Shield of the Rose

Emerging from the Ricard Hotel, it was the hottest part of the day. The sun beat down directly from overhead, baking the road surface until it radiated heat, while the monotonous drone of cicadas filled the air.

His mission was finally complete, the outcome was satisfactory, and it was still relatively early.

Richie was never one to let a good opportunity slide. Since the Captain had granted him a full day off, he intended to enjoy every minute of it.

Before heading out, he had already formed a plan.

It had been a long time since he last visited the villa in the suburbs.

No public carriages ran from Peines to that area, as there were no military barracks nearby. Thus, Richie hailed a private carriage.

The fare was expensive, and Richie felt a pang of regret as he paid the driver.

Yet he had no room to complain. The fare did not go to the driver but to the government. By raising carriage fares, the authorities limited the number of carriages on the streets while securing a significant source of revenue to fund civil subsidies. As a result, the regulations were strictly enforced.

The villa remained unchanged, though the presence of residents had brought it to life. Wildflowers now decorated every windowsill.

They were not exotic species, but common daisies, wild azaleas, and yellow thorns gathered from the surrounding fields, creating a beautiful display of colors.

Suddenly, Richie’s expression grew solemn.

He noticed that the windows were reinforced with wooden bars, and even the external staircase leading to the second floor was sealed off by a wooden door barricaded with piles of miscellaneous items.

It seemed the area was no longer safe. Richie felt a pang of guilt, realizing he should have paid more attention to the girls.

The villa was the only building in the area, situated at the end of a long path. Anyone approaching could be seen from a distance. Consequently, before Richie even reached the entrance, the door opened, and the girls emerged to welcome him like an honored guest.

Among them, Ginny was the most affectionate. The young girl sprinted out and threw herself into Richie’s arms. “You’re so bad! It’s been so long since you visited. You must have forgotten about us entirely.”

Ginny complained as she clung to him.

Richie was stubborn to a fault, and though he knew he was in the wrong, admitting it was out of the question. “You should be glad I’m back at all. I almost didn’t make it this time.”

This was no exaggeration. During his first clash with Gerold, he had barely survived the “Cruciate Cleave.” Had he failed to block it, he would have been sliced into pieces. The girls had no way of knowing the details, but when they first learned Richie had awakened as a Knight, they knew a day might come when he would not return. They had all witnessed the cruelty of war and the violence of Knights in battle.

Silence fell over the girls.

Richie realized his words had cast a pall over the reunion. Unable to take them back, he patted Ginny’s butt and pointed at the wooden barricades. “What is all this?”

“What else could it be? It’s just like before.”

“We only have ourselves to blame,” Shaji, Melissa’s mother, chimed in. She had quietly assumed leadership among the women. “More and more refugees are flooding into Peines. At first, we pitied them and sent them food. But things quickly got out of hand. There are indeed pity-worthy people among the refugees, but there are just as many thieves and scoundrels…”

As Shaji spoke, Sophie, her mother, Caroline, and Isabella lowered their heads, expressions of regret on their faces.

Richie understood immediately. There had clearly been a dispute. Melissa and her mother had likely argued against helping the refugees, while Sophie, Caroline, and Isabella had opposed them. Ginny and her mother had remained neutral, while Emily and her mother simply ignored the matter.

Ultimately, Melissa’s caution had proven correct.

“How did you protect yourselves? Just a group of women?” Richie asked, surprised.

“Did you forget we have weapons?” Ginny smiled.

Richie recalled that during their escape, he had instructed the girls to prepare weapons and armor. During their time in the small town, the girls had witnessed blood and were no longer the defenseless victims they once were.

“Did you injure anyone? Those weapons are contraband,” Richie said, now more concerned for the refugees who came looking for trouble. If someone died, it would cause complications.

“Who said they are contraband? Your father works in the Quartermaster department. We took the weapons to him, and he helped us get them stamped. They are all legally registered now,” Ginny said proudly. “It was my idea.”

