Chapter 185 The Luxurious Tents

Royal guards, their armor gleaming even in the muted light of the overcast sky, escorted Alaric, his mother Lyra, and his aunt Cassandra through the bustling encampment. The sheer scale of the human mobilization became even more apparent as they navigated the organized chaos of tents, supply depots, and training grounds. The inner region of the encampment, where they were being led, was noticeably quieter, more spacious, and decidedly more… comfortable.

“Well, Alaric,” Lyra commented, her blue eyes scanning the large, canvas tents that dotted the area, each significantly larger and more robust than the standard military issue. “These are quite the accommodations. A far cry from those threadbare things we used to get during our little stint with the Royal Army, remember, sister?”

Cassandra, her purple eyes equally observant, nodded in agreement. “Indeed, sister. I recall those tents… drafty in winter, sweltering in summer, and prone to collapsing in even a moderate breeze. These,” she gestured to their assigned tents, “are practically palaces compared to those.” A faint smile touched her lips. “King Thaleon certainly seems to value your… artifact-crafting skills, nephew.”

Alaric merely shrugged, his ruby eyes taking in the details of their temporary lodgings. “Practicality, I imagine,” he replied calmly. “Comfortable artificers are more productive artificers. And His Majesty likely prefers I remain… intact, should the demons decide to launch a surprise attack on the encampment itself.” He wasn’t fooled by the luxurious tents. He understood the strategic reasoning behind their placement in the inner, more heavily guarded section of the camp. He was valuable, a resource to be protected, not a frontline warrior to be thrown into the thick of battle.

As they continued their stroll through the inner encampment, Alaric’s gaze swept over the organized sprawl, his analytical mind cataloging the various sections and functions. “It’s… quite something, isn’t it?” he remarked, his voice tinged with a hint of detached observation. “This encampment. It’s almost as if another city has sprung up here, overnight.”

Lyra followed his gaze, her blue eyes widening slightly in appreciation. “You’re right, Alaric,” she agreed, her tone impressed. “Look there, blacksmiths’ forges, hammering away, repairing armor and weapons. And over there, alchemists’ tents, brewing potions and concoctions. And the infirmary section, managed by the Radiant Church, with those white tents and the priests bustling about… it’s truly a city in miniature, dedicated solely to war.”

Cassandra nodded, her purple eyes assessing the efficiency of the encampment’s layout. “Remarkably well-organized, considering the speed with which it must have been assembled,” she commented. “The quartermasters have done an admirable job of logistics. And the magical wards… they are layered and potent, though perhaps not impenetrable to a determined demonic assault.”

Their walk brought them to a more open area of the inner encampment, where a group of figures stood conversing, their robes and bearing marking them as mages. Alaric’s ruby eyes sharpened as he recognized familiar faces amongst them. “Well, well,” he murmured, a faint smile touching his lips. “Look who we have here. It seems some familiar faces have also joined the war effort.”

Lyra and Cassandra followed his gaze, their curiosity piqued. “Acquaintances of yours, Alaric?” Lyra inquired, her blue eyes narrowing slightly, a hint of maternal protectiveness entering her tone.

“Indeed,” Alaric replied, a touch of amusement in his voice. “The wizard team I mentioned, from the Phantom Assembly auction hall incident. Drustan, Kaelith, Rowena, Petra, and Helena. A rather… capable group of mages, as I recall.”

As they approached, the wizard team noticed Alaric’s presence and turned to greet him, their expressions shifting from professional seriousness to genuine warmth. Rowena, with her vibrant red hair cascading down her shoulders, was the first to react, her green eyes lighting up with excitement. “Alaric!” she exclaimed, her voice bright and cheerful. “You’re here! We were wondering if you would be joining the fray!”

Petra, her dark hair framing her pale face, her figure shrouded in her signature dark cloak, offered a rare, subtle smile. “Master Steele,” she greeted, her voice low and melodious, a hint of relief in her tone. “It is… reassuring to see you here. Your… expertise will be invaluable, I am certain.”

Helena, her brown hair neatly styled, her demeanor always composed and elegant, stepped forward, her brown eyes radiating genuine pleasure. “Alaric, it is wonderful to see you again,” she said, her voice warm and welcoming. “We were… concerned for your safety, given the… circumstances. But knowing you are here… it is a comfort.” Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than strictly necessary, a subtle hint of something more than mere professional respect in her eyes.

