“Alright, listen to me.” Rykard gave the three men a warm smile. “You’re clearly three individuals of talent and character. Above all of that, I see dedication. You made all of these statues for no other reason than love for the craft and I love to see it.” Jumping up, Rykard put his foot on the seat of his chair, like he was a great explorer standing at the precipice of a new discovery. “I’d love to call you the first of my subjects. You and all your artist friends that your prude, boring world did not appreciate! A nation covered in statues of scantily clad women, that’s the dream, am I right?”

“”YEAH!!!”” the three responded in unison.

“Great to find such kindred spirits.” Rykard put his foot back down on the floor and marched over to the trio of dragon men. Grabbing the outer two by the shoulders, shaking them with all manly intent he could muster, he continued. “Do me the favour - spread the news of my arrival. Spread word of my wish to partake in this festival. Tell the people what I tell you today: your art shall find a home in our new world. I’ll meet everyone by the lake in… how many days?”

“Six days, maybe seven, it's not a definite start date,” one of the men helpfully supplied.

“Six days then!” Rykard ended his speech. Hands in his pockets, he dropped back onto the chair. “Can you do that for me? Spread the message?” They all eagerly nodded. “Fantastic. I’ll go grab my muse in the meantime.”

“You have a muse, my king?”

“Oh yeah, submissive redhead with the cutest, fluffiest ears. She’s pretty great,” Rykard gave them a cocky grin. He hadn’t missed the sudden appearance of his title and he wasn’t going to comment on it either. If they were already devoted enough to throw it in there of their own accord, they’d make for better messengers.

Rykard left the house before the trio did. They were discussing what routes to take and packing travel bags. Neither were things the Competitor could contribute to.

Six days was long enough for three people to spread the message through the entire Hexagon, especially if they managed to rope in a few more people along the way. Getting everyone influential focused in one spot would inevitably give Rykard the opportunity to get their fealty. Miyo would no doubt be happy to hear about it. A week to subjugate the first Hexagon sounded like a pretty resounding success. Albeit, they would only see how the others compared once he actually succeeded.

Fetching Miyo was done for the simple reason that Rykard would have been bored out of his mind if he had spent six days just twiddling his thumbs waiting for the festival to begin. It took him half a day and one break to get back.

Miyo was sitting outside the mansion, on a bench that oversaw the stretch of hills. From far away, she had seen him approach, and simply offered him an orange when he plopped down next to her. Without a single word, Rykard grabbed the peeled fruit and pulled out a slice. The juiciness filled his mouth, a nice refreshment after the hours spent running. 

“I did not expect you back so soon.” Miyo’s eyes travelled over the page of the book in her lap. It was propped up against her thigh. A theorem on military strategies, Rykard guessed by what he could see, grabbed from the estate’s library. Many things could be said about his family’s excuses for putting him in this Hexagon. For all the unsaid truths, the effort of making this look like an honour had been a genuine one. The estate was filled with all manner of useful facilities, currently unmanned.

“I had great success,” Rykard told her and reported what he had learned.

“Painters of metal… how droll.” Miyo closed the book and stood up. Rykard watched her walk indoors, then return without the book. The time between her entering the mansion and leaving it was too short for her to have done anything besides place it on the closest surface. “And you want to take me along?”

“Did you just put the book away because you knew it's a possibility I’ll scoop you up the moment you ask that question?” Rykard asked, deeply amused.

“Are you going to?” Miyo answered with a question of her own. She put a hand on her hip and shifted her weight, emphasising the width of the bottom of her hourglass. “I will say that being carried for several hours does sound like it’d lose its romantic charm.”

Rykard could understand. Carrying her for hours was a minor effort with his strength and endurance. Being the one carried, with no further support, must be taxing on her after a while though.

“Alright, let’s give the lady something to sit on,” Rykard hummed and closed his eyes. He reached out to the great potential beyond, his magic the thread that would bind the shape of a carriage into this new world. A self-driving one, that would let them have time to themselves as they travelled.

The spell woven, he let his mana fully pour into the framework. Only halfway through did he realise that the mana he was offering was much too little for the task he was performing. When he opened his eyes again, he looked at a magnificent carriage. All ebon wood and gold-painted.

Only problem was that it fit neatly in his hand.

Miyo raised her hand and chuckled. “The fearsome Rykard, failing a conjuring,” she commented.

“Technically, I succeeded,” Rykard responded with a grin of his own. Tossing the toy over his shoulder, he let it fall into the grass. It would sit there until the binding spell unravelled. “Walking it is, then.”

“I suppose you can’t just try again?” Miyo asked.

