Conquest Of The Fallen: Dark Dominions-Chapter 326: Eighteen Murders a Man

THE CLANDESTINE SPECIAL AGENCY, partitioned and pruned off of the Royal Marshal Academy served all Intelligence purposes of the Nine Realms—and beyond. If a drunken Marquis took out a hunting party to the woods of the faeries or a gold dragon was spotted in the Highlands the CSA were the first to know. But since solving the gruesome homicide of Major Midas Azubuike, Israfel had never needed to employ the services of the enigmatic force.

Of course the C.S.A served the will of Her Majesty, but also the interests of the kingdom at large. Some might even argue more. The [Iron Federation], the [Hundred Arrows], the Queensguard, they all put the Empress first in all things. But Clandestine Forces apprehended both lowborn and noble-blood criminal.

Perhaps the concise reason why Ravenna summoned them before the Marshalls of Titans Landing. In the presence of the assembled court at the Rotunda she excused herself once she had seen the back of the last barbarén among the ranks of Arjonah Hammerhand march out the great doors. The Men of Thorak eagerly moved for the feast their gentle queen had ordered be put down for them. "It’s them I should be thanking," said Ravenna as she walked between two burly guards—the moustached one with his arm holding back a scarlet drape, "I am glad my people find me of good quarters enough to approach with such dangerous threat." She sighed, "that woman!

"When is Moira due to arrive?" Ravenna stopped in a stone arch which had view overlooking pimples of rosebud fields and amaranthus blades.

The voice that answered her was old—grand, in an aristocratic way. Still very feminine. But dusky. "ETA is seven minutes, my Queen. I specifically requested Ms. Kane. She will be led to the Creation chambers once she arrives..." Cora, speaking, took Ravenna’s hand in hers. "I cannot say how THAT WOMAN got to the Templar monks with her ill gospel but trust, dear that we will not hold back in trimming the rot."

The ’woman’ Corazón and Ravenna referred so annoyingly about in their conversation was the now infamous Witch of Rebirth. Blood Mother to her acolytes. Bitch whore to Cora. To Rafel, the woman Racquel Serpent was just an overpowered extra in his story; she probably had the backing of an [SSS Rank] principality, which would explain why she was so strong—with the miraculous blood or whatever. He expected he’d see that blood for himself sooner or later. And have to make it flow.

Racquel Serpent had angered him when her pawn dared attack his girls. She’d better count her breath.

Rafel himself walked behind Cora and Ravenna, listening to them go over just how powerful the reach of that ’woman’ had gotten since she was in bed now with the Highfather – knowing the Vicar of Vallon-de-Grâce personally through a very unexciting encounter Rafel was pretty sure the man just about bent over on the nearest altar and begged her to peg him.

"Such a giant, gaping pussy! That fuckin’ priest!"

Rafel smiled, hearing this. He was glad it was Ravenna who’d said it, not he.

A caressing breeze blew Aya’s sensual fragrance into his nose and he glanced down at his sukky. "Naamah." It was a compliment he breathed out. Just her name. But she knew—a compliment. Her purple eyes loved him up. She was glued to his left arm. Her thumb absently stroked the splay of runic tattoos governing his golden biceps. She didn’t fault him for not returning her smile as he raised again his bright amber pupils; Aya adored him. To the red succubus, her [Sire] could do no wrong.

"ETA?" Rafel called ahead. They were now close to the Creation rooms.

Cora replied him, her voice softening just for him. "Three minutes, m’lord."

Rafel didn’t talk again the rest of the way. The girls were used to it, liked it really. He seldom interfered with talk of the best way to deal with an enemy. This didn’t betray his genius—because they always leaned back on him for the wisest stratagems. Cora would bet on Rafel being the greatest strategist Hel hath spewed. The sheer volume of books he read alone? And he was an action man. You’d only see just how much he could give between the sheets. By Aphrodite! She blushed in thought. He gave and gave!

"Ahem—" Ravenna cleared her throat, and Cora’s head of the sudden heated images that consumed her. It bothered her that she could be thinking of sex with the lurking foe in sight. Then again Rafel could make you think about sex anytime.

"The Creation Room." Aya Naamah declared as she loosened herself from Rafel’s body and stood first in front of the immaculate door. It was whiter than Ravenna’s skin—and that was saying something. The doors of the chamber had a fuzzy appearance of clouds in passing. If one blinked it appeared to really ’pass’. Aya pushed in. "Shall we, my loves?"

She stepped in first and held the door, listening to her Dominus command their escort. "I want only Blackguard mounted in this vicinity. Bring Moira Kane in here once she lands."

"AYE, SIR." The officers stood erect.

The chambers was also decored in white, as if devoted to a pristine god. Whilst the girls discussed, with Aya half-lying on top his torso, Rafel stared up, fondly studying the angelic bambinos that colored the high ceiling. If you ask him the cherubs eyes were a little weird. Cherubs were weird. Naked little angels with wings. . ? Come on! Only a devil could have come up with that. Pedophile much!

As he appraised the room’s ecclesiastical art he thought of how Cora had sent the large idiot whom had attacked them in the Undercity to the mines. He would have fancied a public flogging to overmatch the fucker’s name, Scourge. And then the crucifixion which she’d promised.

Eldoria didn’t lack for fun. But it did for bloodsport. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

Lilith had had men’s heads on spikes at the hills behind the Castle—like fucking apple trees.

He chuckled to himself at this. Ravenna looked his way. "Penny for your thoughts, babe?"

Rafel gazed at her smiling mouth—at her little pursed lip. "Can you suck a dick in two minutes?"