Drustan and Kaelith, as was their wont, remained more reserved, their greetings more subdued, yet no less sincere. Drustan, his silver hair neatly combed, offered a curt nod. “Steele,” he acknowledged, his voice gruff yet cordial. “Good to see you in one piece.”

Kaelith, his expression perpetually stoic, simply inclined his head in silent greeting, his grey eyes conveying a quiet acknowledgment of Alaric’s presence.

“Drustan, Kaelith, Rowena, Petra, Helena,” Alaric greeted them in turn, his voice warm and friendly. “It is good to see you all as well. And yes, it seems I am… officially part of the war effort now. Though I suspect my contributions will be primarily… behind the lines, rather than on the front.”

Rowena scoffed playfully, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. “Nonsense, Alaric!” she exclaimed, her tone lighthearted. “With your skills? You could probably single-handedly wipe out half the demonic horde! But,” she winked conspiratorially, “if you do end up on the front lines, don’t worry. We’ll be there to protect you. Consider us your personal bodyguard detail.”

Petra nodded in agreement, her dark eyes serious and determined. “Indeed, Master Steele,” she affirmed. “We owe you a debt, for your assistance at the auction hall. Consider it repaid. We will ensure your safety, no matter the threat.”

Helena echoed their sentiments, her brown eyes radiating a quiet confidence. “We are, after all, Grandmaster Mages, Alaric,” she reminded him, a subtle hint of pride in her voice. “Protecting a mere Grand Mage like yourself should be… well within our capabilities.” She offered a teasing smile, her words laced with playful sarcasm, yet her underlying sincerity was undeniable.

Alaric chuckled softly, amused by their enthusiastic assurances of protection. “I appreciate the offer, ladies,” he replied, his ruby eyes twinkling with amusement. “But I believe I can handle myself in a… skirmish. Though I confess, having five Grandmaster Mages as bodyguards… it is certainly a tempting proposition.”

Lyra and Cassandra, observing the interaction with keen interest, exchanged subtle glances, their expressions thoughtful. The easy camaraderie between Alaric and the wizard team, particularly the trio of women, did not escape their notice. There was a warmth, a familiarity, a… spark, in their interactions that hinted at a deeper connection than mere professional acquaintance.

After a few more minutes of pleasantries and brief updates on the war preparations, Alaric politely excused himself from the wizard team, claiming a need to settle into his assigned tents and rest after the journey. “It was good to see you all,” he said, his voice sincere. “Perhaps we can… properly catch up later, when the situation is… less dire.”

Rowena, Petra, and Helena all nodded eagerly, their expressions hopeful. Drustan and Kaelith offered curt nods of farewell, their stoic demeanors unchanged. As Alaric, Lyra, and Cassandra turned to walk towards their tents, Lyra leaned closer to her son, a playful smirk gracing her lips, her blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Well, Alaric,” she teased, her voice a low murmur, just for his ears. “You certainly seem to have… cultivated some rather… enthusiastic admirers amongst that wizard team. Especially those three beauties. They seemed… quite eager to offer their protection.”

Cassandra, walking on Alaric’s other side, echoed her sister’s teasing observation, her purple eyes narrowed in playful scrutiny. “Indeed, nephew,” she added, her voice laced with amusement. “Particularly Miss Rowena, Miss Petra, and Miss Helena. Their… concern for your well-being seemed… rather… personal, wouldn’t you say?” She raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her gaze fixed on Alaric, awaiting his reaction.

Alaric merely smiled calmly, unfazed by their teasing, his ruby eyes betraying no hint of embarrassment or discomfort. “Comrades, Mother, Aunt Cassandra,” he replied smoothly, his tone perfectly neutral. “Merely… comrades in arms, united by a shared experience and a common cause. Nothing more, nothing less.” His denial was delivered with a practiced ease, a carefully crafted deflection that neither confirmed nor denied the underlying truth, leaving his mother and aunt to draw their own conclusions.

Lyra and Cassandra exchanged another knowing glance, their smirks widening slightly, neither entirely convinced by Alaric’s bland denial, but choosing not to press the issue further, at least for now. They had known Alaric long enough to recognize his carefully constructed facades, his masterful ability to deflect personal inquiries with practiced ease. They would, they knew, have ample opportunity to delve deeper into his… ‘comradeships’ later.

Soon, they reached their assigned tents, three large, adjacent structures nestled within the inner encampment, separated from the bustling activity of the main camp, offering a semblance of privacy and tranquility amidst the war preparations. Royal guards stood sentinel outside each tent, their presence a silent reassurance of security and protection.

