanted to see him look up and believe he was hers. 

Eventually, after dragging several shuddering releases from the tiny human she opened her mouth and let him slide out into her hand. She looked down and could see his eyes clouded with a brainless glassy look. He had never experienced such intense stimulation no doubt. Never had someone just use him like that. The elven woman licked her lips and swallowed whatever was in her mouth, the pitiful offerings barely giving her a taste. There was something there but it was vastly too small. 

“Once you cross the waves of despair, little Rose, you’ll find lifelong paradise in my service. You won’t just serve me. You’ll get off to the idea of serving me.” She purred. 

There was an emotion that flickered behind those dark eyes. Something that managed to break through the sea of physical pleasure that was no doubt fogging his mind. Fear. Fear of Nalista, and fear of that future. She lowered the hand holding Rickard down toward her legs at the flicker of emotion and licked her lips. A flash of lust rolled through her body as she glimpsed his terror of losing himself. 

“Until then let me feel you struggle vainly to hold onto that human defiance. It will only make your fall all the sweeter.” She laughed.

Once, it had been something Rickard would have considered a dream come true. To be able to bask in the presence of a genius of war. Really a demi-goddess of war and the science of battle. Her writings on wartime theory were formative for him growing up. Many humans studied the common tactics of their native heroes. Rickard studied the tactics and battlefield strategies of Elsira. There was much to admire about Nalista. She wasn’t just a general, she was known for building out infrastructure where she went. She was often a governess until one was assigned to her newly conquered provinces. 

Now the dream was reality and it was a case of one should be careful what they wished for. Nalista was every bit what he had imagined, every bit the overwhelming presence of a woman that one would expect. She was also very much a product of her empire. No matter what they were, she was an elf. He was a human. She made the divide crystal clear. Moments like these were what drove that in. 

“Such a lovely little pet there, Grand General. Very cute.” 

“Indeed, I have never seen a human male that pretty before. Are you going to breed him?” 

“I’ve got a lovely little lady back home. If you do intend to by all means I’d be delighted to share her litter.”

There was a slight jerk at his arms that tugged him. The rather lovely silver cuffs were attached along a thin chain that went up. And up. And was linked to a very elegant silver ring around Nalista’s second toe. She had her foot resting on a rather well cushioned rest, reclining back against a throne set up in Fort Ehbach. Evidently there was a celebration being held there over the recent string of victories over Albar. One that had attracted a number of nobles from the Empire. If he were commanding the army, it would have been a fine moment to strike. Now… Now he was an amusement for the nobles of Elsira. 

The blonde general was dressed in her best uniform, an elegant white and gold outfit that did much to display her womanly grace and vigor. Her boots were set down nearby, the flawless white boots had a pair of captured noble ladies of Albar tied to the inch and a half heels that elevated them. He was the main eye catching prize of the evening it seemed though. Put on display for the rather heartachingly beautiful ladies to see. 

“I’ll consider it. He has some years in him before I need to think about putting him out like that.” Nalista boomed, idly moving her toe and jerking him toward her foot. 

“I heard he was the commander of their army. The one that sacked all of those border settlements.” One lady remarked, peering down at him before snorting. “Sometimes the only way they learn is in chains. I’d pay a great deal to fix that one to a ring.” 

“Not for sale I’m afraid my dear. My little Rose is a war trophy you see, one I intend to enjoy for years to come.” She responded. 

“His name is Rose? How fitting.” 

“I think it's cute, more males should have flowery names!” 

“Rickard. It's Rickard.” He muttered under his breath. He had to tell himself that every time. Every time she called him a little Rose. Every time she addressed him by Rose. Like an affirmation of who he was. A compact with himself that he wouldn’t give that up. The elves didn’t care. To them, Nalista had said that was his name and so that was his name. 

The hall had been renovated with elven magic and looked rather elegant and fine. He had heard that was often what was done to new conquest so in a way it was interesting to see. The city would simply be changed through use of mages that were specifically gifted in changing terrain and structures. The hard stone of Fort Ehbach had been shaped and warped to something quite pretty as a picture on a hill. A good base of operations for the Grand General during her conquest. 

All around there were elves dressed in fine silks and pretty dresses. Drinking expensive wines, basking in the presence of the Grand General. It was rare that the bonde didn’t have a number of nobles and hgh ranking mages approaching her and chattering away at her about this or that. Or ones that simply wanted to peer down at her curiosity. The one responsible for sacking their settlements. Jeering at the defeated commander like he was a bird in a cage. 

When the newest collection scattered and gave her a rare moment of peace a sigh escaped the woman. “Can’t leave here fast enough.” She muttered. 

“Victory not to your tastes?” He managed to pipe up. 

