Chapter 866 – Royal Treatment 1 – Arousing Awakening [Lydia Side Story]

Chapter 866 – Royal Treatment 1 – Arousing Awakening [Lydia Side Story]

Lydia had few days on which she didn’t wake up horny anymore. Today was one such day and she knew exactly why from the smell that still stuck to her sheets. Strong arms were wrapped around her, the arms of the sole other person in her bed and the love of her life. She felt John’s breath on her neck and slightly repositioned herself. His morning wood pressed against her backside and his breath no longer tingled the hairs on her neck.

The former caused her desire to swell. Being around the Gamer usually left her both immensely satisfied and craving for more of him. It should have been an irritating combination, this endless inability to ever be truly fulfilled, but somehow it felt just right. This combination kept her moving. It was the same feeling she had when working on her ambitions for her country. No matter how much she progressed, there was still more to be done. That was simply how it was and Lydia thrived on it.

‘Do I maintain control over these urges?’ Lydia asked herself, trying to make her horniness go away by throwing her sheer force of will at it. As much as she loved John and the girls of his harem, he and most of them were a bit too much guided by their carnal desires. She could understand, especially since her body had gotten its make-over, and she didn’t mind indulging – as long as she knew she could stop.

As she wrestled for her calm mind to be the dominant force of her persona, other facets rose to throw up their resistance.

‘It would feel really good...’ the nymphomaniac inside her pointed out. It was the same argument that side always made and Lydia easily dismissed it, ‘...but what feels good defines not what I must do.’

‘I could take some time off in the morning...’ added a lazy voice inside her. ‘No, there is always work to do.’

‘If I don’t pleasure him, he might leave me,’ a scared, lonely little girl reared her head. ‘Who will I have left if he is gone?’ The queen struggled most in the rare times that side of her surfaced. Whatever counterarguments she may have mustered were paralysed in a flood of memories. The end of her mother. The day her father had died in the eyes of that lonely girl and the day the reborn woman had ended that miserable man’s physical existence. An act without pleasure and, with the adrenaline of the moment long removed, that knotted up her stomach. Although he had only been the father of half of her, the guilt was unavoidable. It had to be done. It distracted her from the initial topic.

“Morning,” the deep voice of her lover reached her ear, as he kissed her neck. A gentle brush on her shoulder, innocent in its loving caress, blew away her worries. Guilt, doubt and lust were all wiped away in an instant. “How you feeling?”

“Supreme,” she summarized with the best word that came to mind. Even after a night alone with him, a completely expected gift for her birthday, she didn’t feel sore. Neither the submissive debauchery that had happened in the car nor the sole attention and traditional loving embrace that had followed had left her body taxed. Having overcome her natural boundaries helped in many ways and not having to be healed every intense night was one of them. ‘How does Scarlett take her punishments with such ease?’ Lydia wondered.

“That’s good, that’s good,” John yawned and smelled her hair. “You showered after I went to sleep?”

Lydia loved how he noticed even little details like that about her. Just a little bit of fresh shampoo and he knew what she had done. Although she wasn’t particularly proud of it, she was taken by being given such attention. It was one of the reasons why she had fallen for him in the first place. To every single one of his girls, John Newman paid as much attention as was necessary to satisfy more than a normal relationship. How he did it was a mystery to her. Something about the Gamer had been created or developed to support his absurd love life.

“Yes,” she confirmed and gave him a rewarding wiggle of her bum. The groan she got in response sounded as if he only now became aware of the way his hard cock was pressing between her cheeks.

“What are the odds you’re going to be as nicely submissive as you were in the car yesterday and help me take care of this?” John asked.

“It is highly improbable,” Lydia let him know. “That was a particularly desperate situation. We all just needed it.”

“I need more of that every day,” the Gamer joked and kissed the back of her head again. “Well, if you don’t have the time right now, it is as it is.” The disappointment and understanding were both clear in his voice. Lydia understood he wanted her. John understood what he could and couldn’t get. They both needed to make sacrifices in their relationship, given their situations. “Speaking of time, what is it? I would check but... you know.”

_______________________________________________________________________

A couple of days passed and Lydia stepped out of the bathroom at 6:35 as she always did. Her hair was one that was styled with ease, in part thanks to its metallic infusions born from her part-elemental physiology. Where other women had to fight to make their hair dry and properly combed, Lydia could just rely on a hairdryer and take care of things in a matter of minutes. All she had to take care of was to stay clear of the ionisation button.

