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The days following their victory over the city that once enslaved them were spent on celebration, and the liberated slaves indulged themselves on the rich bounty the conquered city had to offer them. Warehouses were broken into and their goods were distributed all over, from exotic foods that the elite once engorged themselves in to the finest wines stored in painted jars, they had their fill of their former masters' luxuries until they grew slow from excess.
Day in, day out they spent it all on feasts, drink and fornication.
"To Sanguinius, Savior of the Damned!" A chorus of cheers rang clear through the mixed noise of music, grunts and moans in the Gilded Palace. "Long may he live, long may he reign!"
Sanguinius himself sat at the marble throne that once belonged to one of the Exalted Ones, surrounded by many former comfort slaves impatiently waiting at his feet for his attention. He leaned back lazily on the fur padded rest, pushing an entire bunch of grapes in his mouth as he basked in the honors thrown his way. His wanting eyes searched the chamber, past the half-naked women swaying and dancing atop the tables surrounded by lustful warriors, until they fell upon a flustered scantily-clad servant barely surviving her trip through the courtroom as she carried a platter filled with fruit from one table to another.
This servant was the once revered Exalted One of Blades, Lady Nefertiri, now reduced to as low as the slaves she once owned. As part of some cruel game, the woman had been given the role to serve in the Gilded Palace with each day brought with more humiliation by her vindictive conquerors. The pinching, the groping and the lecherous stares, she endured it all with her head held high. Naturally, her defiance served to anger her new masters and so the game reached a point where the abuse started to become more visceral.
A shove here, a slap over there. Bruised and scratched, Nefertiri fell to the floor unheeded by her masters. A pained yelp escaped her when her right hand was crushed beneath the weight of a man's boot.
"Bring her to me." She heard the voice she despised among all others say.
Strong hands lifted her to her feet and pulled her towards the throne. The narrowed eyes of the women at his feet followed Nefertiri as she was brought before Sanguinius. The former Exalted One refused to look at him as she rubbed at her bruised arm and shoulder.
"You still live? Your fortitude impresses me, for one who looks so...frail."
Gone were the heavy gold ornaments that once adorned her neck and wrists, save for the small gilded chains that coiled around her ankles and toes- the jewelry of prized slaves. Her skin, though slightly marred by the scratches and bruises she suffered from her tormentors, was white as marble. Having spent her life bathing in milk and scented oils, sparing no expense in maintaining herself, Nefertiri remained radiant and her beauty shone regardless of her predicament. Her shining black hair, no longer bound by the silver crown she once wore, now cascaded down her shoulders freely.
What caught Sanguinius' attention the most were her fiery green eyes that flared with every spiteful word that fell from her lips, "Fortitude I have, doomed to be tested daily thanks to you."
Sanguinius leaned forward and seized the chain that hung from her collar. He tugged at her leash, pulling her into his waiting arms. He scooped her up into his lap, forcing her to straddle his hips. Amused at her discomfort he mockingly said to her as he watched her struggle to keep her composure, "I like your fire, woman. Truly, it burns hotter than these smoldering wenches that sit at my feet."
The aforementioned wenches at his feet recoiled as though his words slapped them across their faces, but Sanguinius ignored them as he caressed an irate Nefertiri's exposed thighs and waist with his roaming, marauderous hands. "You shall warm my bed in the coming nights."
"I will never submit to you, fiend!"
"Good. Now, let's test that fortitude again." Sanguinius rose up, hefting the woman onto his massive shoulder as he moved towards the empty bedchamber that once belonged to Nefertiri.
Bursting through the doors, the angel tossed the struggling fragrant bundle into the large bed. He followed her in, discarding his robe to reveal an impressive form rippling with steely muscle. Nefertiri refused to meet his eye as she turned her head to the side. Her heart hammered against her rib cage as her mind frantically searched for any means of escape.
A humorless laugh escaped her lips as she thought of the irony of her situation. Not too long ago, she had indulged herself with a couple of male comfort slaves in this very room. To have her body taken against her will, it was a feeling entirely alien to her, but she realized this was something slaves endured every day of their lives.
"Do I hear amusement in your voice so soon after cutting me with your tongue?" Sanguinius inquired as he loomed over her.
Having been stripped of all nobility since her enslavement, Nefertiri found herself reduced to cling to the one instinct that once drove her to ascend the heights of Samarkar political power. She fought, tooth and nail, to get to where she was. Now, she had to fight to live. As much as she hated to admit it, Sanguinius was her only means to survival. If her defiance amused him, it wouldn't last. She knew she had to play the game right, keep the angel hooked until other options would present themselves to her.
Like in politics, though requiring methods that were more tangible and direct, Nefertiri had to use her wits and rely on her will to survive to get her through this sordid affair. With a mind sharp as her former title demanded, she quickly formed a plan that would buy her time. Later, she can think about escaping.
For now, she needed to keep Sanguinius interested in her.