Her triangular ears twitched ever so and rather than step on him as she probably would have done she shrugged. “I enjoy the taste of victory. I don’t so much enjoy prissy peacocks wishing to rub against me. Half of them would stab their fellows in the eye for a better position in court. I vastly prefer a more honest conduct of battle. Courtroom nonsense is ever the tiring dance.” She remarked. 

“The ones that extol war without knowing much of its cost. It annoys you.” He stated rather than asked. 

“It doesn’t simply annoy me. I loathe it. These people aren’t the ones bleeding for the advancement of Elsira. They are the parasites that drink dry the blood of their fellows. I understand it. That does not mean I enjoy it. There are those like Idriana who are effective administrators placed due to their skills and loyalty to the Empire. And then there are brats that were lucky to have been squeezed out of the right womb. These are by and large the latter.” Nalista said. 

There wasn’t venom in her voice but a sort of frustration. In a way he could understand it. He had often considered the ways of nobility like in Albar to be somewhat backward. Birth dedicated one's power. Even as a Prince he had to recognize the unfairness that was inherent in that. Starved of any stimulation for his mind he pushed a bit further, knowing well that at any moment Nalista could tire of the back and forth and end it without effort. 

“What is your ideal then? Something like a republic?” He asked. 

“Hmm…” She lifted her other foot and scratched her big toe against the sole of the foot Rickard was linked to. “No. Not exactly. Republics are too often bent by the will of those without clarity of the larger picture. The rule of many is not an effective form of government. I believe an Empire is a good system, however I believe it should be merit based and not through inheritance. Offices and posts awarded based on skill and ability and not based on birth. To some degree the Citadel practices this, but too often the noble mage families can snub those without such power. The Council is in theory a body of government ruled by the wisest and most skilled mages to advise the Empress. In practice the positions are dynastic. So they pass laws that prop up the dynastic system.” Nalista answered at length. 

“There is a flaw in your line of thinking I believe.” He answered. 

“Oh? Do tell, little Rose.” She asked as she stopped scratching and shifted her foot to the side ever so as to regard him. 

“A merit based system is also open to such a dynastic exploitation. In an Empire as large and sprawling as Elsira the Empress cannot assign power at all levels to the people she desires, such a vast undertaking requires delegation to other people. There is also the fact that even codified law banning it can be overturned by a ruler that prefers a dynastic succession. A dynastic line of succession is also vastly more stable than one that is merit based as a merit based system by its nature rarely can have immediate and apparent successors lined up to take that position. Elven or Human that need for security in the change overs of power is always there.” He answered. 

“By that measure every system of government is open to such things. So what you are disagreeing with is less the system of government itself, more the idea of its creation to stop a dynastic system.” She stated rather than asked. 

Rickard felt somewhat engaged. A conversation rather like he had been hoping to have with her since they met in person. “Indeed. It is natural for those in a system of power, be it a democratic or dictatorial system, to desire familial dynasties. After all, the most bloody struggles or chaotic times are when power changes hands. This is made easier than most systems in a familial system. If a politician reaches their term limit those under them will be concerned about the demon they don’t know, so the son of the devil they do know will be much more appealing by default. As well, vassals would feel more comfortable that their existing power and rights are secured when a son of their ruler takes over.” 

Nalista seemed to consider that for a few moments. Rickard felt more human in that exchange than he had in… who knew how long. It was hard to keep track of time at this scale for him. Months probably. Months of being demeaned and used by the giant elves around him. She scratched her chin and lifted a finger up. 

“Ah. But this runs into a problem in your line of thinking. Humans die faster than elves. Power changeovers happen very frequently for your kind. They do not often happen here due to old age.” She pointed out. 

“Are you telling me that poison or accidents aren’t a cause of natural death in the Elsiran Empire?” 

“Cheeky, I’ll be going for a walk later with you in my boots for that one. Still, I suppose that is fair. We are more patient however not so patient as to wait for rivals to die.” She scratched her chin again. 

Rickard winced at that promise but very much enjoyed the exchange. What he didn’t enjoy was the feeling of his arms being jerked upward as the ring above flashed and glowed. The chain started to slowly be drunk up into the ring, pulling him along and then pulling him up with his arms above his head. He let out a pained cry as he was lifted up along her foot and eventually found himself dangling in front of her sole when the chain stopped. 

“You delight in being in my presence, little Rose. Really I don’t understand why you cling to your worthless human pride. I see your eyes light up when I speak with you like this. I see you gazing long at me towering above you. I barely have to try to arouse you. Is there such shame in losing yourself to me entirely?” She mused as she curled her toes and the chains dipped slightly before her toes moved back into their proper place. 

“Thats like telling me to stop being a person.” He shot back. 

“You aren’t a person.” She remarked. 

