Chapter 207 The Fear And Terror Of Queen And Royal Consort

The journey back to the Steele Family’s mansion was relatively uneventful. Alaric kept up a polite conversation with Princess Griselda, answering her questions about his life and his magical abilities while subtly guiding their route.

Upon their arrival, the Steele Family mansion was abuzz with activity. Lyra, Cassandra, and Fiora were all present, having been informed of Alaric’s impending return with his new fiancée. Saintess Ceanna, though still residing at the mansion, kept a more reserved distance.

Alaric led Princess Griselda into the main hall, his arm gently around her waist. “My dear Griselda,” he announced, his voice carrying, “allow me to introduce you to my family.”

He gestured towards Lyra, who stepped forward with a warm smile. “This is my mother, Lyra.”

Lyra offered Griselda a gracious curtsy. “Welcome to our home, Princess Griselda. We are honored to have you.”

Griselda returned the curtsy, her own smile polite. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Lyra.”

Next, Alaric turned to Cassandra, who stood beside Lyra, her expression neutral but her eyes holding a familiar warmth for Alaric. “And this is my aunt, Cassandra.”

Cassandra gave a slight nod. “Your Highness. We hope your stay here will be comfortable.”

“Thank you, Lady Cassandra,” Griselda replied.

Finally, Alaric turned to Fiora, who stood slightly behind Lyra and Cassandra, her expression a carefully masked mixture of curiosity and perhaps a hint of sadness. “And this is my cousin, Fiora.”

Fiora offered a bright, if slightly forced, smile. “Welcome, Princess Griselda.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Griselda said, her gaze sweeping over the assembled family.

Saintess Ceanna stood a little apart, her golden eyes observing Princess Griselda with a thoughtful expression. Despite knowing about the King’s decree, a faint flicker of dissatisfaction crossed her features as she took in the princess’s undeniable beauty and regal bearing.

‘She is indeed lovely,’ Ceanna thought, a subtle pang in her chest.

Lyra, Cassandra, and Fiora, however, remained unfazed by Griselda’s arrival. Each held a deep and intimate connection with Alaric, a bond forged in shared passion and affection. They knew Alaric’s heart, and more importantly, they knew his desires. They were confident that his marriage to the princess wouldn’t diminish the special place they held in his life… and in his bed.

‘Another pretty face,’ Lyra thought, a knowing smile hidden within. ‘He’ll always come back to his mother.’

‘She’s certainly beautiful,’ Cassandra mused, her gaze lingering on Griselda’s figure. ‘But she doesn’t have the history we share with Alaric.’

‘He’s still mine,’ Fiora thought fiercely, a possessive glint in her eyes. ‘A princess won’t change that.’

After a few more polite exchanges, Alaric clapped his hands together. “Well, now that introductions are out of the way,” he announced, his tone shifting to one of urgency, “I’m afraid I must depart again for a short while.”

His words drew surprised looks from everyone present, especially Princess Griselda. “Depart? But we just arrived, my lord,” she said, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Indeed,” Alaric replied, his expression serious. “But on our journey here, I sensed the presence of several groups of demons lurking in the nearby forests. I cannot in good conscience leave them unchecked, potentially threatening the safety of the people in this region. I must go and eliminate them.”

His words were met with nods of approval and even admiration. Saintess Ceanna’s expression softened, a hint of respect entering her golden eyes. “That is a noble undertaking, Master Steele,” she said. “Your valor is commendable.”

Princess Griselda looked at her new husband with a newfound sense of awe. “My lord,” she said, her voice filled with pride, “you are truly a brave and selfless man.”

‘Perfect,’ Alaric thought, basking in their admiration. ‘Playing the hero never gets old.’

With a final reassuring smile to Griselda, Alaric swiftly left the mansion and soared into the sky, heading directly towards the location where he had left Queen Margaret and Royal Consort Josephine. He reached the secluded ruins in short order, relieved to find the concealment spell still intact and the two royal beauties still lying peacefully unconscious within.

‘Now for the real fun to begin,’ Alaric thought, a predatory gleam in his ruby eyes. He knew he couldn’t simply wake them up and declare his intentions. He needed to be strategic, manipulative, and create a situation where they would be vulnerable and ultimately… grateful to him.

