NTR: Barbarian Harem Conquest

Kane said nothing aloud.

He dressed as best the brace and bandages allowed, left Mjoldr across his back out of habit, and walked the corridors toward the main halls.

The palace had changed.

Beast warriors moved with a different posture, less of the old, lazy dominance, more of a coiled readiness.

When Kane stepped into the great upper hall, the pure-blood faction was already arrayed in formal ranks before the raised throne.

Marisa sat on it, the iron-and-bone circlet resting cleanly on her black hair, eyes finding him the instant he appeared.

She lifted one hand.

The pure-blood ranks parted without argument.

Kane walked the open path to the foot of the dais and stopped. A small, tired smile touched his mouth.

"You got what you wanted."

Marisa’s answering smile was small and real.

"Our alliance will be marked. Whenever you need help, Berakamon will join with Menual under your command to fight off the threats. That is the first law of the new center."

Kane climbed the final steps until he stood level with the throne. The residual pain in his body was a constant low fire; he ignored it.

"What’s your plan now?"

"My people have been walking on ice ever since my brother took the place. Now I plan to make them the strongest warriors this continent has left, and to repair the relationship with the elves that he spent decades poisoning."

Marisa’s gaze didn’t waver.

"The breeding grounds will be released. The essence laboratories are already being sealed and burned. Whatever residual corruption remains will be hunted and ended."

Kane reached out and patted her head once, briefly, the same rough, almost brotherly gesture he might have given a younger comrade after a hard fight.

"Be good. You know where to find me."

Marisa’s eyes widened a fraction.

"You’re leaving?"

"Mm."

"We can proceed with marriage. You can take over this empire."

Kane looked at her.

"You don’t want to be tied up with me, Marisa. Your people need you. Not me."

"Then, where are you going?"

"I have to visit a few more empires. Also... I miss my wives."

He turned without waiting for further argument, already walking the open path back toward the arch.

Behind him, the pure-blood ranks and the rest of the hall watched in something close to awe, the broken human who had taken their emperor’s head and then walked away from the throne he could have claimed.

Kessa and Griselda fell into step on either side of him as he cleared the main doors.

The morning air outside was clean. Southern and river warriors lining the approach inclined their heads as he passed.

Kane glanced at Kessa.

"You don’t want to say goodbye to your parents?"

She shook her head once, striped ears steady.

"I told my brother. I thought my place was beside you."

Kane leaned down and pressed a brief kiss to her forehead, then kept walking.

Griselda’s yellow eyes met his over Kessa’s head.

No words were required.

The three of them left the capital of Berakamon under the open sky, the new queen’s circlet still gleaming on the throne behind them, and the yellow eyes of a Supreme Devil still waiting somewhere beyond the seventy-day horizon.

***

A day later, the light in Sylvander was softer than anything Berakamon had offered.

Thora sat in the wide guest hall the elves had given them, with high ceilings, pale wood, long windows that let the sun in.

A half-empty bottle of red wine stood on the low table beside her.

She turned the cup slowly between fingers and watched Misha pace.

"Sit down, Misha."

Misha didn’t sit.

White hair was pulled up in a bun that still managed to look elegant even while she wore a path into the floorboards.

Eyes flicked toward the windows every few turns as if the road itself might suddenly produce an answer.

"Kane is not someone who can be killed," Thora said, voice flat and certain.

She took another drink.

"You know that."

"I know... I know."

Misha’s pacing only got faster.

"It’s just—it’s been more days than we planned. The devils could arrive any time, and we haven’t received a single clean message. No runner. He walked into that empire with Kessa and Griselda, and the last word we got was that the Measures were finished and talks had started. Then silence."

Thora set the cup down with a click.

"Silence from Kane usually means he’s busy making someone else regret existing. Sit. You’re making the wine nervous."

Before Misha could answer, the tall window on the east side burst open in a flutter of orange hair and unapologetic energy.

Sira landed in a crouch, grinned as if she had just won a bet, and straightened up with both hands on her hips.

Thora and Misha both stared.

"SIRA. USE THE FUCKING DOOR!"

Sira’s grin only widened.

"Hehehe... just came to see. Firlia was so busy with boring things, schedules, supply lists, making the new elf recruits practice footwork until they cried. I escaped. What are you two planning?"

Thora rubbed one temple with the heel of her hand and reached for the wine again.

"What else? Training those useless elves until they can hold a line without tripping over their own spears... or deciding whether we pack up and go back to Menual before the sky starts cracking."

Sira flopped onto the nearest couch hard enough to make the cushions protest, orange hair spilling everywhere.

"Menual’s quieter. Too quiet. At least here the elves still jump when I walk past. Keeps me entertained."

Misha finally stopped pacing, but her arms stayed folded tight.

"We will move once Kane comes. Not before. If we leave and he returns to an empty hall, I’ll never hear the end of it. And neither will you."

Sira rolled onto her side.

"You’re cute when you worry. Thora’s just drinking and pretending she isn’t counting the days too."

Thora shot her a look over the rim of the cup.

"I’m not pretending. I’m rationing. There’s a difference. One of us has to stay sober enough to stop you from jumping through any more windows."

Sira laughed.

"I used the window because the door was full of serious elves discussing ’proper guest protocol.’ Boring. Besides, I brought news. Kind of. Firlia says the southern trade scouts picked up rumors that something big happened in Berakamon. No details. Just that the capital’s been loud for days and then suddenly quiet in a different way. Could be good. Could be Kane knocked the whole place over and is walking back with the pieces."

Misha’s eyes sharpened.

"Rumors are not messages."

"They’re better than nothing."

Sira stretched, completely at ease.

"You’re both wound too tight. He’s the Chief. He walked into an empire of women who didn’t trust men and walked out with half of them looking at him like they’d follow him into a fire. He’ll walk out of the beast lands the same way. Probably bloodier. Definitely louder."

"Will he bring another wife?"

"..."

"..."

"..."