Chapter 2004 – Approaching the Late Game 51 – Unattainable Perfection
John knocked on the door. He did not hear anything from the other side, the noise isolation holding strong.
When Moira did open the door, she failed to meet his gaze. Her eyes were subtly reddened. ‘I didn’t take her for the kind to cry,’ he thought. Wordlessly, he followed her gestured invitation. ‘I did take her for the kind that cleans to relax though.’
The room wasn’t spotless, but it was in order. There was something subtly pleasing about the way she had arranged the bed, the carpet, the closet, and the other pieces of furniture in the room. It was arranged with a clear design in mind, which told him that this was not Lee’s work. The brunette could scarcely keep to a Minecraft build plan, much less arrange a room like this.
John took a seat at the table by the kitchen. Though she wasn’t expected to use it, each of the guest apartments did have their own corner like that. “Tea?” she mumbled meekly.
“No, thank you,” he politely declined.
Moira stopped halfway to the kitchen, having expected a different answer. She then took her seat opposite of him. Her hand immediately went for the pendant around her neck, playing with the miniaturized shield in a clear seeking of comfort.
The box John had carried was calmly placed on the tabletop. He pushed it halfway across. “Our gift,” he said to her and took his hand off the festive-themed wrapping.
Moira showed no sign of taking the CD-case sized box. She stared at it, continued to rub the silver-gold pendant with her hands, and just… existed in misery. Then, suddenly, she let out a short, weak laugh. “This is pathetic,” she muttered to herself. “I am pathetic.”
“We all have our weak moments,” he assured her.
“I’m the Shield Warden…” Moira began a half-hearted spiel, only for a raised hand to stop her.
“You don’t have to justify yourself to me,” he told her. “If nothing else, I’m your ally. I have witnessed your honour and listened to your burdens. The faithful couldn’t ask for a greater leader.”
“They should.” Moira found enough steel in her soul to clad those two words in iron.
“Don’t do that to yourself,” John demanded.
“Why not?” Moira asked, discipline rising into annoyance. “I am not one of your submissives that you can bloody demand into being happy, John Newman.”
The Gamer opened his mouth, then forced his teeth shut with a forceful clack. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” he relented, after a brief moment of cooling. Silence returned to the room, as they both sorted their thoughts. “Do you drink?”
“No.”
“Do you want one anyway?”
“…Tempting me again?” Moira stared daggers at him, only to sigh and rub her temples. “You keep tossing me up. I… Lady, give me strength…” She clutched the necklace around her neck. “I… lo—lo--- like you a lot.”
The confession had John sit up straighter. Even with the surrounding circumstances, the stammered words and view of the blushing knightess poured molten happiness into his veins. His pulse went up drastically. Even the air suddenly smelled sweeter. ‘Calm it with the serotonin, brain!’ “I feel the same,” he said, warm and certain.
A high-pitched squeak came from Moira’s throat. Wide-eyed, she stared at him. Was it really that surprising to her? “You are the worst!” she declared. “That’s exactly what I mean! Ever since all of this…” she gestured at him, as if that explained what ‘this’ was, “…started, I have been free falling! I had my feet firmly planted on the path carved by the Lady into the bedrock of good and now… I am feeling like I… just want to be part of a harem and… get knocked up and… share some drinks!”
“Hopefully not in that order?” John dared a joke.
The five words hit Moira with the stopping force of a shotgun shell. Her monologue ended. Her mouth hung open. Then she laughed. Then she glared. “I would never drink while pregnant!” she declared with that scornful amusement only a certain breed of woman could muster. It was every bit as adorable as it was intimidating.
A more pleasant quiet settled between them again, still awkward, but no longer as thick. John broke it by clearing his throat. “So… is that a yes on the drink?”
Moira answered by getting up and grabbing two glasses from the kitchen. Both hit the wood with a loud clack. John pulled a bottle of expensive whisky from his inventory. He poured them both a double, then pushed the glass up next to the gift. Moira refused to pick it up still, instead taking a sip from the liquor.
She made an immediately displeased face. “Tastes like paint thinner.”
“You’re supposed to let it activate by smelling it,” he guided her and put his nose into the glass.
Moira snorted. “My father says the same thing.”