Richie swatted Ginny’s butt twice, putting some force into it this time. She let out a sharp cry.

Ignoring her protests, Richie scowled. “How dare you drag my father into this? If something goes wrong, he will be held responsible.”

Frustrated by her recklessness, he gave her a few more hard swats.

This was no playful teasing; Richie intended to teach them a lesson. If they grew too bold, they would eventually bring trouble to his parents, and by then it would be too late.

“If anything happens in the future, report it to me directly,” Richie warned. Having delivered the warning, he offered a concession. “I don’t feel safe leaving you out here so far from the city. I’ll find a way to move you to a safer location.”

He was not making idle promises. The town where his squad was stationed was currently undergoing expansion, with building materials piled high. Given his rank, securing some materials was simple. He planned to build a house for them near the lake. It did not need to be grand, just functional.

He had already chosen the location. The lake near the camp was close to town but sufficiently isolated, outside the military zone, and it was where he usually practiced his forms.

Entering the villa and locking the door, Richie retrieved a stack of cash from his breast pocket and handed it to Isabella, who had always managed their finances.

“So much?” Isabella was astonished, having never seen such a thick stack of bills, even when her parents were alive. “Keep some for your parents, and keep some for yourself. You might need it.”

Richie was pleased by her concern. “No need. I kept a portion. Now that I’ve been promoted, my salary is much higher.”

Yet he felt a brief pang of embarrassment, recalling the shopping spree of the female Knights. Compared to them, he was still a pauper.

Isabella went upstairs to store the money and lock her younger siblings in their room.

The moment she left, Richie gathered the women around him. Without even removing his clothes, he pulled his member free, grabbed Ginny, and pressed her onto the coffee table. She wore a knee-length skirt, which he pushed up to reveal her pink panties.

Richie pulled the panties aside, exposing her hairless pubic area.

Ginny’s slit was a beautiful pink, and her neat labia were highly enticing. Richie’s hard shaft was fully erect. Aligning it with her entrance, he pushed inside.

Under the guidance of their mothers, the girls had all used the special aphrodisiac, which had modified their vaginal walls with tight folds and exceptional elasticity.

Richie thrust deliberately, having learned to appreciate a woman’s warmth rather than focusing solely on raw speed.

Ginny, however, was highly enthusiastic, moving her hips in rhythm with his thrusts. Her small buttocks twisted as she employed the techniques her mother had taught her, squeezing his shaft tightly.

As she twisted her hips, the little vixen turned her head to lock eyes with Richie, her mouth never stopping.

“Oh… oh… brother, your thing feels even bigger… it makes me feel so full, but it’s so good… I love it.”

“Brother… harder! It’s so itchy inside. You haven’t visited in so long, you must feed me… no, you must feed all of us today.”

“Oh… oh… oh… this is amazing! Faster… oh… I’m going to fly.”

Seeing her body begin to tremble on the verge of climax, Richie suddenly stopped.

Ginny felt like a starving pup that had just secured a piece of meat, only to have it snatched away before she could swallow.

She cast an aggrieved look at Richie, swaying her hips to entice him to slide his thick shaft back inside.

Richie ignored her, gesturing to her mother, Christina. “You join us.”

Christina hesitated briefly before stepping forward.

Richie pulled her into his arms. Among all his women, Christina was the most beautiful and refined. He treated her with more gentleness than he did Ginny, kissing her deeply before running his lips down her neck to her modest but firm breasts.

Though small, her breasts were shapely, topped with pink nipples.

Richie licked and nibbled them, and after a moment of foreplay, he had mother and daughter lie together on the coffee table. Christina’s pubic area was even more delicate and pink than her daughter’s, her labia resembling fine white jade.

Richie slid his thick shaft into Christina’s passage.

Her vagina was slick, filled with fluids, allowing him to penetrate easily.

Withdrawing completely, he let his member hang for a moment before lining it up with Ginny’s entrance and pushing inside.

Alternating between mother and daughter, Richie maintained a steady rhythm.