"You will not find me so easily conquered as this city." Nefertiri growled, showing the flames that stoked the angel's passion. "You may take my body, but my heart will always burn against y-"
The woman squeaked as Sanguinius silenced her with a bruising kiss.
The dull throb of a hundred feet marching across the common roads could be heard for miles away.
One could easily mistake it for the marching of an army, if one missed the cacophony of weeping, moaning and the lamentation of a people banished from their home city. This was no army, but refugees tossed out into the wilderness following the sack of Samarkar. After overthrowing the Exalted Ones in a single night and seizing control of the mercenary armies that once swore their loyalty to Lady Nefertiri, Sanguinius' followers removed the former inhabitants of the merchant city and occupied their properties as compensation for their enslavement.
Though grateful for escaping with their lives and avoiding the less fortunate fates of those who remained in the city, the refugees were left with nothing but the clothes on their backs and whatever they could carry on their way out of Samarkar, and these would not last them for long.
Among them were the few surviving members of the Watchers Guild, who took it upon themselves to uphold the oath they had once pledged to their grandmaster and did their best in safeguarding the refugees. With Grandmaster Gus dead, they now looked up to Commander Vestra for guidance. The woman, though still feeling the weight of grief at the loss of her friends, hid her pain beneath a determined and unbroken veneer. Through her, the Watchers found strength and pushed on in spite of their misfortune.
After spending several days trekking the roads as far away as possible from Samarkar, the refugees took pause and made camp at a flat plain. Makeshift tents and shelters were erected across the grassland in a tight circle to make the Watchers' task of protecting the people an easier one. The strain of sudden poverty among the refugees who had just recently been torn from their privileged lives proved unavoidable and tensions rose among the mixed population. Vestra did her best to keep the order among them, and just before she thought violence would break out, Lord Regent Maltheus' army chanced upon the refugees.
Though not as large as the one he lost, House Lykkarius' army was still a sight to behold. Seizing all that he had in his family's treasury in a mad gamble for balancing the scales, Maltheus recruited every notable mercenary guild he could find in the land to his cause. Numbering 30,000 from the venerable mecha-knight to the simplest footman, his diverse and well structured replacements may overshadow his previous preparations.
Riding out personally with his coterie of bodyguards, Maltheus approached the Watcher commander, intent on finding out why a group of refugees was sitting out in the middle of nowhere. Once he was a few feet away from where she stood, Maltheus dismounted and walked towards her.
He noted the symbol of her guild on her battered armor, "You, you're a Watcher."
"I am, my lord."
"Why are you all out here instead of seeking shelter in the cities? Samarkar is not far from your camp."
Vestra shook her head, "We were all from Samarkar, my lord. These people I watch over have been robbed of their homes and have been cast out to die in the wilderness. We, what is left of the Watchers, will fight to keep that from happening until they find safety in a new home."
"Samarkar? Taken?" Maltheus couldn't believe what he was hearing, knowing full well the strength of its defenses. "How and by whom?"
"I think you're familiar." Vestra answered, "He hides himself beneath the guise of an angel, promising goodwill to those he meets yet leaves destruction in his wake. I speak of the winged daemon that laid waste to your army, the same who had sacked Samarkar. I speak of Sanguinius."
Maltheus' eyes flashed in anger at the commander's words, "You are certain of this?"
"I am." Vestra nodded, "Our paths have joined once before, and I even considered him a friend until he destroyed my city and killed my master. Now, I yearn for his death."
"As do I." Maltheus replied, looking to the east where the city could be found. He traveled all this way seeking an audience with the Exalted One of Blades to bolster the ranks of his army with more mercenaries. He realized he would not get those mercenaries, but he would at least get the next best thing. Maltheus turned to the commander, "What is your name?"
"I am Commander Vestra, my lord."
"Well then, Vestra, how would you like to return Sanguinius the favor?"
The night passed ever so slowly.
The city of Samarkar had fallen silent, its new denizens fallen into a drunken stupor after days of seemingly endless merriment. To those who looked from outside its walls, the city looked as impenetrable as before with its tall gates shut and its sentry towers alight with burning torches. Yet the truth was that not even a single sentry had been posted, for all the former slaves had taken part in the festivities and now sat slack against the walls asleep as everyone else. From every street, corner and alley, they all lay scattered across the cobblestones with their broken wine jars and tankards still clutched tight between their fingers.
In the Gilded Palace, the former slaves all too lay where they had fallen, all naked and curled up against one another after hours of untold debauchery.
Only Sanguinius and his newly claimed slave woman Nefertiri lay awake. The angel, blood still hot after spending the night testing the woman's fortitude, clutched her sweaty and naked form close to his chest. He nuzzled her neck gently, breathing in deeply of her fragrance as he kissed the tender flesh of her cheek and ear.
Nefertiri hugged her knees to her chest as she felt Sanguinius spoon against her back. She lay as though she was in pain, but in truth, she lay curled up against him in shame.
