Chapter 85. The Lotka-Volterra Interlude

Chapter 85. The Lotka-Volterra Interlude

Irje

Huare didn’t lie — the war was different for everyone. While others were eager to fall back into their lover’s embrace, seeking battle for wealth and glory, Irje found nothing but the chore of pleasing a drunken lout. All she did was march when the horn blew and shoot when the First Bow barked.

March, ready, shoot. Sling the quiver back and march again.

The barbarians were too scared to charge and Irje had orders to shoot over the shields and spears without leaving the fist. As such, all she saw throughout the day were clouds of dust in the distance and her arrows flying away. The shouts of commanders and the thunder of drums were occasionally interrupted by yelps and curses when the barbarians shot back and someone stayed in the open. The palms couldn’t even look for arrows afterwards, both to refill their quivers and to find if one of the arrows did strike true. The Censor was adamant about the march, even if that meant they were spending their stock like kindling in the winter — the arms carried hundreds of thousands of arrows and dozens of fletchers worked every evening to maintain the supply.

Irje didn’t crave to see death by her own hands, but she was Erf’s first wife and it galled her that she couldn’t do her duty. Anaise killed so many that she got sick of it by the end of a single day, and Erf managed to get one of their commanders somehow by going on a walk in the middle of the night. In comparison, all Irje had had for herself was a report to the quartermaster about the arrows she used throughout the day. An impressive amount, if she were to say so herself, but nowhere close to the deeds of her sadaq. Putting down the werbow and picking up the shield and spear was a fool’s errand too — the General wouldn’t let Irje guard her husband as he himself was a spear, nor would she be given the reins of Anaise’s chariot.

If battles were like sex, the arms were whorehouses. While Irje wasn’t the lowest whore in the house, she wasn’t one of the prized Companion prostitutes either. Those who could pick their clients as they liked and spend the night talking about philosophers of old and playing kitharas. Or something like that — they were too expensive for Irje to even dream about spending a night with one.

But that was then. And now was now. In a matter of a single season, Irje went from saving for every single treat to the cook asking her personally what delicacy she wanted for dinner. From not having enough cuts to not needing money. And Irje had changed in turn. Her freedom aside, old Irje would have been beyond herself to be even considered as one of the wermage archers. Now — after conversing with Domina almost as her equal, after crushing down some upstart wermages with her magic alone, and standing in the presence of the Goddess herself — Irje wasn’t going to crawl on her knees to her feisty commander just so the First Bow would stop being blind.

Without the possibility of looking for bloodied arrows or struck-down bodies, archers had only one way to be recognised in battle — their commander. While they were busy drawing their bowstrings, the First Bow kept an eye on the enemy, adjusting the direction and the intensity of arrows when it was necessary. And witnessing whose arrow caused some damage rather than hit the ground. She wasn’t surprised when other archers quickly resorted to flattery and bribes to ensure their hits and kills would be recognised. Irje didn’t. She had a master already. By law — until the end of this campaign; in bed — for the rest of her life. Nor did she care about some silver brooch or a paltry bump in her pay for her grovelling.

Irje absentmindedly combed Erf’s locks as they both watched Anaise stomp through the tent. It was their private ritual — Erf would do something outrageous and Anaise would get flustered. Now it was his time to sit quietly and listen to his wife fuming over the midnight walk and the potential danger he put himself in.

The red tail swished to the side. “Tell me with honesty, Erf. Were you jealous of my promotion? Why did you go for the chieftain of the barbarians!?”

Erf shrugged in her arms. “I didn’t. He attacked me. I killed him on acc... in self-defence and quickly left their camp afterwards. My main objective was to intercept the spy and spread rumours about the red-haired warrior about to fall on their heads.”

Anaise coughed and hid her face behind her tail. “Were you in any danger?”

“I was. Back in the General’s tent, when Sophia promoted you to the chariot while the murk spy was getting ready to deliver valuable information to our enemy. How do you think you would fare if six thousand horse archers knew you were the only explosion mage in both arms?”

“They would swarm her,” Irje whispered.

“They would try. And it would turn ugly.”

“You are avoiding my question, Erf,” Anaise pressed, but her tone was softer now.