He began to subtly weave his charm aura around the area, a passive emanation that would make the two women feel more comfortable and drawn to him once they awoke. He then carefully considered his next steps. He couldn’t appear to be their captor. He needed to be their savior.

His plan involved luring a small band of opportunistic bandits towards the ruins. He subtly left a few clues – a discarded piece of expensive-looking fabric, a faint trail of disturbed undergrowth – just enough to pique the interest of any passing brigands without directly leading them to the concealed location. He also created some subtle noises in the distance, mimicking the sounds of someone moving through the forest, hoping to draw their attention in the desired direction.

He waited patiently, hidden amongst the trees, his senses sharp. It wasn’t long before he heard the telltale sounds of approaching footsteps and rough voices. A small group of bandits, their eyes gleaming with avarice, were heading towards the ruins, drawn in by Alaric’s carefully laid trap.

‘Time to wake up the princesses,’ Alaric thought, a wicked smile forming in his mind. With a silent incantation, he lifted the sleeping spell on Queen Margaret and Josephine.

They stirred slowly, their eyes fluttering open, confusion and disorientation clouding their features. They sat up, rubbing their heads, trying to make sense of their surroundings.

“Where… where are we?” Queen Margaret murmured, her voice groggy.

“I… I don’t remember…” Josephine stammered, her eyes wide with fear as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings.

Just then, the bandits burst into the ruins, their crude laughter echoing through the air. Their eyes widened as they beheld the sight of two such beautiful and well-dressed women in such a secluded location.

“Well, well, well,” the leader of the bandits, a scarred and burly man with a leering grin, said, his eyes raking over Queen Margaret’s voluptuous figure. “What treasures have we stumbled upon here?”

“Look at these beauties, eh?” another bandit chimed in, his gaze equally lustful as he stared at Josephine’s plump curves. “Looks like our lucky day, boys!”

Queen Margaret and Josephine exchanged terrified glances. They were clearly in a dangerous situation, completely at the mercy of these rough-looking men. The bandits, completely unaware of their royal identities, saw only two defenseless and beautiful women ripe for the taking.

“Now, now, ladies,” the bandit leader said, taking a step closer, his eyes filled with crude desire. “No need to be afraid. We’ll… take good care of you.” His words were dripping with lascivious intent, leaving no doubt as to their vile intentions.

Alaric remained hidden amongst the shadows, a detached observer of the unfolding scene. The bandits, their eyes gleaming with undisguised lust, advanced upon the two women, their crude remarks filling the air.

“Look at the curves on this one, lads!” the leader exclaimed, his gaze lingering on Queen Margaret’s ample form. “She’s built for pleasure, that’s for sure!”

“And the other one ain’t bad either!” another bandit added, his eyes glued to Josephine’s plump figure. “Soft and ripe, just the way I like ’em!”

Queen Margaret and Josephine recoiled in horror, their initial confusion giving way to stark terror. They had no idea who these rough men were or what they wanted, but their leering gazes and crude words painted a terrifying picture.

‘Please, no,’ Queen Margaret thought frantically, her heart pounding in her chest. ‘Who are these men? Where are the guards? Where is my husband?’

Josephine’s mind raced with similar fear. ‘This can’t be happening. We were just… resting. How did these men find us?’

Alaric watched, his expression carefully neutral. He needed to gauge their reactions, to see if any hidden defenses would manifest. He sensed no surge of magical power, no activation of protective amulets. It seemed his sudden abduction had indeed caught them completely off guard, leaving them without their usual safeguards.

‘Good,’ Alaric thought. ‘The more fear they experience now, the more grateful they’ll be when I arrive to save them.’

The bandit leader reached out a grimy hand towards Queen Margaret’s face. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he sneered. “We’re gonna have ourselves a real good time with you two.”

Queen Margaret flinched away, her eyes wide with panic. “Stay away from me!” she cried out, her voice trembling. “Who do you think you are?”

The bandit leader let out a harsh laugh. “Who do we think we are? We’re the ones in charge here, sweetheart. And you two are our… guests.” He winked crudely at his companions, who chuckled in response.

