Several brides tasked with different administrative tasks are given teams of competent, trustworthy bureaucrats and told to catch up on what was allowed to be sidelined during the state of undeclared emergency. The emperor himself is quickly read in on the circumstances of different imperial territories and he spends much of the rest of the day delegating tasks such as the creation of letters of support to lords in places like Shirima and Mitilan, where urgent conflicts are currently underway.
During this time the young god is able to improve his familiarity with the totality of his empire far more than he could prior to his ascension, his deific mind hungering for information on his empire, and comparing that information to things like the rest of the world’s socioeconomic situation and even life on the mysterious world of his origin; “Earth”. The servants and bureaucrats note his seemingly endless hunger for information but chalk it up to his amnesiac state and his desire to no longer be afflicted by amnesia, as he decides to communicate with them for the sake of maintaining the thoroughness of the deception he is maintaining.
Before either the emperor or his brides realize it, hours have passed. Even the mighty living god is aware that there are only so many hours in a day, and as powerful as he is, he prefers not to use his vast power in such unnecessary ways as to manipulate time to get more bureaucratic work done. In time the emperor of Juttun finds himself squirreled away from the mountain of work that needs to be done and is taken to the depths of the palace so that he can spend some time with some of his brides.
I quickly learn that perhaps the most challenging part of keeping up my unusual deceit is going to be behaving as though I have not just become a superbeing. I knew that, logically, but there is a stark difference between knowing something intuitively and experiencing it directly.
In the hours since I have awoken from my transformative slumber, I have had plenty of chances to realize and internalize this simple fact, but perhaps none of those chances have been as strikingly eye-opening as the one I am currently in, is. I watch, curiously, as a sword slowly closes the distance between its wielder and myself.
Distantly, I hear Sellis, one of my brides, begin the walk towards us, ready to announce that dinner is ready and escort us back to the odah. With each passing second the range of my senses grows a bit, and in time I’ve no doubt I’ll be able to hear everything occurring in the world at once.
The one wielding the sword flying towards me is the tan-skinned beauty named Acataca. The skimpily dressed woman is a warrior through and through and her blade is a beautiful thing made of polished silver. She wields it with truly incredible skill, but her adeptness with her blade is simply not enough for the thing to reach me. Or at least it wouldn’t be if I wasn’t determined to cling to the deception I am weaving.
I allow the blade to draw closer to me before I take my own weapon and lash out with it. Prior to my ascension, though still after I was born on this world, I spent many years practicing with weapons of all sorts. I was never a warrior at Acataca’s level of skill, as she is a candidate to be the captain of the “Guardzonians”, my personal bodyguards, but I was skilled enough that my ability to counter this strike should not be suspicious.
My blade, a weapon made of sturdy steel with no unnecessary decorations or accessories, lashes out furiously and impacts Acataca’s own sword. The impact causes Acataca to smirk at me, even as the raw power behind my blow reverberates throughout our weapons and causes her arm to visibly quake. I possess absolute control over the strength of my blows, and I put in just enough force into my strike to cause Acataca to feel my potent physical power.
“Chief… I see your slumber did not cause your muscles to atrophy or your skill to lessen.” Acataca mutters, a smug grin on her face even as she inelegantly shakes her arm. I smile back at her and chuckle.
“Acataca my love… I am not helpless.” I tell her, resolutely, causing the woman to laugh heartily.
“Come then, my chieftain… Show me your skill!” She says, energetically, before leaping at me and beginning to swing her blade frantically at me. Her strikes are as skillful as they are speedy, and I don’t doubt many warriors would fall to her sword if she were an active fixature on the battlefield.
She is a warrior beyond almost anyone else in the empire on a personal level, matched only by the likes of Pylia and Melain, but I can still see her movements with ease thanks to the vast gulf of skill, speed, and power that separates the two of us. Sadly for her, some distances can’t be bridged by skill alone, and the gulf between a human and a living god is one such gap.
I focus on the warrior and allow blows that would deal simple, shallow damage to me to land, while I parry the more serious ones that would do real harm if they landed on a normal human. As I focus on the warrior, I can feel time slowing around me, granting me time to make all sorts of mental calculations and decide which of her blows to let land, all while effortlessly parrying her more precise and dangerous strikes.
Each of her strikes is blindingly fast, quick enough to put even a peak human on the defensive, but that sort of speed simply doesn’t hold up to my level of speed. To me, when I focus, the strikes are slow and easily watched, so I do not struggle to study her strikes and to plan appropriate counters. If I wanted to I could easily overwhelm her, but for now my purpose is to keep my true nature hidden so I allow her strikes to occur.
I endure her blitzkrieg with surprising stoicism, which is enough to make her to smile, impressed, by me. When she is done assaulting me, I allow my wounds to “bleed” just a touch, to maintain the illusion that she is actually harming me, even if just a bit.
“Hmm… I see, you really aren’t helpless.” She tells me, assured by the quality of my self-defense. She studies me, even as I begin to feign being a bit tired in the wake of her assault. I sense her gaze on my skin, and I chuckle as I feel her arousal slightly increasing the more, she studies me. Acataca is a warrior and it seems that she likes that I too am a bit of a warrior, and I smirk back at her.
We are sparring inside of a private training facility located in the basement of the palace. A few of my other brides are seated nearby, watching our sparring match curiously. Other brides are elsewhere, doing various tasks such as reading through reports from other parts of the empire or attending to the royal archives.
Acataca makes no effort to move towards me again, and she quietly sighs. I can tell she is heartened by the fact that my apparent memory loss did not deprive me of the skill I have with the blade, which even if it doesn’t match up to her own skill is still not easily overcome. I am quietly grateful that I never slacked off when it came to working out, even if I was far from a warrior-prodigy. When neither of us move towards the other, my brides begin to supportively clap and applaud our bout, cheering for both of us.