“My lack of Spark has kept me safe,” he chuckled. “Yet another reason why catching that spy was important — she wrote quite a lot about me as well. Before you ask — Albin forbade me from telling others until my task was complete. That was also why Sophia shut me down in public.”

Irje grumbled through her combing. “She is asking you to do dangerous tasks more often.”Fịndd new updates at novelhall.com

Erf glanced at her. “Please don’t kill her. She is asking me to do more stuff in general. The secrecy comes with it as well — while I do push back as often as I can, I understand that operational security is a thing in warfare. Rest assured — the others concern her brother, not us. And his upcoming date.”

She hummed and glanced at Anaise. Erf meant well, but Sophia growing amenable all of a sudden meant nothing good for them in the future. And Irje had a plan in mind.

Two of them, precisely. For now.

The tent’s curtain swung open and Huare Kausar stepped into the tent. “Your First Spear thinks you are helping us with the balloon.” She glanced around and shivered. “By the three horns, it is cold!”

Anaise paused her pacing to look at their tentmate and tilted her head. “Cold? It hasn’t started snowing yet.”

The deer wermage shook her antlers. “Up in the balloon. The air is harsh and bites you through the bone while my magic is used to keep the balloon afloat. My antlers get cold very quickly.”

Erf raised his eyebrow. “Your clothes are wet.”

Huare shrugged. “It is called washing your body after a long day of work. I grew hoarse at least thrice as I kept yelling to the General’s messenger about the enemy forces’ movements.”

Irje patted on the bed and Huare quickly used the opportunity to jump in. “Speaking of the enemy, they didn’t simply step back by the end of the day — they left, keeping only a few small groups behind.”

“Went off to join with the rest of the barbarian army?”

Huare glanced at Erf. “Not toward Bayan Gol, no. They rode off toward the river.”

“Well, it would be bold of us to expect that the enemy would just stand here and let us capture them,” he sighed. “The direction is curious, however. Something is afoot.”

Irje wasn’t planning on simply letting the Kausar twins into their sadaq. That would defeat the entire purpose of the plan to limit future intruders. But... there was a shift in their approach in recent days. Especially in how Huare carried herself and her intentions. And there were other positions around sadaq-at. Especially the strong and powerful sadaq-at that Irje was quite certain theirs was about to become.

Nanaya Ayda, the Matriarch of Kiymetl, didn’t rely on her husbands, concubinats, and Dominas for every single task that her servants weren’t privy to. She had confidants, companions, and Ladies in attendance. For that matter, Erf held that position under Aikerim Adal up until Anaise joined his sadaq. He wasn’t sharing her bed nor was he directly related to her in any way, yet she recognised his wisdom to allow his influence on her Manoral actions. If Irje excluded the marriage to Domina’s daughter, Erf and Yeva were holding that position to this day.

And Huare was obviously offering. Her experience and influence in the arms of Emanai and among the Manor courts of Pillar wermages. Her gravitas as the flying wermage, even if that was gained through Irje’s husband. Her awareness of the battlefield that no one but the General had access to. Oh, how she would gloat at the other archers when they would learn that there was no one to shoot at and their previous flattery was for naught. Inside her heart, that is. But she could hint that her previous stubbornness wasn’t stubbornness at all.

Irje could take a line out of Erf’s poem. She wouldn’t say it directly but would casually remind other archers of her connection with the Kausar twins, the ones who oversaw the entire battlefield with the magical looking glasses. She would let them make their own conclusions.

Anaise glared at a contemplating Erf. “Are you planning on moving out again?”

“While it might be worthwhile to blind the eyes they’ve left behind, I won’t do it without Chirp. Uhm, did any sheydayan stay behind?”

Irje suppressed an indignant squawk. Needles she said? She would show her needles.

Anaise shook her head. “Look at her face — she is enjoying your massage too much to stop.”

“His hands are warm...”

“Well, it wouldn’t be a massage otherwise, especially since there are no muscles for me to knead,” Erf mumbled in response. “But there is a rather surprising amount of nerves. I wouldn’t be surprised if her antlers are sensitive enough to feel Flow.”

“Yes-s!”

Erf blinked. “You do? How peculiar... Anaise do you have a blank scroll nearby? I want to make some notes...”