Josephine, though equally terrified, tried to maintain a semblance of composure. “Please,” she pleaded, her voice hoarse with fear. “We have… we have money. We can pay you. Just let us go.”

“Money?” the bandit leader scoffed. “We’ll take your money, sure. But we’ll take a whole lot more than that, wouldn’t you say, boys?”

The bandits roared their approval, their lustful intentions becoming increasingly clear. They began to close in on the two women, their movements predatory and menacing.

“Help!” Queen Margaret screamed, her voice cracking with terror. “Somebody help us!”

‘Louder,’ Alaric thought, a hint of anticipation building within him. ‘Let the despair sink in.’

“Nobody can hear you out here, you silly woman,” one of the bandits sneered, reaching out and grabbing a handful of Queen Margaret’s elegant gown, tearing it roughly. The sound of ripping fabric filled the air, and a portion of her cleavage was exposed.

Queen Margaret gasped, her face turning pale with horror. Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to pull her torn garment back together. “No! Please! Leave us alone!” she begged, her voice now thick with sobs. “Help! Someone, please help!”

Josephine, witnessing the assault on Queen Margaret, cried out in her own terror. “Help! Guards! Anyone! Please, we’re in danger!” Her voice was shrill with fear, echoing through the secluded ruins.

Another bandit grabbed Josephine, his rough hands seizing her arm. “Don’t you worry, little bird,” he chuckled crudely. “Your turn is coming soon enough.” He began to tug at her dress, the delicate fabric straining under his rough grip.

“No! Stop! Please!” Josephine screamed, her voice rising to a desperate pitch. “Help us! For the love of the gods, someone hear us!” Her throat was beginning to feel raw from the force of her cries.

Queen Margaret continued to scream, her voice growing hoarse. “Help! We’re being attacked! Bandits! Please, someone save us!” Tears streamed down her face, her elegant composure completely shattered by the sheer terror of the situation.

The bandit leader chuckled again, reaching out to fondle Queen Margaret’s exposed cleavage. “Such lovely… assets,” he said, his touch crude and invasive.

Queen Margaret recoiled, a strangled cry escaping her lips. “Get your hands off me, you vile creature!” she shrieked, her voice now barely a whisper from the constant screaming. “Help! Help us!”

Josephine, her own dress now partially torn, exposing her ample bosom, continued to cry out, her voice hoarse and desperate. “Please! We beg you! Someone, anyone, hear our cries! Help us!” Her face was a mask of pure terror, tears blurring her vision.

The bandits were emboldened by their victims’ fear, their lustful intentions escalating. They began to paw at the two women, their rough hands groping and tearing at their remaining garments.

“Help! Please! We’re going to die!” Queen Margaret screamed, her voice barely audible now, her throat burning with pain from her desperate pleas.

“Save us! Oh, please, someone save us!” Josephine sobbed, her voice choked with tears and fear, her body trembling uncontrollably.

Just as the situation seemed to reach its most dire point, a voice, calm and authoritative, cut through the bandits’ crude laughter.

“What in the blazes is going on here?”

Alaric stepped out from the shadows, his expression one of feigned surprise and indignation. He looked at the bandits with a stern gaze, then his eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of the two disheveled women. He pretended to not recognize them.

“Bandits, accosting innocent women?” Alaric said, his voice laced with disapproval. “I was nearby, hunting some particularly nasty demons, when I heard your… rather loud commotion.”

Queen Margaret and Josephine stared at the newcomer, their tear-filled eyes widening in a mixture of hope and disbelief. The man who had just appeared was undeniably handsome, with striking blonde hair and piercing red eyes that seemed to hold a powerful magic within them.

“Who… who are you?” Queen Margaret stammered, her voice still hoarse from her earlier screams.

Alaric offered a polite, albeit slightly theatrical, bow. “My name is Alaric Steele, my ladies. I happened to be in the vicinity, tracking some troublesome demonic entities, when I heard your distress.”

Recognition dawned in the eyes of both women. Alaric Steele. The name was renowned throughout the Eloriath Kingdom. He was the prodigy mage, the hero of the Demon Fortress, the young man even King Thaleon spoke of with immense respect and admiration.

“Alaric Steele?” Queen Margaret whispered, her fear beginning to be replaced by a flicker of hope.

