---Thalgora, First wife of Lord Klar POV

“Open.”

Voria does as I command; she knows her place. No longer a favourite with father and uncertain of her future beyond gate guard.

“They wait a respectful distance from the gate, maintaining a vigil, even though we said we would fetch them, Mistress Thalgora.”

I ignore her, yet from the corner of my eye, I notice the slight nodding of her head. Good.

Stepping through the gate is like a signal to Klugak’s family as they rush forward. On foot, though. Their beasts are nowhere to be seen, so I assume back in their stables. Content with their eagerness, I wait under the shade of the manor’s gatehouse.

“Greetings Thalgora, honoured first wife of Lord Klar,” says the snivelling Klugak with a slight bow of his head.

Giving deference to a female. I see the struggle within him, his neck stiff, yet not unyielding when trying to obtain an advantage for his family. I need to tease out the advantage he seeks, of course, as expected of a first wife, as expected of a wife of Lord Klar.

“My Lord Klar mentioned your request, and advised me I would be the final arbitrator.” I fold my arms across my abundant chest. “Convince me why I would allow another to share in my Lord’s attention.”

She, Klugak’s daughter, Klaria tries to step forward and fails. I assume her family restrains her, as my eyes are solely for Klugak. Being eye to eye with a male is not unusual for me, although on this occasion a clear advantage.

“Lord Klar declared a certain interest in Klaria, in front of many and as a family, we feel there is an implied obligation and being a Lord, his honour would be best served, to follow through. To his benefit and those of his household.”

Obligation? Honour? I chuckle. “His honour? Do you call his honour into question? If that is all, then I believe we are done. There will always be a few who wish to believe the worst. I am certain my Lord’s future deeds will put to rest any doubts and gather more to him at the same time. His name is on everyone’s lips. Lord Klar is on the rise.”

I make to pivot and feel the weight of his hand on my upper arm. My eyes burn into his hand, and he releases as if scolded.

“I apologise if I overstep. Perhaps listening to advantages would be a better place to start?”

I rest a hand on the pommel of my sword and force some wrinkles upon my brow, feigning thought.

“Continue.”

His eyes dart to my sword hilt and then return to face me. “We have made plain Klaria’s dowry would be generous, perhaps more than enough to cover any financial commitment that Lord Klar may have to Clan Hungry, for example. I am certain she will be a diligent wife to Lord Klar and obey the wishes of his First Wife.”

Klugak bows to someone behind me. I resist looking, because either my father, Lord Klar or perhaps Lady Trela has arrived. He would low bow to no one else.

“Welcome Lay Trela,” he says while his eyes range beyond her.

“I am alone, although Lord Torngul sends two of his honour guard with me for reasons I don’t know.”

“We protect the ones we love, Lady Trela.”

I resist the urge to vomit, while Lady Trela chitters. She was once one of his honour guards, was she not? Uncompromising, a warrior of great skill and yet out of her armour she is all softness and falls for the simplest of flatteries.

The chitter ends like a sword cut and with a hardness in her voice she says, “While not my daughter by birth, I would not stand by and witness in silence any taking of advantage of my Lord’s Thalgora.”

His hands fumble over themselves. “Perish the thought, Lady. I am also a servant of Lord Torngul and in this negotiation, as in any other, I act always for his benefit as I will clearly demonstrate.”

To the detriment of his family and his ambitions? I wait to hear his convincing argument, the one which will benefit us all. Trela is also somewhat of a surprise.

 “I assume you have discussed a dowry?” asks Trela.

“Yes, Lady. One which would probably clear Lord Klar’s debt with Clan Hungry.”

Lady Trela glances at me. My turn then.

“Well, step forward.” I eye off Klugak’s daughter.

Klugak reaches back and waves his daughter forward. She wears a simple one-piece blue linen shift, with bangles of silver on both wrists. Rightly so, her chin up arrogance wilts under our combined gazes. Shining black hair frames blazing orange eyes. Izga’s eye colour. I wonder if they are similar in other ways.

My eyes need to look down as my thumb and pointing finger grasp her tusks. I toss her head slightly, which she doesn’t resist.

“Open.”

Her mouth opens and after turning her head slightly towards the sun, I note her teeth look sound at least. Releasing her tusks, I stroll behind her and note her body tense up. I lift the back of her shift and note her bubble bottom. Lord Klar has many bottoms to choose from, mostly taut and athletic. Would this variation amuse him?

“Untie your loincloth.”

I hear her gasp and decide to elaborate.

“Your father has probably seen you naked before. Your brother wouldn’t care and everyone else here is female.”