"Ooh! Wow." Ravenna laughed. "You’re bored. I’m sorry." Her laughter began to morph into a look of want when she spotted the hunger in his eyes. Cora cleared her throat, stopping whatever was about to happen before it began; she knew if it did she would join in. "Nuh uh, you guys! ETA is actually forty seconds now. So you better tuck that away." She made rolling motions with her hands over the spot of Rafel’s fly. But she still bit on her bottom lip. "—later...please." she begged so silently it almost went unheard.

RAP! RAP! RAP!

Rafel sat up, taking Aya with him at the knocking. "Enter," he said.

The door opened. But it wasn’t the C.S.A.

"Peitho?!" Rafel growled. "What are you doing in here? How the fuck did you get out?"

She was already sashaying for him. "I am Subservience, Lord host. Your Subservience. Do you really think an earthly door of wood and iron has a chance of keeping me from you. Never!" Her big hair shook, gleaming orange. "Furthermore, if the Blood Mother has her soiled tentacles in the ribs of the Highfather, she may also have corrupted the Clandestine Forces with her oily essence. I am a better [Truthfinder] than a Vikai potion. You need me here."

"Grrrhhhh—" Veins bulged in the sides of Rafel’s head. He was still thinking of how to deal with his HOT virtual intelligence made manifest. "Fine," he growled. "Stand in the corner and don’t say a word...aloud," he added, meaning she could talk in his head.

Peitho stuck out her tongue at Cora glancing her way.

"She’s here." Aya announced, pointing to her silver horns where a small black orb buzzed in the center. A pyro [Proximity Bulb]. The luminous door of the Creation room opened again. And this time behind it was Rafel’s favorite C.S.A Agent.

"Moira Kane. How do you do?"

"Your Eminence," she saluted—and did a dip too. Somehow in between doing the ladylike thing and acting like an officer of the Empire in a mandatory salute to the higher Noble, she was lost. Rafel rather liked the dip. He was in a literal paradise chamber with five gorgeous broads. He wasn’t complaining. Special Agent Kane had since come to respect Rafel for breaking the Dragonrider homicide case. It could be said that finding that one serial killer assassin was the pinnacle of her career. She didn’t know is she could top the Butcher of Nokmaar—they’d been pulling bodies out of that awful swamp for days. Moira kept a close distance to Rafel’s eyes; some part of her wanted him to notice her perfume.

She heard demons liked to smell roses.

"Ms. Kane?" Cora put forward.

"Yes, General." Moira pulled her focus and began to talk professionally. She first replied the ravishing Ambassador before flowing out to the purpose at hand. "I am very well, Sir. Thanks for asking. The entire headquarters adore you." She paused in a flush when he smiled at her – she was doing the ass-kissing but he was the one who noticed she had a nice ass to kiss. She could not stop her blush so she spoke through it, "I have being briefed on the way over here, Sir. And I’d like to confirm the veracity of the words of barbarén."

"We know that," Ravenna cut in. "The Men of Thorak had no reason to lie. And Arjonah Hammerhand looks like he’s been through some shit—he supposedly has an axe to grind with that witch."

"You mean the Blood Mother, Your Majesty?"

"Aye, what’ver."

"If I may, Sir," Moira Kane drew closer to their dignified selves, "Racquel Serpent expands her vision and ideas through propaganda. The masses. The aggrieved and the hurting. And since our Empire has seen not one but three sorry monarchs since the reign of Baeleon the Bold—not to mention the evils of the Usurper, the hearts of many turn to her cause. She preaches what they desire, what they yearn to hear: salvation, prosperity, utopia. Calamity upon them whom have fouled kindness. Her message is regarded in precedence over the Words of the Martyr in some provinces.

"Cries, calling Blood Mother terrorize the tame countryside. And, I believe above all her true intentions by turning the Highfather is to galvanize followers, to behoove to her cause the fellowship of worshippers amassed over the years by the Holy Cathedral. To taint the Martyr. To blot the church. She seeks popularity with the gospel of good deed. But yet in her heart churns the vilest evils. Hate. Racism. Vengeance.

"She proclaims forgiveness in the open streets when she just weeks ago unleashed a Dhampir giant upon Her Majesty’s caravan..." Moira’s soft eyes rested on Ravenna, "...of which I am deeply sorry, Empress. Those roads are full manned by our ground Agents now." She saw Rafel’s gold eyes wander and hastened. "But to the matter for which I know I was summoned: I have men presently at Vallon-de-Grâce. I have eyes on every conceivable exit of the parsonage. A minute ago I was communicated that the Highfather and seventeen others currently dwell in the parish. But we have no idea if Racquel Serpent is among those.

"They keep to the shadows." Moira glanced out at the fallen night.

"It don’t matter," Ravenna said, upstanding. She picked up her skirts. "Cora, you can summon forth a moon, can’t you?"

She waited for Cora’s nod and continued, saying, "please do. Make it blue."

Moira’s mouth fell open; the young Empress had just told her friend to summon a BLUE FRICKIN’ MOON. And they all acted like it was merely a magician’s hat trick. Rafel and his women never ceased to amaze her. But should she be surprised? . .for the man married to an ocean goddess.

Rafel rose too in his great bulk. His eyes shined feral yellow. "Friends of the Serpent are slitherers too. We shalt show no mercy." He said.

"Agreed, Dominus." Aya volunteered, her purple eyes radiating [Brimfyre]—depths of sin and the abyss visible. "They all must die, whether their Scarlet Savior be there or nay. But the people must be none the wiser, lest we make martyrs of the bastards. They must perish in their folly, alone." She looked round the room with her burning iris. "—what we need now is a man whom would creep into the gothic temples and murder the eighteen acolytes of blood."

A hush fell for ten breaths. Then Moira recited, "Eighteen murders, one man. Eighteen murders a man."

And immediately after, all eyes in the Creation Room flew to Israfel, including Peitho lurking in the corner.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fre𝒆webnove(l).𝐜𝐨𝗺