“It’s best not to repeatedly prod the conjuring realm.” Rykard still remembered when he had spent half an hour just repeatedly summoning feathers out of boredom. The magic had eventually rebounded and rewarded him with several angry chickens that were pecking away at him. The conjurer’s realm had some kind of governing will and that will could be quite petty. “Not like we’re in a hurry either.”

They entered the mansion and packed a couple of things. Food and water for the journey, the basic necessities of comfort and hygiene, as well as a few changes of clothes. Most of it ended up on Rykard’s back. Miyo only carried what she needed to have on hand.

Then they set out.

“Do you believe you will have to partake in this competition?” the redhead asked.

“Almost certainly.” Already, Rykard was considering what he was going to create. “One large reason why I fetched you is that I need inspiration. They seem rather enamoured with cute women.” He shot the kitsune a confident grin. “I decided I’d get the cutest one.”

“Flatterer,” Miyo hummed, a tiny bit of red dusting her cheeks.

“Among other things.” Rykard put his hand on her ass. First, he just squeezed, enjoying the way her flesh yielded under his fingers and how it shifted in firmness with each step. Miyo’s blush became more intense, particularly when he pressed two fingers between her legs. The yellow fabric of her dress outlined the shape of her bubble butt. He could feel the softness of swelling pussy lips. “Still no underwear,” he hummed approvingly.

“Why would I bother?” Miyo responded, a bit of heat under her cool tone.

“Why would you indeed,” her Master stated. He ran his fingers over her womanhood one more time, before pulling away. They’d take the time to rest eventually. “Did you cast the fertility spell?”

Among the few magics everyone with even a basic aptitude learned, the fertility spell was far up there. It allowed women to detect in themselves whether they were with child or not - before such things became obvious anyway.

Miyo nodded, then shook her head, “Your seed did not take.”

“Hm, how rare. I failed at two things today.”

They left through the mountain pass, taking their first evening rest at the edge of the new Hexagon. By all rights, it should have been chilly, but the magic of the gods advanced even into the night. The sun eventually vanished under the grid, leaving the two of them in a near absolute darkness. There was no source of light anywhere. The sky, for now, was empty, not even a moon filling it. Divine Games would later decide who got the honour of placing such permanent fixtures in the world.

Cuddled up, Rykard and Miyo laid in a little nest they had made with excess blankets and pillows from the mansion. It was comfortable, doubly so with their naked bodies providing warmth to one another.

Rykard was gently nudged out of his slumber. The blanket that covered him and the pillows he rested on were both still warm and smelled faintly of Miyo’s fruity perfume. Rykard hummed and stretched, relaxing every part of him - except one.

Down below, the gentle nudging occurred a second time. A long, hot touch of something dextrous and wet. The familiar sensation of a tongue gliding up his morning wood. Cracking one eye open just a bit, Rykard spotted the bulge in the blankets, or rather the two hills. One was right where he felt the tender touch of his travel companion on his shaft. The other was the length of her torso removed and raised much higher.

Miyo must have noticed his stirring. With a kick of her leg and a wave of her tail, she moved the large blanket enough that fresh air flowed underneath. A mildly displeasing corruption of the pleasant warmth he had enjoyed, albeit one he was willing to endure. After all, he was reimbursed by the sight of Miyo’s bubble butt in the morning light.

Bottom up, the vixen knew how to move her fluffy tail so it didn’t get in the way of his viewing enjoyment. Face down, her upper half was still covered by the blanket. She pushed her nostrils against the base of his cock and took an inhale so deep, he could feel the air moving over the wet streaks she had left along its respectable size.

After giving each half of his sack a tender kiss, she licked back up along the underside. Her tongue dragged wonderfully over the sensitive spot under the glans. Then, she went for the main course.

Velvety lips wrapped around the head of his cock. Swirling around, she tasted his precum as if it was the finest nectar in the world. Something he had encouraged in her, certainly, and something that had existed beforehand. Their compatibility went much deeper than what he had trained her to do.

Her appreciation for his taste and smell was natural. The ease with which she glided down was certainly not. Many hours had been spent with her on her knees in front of him, learning first to work around, then overpower her gag reflex. Centimetre for centimetre, she took him into her. Even when she sucked him past her mouth and into her throat, there was no hesitation. Little moans vibrated around his cock. He stretched out the insides of her slippery hole and she took him all the way to the base.

Rykard basked in the heat for a moment, then he finally tossed the blanket aside. Blinking once, either due to the light or the cock in her throat, Miyo’s green eyes quickly focused on him. Her light pink lips were stretched to the limit, her nose buried in his smooth groin, and her eyelids fluttered.