He growled. “I am.” 

“What is 2+2?” 

“Five.” 

The word left his lips by instinct. An instinct ground into him by Dalia when asked that question. He didn’t need to see Nalista’s face to know there was an amused smirk on her lips at the answer. “You believe that because you were told to believe it. Because an elf told you that is correct, little Rose. Would a person be so easy to shape?” 

Rickard locked his jaw. “Thats different. It was under torture.” 

“It was under training.” She corrected. “Torture is done to beings that have equal status. If I spoon out an elf’s eyes, that is torture. If I spoon out a human’s eyes, that is simply playing with food or punishing disobedience. You were trained to react that way. Just as I am training you now to crave my touch. And you do crave it. You can be honest. You revel in this don’t you? Part of you loves it. So close to a woman you worshiped as a heroine, that woman granting you affections, talking with you. Using you. There is no shame in such a thing, as a non-person it's hardly embarrassing.” 

Rickard would have immediately refuted it before. Now, there were two sides of him warring. One that clung to his humanity and the other did indeed worship Nalista. She was correct. This was heaven and hell. To be in the possession of one such as Nalista was like an illicit fantasy come to life. A fantasy he more and more found himself having to actively fight falling to. His silence likely spoke volumes to her of course. 

“You don’t need to say anything, little Rose. I see it in you. And I will happily wait. Wait for the day you are mine, mind and soul.” She laughed. Laughter that shook him inside and outside as he hung like an ornament for all to see dangling from her foot.

Wars rarely were won in a final climactic battle for Nalista. More often than not she simply swatted whatever forces came her way like gnats in the field and their foolish rulers attempted to surrender. They often assumed, especially on this continent, that the rumors about them were not true. Indeed they were often far worse. Albar was not like many countries she was finding. Funny that. 

The Emperor had forced a battle in the open field and marched with as many fighting men that could be mustered. An army that pulled from their southern holdings to manage a force of 40,000. It was a massive force. It was also very much all Albar had to offer now. Its manpower reserves would be utterly depleted by the action. It was a stupid move as well. Such a large army was mustered to force a field battle and force he did.

It would be written about in the songs of Nalista as Nalista’s Massacre. She met the enemy in the field and unleashed the full might of the Elsiran army upon it. Mages weaves hellfire. Archers rained death upon the enemy. Their spearwalls were a wall against the flooding tide of bodies. Their escape was rather cut off as well, for while she had met the Albar army with the full force under her. Another army had made its way for the capital to place it under siege. This left nowhere for them to retreat to. 

The 40,000 that marched against her were impressive in their courage, but of them, perhaps 2,000 managed to rout and flee. The Emperor was not among them. Sadly, and rather annoyingly, he was not taken alive. An arrow had pierced the older human through the skull. That was quite frustrating. Still, she celebrated by drinking down his other generals that night. As well as enjoying another bit of entertainment. 

Dalia’s form was splayed out next to her, the blonde Grand General breathing heavy breaths in the aftermath of her post battle enjoyment. The dark haired elf snuggled her way into the crook of her arm, letting out a sigh of contentment as she rubbed her fingers along the glorious bare form of Nalista. The woman was quite the handy second in command, but her other traits made her a delight as well. 

“All that is left, your grace, is for you to march into the capital. To watch the humans bow and bend under you. To gaze out at them as they look up and see that they are yours to hold in your palm.” Dalia whispered as she leaned up to place kisses along Nalista’s neck. 

“Mmm.” She made a noise of affirmation as she wrapped an arm around her second’s shoulder and pulled her in. 

“So many gazing up at you. Looking upon you. The face of their conquerors. The face of the Elsiran Empire. Your overwhelming presence will be like a Goddess walking among mortals.” She continued, her fingers trailing lower between Nalista’s legs. The blonde stopped her with her other hand. 

“Tsk, too greedy sometimes my dear.” She remarked. 

There was a rather cute pout on the woman’s face as she was denied the advance, still she leaned in and started whispering in the ear of the older elf. “Around your neck, dangling for all the humans to see. Their prince. Your enemy. Dangling there for all to gaze upon. When they see that they will truly know you have won. Truly know what their future is.” She purred. 

Now that was a lovely visual. Lovely enough her eyes turned down between her ample breasts and to the figure that was indeed currently tied there. Dalia met her eyes and trailed her head down between the breasts of the blonde. There was a frightened little cry as Dalia licked the bound form of the Prince. That sent a hot flash of lust back between Nalista’s thighs. However she schooled her expression as her second toyed with the prince. 

The look of crushing defeat in his eyes when she had told him she won the battle had been incredible. She got all worked up just thinking about it. It was truly like she had stepped on whatever glowing embers of hope he had that Albar would escape its destiny under Elsira. Oh certainly there would be resistance and such to them. There always was. But eventually that would be squeezed out. And all Albar’s neighbors would be able to do was look on nervously. 