A sniff and the loincloth drops. I lift the shift again and grasp a good meaty chunk of one bottom cheek and then knead her flesh. Would Lord Klar delight in the difference? I release her flesh and continue my stroll until we are face to face again. Her face and neck carry, a fading green flush.

Looking down her cleavage, I estimate mine are still bigger, yet her breast wrap disguises the shape.

Lady Trela’s voice calls from behind me, “We haven’t got all day! Unwrap your breasts, girl, and then off shoulder your shift so First Wife Thalgora can assess them.”

A tear bubbles from each of her eyes as she loosens and then allows her breast wrap to fall. One of her sisters reaches forward and gathers both the loincloth and wrap. She wriggles her shoulder free from the top of the shift to allow her breast to be revealed. This one is an unforgiving cone shape, topped by a nipple, which, as I massage the breast, grows firm. Her light green blush returns, spreading to her cleavage. Revealing the second breast results in a stronger blush, but otherwise, the breasts are near identical.

I take a step back. Her sister offers her the loincloth and breast wrap, which she slaps away, straightening her shoulders instead. Good, she chooses her battles. To defy me would mean the end of negotiations and probably expulsion from her family, yet to choose her state of dress or undress in this case well within her authority. The outline of her hard nipples under her shift is further confirmation, or simply a sexual reaction.

“Her body would intrigue Lord Klar, who has an abundance of athletes yet no gentile ladies. Grab a sword from your brother, dear.” With the ease of many times, I free my sword from its sheath and take guard.

“What? No! I forbid placing my daughter in any danger,” says Klugak while stepping between me and her.

I raise an eyebrow. “Does she have any great skill?”

He shakes his head. “No, of course not. She will be at your mercy.”

“No. My skill will ensure her safety. What say you, girl?”

Her slim fingers rest upon her father’s shoulders. “Let me do this, father. We both knew this wouldn’t be easy.” His hand rests upon her fingers, while his eyes try to wish me dead, and then he steps aside, head down.

She takes up a guard position, lower than she should, yet adequate. More than Shaza, my useless sister, can accomplish at any rate.

“Ready?”

She nods.

I feint left and strike right. There is a clash of steel. A good eye, not easily misled and although my blow is half strength, she doesn’t drop her weapon. She waits. I strike high and instead of bracing her weapon to receive the blow; she charges forward. My free hand grabs her wrist, bringing the flat of her weapon to bear upon her chest while I lower mine upon her neck. She gulps.

Stepping back, I have her weapon in my left hand and mine in the right. I throw her weapon to her brother, who snatches it via the hilt from out of the air and cleanly sheaths his sword while I sheath mine.

I break the silence. “None will expect you to defend your husband.” My eyes settle on hers. “Being able to defend yourself until he can rescue you will be enough. Otherwise worrying about your safety may force him to take foolish risks and lead to his death because make no mistake once we leave the safety of the manor, many will seek Lord Klar’s death for many reasons known only to those who assail him.”

With intensity, I scan her face, which hardens instead of going wide-eyed or any other tells of fear. I glance back at Lady Trela, who returns a tiny nod.

“Now tell us why you want to wed your daughter to Lord Klar.” As he opens his mouth, I raise my hand. “You have one chance in this, so don’t hold back, don’t scrimp with the truth because beyond everything else is motive. Any future wife or concubine will be loyal to Lord Klar first, second and third and if found wanting, be disappeared.”

“I am proud of all my children. I have raised them to be proud of their family and to commit to any family they marry into. I am hopeful, that once Lord Klar realises the joy and devotion of Klaria, he will share this with Lord Torngul.”

Lady Trela steps forward. “To what end?” she half growls.

Klugak places a hand on Kreldak. “In time I would propose my son marries Lord Torngul’s daughter Shaza.”

I stagger back into Lady Trela. We are both struggling for breath. She is the first to recover.

“You place too much importance on this to reach for that, I am afraid, Klugak. Lord Torngul will only reveal his plans for his daughters when they need to be revealed. I have made many suggestions myself and each one angered him. So, I don’t make any suggestions now.”

He smiles a knowing smile. “I am well aware of Lord Torngul and his way with things.” He casts a kindly glance at his daughter. “My daughter falls easily in love and when Lord Klar took her lips, she gave him her heart. While not my plan for her, I accept her wish, yet still try to turn this to benefit her family. So, mine is the future risk. In the present, Klaria marrying Lord Klar is no risk. He will gain a devoted wife, I am certain.”

“Come here, girl.”

Klaria takes a last look at her sisters. Her hand slides down the upper arm of her brother and she advances. Her father embraces her, reluctantly releasing her.