“No, this isn’t fair! It doesn’t feel good. Why can’t you satisfy one of us first?” Ginny protested from below, frustrated by the teasing.

Suddenly, her body stiffened. The thick shaft pushed inside once more, but this time it felt different—like a stiff brush scraping against her walls, sending waves of intense pleasure and frustration through her. It felt like an electric shock, leaving her limbs weak.

Overwhelmed by the stimulation, Ginny lay speechless.

Christina noticed her daughter’s reaction and, before she could wonder why, Richie withdrew from Ginny and entered her.

As an adult, Christina had greater endurance than her daughter. Though she was equally overwhelmed by the sensation, she kept her arms braced against the table, refusing to collapse onto her daughter.

Ultimately, she could not hold out either. Before the vaginal stimulation could fade, a similar sensation erupted from behind.

Richie’s thick shaft pushed deep into her small anal opening.

He had no worries about cleanliness; the women cleaned their passages multiple times a day to wash away the residue of the aphrodisiac, which would otherwise cause intolerable itching.

With a soft groan, Christina collapsed, her body curling like a shrimp as she trembled. Before she could recover, Richie withdrew and returned to Ginny.

This time, he entered her rear first, then her front.

This was a method even the female Knights struggled to endure, and the girls had no chance. Under the dual penetration, Ginny collapsed, lying limp on the table.

“All of you, line up on the coffee table like them,” Richie commanded.

In this house, his word was law.

Within moments, the table was surrounded by pairs of women. Caroline and Isabella paired up.

Like a king inspecting his lands, Richie left his mark on every path, moving from one pair to the next.

The villa filled with soft moans and cries, which eventually softened into quiet whimpers as the women grew exhausted.

After several rounds, Richie returned to Ginny and Christina. He lifted Christina onto his lap, his hard shaft buried deep inside her vagina.

Feeling the contractions deep within her, Richie stopped resisting his own pleasure. Having satisfied the women, it was time for his own release.

He favored Christina, often seeking her or Emily’s mother, Ingrid, when he was close to climax.

These two were his favorites.

However, he felt a slight apprehension around Ingrid, likely due to her exceptional intelligence.

Cradling Christina, he rotated her body slowly, pushing his hard shaft deep into her cervix. The cervix was far tighter than the vagina, and the friction against its walls offered intense stimulation.

Suddenly, Richie felt the head of his penis slip past her cervix. Christina’s head snapped back, her mouth open in a silent cry.

A thin stream of fluid ran down her thighs; she had climaxed too many times and was thoroughly spent.

Her climax triggered Richie’s own release. A wave of pleasure washed over him, and his semen erupted inside her.

The sensation of release was magnificent.

---

The living room was a scene of exhaustion, with women lying limp on the coffee table, their pubic areas swollen and red.

However, Richie had spared Sophie, Emily, and Ingrid from the worst of it. Though they were exhausted, they were still able to stand with his support.

“Can you read this?” Richie asked, holding out the data chip he had received from Espol.

Before leaving the Ricard Hotel, he had mentioned Emily’s studies to Espol, hoping to secure a reading list from the legendary craftsman.

He had expected a list of recommended texts, but Espol had instead instructed Yiluo to copy this chip, which contained his personal teaching materials and experiment logs.

Emily took the chip and nodded, as did Sophie.

Since the war began, the girls had realized that traditional rules no longer applied. Money and status were useless without strength.

Richie’s absence had only reinforced this belief, prompting those with Psion talent to practice diligently.

Emily stood up, but her legs yielded after a single step, and she nearly fell.

“Can you carry me to the kitchen?” she asked softly.

Richie scooped her up.

The kitchen lay adjacent to the living room, and entering it, Richie froze.

The kitchen was large, but it was currently cluttered with instruments and tools, resembling an armor workshop.

The food preparation tables were covered with devices, the spice racks held chemical reagents, and a corner of the room housed an anvil, hammers, and chisels.