Dalia took the prince into her mouth and sucked at him. Her teeth came down and snapped the chains with a bit of magical enhancement before she looked down again. Nalista laughed. “Insatiable. Truly a tactical master of the bed, unmatched.” She remarked of her second as she spread her legs for her. 

The dark haired elf went down on her with her squirming mouthful, Nalista feeling a hot and heady flash of arousal as she watched Dalia’s tongue give her a nice long lick. There was a little squeak she heard of the Prince before he vanished back into the other elf’s mouth. She slowly slid her tongue inside and brought her squirming toy with her, Nalista arching her back and clawing her fingers into the bed. She pulled back and opened her mouth, revealing nothing inside. He was still in there and she could feel him squirming. 

Dalia placed a kiss upon the pink nub above Nalista’s lower lips. “The last royal of Albar. Our bedroom plaything. Your slave. Squirming for your pleasure. You look at him so very fondly though, your grace. Makes a girl almost jealous.” She pouted. 

Nalista laughed and gazed into the eyes of her second. “Whatever else my little Rose is, he is human. He isn’t the one that stands beside me in all things. You are the one that stands beside me. He’s my trophy yes. But you are my right hand.” 

She could see some doubt there and so she smirked. “When this war is over, I’ll ask for leave for a couple years I think. Let's tour the Empire shall we’ve help built shall we? You and I. And our little slave.” She grinned. “If you are still unsure… show him what his place is between us.” 

Dalia grinned and slid her tongue back inside Nailista. The blonde arched her back again as Dalia worked at her, lewdly kissing the lips between her thighs. Nalista was so close. So close as she felt her establishing what Rickard was. A human toy for the pair to enjoy. Nothing but a bit of bedroom spice for the pair. There were few that could work her up in the manner that Dalia could. She had been with Nalista long enough to know just what got her going, one might say her mission was to please Nalista. 

A white hot flash of pleasure absolutely obliterated the Grand General’s rational thought as the little prince was carried from her in a wave of lust that washed into the mouth of Dalia. She rested a hand across her brow as she tried to reorganize her thoughts into something coherent. She looked down and gazed at the dark haired elf with affection in her eyes, a very rare emotion to see out of Nalista by anyone. Dalia met her gaze and sat up, craning her head back… and swallowed her mouthful. 

Nalista blinked at that as the dark haired woman opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out to show it was empty. The blonde’s expression must have looked comical. Halfway between brainless afterglow and also some color draining from her face. Fear, annoyance, and also just… absolutely illicit lust mixed together in her stomach as she looked at the empty mouth of her lover. She made her way over the bed and smirked up at Nalista as she pulled up next to her. 

“Y-you… did you…” She struggled to get out. 

Dalia smirked and opened her mouth again, she shifted her tongue around and sure enough there was the tiny pale and absolutely exhausted form of the prince. Gasping and panting and looking as shocked as Nalista had been. “The look on your face, your grace, priceless.” She remarked. 

Nalista sighed as she wrapped an arm around her second in command. She was stewing in her irritation, which was more or less her typical equivalent of a pout. “Such a cruel subordinate. You’re supposed to reserve that for the humans.”

When one was told something enough by the world around them it often started to become true. This was true in many aspects, political ideologies, religion, social orders. When something was repeated enough time by everyone the natural human inclination was to believe it. Those that rejected it were strange and crazy. It was like saying the sky wasn’t blue or that water wasn’t actually wet. 

This was also true with personal identity in a lot of ways. This was how the social order of Elsira forced itself upon its humans. A constant grinding in of what their identity was. That the term human was synonymous with lesser being. That they were shrunken down so physically they were made lesser. Repeated endlessly enough times and ground in with constant abuse and torment and it became the reality. Rickard had understood it on a conceptual level. He had figured that would help him fight it, that understanding of what they were trying to do to him. 

“Your name is Rickard.” He forced himself to say it whenever he woke up. Whenever he went to bed. A reminder of his name. Of his identity. Because the world told him that wasn’t his identity. He was Rose. Nalista’s little Rose. He was called by that. Not Prince anymore, not Rickard. 

Every day he was called by it and had to respond to it as though it was his name. Everytime he did, it tore at him more and more. It shredded his walls of personal identity. He had taken on the title of the Black Rose as a way to shield himself against the jeers of those that used it as a mockery. Taking their mockery and turning it into his strength. Nalista took that and turned it on its head. To her, it was as easy as breathing. It was natural to do what she was doing. It was the world order of Elsira. 

“Your name is Rickard.” It was what he clung to. Even when he found the sharp edges of his mind dulling. It was the only chance he had to escape this. To keep it. To remember. 