Alaric, with a polite nod to his mother and aunt, entered his own tent, the interior spacious and surprisingly well-appointed. A large, comfortable bed dominated the center of the tent, draped with soft furs and plush pillows. A sturdy wooden table and chairs occupied a corner, laden with maps, scrolls, and writing implements. And a small brazier, burning with fragrant incense, filled the air with a calming, subtly magical scent.

He sighed contentedly, shedding his outer robes and collapsing onto the inviting bed, the soft furs cushioning his weary body. The journey, while uneventful, had been tiring, and the weight of the impending battle pressed heavily upon him. He closed his ruby eyes, allowing himself a few moments of respite, a brief respite from the constant demands of his artificer’s mind, a fleeting moment of peace before the storm broke.

His rest, however, was destined to be short-lived. A few minutes later, a subtle shift in the air, a faint rustle of fabric outside his tent, alerted his senses. A knowing smile touched his lips, his ruby eyes opening, a flicker of anticipation igniting within them. He knew, instinctively, who was approaching.

The tent flap parted silently, and Lyra Steele stepped inside, her figure shrouded in a dark, hooded robe, concealing her features and her attire. She moved with a quiet grace, her footsteps barely disturbing the soft rugs on the tent floor, her presence radiating a subtle aura of sensual mystery. Once inside, she turned, closing the tent flap behind her, ensuring their privacy, and then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she reached up and pulled back the hood of her robe.

The dark cloak slipped from her shoulders, falling silently to the floor, revealing Lyra Steele in all her breathtaking, mature beauty. She wore a lingerie set of deep sapphire blue silk, the delicate fabric clinging to her voluptuous curves, barely concealing her ample breasts, her slender waist, her curvaceous hips, and the tantalizing swell of her buttocks. The sapphire silk shimmered in the dim light of the tent, accentuating her fair skin, her long, blonde hair cascading down her back, and the captivating allure of her blue eyes, now darkened with a palpable desire.

Alaric’s ruby eyes widened slightly, a surge of pure, unadulterated lust coursing through him as he beheld his mother’s breathtaking form. He rose from the bed, his gaze fixed upon her, his breath catching in his throat, his body responding instantly to the intoxicating sight before him. With a flick of his wrist, he silently erected a soundproof enchantment around the tent, ensuring their privacy, their passionate encounter undisturbed.

“Lyra…” he murmured, his voice husky with desire, his gaze devouring her form, his hunger barely contained.

Lyra smiled, a slow, sensual curve of her lips, her blue eyes locking onto his, radiating a matching intensity of desire. “Alaric, my dear son,” she purred, her voice a silken whisper, laced with invitation. “Did you… miss me?”

Before she could utter another word, Alaric closed the distance between them, his movements swift and decisive. He reached out, his hands gripping her hips, pulling her roughly against him, his body pressing against hers, the heat of her flesh radiating through the thin silk of her lingerie. He leaned down, his lips capturing hers in a passionate, demanding kiss, his tongue plunging into her mouth, tasting her sweetness, igniting a firestorm of desire within them both.

He broke the kiss, gasping for breath, his ruby eyes burning with lust, his hands roaming over her body, exploring the curves and contours beneath the silk. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples, sending shivers of pleasure through her. He slid his hands down her waist, tracing the curve of her hips, then lower still, cupping her buttocks, kneading the soft flesh, eliciting a soft moan from her lips.

“You are… exquisite, Mother,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his lips trailing kisses down her neck, his teeth nipping at her earlobe. “Absolutely… breathtaking.”

Lyra gasped, her body arching against his, her hands gripping his shoulders, her fingers digging into his flesh. “Alaric…” she whispered, her voice trembling with passion. “Please… I cannot wait any longer…”

With a swift, decisive movement, Alaric scooped her up into his arms, carrying her towards the bed, his ruby eyes never leaving hers, his gaze burning with an intensity that mirrored her own. He tossed her onto the soft furs, her lingerie-clad body landing with a soft bounce, her blonde hair splaying across the pillows. He moved quickly, his fingers fumbling with the fastenings of his trousers, his eagerness barely contained. His large, thick cock sprang free, throbbing with anticipation, straining against its confinement, eager for release.