Finishing her braid, Lydia made the metal ring she had picked for the day hover upwards. It opened at an invisible seam and was guided towards the tip of the braid, where she then made it close tightly again. With a brushing motion, she checked for any imperfections in the weave. She found none and put on her weapon’s belt and overcoat. Once both were in place, she looked at the rapier hanging over the fireplace.

The weapon her grandfather had once commissioned was ceremonial in nature. The guard was artistically shaped, an intricate combination of several strands of metal forged to mimic the shape of vines. The sheath was black, the tip and rim reinforced with enchanted silver. The blade itself, while looking like simple steel, was a metal difficult to create called Ferforitum.

Difficult and highly unpopular.

Outside of the hands of a metal mage, it was essentially useless. Under enough impact, it didn’t just shatter but actually splattered into liquid pieces. Even for someone like Lydia, however, it was hardly useful in combat. Its main use lay in that it could take whatever shape she wanted, as well as change into a series of different colours. It made exposition a lot easier.

‘Today is the optimal opportunity,’ she reminded herself and extended her hand into her pocket space. Strimata, the rapier she retrieved, was forged from infinitely more valuable materials than even Ferforitum. Despite the glittering of gold and silver that came from the Elementium and Mithril, the weapon was forged into a solid, military appropriate guard. The weapon was also longer than her grandfather’s rapier and at least three times as heavy. It wasn’t a disadvantage for her.

Lydia took hold of the grip. The wrapped leather felt natural under her hand, despite her only holding the weapon a few times previously. The Swordmind made the rapier as comfortable as it could be for her to hold it. As John had described to her, Strimata had a special enchantment that had evolved on its own from a lesser version. Whereas the smith had only intended to give it a Loyal Attribute, which would have made it return to whoever wielded it for seven consecutive days unless countermeasures were taken, it instead had Chosen Loyalty. The sword itself chose to be wielded by the metal mage with the strongest potential in the world.

It was entirely thanks to John that this was true about her, but it was true regardless. How the sword made this choice was somewhat beyond Lydia. A Swordmind didn’t make the weapon sapient. Even sentience was doubtful. Its function to choose must have been similar to a plant growing in the direction of light. Why it had evolved such an enchantment without further input by the creators was another mystery, but when this much magic was bundled into so tiny a package, mysteries were to be expected.

Carefully, she drew the sword. The motion was accompanied by a singing sound similar to the lower tones of a glockenspiel. The further the sheath was pulled back, the higher the note. Once it was completely drawn, there was a sudden silence. Lydia turned the blade so the side faced her. A tiny note accompanied the movement.

Between the constant noises, pleasing as they may be, and the constant light the weapon emitted, it was unfit for any stealthy attacks. Even the reflection of the queen’s eyes on the prismatic metal and its broken colours was among a full spectrum of light. It wasn’t a large disadvantage to Lydia, who didn’t rely on sneak attacks or the like in the first place. Regardless, she couldn’t help but desire the weapon to be less flashy.

As if it reluctantly agreed, Strimata reduced its constant glow until it was unnoticeable under the artificial light of the lamp overhead. The many-coloured triangles slowly shifted. It reminded Lydia of the Atlantic Fuse, the massive gathering of Faith energy that concentrated on one spot before flowing on towards Europe. A visual similarity that she didn’t doubt was born from the absurd power of this weapon.

Carefully, she ran a finger along the blade. She could feel its sharpness, but it didn’t cut her skin. When she drew the finger back, several strands stuck like spider silk to her. Thin wires, barely visible despite their colour. Even forged into an alloy and put into the shape of a rapier, the Schattengarn within retained its property to be easily shaped into threads. Lydia drew her hand away and the wire extended. When she disconnected it via magic, the wire was drawn back into the actual blade. Redirecting her magic, she pulled the pointy Mithril ornament at the lower end of the grip downwards. A particularly thick string kept it connected with the weapon at large.

Lydia had been probing the weapon for its secrets a few minutes every day, wherever she found the time. ‘I barely scratched the surface of the possibilities,’ she thought, while making the silver-headed string snake through the air. Looking at the clock, she redirected the ornament back to its socket and then sheathed the weapon. It protested with a deep, metallic note. ‘Perhaps it is somewhat more aware of itself than a plant,’ she reconsidered her earlier position, before sliding the sheath into its proper position on her weapon’s belt.

Testing the limits of Strimata was near impossible within her room, at least if she wanted to both maintain secrecy and not accidentally cut into furniture that was up to six hundred years old. Going outside clashed even more with the wish for secrecy. That came to an end today, hopefully.



There was a savage tradition honoured today that would be a great event to unveil this weapon.