“It’s quiet here, and we won’t disturb the others at night. Plus, this is the only room in the villa where we can safely use the stoves,” Emily explained.

Richie set Emily on a chair and returned to fetch the other two.

Ingrid possessed the “Refining” ability, while Sophie possessed “Botanical Support,” both of which were highly useful.

Richie was glad he had encouraged Sophie to train her talent rather than dismissing it.

By the time he carried Sophie and Ingrid inside, Emily had inserted the chip into a projector-like device.

A beam of light projected onto the wall, displaying text, formulas, and diagrams. Emily adjusted the focus until the images were clear.

She scrolled through the pages, most of which contained technical text and formulas, along with a few experiment logs and video recordings.

Richie had no interest in the formulas, which he could not understand, but the recordings caught his attention.

There were five experiments in total, arranged by difficulty. The first was simple and brief, while the final two were complex and lengthy.

“The first one doesn’t seem too difficult,” Emily noted. “We have the materials here.”

“Should we try it?” Sophie suggested, wanting to keep Richie occupied so he would not badger them further.

Among the women, Sophie was the least suited to endure his physical demands.

They set to work immediately.

The experiment required very little material—just a small amount of metal powder. Emily suggested grinding iron nails, but Richie preferred following the log’s specification, which called for gold.

He did not have a large amount of gold, but a small quantity was manageable. During his escape with Calli and Nora from the Varedin camp, he had killed a stout Varedin commander and taken a pure gold necklace.

He had kept it, wearing it around his neck ever as a souvenir.

Removing the necklace, he cut off a link.

The link weighed only a few grams, its reddish-yellow color indicating high purity.

Emily retrieved a pair of shears and a mortar. The gold had to be ground into dust, a task that fell to Richie.

Richie had no reason to refuse. He used the shears to cut the gold into tiny fragments, then used the steel pestle to grind it.

The metallic clatter filled the kitchen for half an hour before Emily signaled him to stop.

Only a pile of dark gold dust remained at the bottom of the mortar.

With the dust prepared, the three women took over, following the steps in the log.

First was purification to remove impurities like dust and steel particles from the mortar.

A sharp, acidic odor filled the room, forcing Richie to back away. His Knight training had heightened his senses, which had its disadvantages.

He now understood why Nora emphasized that a scout’s most important trait was endurance, not sensitivity.

Standing at a distance, Richie watched the three women work. He had watched Randy work in a similar fashion, and there was a unique charm to women focused on their tasks.

Time passed. The women moved much slower than Espol and Yiluo in the recordings, executing each step with caution and occasional hesitation. The purified gold dust was placed inside a glass tube along with other reagents. The tube was connected to a hand pump to create a vacuum, then sealed with melted lead.

They heated the tube over the flame. Richie watched the gold dust vaporize into a golden mist that filled the tube before condensing along the inner walls.

The gold formed a shiny, metallic film on the glass.

Emily pricked her finger with a needle, squeezing out a drop of blood and pressing her finger against the sealed end of the tube.

A small valve drew the blood inside.

Under the vacuum, the blood vaporized into a fine red mist.

“We should try something else. Since the log specifies organic cells, maybe this will work,” Ginny said, slipping into the kitchen. She held a pipette containing a clear fluid. Before anyone could stop her, she injected it into the valve, and the fluid was drawn inside.

“We spent hours preparing this!” Emily yelled, furious at the disruption.

Ginny showed no regret, smiling. “Don’t worry, it won’t fail. I have a feeling.”

No one ignored Ginny’s intuition, which was a facet of her Psion talent.

Still, her recklessness could not go unpunished. Richie stepped forward, pinned her arms behind her back, and exposed her butt.

“Spank! Spank! Spank!”

The sound of swats filled the kitchen.

Within moments, her skin turned red, then purple.

Ginny cried out, eventually weeping. She had never been beaten like this. She realized Richie was truly punishing her.

“That’s enough,” Emily said, catching Richie’s arm. Though angry with Ginny’s action, she felt no malice toward her and feared Richie might treat her the same way.