She expected a night filled with suffering as her unwilling body was taken, but was astonished that such expectations were subverted in the most mind-numbingly titillating way possible. Never before, among all the men and women she had taken into her bed, none came close to what she experienced that night. In the few blurry moments that she remembered, she looked back on the unsurpassed skill the angel displayed in the bedroom which matched what he displayed on the battlefield, blushing at the thought that he indeed fucked like a god.
She hated him with all her heart, but her treacherous body screamed his name.
"Kill me..." Nefertiri groaned, unwilling to fight the war brewing in her mind as she was too exhausted to even think of it.
"Admitting defeat so soon?" Sanguinius mockingly rumbled in her ear, "I thought you fancied yourself as unconquerable." He rose up to get himself a drink, playfully smacking her across the rear on his way out. He donned his robe and walked out into the balcony to survey all he had seized for himself.
Samarkar, though just recently suffering a violent takeover, was still as beautiful as he had seen the first day he spotted it atop the clouds of Y'ttetia. And Nefertiri, like the city, feigned contempt when she actually craved his touch. It felt good. Not just the fucking, but the feeling of seizing something under ones control because they had the strength to do so.
A deep rumble in the distance told of an approaching storm, and added a chill in the wind as it swept across the city. Sanguinius took a long sip of his wine and smiled, proud of all he had accomplished.
This was power. This was what he was meant for. A conqueror, not some tool fashioned to fit his parents' design.
"Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone." Lightning streaked across the sky, followed close by the roll of thunder, both a metaphor for the cold rage that smoldered in Celestine's heart. Absolutely livid by all she had seen, Sanguinius' mother struggled to rein in her temper as she flew down to his level at the balcony. "You have shamed our family with your actions, Sanguinius."
Sanguinius, once his surprise faded, hid his fear beneath a mask of contempt. He had not accounted for the possibility of his mother's confrontation, and now that she was here his plans for conquest were brutally shoved aside. "Have you come to drag me back to that pauper's hole? I won't make it easy for you."
Celestine blinked twice, her mind barely able to process what her spiteful son just said to her. "Even now, you defy instruction. Your father wanted to do this under a gentle hand- but even the stubborn blade must be hammered to correction!"
Sanguinius roared and unfurled his wings to take flight. Though he was noticeably bigger than his mother, Celestine was a warrior priestess of the Ecclesiarchy unlike the ones Sanguinius faced in his relatively short life. She caught him by the neck and slapped him across the face, "Foolish child, you would strike against your own mother?"
"Bitch!" Sanguinius spat, balling up a fist to send it slamming into Celestine's stomach. With the other, he hurled her against one of the Gilded Palace spires. Stone and gold bricks broke into a cloud of debris as Celestine's fall shattered the tower, but she quickly recovered and gave in to her rage. In a flash, she flew up and took hold of her son, throttling him across the face of the palace before throwing him out to land some distance out into the city.
Sanguinius twisted about to let his feet land on the ground and broke the cobblestones into a pile of rubble when they met his soles. The noise of the fight and the threat of rain aroused the sleeping former slaves, and they took shelter even as the angels battled on Samarkar's skies.
They grappled in the air, neither Celestine nor Sanguinius holding back their demigodlike strength as they both moved to beat the other into submission. Sanguinius, noticing the storm that gathered above them, seized his mother by the throat and flew them both up. He raised her above him just as the next bolt of lightning bounced back and forth amongst the clouds, striking both of them and sending them crashing against the western wall. The force of their fall was enough to send the arcane stones crumbling, they left a large gap in between where they landed, enough to fit ten men who stood together.
Shaken, bruised and bleeding from minor wounds, Sanguinius growled at Celestine as he pushed himself back on his feet. "I'm not going back, you hear me you stubborn sow?! You tried to force a purpose on me once, I have found my own!" He pointed to the city, "Do you see this? I have taken this city singlehandedly, I have realized my power in a way that can never be found in that hovel you call a home! And these people you see, I have freed them from slavery and offered them a place under my rule!"
"And you call this power, boy?" Celestine retorted, "Your foolishness has clouded your mind beyond anything I can comprehend! You are so blind with arrogance that you cannot even see what consequences your recklessness could breed!"
Sanguinius' keen ears, even through the noise of the rain, could hear the distant bellow of a battle-horn signaling an army's advance. He turned around to look to the west, and saw an army bearing a familiar standard approaching the city. After taking note of the breach in Samarkar's walls, the armies of House Lykkarius were told to march forward and retake the city.
"You want to lead these people?" Celestine asked sternly as she prepared to fly away, "Good, then bear the weight of their lives as they are to be offered up for slaughter."
She flew some distance away and out of sight, though Sanguinius knew she would still be watching. There was an obvious advantage for their enemies now that there was a breach in their defenses, but Sanguinius decided he didn't care. He arrogantly defended that he was more than enough for this.
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