“The Grandmaster Mage?” Josephine added, her voice trembling slightly.

Alaric offered a modest smile. “The same, my ladies. It seems I arrived just in time.” He turned his attention back to the bandits, his ruby eyes now narrowed with cold fury. “As for you,” he said, his voice dangerously low, “you have made a grave mistake.”

The bandit leader, who had initially been taken aback by Alaric’s sudden appearance, tried to regain his bravado. “And who are you to interfere, pretty boy?” he sneered. “These women are ours now. We found them fair and square.”

Alaric let out a short, humorless laugh. “Found them? You were accosting defenseless women. That is not ‘finding,’ that is thuggery. And interfering? Consider it my civic duty.” His gaze hardened. “Now, I suggest you leave. If you value your lives.”

The bandits exchanged uneasy glances. They recognized the name Alaric Steele. They had heard the rumors of his incredible power. But they were also desperate and emboldened by their earlier success in finding such seemingly wealthy prey.

“We ain’t afraid of you, mage,” the leader bluffed, though his voice wavered slightly. “There’s a dozen of us. You’re just one man.”

Alaric simply raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “One man is all it takes.”

Before the bandits could react, Alaric unleashed a torrent of magical energy. Bolts of crimson light shot from his hands, striking the bandits with pinpoint accuracy. They cried out in pain as the magical blasts knocked them off their feet, leaving them writhing on the ground.

But Alaric wasn’t finished. He didn’t want to simply kill them. He wanted them to suffer, to pay for the fear they had instilled in the Queen and the Royal Consort. He wanted to humiliate them, to strip them of their arrogance and their lustful intent.

He used his magic to levitate the bandits, suspending them in the air like puppets. He then began a cruel and deliberate display of magical torture. He conjured whips of pure energy that lashed across their bodies, leaving searing welts. He created illusions that played on their deepest fears, their screams of terror echoing through the ruins.

Queen Margaret and Josephine watched in a horrified yet strangely relieved daze. The brutality of Alaric’s attack was shocking, but it was directed at their tormentors.

‘He’s… he’s terrifying,’ Queen Margaret thought, her heart still racing. ‘But he’s saving us.’

‘His power… it’s incredible,’ Josephine mused, her fear slowly giving way to a sense of awe.

Alaric didn’t hold back. He wanted these bandits to remember this encounter for the rest of their miserable lives. He used elemental magic to torment them – blasts of freezing cold that chilled them to the bone, jets of scalding steam that burned their skin, gusts of wind that whipped them around like ragdolls.

He forced them to relive their worst memories, their failures and their shames, projecting vivid illusions directly into their minds. Their whimpers and cries for mercy filled the air, a symphony of suffering that Alaric orchestrated with cold precision.

He even used his magic to strip them of their dignity, tearing away their clothes and leaving them suspended naked and vulnerable before the two royal women. Their earlier lustful gazes were now replaced by expressions of utter humiliation and despair.

‘Let them see the consequences of their actions,’ Alaric thought, a cruel satisfaction washing over him.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of torment, Alaric released the bandits, dropping them unceremoniously onto the ground in a heap of bruised and broken bodies. They lay there whimpering, their bravado completely shattered.

Alaric turned to Queen Margaret and Josephine, his expression softening. He offered them a reassuring smile. “Are you both alright, my ladies? Did they… did they harm you?” He made sure to feign concern, his voice gentle and solicitous.

Queen Margaret, still trembling slightly, managed a weak nod. “We… we are unharmed, Master Steele. Thanks to you.”

Josephine, wiping tears from her eyes, echoed the sentiment. “You saved us. We are eternally grateful.”

Alaric offered them his hand, helping them to their feet. He subtly activated his charm aura, enveloping them in a comforting and alluring presence. He also used his seductive gaze, meeting their eyes with a look that conveyed both concern and a hint of something more.

“It was my honor to assist you, my ladies,” Alaric said, his voice smooth and captivating. “It is a dangerous time, and unfortunately, there are those who would prey on the vulnerable.” He paused, his gaze lingering on Queen Margaret’s still-exposed cleavage. “Perhaps… you would allow me to escort you back to safety? I would not want anything else to happen to you.”