I crush her into my chest. “Welcome to the family of Lord Klar, Second Wife. Tonight, a wedding, then a bedding and in the morning your family will drop off your worldly possessions because we begin our journey to Lord Klar’s land deed and a new rough but exciting life!”

“Father?” she squeaks.

“Have you changed your mind?” I ask.

I feel her head shake from side to side in my arms.

“Then what?” I release her to speak.

“I am so happy!” The tears in her eyes shine like diamonds.

---Lord Torngul Heartsplitter POV

I ordered food and in silence Lord Klar and I, sitting at opposite ends of the long table, eat.

Needing time to think, while not letting him out of my sight, meant sharing a meal. He doesn’t realise the level of the exposure because of his actions. The fact he can perform a lust haze was suspicious enough and I now regret my part in bringing that capability into the open, even if by accident. I didn’t think traits of Lord Farmer Hob would transfer into Lord Klar so ardently. My original intent was to exhaust him after a modest number of seedings, he retires, which should have then removed any interest in him.

The number of spies beating a path to my door via Dorgrav proving the level of interest within Hobgoblin Town, and probably beyond, is instead at an all-time high. Once the pregnancy rate and then the birth results become plain, only a mad person could guess what comes next. Now, we have the possibility of goblins giving birth to hobgoblins. The scum of the valley reaching well above themselves and the only reason for this is Lord Klar. This can only end in bloodshed, I fear. He sits there oblivious. His solution, is simple, leave before the valley descends into chaos. Doesn’t he appreciate the destruction he will leave behind? The death and sadness?

“You must make the pregnant goblins leave the valley,” I say.

“Must I?” He raises his head and quirks an eyebrow.

“Yes, for the good of the valley and even then, I don’t know if that will be enough. The sudden disappearance of goblin slaves will have its own consequences. Especially for their master.”

“I appreciate your concern, and I know I have miscalculated somewhat. The goblins probably a step too far in hindsight, yet I confess I am a sucker for emotional blackmail.”

Before I can think, I throw my apple core at his head. His hand snatches my missile from the air, although his wide-eyed look assuages my anger somewhat.

“This is serious Lord Farmer Hob! The entire valley will be in an uproar and looking for your blood if they can’t secure your seed.” I rest my head in my hands, elbows on the table. “How long before rumour spreads beyond this valley of a hobgoblin who has lust haze, able to birth male hobgoblins and able to birth hobgoblins from goblins, where the mothers survive?”

“When you say it like that, Lord Torngul, I believe we have a problem.”

He tries for a deadpan reply, yet a leakage of humour lines his words. Humour?

“What makes you think this is a ‘we’ problem? I am your sponsor, but once away from this manor, I can say your deeds are your own.”

His reply of joyous laughter is an aggravating salt in my concern. I slap the table. He stops laughing and stares at me.

“Zeb Stone Grim, you serve me. Your role in this life doesn’t change this, nor will any future role. So, the ‘we’ I mentioned is between master and servant, now and possibly forever. To assure you I take our present situation seriously, I will offer the beginnings of a plan, and I warn you this is only a start because it isn’t perfect in any way.”

“Yes, thank you, Lord. I await your wisdom.” My hands spread out wide before me. My mocking hits home as I hear the grinding of his teeth.

“The goblins will give birth. They will survive and the babes will be attributed to the Clan Beastbane females.”

I chuckle. The more I try to rein in my nervous mirth, the louder it grows. His slap on the table awakens me, and I stifle my last chuckle with a cough.

“Tell me then,” he demands.

“You wanted to leave before the birth of any babes. How will you prevent spies from seeing goblins with growing bellies? How will you convince the hobgoblin females to accept goblin babes, even if hobgoblins? They are an easy three that come to mind…”

“As I said, this is the beginning of a plan, no more.” With his fork. he shifts his food about on his plate.

“The most grievous risk is the goblins. You need to send them into hiding. This will simplify the other… issues, maybe,” I offer.

“They will feel betrayed but may understand. What about so many slaves leaving the valley at once, as you said?”

I grin. “Like your plan, only a beginning.”

His riotous laughter is a joy and relief for both of us. A knock on the door interrupts.

I glance at Lord Klar. After his nod, I say, “Enter!”

Lady Trela and my daughter escort a hesitant hobgoblin female who I recognise. Klugak’s spawn.

“Father, I would have you marry Klaria, the eldest daughter of Klugak, to Lord Klar with my blessing.”