“You know how to wake up your Master.” His hand landed between her big ears. Ruffling her hair and playing with those delectably soft, fluffy, red outgrowths, he had the fox woman’s eyes go from lustful to glassy. Her ass swayed in rhythm with his scratches, moving jiggling flesh and red fur in unison. “Don’t forget what you’re here to do now, comfort hole.”

A tiny nod came from the objectified submissive. Hands folded behind his head, Rykard just let her do as she pleased. Gradually, she glided back up. The bulge his cock created receded - only to return after the redhead had taken a single breath.

Wet, slurping sounds filled the air, underlined with the occasional grunt or moan. Both of Miyo’s hands were where Rykard could see them. A good comfort hole did not touch herself without permission and Miyo was a very good comfort hole. Her mouth had sweetened a great many mornings since they had first eloped.

Accelerating quickly, as if to make up for all the mornings she had missed recently, the redhead was the image of a proper cocksucker. Her cheeks were caved in, her lips a rarely broken vacuum seal, and her eyes alternated between rolling up and staring into his.

To announce his impending orgasm was needless twice over. One, she knew perfectly what his tells were. From the pitch of his voice to the way his cock twitched inside her, Miyo was aware of when her treat was almost ready. Two, why would he tell her? She was a cocksleeve, to take his seed was her purpose.

Miyo glided most of the way up, wrapped both hands around his shaft, and started pumping. Her tongue pressed against the sensitive underside. Her lips were perfectly wrapped around the edge between head and shaft. Her eyes begged for him to cum. She moaned words that could have been pleas, had she dared to let them get past the barrier of her lips.

With one last grunt, Rykard let the first load of the day pump into her mouth. Spurt for spurt, he felt the pressure in his balls lessen and a great bliss replace it. The vixen was milking him for all that she could, keeping her hands moving. Only as the force of the orgasm began to subside, did she slow down her masturbation. With one hand now, she grabbed him tightly at the base and wrung every last drop of his seed out his shaft with skilful, pleasuring motions.

Very careful not to waste a single bit of it, Miyo pulled away and presented the thick white filling her mouth. Kneeling like that in front of him, her tail wagging softly, she awaited the inevitable order. “Swallow.”

Watching Miyo close her mouth and gulp down the entirety of his morning load never ceased to be wonderful. It was thick, so she had to tilt her head back a bit and expose her slender, white neck. The muscles tensed, as the liquid was forced down her throat. When she had succeeded, she opened her mouth in a mixture of relief, moan, and laugh, as if she had just drank from the finest wine.

Although she was kneeling in front of his laying form, it felt like she was looking up at him. Her hands were between her mildly parted thighs, fingers twitching towards her drenched cunt. Barely, she managed to not touch herself, as she presented her now clean mouth.

“Good girl,” Rykard said those words with all the love and passion he had for her.

Miyo nearly orgasmed from that alone. “T-thank you, Master,” she stuttered from submissive lust.

They gazed at each other, longingly, while Rykard considered what to do to her in return. In the end, he opted for the most terrible option. “Let’s get breakfast,” he announced. He caught a tiny whimper from the hot and bothered vixen, but that was as much backtalk as she was willing to give.

“As you say,” Miyo mumbled, in an attempt to regain her calm.

Half to repay her, half to tease her more, Rykard fed Miyo the grapes they had packed. The redhead managed to regain her outward calm, hiding her need under the surface. Edging her was far from unusual in their dynamic and she did not drop a single comment on the matter. “I once more present you with two questions, Rykard.”

He presented her with a grape and she snapped it out of his fingers with her sharp teeth. While she chewed the tiny treat, his other hand was combing her red hair. It was naturally silky and just a bit wavy. Care had to go into it to keep it pretty and Rykard was heavily invested in Miyo looking her best self.

“Question one, which route do we take?” Miyo’s tail flopped in his lap. “We could move to the festival location and prepare whatever you need prepared or we could move about the mountains and make our presence known.”

“I have three loyal artists on that,” Rykard reminded her.

“Still, it’s an option.” Miyo brushed over the smooth skin of his shoulder. “Second is whether we should try to properly start your harem while we have the population around. There’s bound to be at least one interesting dragon-kin among them.”

“That is a good question,” Rykard hummed. On one hand, to expand his harem was always the goal. On the other, he wouldn’t want to recruit just random women off the streets. Those that surrounded him would have to be the best and brightest, or at least have an entertaining personality. It was going to be his harem, after all, and only the best was good enough for him.