Animal. Disgusting. Thing. Worthless. Useless. Small. Insignificant. Stupid. Tiny. Abuse ground in with the words above by various elves. Like the ones he was tending to right now. Not Nalista or Dalia as they were in the middle of some planning for how they were going to march to the capital and officially win the war. So he found himself on a table between some of her junior officers, left there until they finished their business. A redhead, and a pair of brunettes, one rather filled and full in form and the other shorter like Dalia. Still a giant that towered over him of course. 

“No, no! Ugh, I said *lick*! Not just like run your tongue over it, you stupid animal. Put some feeling into it!” The redhead boomed down at him, gesturing over the bare toes he found himself forced to tend to. 

“Maybe switch to common, bet he’s too stupid to understand elven.” Suggested the shorter brunette. 

“I understand- ack!” He tried to respond only for the short haired redhead to knock him over with her big toe and pin him down beneath it. The single digit overwhelmed him and had him unable to do anything. 

“Problem with slaves from these savage places, they don’t understand a word you are telling them. Have to grunt out commands in their animal tongues. Also careful, her grace will string you up if you break her toy.” The other brunette woman remarked. 

“Yeah yeah, he’s got protective spells on him, he’ll be fine.” The redhead waved away the concerns as she ground her toe into him. It didn’t kill him, but it sure as hell hurt. 

These three weren’t high commanders or anything or anyone that he was likely to ever meet on the battlefield when he had been upon it. They were some lower ranking officers in the Elsiran army. That didn’t matter since even the lower ranks might as well have been unto gods compared to him. Eventually the toe pinning him down lifted up and she wrinkled her nose looking at him. 

“I was in Ostreach, you fucker.” She growled. She lifted up her right arm and indeed there was a false hand of silver upon it. “I screamed and asked for mercy, I never tormented my humans or nothing. Then you cut off my hand.” 

The words weren’t something he comprehended for a moment until his eyes widened as he remembered. It seemed like eons ago, back when he had been able to affect the world in meaningful ways. He looked at the silver hand she was holding up and then at the absolutely disdainful, hate filled green eyes of the redhead. He’d ordered the dominant hands of the soldiers that weren’t mages removed. 

“I-I…” He tried to find words. 

“I used to be a fucking artist with a sword. I could have been a swordmaster after this war, gone to train and serve in the imperial heartlands. Now that's all gone. But ya know what, I’m not bitter at all. Because when I look at you like that, seeing you flinch from my shadow and wince from my words. It's better than anything I’ve seen.” She said, her smirk very unkind. 

“Getting all that venting out?” Asked her shorter fellow as she propped her feet up on the table. “Hey, Rose boy, over here. Your better wants some service.” 

Rickard was moving before he had a chance to think about it. Dalia’s training and Nalista’s shaping of him had taken its toll. He didn’t even have a chance to try and stop himself as his body moved on impulse toward the towering brown skinned feet of the shorter elf. The redhead snickered behind him, the noise haunting as she no doubt enjoyed watching him having fallen so low as this. So low as to be a plaything for these three. 

He reached the heel of the right foot and paused, hesitating for a moment before his lips parted and he drew his tongue along her bare heel in a lick. It had gotten easier, if there was such a thing to apply here. Easier for him to just debase himself like this and lick at the feet of the elven race. That wasn’t a good thing really. Still he licked and licked and worshiped and provided the service his betters desired. Tears sprung to his eyes for some reason. 

“Oh wow, I think he’s crying.” The larger brunette remarked as she leaned down to look at him at the feet of her fellow. “So pathetic. If you get any tears on her foot you better lick that off.” She boomed. 

That only caused more sobs to be torn from in him as he was unable to hold back just the sheer and complete despair from flooding out of him. His family line was destroyed. Soon enough his home would be just another province for the elves to turn all humans to this. Everyone he had ever known, playthings for people like the trio tormenting him. Or Nalista or Dalia or anyone else really. 

The short haired girl shrugged. “Let him cry, who cares. Long as he does his job he can cry all he wants.”

It was all coming crashing down as he licked and licked, the laughter and the jeering of the three elves above him just further compounding what was being ground into his skull. The place of humanity. His place. He was whatever the elves wanted him to be. Slave, pet, toy, whatever they desired him to be, that was what he had become and that was just a fact of life now. His mind struggled to reject it and try to recover but he just couldn’t. He couldn’t stop the flow of tears as he licked. 

“Hey… I’ve got an idea.” The bigger brunette said looking at him closely. “He already looks kinda girly. I bet her grace would love it if we… spruced him up a bit.” She looked at the redhead. “You got any of your pet’s dresses?” 