“…The two of us are irksomely alike, in more regards than pleases me,” the Gamer admitted.
“…Yeah…” Moira turned the glass between her hands. “I don’t want to take another sip.”
“Then don’t,” John answered casually.
“But you gave this to me… wouldn’t it be rude?”
“Only if you call me an alcoholic because I keep sipping.” John bent over the table and offered to take the glass. Handing it over reluctantly, Moira then watched as he poured the contents into his own glass. He took his first sip. The liquor was a minor fire after the continued rush he still experienced from Moira’s earlier confession. “It’s your life,” he continued. “Your boundaries that you have every right to enforce.”
“You make it sound so easy,” Moira said.
“It is not easy at all.” John put the glass down, before the heat of his hands could mess with the fragile balance of proper drinking temperature. “But you also make it more difficult for yourself than it needs to be.”
They were finally getting to the heart of the issue. Moira knew that and her body language reflected the rising tension inside her. “How could a Warden be a slavish slut?” she asked. “What example would I be if I agreed to become another one of your concubines?”
“A flawed one.”
“So, you admit it!” Moira sounded relieved, only to sink together like a balloon losing air. “This is all futile…”
“Why do you need to be perfect?” John asked her the follow-up question.
“Why?” Moira shook her head. “Why is it always ‘why’ with you? Can’t you take anything on faith?”
“I believe someone told me that the Order appreciates rigorous testing of their arguments.” John tapped the rim of his glass with a finger. “Besides, I have great interest in seeing this contradiction resolved.”
“…Listen to you…” Moira shook her head. “I remember when you couldn’t even get a question out in full without stammering.”
John’s gaze turned distant, to the land of memories predating the rise of his Intellect. Even then, he had been capable of precise recollection, yet the difference between then and now was stark. “You intimidated me back then,” he said.
“Did I, now?” Moira asked, intrigued.
“Well, it was easy to intimidate me at the time. Early on in my system, I used to see people’s levels over their heads.” He pointed above his own. “Gaia took that away in a patch at one point, only to give me a similar functionality back way later. Passive Observe lets me see people’s emotions, if I want to. No levels though.”
“…You can see my emotions right now?” she asked.
“I almost certainly could if I wanted to,” John admitted. “I used to rely on that a lot to get what I wanted. Jane told me I should stop it. It violates people’s trust if you just read their current mood better than they can, that was her argument.”
“Says a lot about you that you needed to be told that,” Moira took a shot at him.
Amusedly, John pushed air out of his nose, then picked up his glass again. The heavy aftertaste of alcohol lingered on his tongue after the large sip. “I am not perfect,” he said. “I try to be the best I can, especially now. I am the emperor of one of the largest realms history has ever seen, if measured by land area. Not only am I metaphorically capable of moving mountains, I can literally do it. Hundreds of thousands of people are directly affected by my choices, millions feel the ripples, and many will look to me as an example on how to be successful.”
“How do you cope with that?” Moira asked, not even pretending she didn’t ask for her own sake. “Your knowledge that you are not enough?”
“I don’t have that knowledge,” he told her. “I have that inkling, sometimes, that feeling that I just play pretend at a role that fits me as poorly as a child wearing his father’s clothes.”
Moira sighed in exasperation at his perceived semantics. “And you deal with that how?”
“You will have heard this one before: live, learn and move on.” John let the Hollmey family motto hang in the air for a moment. “There is no being perfect. You can keep going as you are, that’s your right. You will be a stern paladin, standing at the pinnacle of religious virtue. You will constantly fight against your flaws and, I mean this sincerely, you are a strong enough woman to keep winning that war. One day, you will find some… other man…” the words crossed his prideful lips with some difficulty, “…and no doubt give birth to a healthy heir to your position. You will live in service to your highest ideals and all will remember Moira the Faithful, paragon of the Order.”
“…I thought you were trying to convince me to be with you?” Moira asked quietly.
“I am not going to insult your virtues by downplaying the future you instinctively chose over me.” John took a gulp of the whiskey, then wheezed. “That was a bit much of the liquid courage,” he said, and cleared his throat a couple of times. “I want you to consider, really consider, what of that future you would give up if you chose me.”
“All of it,” Moira stated with false certainty.