Sophie was equally startled, retreating behind Ingrid.

Only Ingrid watched in silence, understanding the necessity of discipline. She turned her gaze to the glass tube.

The gold film on the inner wall began to wrinkle, forming patterns resembling skin tissue or leaf veins, matching the log’s description.

Ingrid carefully retrieved the tube and cut it open with a diamond glass cutter. The gold film peeled away from the glass.

It was paper-thin.

Due to gravity, the gold was thicker at the bottom of the tube. Ingrid trimmed the edges with shears and flattened the film.

Ignoring the children, Ingrid proceeded with the final measurements.

After a moment, she stared at the data sheet, her brow furrowed. The numbers did not match the reference data in the log—they were significantly higher, showing a 25% increase in activation.

She retrieved the pipette Ginny had used and sniffed it. Her face turned red.

She recognized the scent. It was Richie’s semen.

---

It was seven in the evening when Richie left the villa. The summer sun set late.

He had waited for the women to recover before leaving, refusing to leave them vulnerable.

Reaching the main road, he did not try to hail a carriage, knowing military vehicles were the only transport available and were forbidden from carrying civilian passengers. This was why the women had been unable to visit the city.

Richie sat by the roadside and put on the roller skates Emily had given him. They consisted of a steel plate with inline wheels, which he secured to his shoes with leather straps. He had skated during his time in Glasslovar.

His balance was excellent, a trait enhanced by his Knightly bloodline.

He tested the skates, finding his balance and control superior to his pre-awakened days.

He was reminded of the “Rubbing Step,” which shared similarities with skating.

Pushing off, he accelerated like an arrow, executing a sharp turn at the edge of the road.

The key to the Rubbing Step was parallel force, which translated perfectly to skating, eliminating the need to step left and right.

However, the friction of the wheels on the road created a loud screech.

A carriage approached from the opposite direction, and Richie veered aside.

As it passed, he felt a strong draft of wind.

Instinctively, he rotated his body, sliding into the slipstream behind the carriage.

The wind whistled in his ears. He realized he had slipped into a pocket of low-resistance turbulence.

This was the very technique he had practiced at the lake.

His speed increased, the wheels screeching louder.

However, the moment the turbulence faded, the resistance returned, and his speed dropped.

Richie felt a twinge of disappointment. He had hoped this technique would offer a reliable speed boost on its own.

Yesterday’s duel had shown him the vital importance of speed.

When Dana was in danger, Lina had reacted first, but Caron and Trisli had bypassed her with superior speed.

He recalled Lina’s pale face and the frustration in her eyes.

That was the power of speed.

To achieve such speed, one needed either explosive power or minimal resistance.

Caron relied on explosive force, while Trisli seemed to utilize both.

Richie lacked explosive power; his training focused on sustained force, which could not be easily altered now.

Another carriage approached. Prepared this time, Richie rotated his body as it passed, slipping into the turbulent pocket behind it.

The wheels screeched again, and when he finally slowed, he felt heat radiating from his soles. The wheels were not designed for such speeds.

He decided not to push them further, fearing the skates would break before he reached the camp.

It was past eight when he entered the city. With some time before curfew, he decided to visit the Ricard Hotel.

He wanted to ask Yiluo about the experimental discrepancy.

The receptionist recognized him from his morning visit.

“Are you looking for Mr. Yiluo?” the receptionist asked politely.

“No need,” Richie said, placing a letter on the desk. “Please deliver this to him.”

With the letter delivered, Richie departed. The two guards in the lobby watched him leave, one of them gesturing to the receptionist.

The receptionist opened the letter under their gaze. It contained only a thin metal foil and a note: The data is irregular. We cannot find the cause.

The guards inspected the note and foil but found nothing suspicious, though they remained cautious.

“Send this to the analysis lab,” the older guard ordered. “Keep quiet until we return.”

The receptionist nodded in agreement.