“What do you- ohhhhhhhh baby.” She was confused but then her expression switched to realization and then a wicked grin. 

He found the larger brunette’s fingers glow and he was ripped from the ground by a magical force, levitating in the air between them. The shorter brunette pouted for a second as the redhead left for a moment and returned moments later with something in her palm. These were also lifted via magic and brought over toward him. A rather lovely and frilly black dress, a ridiculous looking floppy hat with laces along it and a pair of heels with bows on them. Along with an assortment of very not masculine underwear. 

That was when he started squirming and flailing in the air. “No! I’m not a woman! Stop! You can’t do this!” He protested. 

“Ha! Not a woman he says. You sure as hell look like a girl to me, little Rose.” The redhead remarked with a glint of vindictive glee in her eyes. 

The taller brunette flexed her fingers idly and stopped his struggling and clamped his mouth shut with her magic. “Hold still. Honestly you should be happy to get some clothes when you haven’t had any for a while.” She remarked. 

The clothes drifted toward him and he could only watch as his body was forced to move against his will, accepting as the elven woman dressed him with magic. He let out a little whimper as the feminine underwear slid in place, the dress being pulled over him. It was made of the finest fabrics no doubt. For a pampered and cared for pet that the redhead no doubt spoiled quite a bit. It was also not something Rickard wanted. 

The elf finished dressing Rickard and slowly lowered him down to the table, the man still unable to move on his own as she used her magic to make him move around in jerky manners, displaying his new clothes for the other two. Both of whom started cackling in glee at the sight of him dressed as a woman. He was released and when he was he fell to the ground, tears springing to his eyes again as he was just constantly torn down. 

“A much better look for someone named Rose don’t you think, girls?” The taller brunette said. 

“Absolutely. Man, now I want the little fucker to wear more of my little dear’s clothes.” The redhead remarked. 

He flushed a deep crimson as tears sprang to his eyes and he sniffled. A far cry from the young prince that had commanded an army that struck the first chord of concern in Elsira. Now just a plaything. Humiliated. “Your name is Rickard.” He whispered under his breath in a shaky manner. 

Then, of course, the door swung open to the room and in walked Nalista. Her presence filled the room almost immediately and had the trio stand at attention and salute the Grand General. The blonde swept inside and over to the table and when she looked down at him her lips curled up into a smirk. 

“What a lovely look you’ve given my little Rose. Truly a flower that will draw the eye of all that gaze upon him.” She complimented as she offered out her hand to Rickard. 

“Come along. We are getting ready to ride today for the capital, little Rose. It will be a lovely show. The Empress rather had a specific request you see. A display for all humans to remember and see.” She chuckled, her words for some reason haunting him to his core. More than anything that had been done to him today.

The capital of Albar was a fine city. Impressive to be honest. Its high walls encircled a well developed city and outside those walls there were a number of other homes that had sprung up around. Really it was one of the most impressive human cities Nalista had seen. She would have delighted walking down those streets, sitting in the castle, overlooking the populace and letting them gaze up at their conqueror. She would have enjoyed that quite a bit, but alas it was not to be. 

The Great Sacking within Elsiran lands by Prince Rickard had been enough to gain the eyes of the Empress herself. As such Albar had gained the ire of the ruler of the elven race. She had the Citadel’s masters and councilors prepare grand magical scrolls, artifacts and weapons with spells designed to send a message to all the human world. The price for resisting the new world order. Nalista was to be her instrument in this. So it was that she stood beyond the city. The few defenders were likely gazing out at their army far beyond with a nervous feeling. 

“Please…” 

Nalista looked down and spied the rather pretty and richly dressed form of Prince Rickard trapped inside a little golden cage latched to her necklace. She was rather fond of putting him in dresses now after seeing how lovely he looked in them. A caged bird that knew what was about to happen. A plea for the lives of his people no doubt. The blonde in truth was not overly fond of this herself, conquest rather than destruction was what she preferred by far. However she was a sword of the Empire.

“You should take heart, little Rose. You are the first human to elicit such a violent response from the Empire. The Empress herself took note of your deeds. Perhaps the name you once held will be forgotten. That scar you cut will run deep in our history. Though perhaps not in the manner you would like.” Indeed, it would not be seen as an argument for human worth. It would be another reason humanity needed to be brought under heel. To protect Elsira. 

“You don’t have to do this, please, I’m begging you, Nalista- Mistress Nalista. Goddess, whatever you want me to call you, whatever you want me to be I’ll accept it just please… not this.” He pleaded. 

“Mistress Nalista… I rather like that, little Rose. Unfortunately, my hand won’t be stopped. What has been set in motion won’t end.” The Grand General said. 