One of the brides here, the beautiful white-haired maiden named “Hacel” approaches me, a soaked towel in her hands. She is wearing a summer dress and smells of the gardens that dot the palace. She smiles at me and as soon as she reaches me, she begins to wrap the towel around parts of my body that bleed.
“My lord, allow me to heal your wounds.” She says, softly. The towel begins to glow as it touches my skin, and I feel its warmth wash over my “injured” body. I sigh, relievedly, as the magic of the towel enters my body. I could deny it, but I elect not to since I can only deny the thing’s magic due to my nature as a divinity and, for now, that must remain a secret.
“Thank you, Hacel.” I say, to the beautiful white-haired maiden. She smiles, shyly, at me, and lets out a soft giggle. I lightly place my forehead against hers, and smile at her, causing her to blush furiously.
“My lord…” She stammers out, causing me to chuckle just a bit. She is a shy little thing, a woman unused to the attentions of a man, or of the ways that I make her heart pound like a drum.
“You smell like the garden I walked past to get to the odah.” I tell her, smiling at the woman. That causes her to relax, and mutter that that was her favorite place to spend time while waiting for news about my condition.
“Come, sweetie. Let’s go to the others.” I say, even as I offer her my arm. Acataca quickly bounds up to us and stops when she’s on the other side of me.
“Don’t forget about me!” She says, feigning annoyance. I laugh lightly and look over at her, my eyes twinkling with mischievous joy as I begin to reply to her.
“No one could ever forget you Acataca.” I tell her, sincerely. She is a disarmingly beautiful woman, with sun kissed features, gorgeous brown eyes, and she is dressed in fine Mitilan clothing. Her clothes are lightly enchanted, arcanely touched to protect her from steel blades and cover her body in a thin forcefield in case she is attacked by someone. The clothing is accented by feathers and scales from animals native to her homeland, one of the regions of Juttun more in need of direct oversight. The beautiful warrior lightly kisses my cheek, while Hacel happily lays her head on my shoulder.
We begin to walk over to the crowd of assembled women, and I turn my attention back towards them. I can see a few of my early favorites, such as Aveer of the mountain elves and Atima, the deposed princess of Kelri. They all smile brightly at us, with the military women, Kaltherine and Marazine seeming especially impressed. They both step forward, smiling brightly at me, as I approach.
“My emperor, that was very well-done. Very few men in the empire can withstand Acataca’s… loving affections, in the heat of battle.” Marazine, a woman with light blonde hair dressed in the finery of the navy, tells me. I smile at her, aware of both her resume and the brief history we had prior to my ascension. Deciding where she’d be positioned was easy and reaffirming that choice is still easy.
“Emperor, I would be afraid to challenge someone who can endure Acataca’s whirlwind of assaults on a real battlefield.” Kaltherine, sounding decidedly less formal, says as I approach the two women. I chuckle and turn to face her, before reaching forward and softly kissing her cheek.
Both Kaltherine and Marazine are two of the women I intend to tell the truth too more quickly than some of the others in my harem. Being able to count on the military is important, and fully reading in its leaders is something I shouldn’t put off doing, especially given my plans for Belens.
Distantly, I hear a door leading into this training arena, open. I glance in its direction and I see the soft-features of Sellis Halfelf, a half-elven woman dressed in the elegant clothing of an imperial maid. She sees us, including me staring in her direction, and she gives me a light nod and curtsy, before calling out to us.
“Dinner is ready! Please join me and the rest of the harem in the odah.” She says, her voice carrying across the hundred or so feet that separate us. I turn and smile at the haremettes, all of whom quickly begin to stand and walk towards the finely dressed maid.
The next few minutes are filled with idle conversation and walking, all in the direction of the pristine odah where my brides live. It takes us about ten minutes to cross the palace and make it to where my brides spend the time they spend in the palace when they aren’t working.
When we enter the odah we are taken to a balcony-like area overlooking the pools and fountains that dot the ground floor of the place. A long table is waiting for us, and it is filled with many dishes from throughout the empire. The brides that weren’t with me in the sparring arena are here, seated at various seats throughout the long table, and all of them smile at their sister-brides and myself when they see us.
Dinner is a pleasant experience for the vast harem. Everyone is eager to spend time with the newly awoken emperor, and he himself does not reject any of their attentions or affections, while everyone eats and drinks their fill. The young emperor himself is quite energetic, heartily eating, all while impressively doing his best to be the picture of etiquette and class. He is not quite successful in maintaining a certain level of decorum, but his faux pas are all forgiven by his brides, who are happy to see him up and well.
The emperor spends some time with each of his brides, carefully and elegantly revealing that if nothing else he can remember very vague bits of information about them. He speaks to Acataca and reminds her of some time the two spent together as children, while he tells Stool that he remembers her birth name; June. This is enough to excite and reassure even the most worried of his brides, all of whom appreciate their emperor’s efforts.
In what feels like no time at all two and a half hours have passed, and some of the women in the vast edifice retire to their rooms. Zach notes that each of the brides secretly hopes that he visits them tonight. He stands at a pivotal precipice; he needs to choose which of his brides to spend the night with. This is an important task, and the choice he makes here will be remembered, by his brides if by no one else.
A mere three and a half hours after he and his companions went to dinner, he finds himself alone, aside from the few servants with permission to come into the odah and who do the work needed to keep it clean. They dart around him, carefully grabbing dishes and cleaning where they can without disturbing their emperor. For all intents and purposes, he is alone as he contemplates what to do next.