“It is my fullest belief that you will forsake only part of your reputation.” John put his hands together to keep his fingers from nervously tapping the edge of the table. “There would be a decrease in your perceived purity, yes. My reputation will tarnish yours and for that… I am sorry that it puts you to this choice.”
“Why are you apologizing for something you have no intent of changing?”
“Because it’s the only thing I feel like I can do.” The Gamer forgot to say more, temporarily absorbed by the green of her hard eyes. “Moira, if you are with us, I will put the world to your feet. I will cherish everything we can accomplish together. You will not just be the paragon of the Order, you will be a leader of the world. I will love you, I will empower you, I will break your enemies over my knee in every arena necessary.”
The speech had the redhead blush, all while her expression remained as if carved from stone. She listened intently, hanging onto his lips.
“There will never be anything I will force you to do. If you want to join us in our nymphomania, then that’s your choice. If you want to restrain yourself, that is also your choice. I will assure that your private life is everything you could ask for, that you are satisfied physically and spiritually. They won’t call you Moira the Faithful, they will call you the Great, knight, champion of the Lady, and queen. You will live in service to your ideals and your own desires.”
“I can’t have both,” Moira insisted again.
“You can – not absolutely, no, but enough of both. I wholeheartedly believe that. You don’t have to deny being human, your wants and needs, to be in accordance with your ideals. If it was so, why would Gaia give the Blessing the side-effects it has?”
The question was a mistake. John only realized that after. Moira pressed her lips together until the colour drained from them. “It’s always that question,” she said harshly. “As if you just thought of it. As if the Order doesn’t have Wardens of several generations debating the question with each other across time through parchment and ink.”
“You’re right, I-“
“I would like you to leave now,” Moira said, more certain than she had sounded before. “I need time to think.”
“…Of course,” John relented without a fight. He had said more than enough already. They both stood up. Moira moved with her regular fluidity, marching like a seasoned soldier and opening the door for him.
He stopped in the frame.
“I deal with it by asking myself if anyone else could have come this far.”
Moira tilted her head in confusion.
“The sneaking doubts,” he explained. “That feeling of being a fraud, of being less than what I should be. When I have that sensation, I look at all that I have accomplished and then I ask myself who else could have done it? Can I really be that much of a failure when I have advanced my interests so much?” He shook his head. “A prideful way to sort this out, but you know who you are talking to. My legacy will be complicated, but none will be able to doubt that I changed the world. If you wish to- No, I won’t give you anymore monologues…”
“I want to hear it,” Moir encouraged him.
“…If you wish to be the paragon of the Order as it is, then you should stay the course. Your faith is stronger than it has ever been, so I can’t tell you that your path is wrong. Still, it is my honest belief that, perhaps… you should leave being perfect to the Lady. You are a person, not an icon made of stone.”
“…I will think about it.”
“That’s all I ask.” John stepped away with a smile.
______________________________________________________________________
“So, how did she like the gift?” Rave asked when John stepped back into the room.
“…Right… she threw me out before she opened it.”
The eyebrows of his first fiancée rose to a concerning degree. “That sounds bad. Did ya screw this up?”
“Did you?!” Lorelei’s sharp voice was thrice as impactful coming from the seer. Once because it was one of his women being upset, twice because she basically never took that tone and thrice because she could see into his soul and yet still chose that tone.
“I have no idea,” he said, then began his recounting of events.
After he had informed them of every detail that his perspective had allowed him to perceive, he was needled with questions for another fifteen minutes. After all of that, there were certain members of his harem, Lorelei and Lyndell foremost among them, who remained a bit sour but none that were upset.
John just hoped he wouldn’t have to wait for the response for long.
The rest of this final day in time dilation was spent with simple togetherness. Warm and happy, they hung out. Waves of activity and shared silence went through the room. At one point, they all listened to Momo geek out over her present. The sassy maid was so entranced, she didn’t even realize she was holding a presentation for everyone until it was over.
From this togetherness, the day changed to night. Daiyu retreated to her room and all of them to the shared accommodation of the harem. John gave particular attention to Lulu and Lydia during the orgy that followed. They would once more move to be far away from him after they were out.
At the end of their traditional lovemaking, he lay awake. Cute little snores and the even breathing of so many women surrounded him. ‘All of this beauty and I still can’t sleep because of one more girl I want. Does that mean I am still working or am I just beyond broken when it comes to love?’