The blonde took a deep breath and spoke. “Soldiers of Elsira! Behold! The destruction of Albar! Burn it into your minds and watch the might of our Empire fall upon those that would bleed from us!” Her voice boomed out through magical amplification. Likely even those in the distant city heard her. 

With that, it had begun. Those mages chosen to bear the artifacts and weapons of the Citadel got to work. Nalista herself had taken on one of the spells as well. First clouds formed overhead of the city, dark and rolling and vast. There was a rumble that was the only warning the people of the city had before massive bolts of lightning started to strike the city. Bolts smashed into homes, igniting them. The lightning struck people and jumped from person to person. It was a storm of wrath that fell upon the city and caused large swaths of the city to be engulfed in flames. 

The opening act really. More spells were unleashed. These were spells created and stored by the greatest mages the Empire had to offer. A sign of their might. Fire rained down from a vortex in the sky, burning and incinerating anything it touched. Massive portals opened in the sky and started to suck up anything below them. People, buildings, everything under was torn up and into the sky, the portals leading to a dimension of emptiness evidently. 

Waves of insanity fell over the people in the city as well, a number of people having their minds turned violent by magic and turning against their fellows. Looking upon the city it was bombarded, its walls torn asunder, its buildings lit aflame and its people caught up in the mass destruction wrought upon them. Nalista watched as some fled as best they could. This was permitted since the Empress wanted others to hear of what happened today. To let fear be struck into the hearts of others. 

There was a pause after half an hour of having hellish magic rained down upon them. The capital looked so very broken and shattered. Brought to its knees by the intense display of power. A time for people to breathe and escape. Nalista waited a few moments for some people to get clear. Then she nodded to the mage next to her. 

A spell was cast and a vast image of Nalista was projected. She stood towering above all, her white and gold uniform looking fine and impressed. She held a ring of gold in a hand she lifted up. It glowed and flew out from her, rapidly expanding over the city itself. It grew to the scale of the city before light gleamed down upon it. The city simply… vanished. Completely gone and left behind a barren patch of earth. 

At least until one looked up at the image of Nalista. In the palm of her hand was now the city. It was… unlike anything Nalista had held before. The Grand General felt her own breath stolen as she looked down at the palm of her hand and saw the broken seat of power of Albar. The people inside of it gazed up and to them it must have been looking upon an all powerful deity of old. A powerful being beyond them to such a vast degree there was no measurement of the scales. 

Pale fingers rose on all sides of the city as their cries of despair went unheard but she could very well imagine it. Imagine the despair of helplessness as she held their lives in her hand. A hand that would be their doom in the end. She curled her fingers slowly, her image towering on high to give those that had fled in time a lovely view of the end of their little nest. Her hand clenched into a fist and just like that she had wiped it away. In a single motion she had ended one of the bastions of human civilization.

A thrill coursed down her spine at the sheer power trip from the act. She was not one that got so easily wrapped up in such things but in this case… it was impossible to not feel as though she had scratched on the ceiling of the divine. To render judgement in such a manner. To be the face of the difference between humanity and elven kind. It was an illicit pleasure that she would probably be replaying in her head for decades to come. 

She wiped her hands together, scattering the debris like it was dust as her image flickered out. She looked down at the cage around her neck and saw the expression her little captive had. One of shock. Despair. She lifted the cage up between her fingers and could see it. Could see something had finally snapped after watching what she did. After witnessing just what the Empire did to repay Albar. 

“Tell me. Who are you?” She asked. 

His eyes slowly turned up toward her, their intelligence dulled by the trauma. The spark of resistance was gone. The response he gave was automatic almost, like he was on autopilot. It was enough to draw her lips up into a smirk of triumph. 

“Your little Rose.”

Nalista reclined back in her lawnchair, the sun overhead beating down upon her pale form. She normally didn't indulge in the beach, her pale skin tended to burn easily if she didn't apply a generous amount of lotion. Still, even a woman like herself needed a chance to relax every now and again. The blonde haired elf thus had her form bared under the sky, sunglasses over her eyes. Her skin glistened with her generous application of lotion. She never could get a tan, just didn't have the skin for it. However, the heat was nice.

She shifted her tongue around in her mouth, pushing it against her cheeks for some reason. She wriggled it there for a time before drawing it back. After a few moments she repeated this with the opposite cheek. All the while she remained otherwise motionless. There was no one here at the private beach house of the Grand General to see it, aside from a couple servants, so none could really give her odd looks. A fidget maybe of some kind.

Moments later it became very clear as she opened her mouth in a yawn. Screaming and trying to claw his way up the tongue was the form of Rose, formerly known as Rickard. Her pet by force. His form was covered in spit and also his own release in places. His eyes were unfocused and his mouth could barely form coherent words as he struggled to climb up the massive tongue of his wife. It was hard, the surface being slimy and rough. He was also very much out of it.