I wonder what that weasel is after with this marriage. My thoughts tumble over, trying to make sense of this arrangement. I glance at my wife and her slight nod confirms her agreement, so I am certain I will receive a full explanation in time. Lord Klar now stands beside me. Was my distraction that long? Is he eager? Klaria’s eyes are only for Lord Klar. Is this what one kiss does? Her body shakes, yet this isn’t fear. Her smile confirms this is nervous anticipation.

He holds an arm out to her, which she grabs and rests between her bosoms, a green blush spreading from her face down her neck. Her linen shift cannot smooth out to disguise her erect nipples underneath. I glance at Lord Klar who wears a warm smile, his eyes for his bride to be.

“As Lord Torngul Heartsplitter, Lord of the Grassplains, I proclaim you husband and second wife. Go forth and may your marriage be bountiful!”

She offers her lips, waiting with closed eyes. Lord Klar swoops in and takes her offering, picking her up in the process and carrying her off, lips still locked together.

---Klaria, Second wife of Lord Klar POV

I remember the layout of the manor and as I blink to remove the overwhelming delirium I feel in this moment; I am certain we are not heading for any of the bedrooms. Yet I know I am safe in his arms. I have no explanation and when I described my afterglow to Clan Head Durlarg after Lord Klar took my lips; he assured me Lord Klar must therefore hold a more than casual blood linage to Kluggoth or possibly Klugrath and I should be happy. This would also help explain some of his lusty feats, he advised. His waggoneers had travelled a great deal throughout the southern reaches of the valley and the blood of Rexa’s sons was rare this far south, but not impossible, he explained. So, while I had always hoped for such a linage, never in my wildest dreams did I imagine such a blessing to come true.

Laying my head on his shoulder, I still swoon. The goblin witch The Runner Clan keeps smelt my blood and declared me, not a child of Klugak even though his name is a hint at an impossible linage, but of Klugrath, first son of High Priestess Rexa, glory be her name and may her holy war against the non-believers deliver us all to worship the one true faith.

The gentle lapping of the water breaks my remembering trance. We are in the bathing room?

“Why are we here, husband?” Goosebumps rise on my forearms when I name him my husband and I revel in the certainty Lord Klar and I are meant to be.

“To bathe, of course!”

In an instant, I am flying and then splash. Once I sink, my hands and legs shoot out in all directions, trying to find up and hopefully air.

“Relax.”

His single word overcomes my panic and while I sink, I realise which way is down and draw my legs underneath me and then once my feet find the bottom push up. As I return, his powerful hands are around my waist and I am giddy with delight. Shortly after, his lips are upon mine and I feel our connection again and force my lips against his while my tongue tries to explore the inside of his mouth. Before I succeed, his arms extend out and we separate.

“Do you trust me, second wife?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” I have no other answer. I am his, and he is mine, and I have never felt closer to another male or female. Clan Head Durlarg tried to explain once but needed to shrug, ending with the words ‘you will know when you know’. I am there now, I am certain. I wish I could do the impossible and will the goblin witch here to taste Lord Klar’s blood. It would be wonderful if his linage was also Klugrath… Given my attraction to him, Clan Head Durlarg suspected such a truth.

My next breath draws in water… I struggle, yet with firm hands, he holds me beneath the water. More water fills my lungs and then darkness.

My spirit drags upon my flesh as it leaves, irresistible. I wish it back and yet a stronger calling separates us. Then I am spluttering and coughing water out of my lungs, drawing in quick sharp breaths in between. I blink. I am still in his arms. An icy shiver runs down the length of my spine. I recognise this water ceremony from the single holy text the waggoneers of The Runners Clan could procure, although not without cost, as frequent splatters of blood are found within the pages and certainly on the cover. This can only be performed by a Priestess of Klug. I try to look about. Is a wife of Lord Klar a Klugite Priestess? One even Clan Head Durlarg doesn’t know about?

“You, in part, understand what this ceremony is, don’t you?” he asks.

I slowly nod, aware someone has ownership of my spirit. I sense my spirit is before me, inside him, yet I know this to be impossible…

“I choose service, Lord Klar. That is what you offer, otherwise, death is it not?”

“I accept your service.”

My Spirit returns to me like a warm glove and yet I know as fact a faint replica is within him. Him? There is no Priestess. As our connection becomes one, I forget to breathe.

“I am not a Priest or Priestess…”

“You are Lord Farmer Hob, Lord Klug.” Warm tears roll down my cheeks. This explains every attraction I have had to him. His son’s blood flows through my veins. I am some distant relation, yet blood is blood.