The knock on the door had him shoot up instantly. There were only two options on who this was and one was so shy, he doubted she would ever knock on the door. The suddenness of his motion stirred Lydia and Lu Zhi awake, then the rest of the harem. By the time he opened the door, everyone was looking.
Covered only by a partly see-through nightgown, Moira fidgeted under the combined gazes of the harem. The darting of her eyes was a sign of shyness, the clutching of her skirt and the wiggle of her hips a sign of lust. To her chest, she clutched a book. It was made from rich leather, gold decorating the corners and the sides of the pages.
“Just… read the first page,” the Warden requested and shoved against his chest the gift she had unwrapped in their absence.
The cover had, in gorgeous letters, the words ‘Our Beloved Warden’s Thoughts’ pressed into it. They had been a statement of friendship when John had arranged the book originally. Perhaps his subconscious had pushed him along on that one. He opened the ornate diary. A singular, short entrance filled the top of the first page.
‘26th of December, 2019,
After careful deliberation, I have decided to be John Newman’s woman.’
John stared at the entrance. He read it five times, very carefully. When he finally looked up, Moira stared back at him with a bit of annoyance. “Just… be the man that I know you to be,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be alone at night anymore.” She closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and waited for the inevitable.
John managed to control himself for just long enough to put the book on a nightstand, then he swept Moira off her feet. The redhead yelped in surprise once, then a second time when he threw her onto the bed. Immediately, he was on top of her, his fingers intertwining with hers as he claimed the reddish pink of her lips.
Magic swept through their hungry mouths. He tasted the mint of a very frequent, no doubt very nervous brushing of teeth. There was such innocent greed in the way she pushed back against him. She wanted to taste him as much as he wanted to taste her. Their tongues swirled. Though she was inexperienced, she picked up fast, all while the Lover’s Will magic swept through her.
A light blue light shone in the room as the mark shaped above her womb. The Warden moaned into the kiss, the first of many direct pleasures flowing from him to her. A backflow of the magic tingled through him.
As the light subsided, the kiss broke. He pulled back, spotting the mark through the sheer, gold-trimmed fabric of her red nightgown. Deep blue swirls shaped up into dual hearts sat between two-layered arms. The farther reaching pieces and the smaller heart at the centre displayed little thorns. “Fitting for my golden rose.” The Wild marking had its match on his body on the right wrist, a position she shared with Momo- ‘That… fits,’ he thought.
Moira breathed heavily, excitement flushing her skin. Maybe she would have retorted with something, but the kissing season had officially started. The Warden suddenly found herself the centre of attention and in high demand.
Rave made the opening move, of course she did. The first of the harem claimed the first sapphic kiss of her rival now turned lover. “Funny how the cookie crumbles,” the feline Lightbearer said, a thick strand of saliva still connecting them, before ceding the position to Hailey.
Beatrice, Fianna, Nahoa, Siena, Claire, Salamander, Nightingale, Sylph – the members of the harem each took their time greeting the newcomer with words and a kiss. Undine, Lyndell, Nia, Ehtra, Nathalia, Eliana, Aclysia – all wanted to leave their impression with the redhead. Delicia, Lydia, Metra, Gnome, Lee, Scarlett, Momo, Lu Zhi – be it tender or demanding, dominant or submissive, every woman in the room added more to the rapidly growing experience of the maiden.
Last was Lorelei, who kissed the Warden with religious fervour. Only at times of great orgies was the seer this openly aroused. “Oh, blessed will be the union – blessed is our Order,” she whispered little sermons between deep kisses. Her hands roamed over Moira’s sides, staying just shy of her shapely breasts and her womanhood.
When, at last, Lorelei pulled away, Moira was panting as if she had run a marathon. She was sweaty from the heat of so many bodies and her own arousal. The already thin nightgown had turned fully see-through, sticking in its silky wrinkles to her curves. Where the fabric was stuck between her rubbing thighs, her overflowing honey had left a clear, dark line.
“Just-“
“Shhhhh,” John put a finger on her lips. “I haven’t forgotten. You’ll get knocked up together.” He bowed down to her ear. “I know exactly what I am doing.”
Moira surrendered herself to his lead.