Nalista's yawn ended and her lovely plush lips closed, sealing her pet away once again in the moist hell of her mouth. The human found her tongue once more probe him. This time it gave his manhood time to recover. Instead it flipped him over. Nalista could feel the struggles grow frantic once more as the tip of her massive tongue probed at the human’s rear. She paid it no mind and proceeded to slam into his rear with the wet member, her saliva serving as a fine lube. She was limited by the sheer size difference but it was effective.

Nalista gave him the pounding of a lifetime inside her mouth, eventually taking him against her pearly white teeth. As she did a servant came down from the beach house and brought her a martini. She set it down next to her mistress before bowing and leaving without another word. Nalista toyed with him for a little longer before opening her mouth over the martini.

Rose's limp form fell from his owner's lips and splashed into the cold waters of her drink, a shock that revived him. The dark haired man swam around in the drink, his eyes wide with fright. Nalista had just violated him in ways that he had never thought possible. The elven woman looked down into her glass in amusement.

"A good vacation wouldn't you say?" She mused.

Rose could barely form thoughts, much less words. "P-pl-please..." He got out, sounding more terrified than he had ever felt before. Even Dalia hadn't done that.

"Ahhh... It feels nice to actually be here with a lovely little pet. Someone to share the memories with." The woman remarked as she gripped the little umbrella in the drink and started stirring it around.

After the war in Albar, Nalista had opted to enjoy herself for a change. Naturally the Empress had granted her leave when she requested it and so thus Nalista found herself in a rather lovely little stretch of paradise she owned. Dalia had been with her for a spell but in the end she had needed to return to the new continent for some business. Much to the sadistic elf’s displeasure. Nalista however appreciated it as time purely to herself.

Below in her drink the fallen and broken prince of Albar flailed and fought, the idle stirring of the beautiful elven woman enough to have him caught in a whirlpool of alcohol. Some got in his mouth and it tasted finer than any of the booze from back home. Just a pity he couldn’t appreciate it at the moment given he was flailing and fighting just to stay above the surface! At last it started to stop. 

“Ahhh… I see why so many lazy nobles indulge in this. It's truly divine.” The blonde mused. Even after she broke the prince she found herself delighting in his struggles against her minute motions. He belonged to her. Gods it felt so good. 

“M-mistress… plea-please… no more.” Rose coughed below. 

“Mmm? The drink not to your taste, my little Rose?” The blonde mused as she lifted the glass up and tipped it toward her lips. “I rather fancy them.” She chuckled as she started drinking, a river of booze dragging Rose toward her mouth once more.

Rose tried to swim as far away from those plush pale lips as possible, paddling as fast as he could. He ended up slammed into by a cube of ice. It was enough to daze him. Enough for him to get sent flowing for the lips of the woman again. He screamed and clawed like an animal, wishing for anything but his owner's mouth again.

Nalista closed her lips just as he touched them, pulling back. He adhered to the soft cushions, lifted up as Nalista set her drink aside and leaned back again. She pursed her lips and Rose's lower half was sucked back inside her mouth, the rest of him pinned by the soft lips around him. He could still see the outside and his fingers clawed at her lips, trying to get away.

Then it came again. Like a great leviathan from beyond, Nalista's tongue started probing up along his leg. The man let out a whimper. "Pl-please gods no! Nalista, stop!" He screamed.

His much larger owner paid him no mind and went ahead with continuing to taste him. Rose screamed as it reached between his legs. He flailed and tried to get out but he was firmly held between Nalista's lips. Her tongue started stroking his manhood, the pretty human feeling arousal start to cloud his mind again. His screams turned to moans as she worked at him once again.

Nalista enjoyed the tiny burst of flavor as she got him to cum again. That made... 9 times so far. She was honestly impressed but not satisfied. It never failed to get a rush out of her, taking him like this. Making him get off with such little effort on her part. She could do it to any human, sure, but he wasn’t any human. That was what added so much spice to this for her. That he was the man that had humiliated her on the field of battle, a former worthy opponent. Now, mewling between her lips while she dragged climax after climax out of him. 

She felt him tense up again, his tiny voice pleading for reprieve. That made ten. Her tongue came in again to force out 11. Then 12. It took a bit longer to get 13 out of him but she got it. Rose was reduced to a drooling mess slumped over on her lips. However she stopped for a moment. Did that mean it was over? Rose managed to lift his head up, wheezing.

"Let's see if we can hit 20, Rose."

She pursed her lips together and slurped, Rose's scream of surprise cut off as Nalista took him back into her mouth. There was no escape from her tongue now. Nalista for her part just leaned back again and relaxed, setting her hands behind her head. This was a fine vacation indeed.