He knelt beside the bed, his gaze sweeping over Lyra’s exposed form, his lust intensifying with each passing second. He leaned down, showering her face with kisses, his lips tracing a path down her jawline, her neck, her chest, his tongue teasing her nipples, drawing soft moans from her lips. He explored her body with his hands, his fingers tracing the delicate lines of her lingerie, teasing the edges of the sapphire silk, promising delights to come.

Lyra writhed beneath him, her body arching, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her blue eyes half-closed, glazed with passion. Her hands roamed over his body, caressing his chest, his shoulders, his back, her fingers tracing the hard muscles beneath his robes, her touch igniting his desire even further. She reached down, her fingers closing around his throbbing cock, stroking him with a practiced hand, eliciting a groan of pleasure from his lips.

“Alaric… please…” she pleaded, her voice a husky whisper, her hips lifting slightly, inviting him closer. “I need you… inside me…”

Alaric needed no further encouragement. He positioned himself between her legs, his gaze locking onto hers, his ruby eyes burning with a primal hunger. He grasped his thick cock, guiding its tip towards the entrance of her wet, eager pussy, his heart pounding in his chest, his anticipation reaching a fever pitch. With a slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed his cock deep inside her, filling her tight, welcoming warmth, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from her lips.

“Ah… Alaric…” Lyra moaned, her body arching further, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper, tighter, her blue eyes locking onto his, her gaze filled with pure, unadulterated passion.

He began to thrust, slowly at first, savoring the sensation of his cock buried deep within her, the tightness of her pussy, the heat of her body enveloping him. Then, as their passion intensified, his thrusts grew deeper, faster, more forceful, their bodies moving together in a primal rhythm, a dance of lust and desire, their moans and gasps echoing within the soundproof tent. He thrust into her again and again, driving her closer and closer to the edge, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths ragged, their senses consumed by the intoxicating pleasure of their forbidden union.

Just as Lyra’s moans reached a crescendo, just as her body began to convulse in the throes of orgasm, the tent flap was abruptly thrown open, the sudden intrusion shattering the intimate moment, freezing them both in mid-thrust. Alaric and Lyra turned their heads sharply, their eyes widening in shock, their passion momentarily forgotten, their gazes locking onto the figure standing silhouetted in the tent entrance.

Cassandra Galanis stood there, her purple eyes wide with surprise, her expression a mixture of shock and… something else, something akin to… understanding? She stood frozen for a moment, her gaze fixed on the tableau before her: her sister Lyra, naked and flushed, pinned beneath Alaric, his bare back glistening with sweat, his cock buried deep within her.

Then, a slow smile spread across Cassandra’s lips, a knowing, almost resigned smile, as if a long-held suspicion had just been confirmed.

She stepped fully into the tent, closing the flap behind her, her purple eyes meeting Alaric’s, her expression now calm, almost amused.

“Well, well,” Cassandra drawled, her voice surprisingly steady, considering the scene she had just witnessed. “It seems I have… interrupted something… rather… intimate.” Her gaze flickered between Alaric and Lyra, a hint of playful mockery in her purple eyes. “Though, perhaps, not entirely… unexpected.”

Alaric and Lyra stared back at Cassandra, their initial shock quickly replaced by a mixture of amusement and… invitation. Alaric chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound, his ruby eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Aunt Cassandra,” he greeted, his voice casual, as if being caught fucking his mother was the most natural thing in the world. “Do not simply stand there in the doorway. Come in. Join us. There is… plenty of room on this bed. And I have… enough to share.” He gestured invitingly towards the bed, his ruby eyes locking onto Cassandra’s.

Cassandra hesitated for only a fraction of a second, her purple eyes flickering between Alaric and her sister Lyra, her expression thoughtful. Then, a slow smile curved her lips, a smile that mirrored her sister’s sensual curve, a smile that radiated a sudden, undeniable desire. She reached up, her fingers deftly unfastening the clasp of her own robe, and with a smooth, fluid motion, she let it fall to the floor.

Unlike Lyra, who had prepared for this intimate encounter with lingerie, Cassandra stood before them completely naked, her bare skin gleaming in the dim light of the tent, her body radiating a raw, uninhibited sensuality.

Her large breasts, their pink nipples erect and pert, her slender waist, her gently curving hips, her long, toned legs, and the tantalizing triangle of blonde curls between her thighs, were all on full display, a breathtaking offering to Alaric’s hungry gaze.

Her curly blonde hair framed her face, her bright purple eyes burning with a newfound excitement, a daring anticipation, as she met Alaric’s gaze, her unspoken answer hanging in the air, a silent acceptance of his audacious invitation.