The lab verified the items were not toxic or carrying coded messages, swapping the original foil with a replica.

The process took three hours, and by the time the letter was returned, the receptionist had finished his shift.

The letter remained in the desk overnight.

The next morning, Yiluo received it. Recognizing the data and the gold film, he knew it was from Richie.

He sat at his terminal to compare the numbers with the reference data.

His expression turned strange.

He rushed to the laboratory, ran a quick test on the gold film, and confirmed the 25% increase.

Puzzled, he went to consult Espol.

The old man was having breakfast in bed when Yiluo entered.

“The boy ran the activation experiment, but his results show a 25% increase over ours,” Yiluo said, handing him the film and note.

Espol retrieved his spectacles and inspected the items.

His brow furrowed. He pushed his breakfast tray aside and got out of bed.

Wearing his slippers, he entered the lab and approached a copper instrument known as a Recall Device, which could trace the formation of an object.

Placing a fragment of the gold film in the device, Espol rested his hand on the casing.

Within the device, the gold dissolved into particles, revealing information to the craftsman.

Even with his mastery, Espol could only gather a portion of the details.

After an hour, he withdrew his hand, looking exhausted. “The steps are identical, but the refining process involved a force related to life. The materials were also impure, containing organic trace elements.”

Yiluo stood by quietly, waiting for his master to finish. “Should we run more tests?”

“Prepare the carriage,” Espol said, heading to change.

An hour later, the carriage arrived at the 105th squad’s camp.

Richie was sparring with Lina, practicing with his new blade under her guidance.

The training was interrupted by Espol’s arrival.

Richie joined Calli at the gate.

Robin, who was on guard duty, had brought a chair for the legendary craftsman.

Espol stood up as Richie approached, waving the gold film. “Did you make this?”

“My classmates did,” Richie replied honestly.

“Take me to them,” Espol said, gripping Richie’s shoulder. The old man was excited; this experiment was the foundation of his research, and any progress here would accelerate his other projects.

Richie looked to Calli for permission.

Calli sighed but nodded. “Consider it official duty today.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Richie said, joining Espol in the carriage.

The carriage traveled quickly through the city, benefiting from the privileges granted to the foreign guests.

They reached the villa, but found several men with clubs surrounding the building.

Richie recognized them as refugees from a nearby camp. The girls were watching them from the windows, their cross-bows likely ready.

The four guards accompanying Espol intervened immediately.

One guard grabbed Richie’s shoulder, asking suspiciously, “Who are they?”

Richie disliked his tone. “There is a refugee camp nearby. They have been harassing the villa for two months.”

The guard gestured to his companion, who darted forward, beating the men with swift, brutal strikes that left them with dislocated joints or broken bones.

The women emerged from the villa, recognizing Richie.

Espol walked toward them, smiling. “You are quite fortunate. Your classmates and their mothers are all beauties.”

Richie blushed. “Ginny, Emily, Sophie, come over.”

He did not mention Ingrid, wanting to avoid questions about her time as a Varedin captive.

Espol evaluated the three girls, recognizing their Psion potential. He noted their progress was rapid.

His gaze lingered on Ingrid briefly before turning to the modified carriage under the stairs, noting its creative design.

He nodded in approval, valuing creativity and imagination above raw power in an armor smith.

Richie explained their visit to the girls.

Emily and Sophie were calm, but Ginny looked embarrassed, knowing the secret ingredient she had added was not easily replicated.

She remained quiet, watching Emily and Sophie run the test again.

With the preparation completed, Richie ground the gold dust, and they ran the activation process.

The gold film condensed, and the blood was injected.

The experiment proceeded smoothly, but the four of them knew the result would differ.

Sure enough, the test on the new film showed only the standard activation level.

“Should we try again?” Emily asked, disappointed.

Espol sighed. He did not want to waste time on repeated tests, knowing accidental success was difficult to replicate.

However, he knew every accident had a cause, and their creativity had impressed him.

Though he rarely took students, he decided to offer them guidance.

​