Irje wasn’t paying too much attention to them. She was in a battle of her own. A battle of will and perseverance. She could tell that Huare felt everything Irje’s toy did to her just by the flush on her face and the tented kaftan on her chest. Yet the Enoch girl took everything and still dared her for more. The rotations and vibrations weren’t enough.

The movement...

Irje’s eyes moved sideways, away from Huare’s reddened face and toward her pulsing antlers where Erf’s hand was leisurely stroking the soft velvet. Tracing a line that only he could see. While his other hand tightly squeezed another antler. A faint memory of him talking about blood pressures and heartbeats came to her mind but Irje ignored it. Erf did Erf things. What she did notice was the pace of his movements.

Irje licked her lips. And matched the movement of the toy with his touch.

Huare lasted for two heartbeats.

Her breath caught up in her throat as Erf traced yet another line and, when he leaned in to ask her something, Irje pushed it all the way in.

With a low guttural sound, Huare arched her body over the bed, ripping a handful of wood from the bed frame as she did so. A loud crack rang across the tent and Erf gasped, holding a broken and bloody antler in his hand.

Anaise palmed her face. “Why am I not surprised? Irje! I-”

“Hold on,” Erf interrupted her upcoming tirade. “I will get it fixed.”

Pressing some cloth to Huare’s head, he licked the blood on her antler and froze. They silently watched as he shook away from his stupor, removed the cloth from the stump where a new antler would eventually grow back, and kissed it. Or at least it looked like a kiss. It sounded far worse. Huare, who was just coming down from her pent-up release, was thrown into another, stronger one. Irje knew screams well enough to distinguish pain from pleasure. She also knew Erf’s medicine and his disdain for unnecessary pain.

He pulled away and plopped the antler back. “There!”

“-uuuuuuuck,” Huare smartly replied while staring into the ceiling.

“Erf,” Anaise spoke through the palm on her face, “their stumps are very sensitive.”

“The pedicle? Yeah, I noticed. I made sure to block her nociception as I prepared the tissues for the rapid reintegration.”

“What?”

“I think he said he numbed her pain before he ‘healed’ her,” Irje translated and shook her head. “If she was ever in pain to begin with.”

Anaise glanced at the prostrated wermage in their bed. “He didn’t numb her enough. We will need to dry the blankets now.”

“So...” Erf clapped his hands together and looked at them. “Why all this ‘very sensitive’ crap I’ve been hearing about? Why did you dance around the subject instead of telling me head-on I was essentially jerking her off?”

Anaise lifted the blanket, sighed and started rummaging in one of their chests. “Because usually they are just that — sensitive. Until someone,” the red tail jabbed at Irje, “got her randy. And someone,” the tail pointed at a still blank-eyed Huare splayed in bed, “goaded her into it, while keeping herself frustrated and eager for release.”

Irje flushed.

“So... Now what?”

Anaise stood up and threw a clean shift at Huare to change into. “Did you satisfy your curiosity?”

“Erm... I took plenty of notes.”

“Then now nothing. Since Huare Kausar ruined my bed, I will enjoy you on hers for the rest of ‘my’ night. I have dreams to ward against and her moans stirred my needs as well. I hope your other nightly escapades didn’t leave you unable to keep your wife satisfied?”

“I will get your tail crooked if you challenge me so. Make the rest of the charioteers know that you were more than pleased tonight.”

Her tail jumped to her face. “G-good. I should kick her out as I promised, but her tasks are important for the arms. But I might just forget to light the runes. Rest assured, however, Irje and I will have a thorough conversation with this trickster tomorrow. For this was a prank and nothing more — on Irje, even, rather than you or our sadaq. Except both of them forgot that you are... well Erf. Relying on fate when you are around is a fool’s errand.”

She glanced at him and the blood on his hands and sighed. “Let’s go get you cleaned up. Irje can deal with the servants airing our blankets.”

Irje scratched her ear but didn’t object. The bed was without question in need of being aired. And it was Anaise’s night. Especially if the nightmares would actually come.

“Heh heh. Very fertile soil, indeed. I don’t think I can survive this kind of ploughing more than once a year.”

A pillow lifted up and smacked the smug Enoch in her face. “Shaddap!”