Cloth tearing brings me back to the present. My linen shift is no longer covering my body…

---

The fire in my blood is real. My loins hold a warm glow within because of his seed. There is a subtle improvement in my hearing and sight… How is this all possible? I must tell Clan Head Durlarg! Lord Klug walks amongst us. In the ceremony book, there is a written tale that describes the night Lord Klug touched the High Priestess Rexa. Convinced he was trying to find his way back, she foretold a great prophecy. If enough of the faithful earnestly worshipped him, they would draw him to them. Has the prophecy come true?

A gentle breeze caresses my skin, and only then do I realise I am high and dry out of the water, yet still in the bathing room. I try to climb to my feet, and one slips out from underneath me, and I land heavily on my bottom. I check my foot. A black ooze covers the heel and arch. I wipe this away with my hand and bubbles of black pop out from my green skin. This spreads to my legs, arms, chest, and no matter how much I wipe off, more pops out of my skin to replace the loss. I sob. Joy turns to anguish. How will Lord Klug accept me now?

“There, there. No need to sob. Lord Klug is cleansing your body, although the normal reaction to his seed usually takes several days.”

She slinks lower, bouncing effortlessly upon her haunches, all the while observing me. Her slim, lithe body is unmistakable. One of The Eater Clan assassins, now I assume a loyal concubine of Lord Klug. I need to understand the pecking order in Lord Klug’s harem as I aim to be Head Wife or Head Concubine, whichever holds the most influence over Lord Klug. So, for now, I play the vulnerable fresh addition and flash her a trembling insecure smile.

“The lines on your forehead ripple ever so lightly when you are deep in thought, so if you are planning any betrayal of Lord Klug or skulduggery against your sister-wives you best school that tell, away.”

I swallow. Then I realise the improvement in my hearing and sight, and this is immediately after the ceremony. How further advanced are his other wives? Is there a limit, which means I could, in time, catch up?

“You must be careful around Thalgora. Lord Klar has not subjected her to the ceremony. All his other wives have been. Once you have sweated your impurities, you will bath and dress.” She tilts her head towards a pile of clothing. “Then you will follow me. You will not talk. You will not ask questions. There is much to do tonight, and questions can wait until we are travelling. Understand?”

“Yes.” I hold out my hand. “I am Klaria, you are?”

“The one you must obey.” She climbs to her feet and looks down at me. “Lord Klug has enough bound wives. He doesn’t need another which he knows, yet he added you. I am certain he will explain in the fullness of time, but for now, you need to be on your best behaviour, otherwise, the other wives may decide to reduce Lord Klar’s harem by one.”

Wrath boils up from the pit of my stomach. Who is she to talk, scum from the street, no lineage, trained as a weapon for a Clan which doesn’t give a fig for their pet assassins, only success or failure? Now she has lucked out, ceremony bound to Lord Klug. Who is she compared to me? I carry his son’s lineage within my blood. How can any be closer?

“Do not threaten me, you skinny assassin bitch. In my veins is the blood of Lord Klug’s first son and I ooze black sooner than all others because my blood is close to his.”

She tosses me a dagger, which I catch, surprising myself with the ease at which I complete the feat.

“I will give you a free swing.” She spread her arms wide, her dagger still sheathed at her waist.

I am not a warrior, yet I sense the strength of Lord Klug within me and in one smooth movement, I rise and plunge the dagger into her chest, hoping against all hope I impale her heart. My arm halts, the dagger point pierces her skin, and a trickle of black blood runs underneath her linen shift.

Pain. My nose explodes, and blood runs from at least one nostril. A wet smack. Double the pain and my eyes water. Then my head jolts to first one side and then the other until she drags me up by my tusks to look into her eyes. I have no strength in my legs! Where does her strength come from…? I know the answer, of course, and beyond my control, I leak.

“Your blood doesn’t count for boarcrap. Only his blood and seed do and all his wives except for you have consumed his blood and seed in volumes too great for you to catch up. Finally, one wife can’t deliver murderous intent on another. We can beat each other up well enough, but murder seems impossible.”

I feel the skin and flesh between my breasts part, hot blood dribbles from the wound, reaching my belly button and lower. My eyes go wide. She said no murderous intent, didn’t she?

“That was to repay you for cutting me.”

She drags my face lower until my eyes are between her cleavage. Her shift carries a black stain, drying as the blood flow has stopped somehow.

“We heal quickly from minor wounds, so I expect your chest and nose will be as good as new in the morning.”

She releases me and I collapse in a tangle of arms and legs while thinking, didn’t she just prove my sister-wives couldn’t end me? Oh, wait. There is one who could… Thalgora has a reputation for being rash and if all of them barked at her about me, she may try to solve the problem with her sword and then say sorry.

Within a covering of oozing black sludge, I swallow down my rising bile.