In the pitch-black carriage, Aelina closed her eyes. She slid her slim, reddened legs out of her Knight boots and peeled off her long leather gloves. Her movements stayed gentle, yet the friction on her engorged, sensitive limbs sent a ripple of pleasure. She squeezed her eyes shut, lips slightly parted. She knelt on the floor. She ignored the damp heat between her thighs and forced herself to sleep.

Aelina fell back into her harem dream. Back to the rear garden of the city on the mountaintop. Among the new brides, her faithful Silver Dragon Princess head maid followed dutifully, picking among silver-white blooms. Aelina lifted the high-slit wedding dress of a brown-haired bride. She patted the peach-round, perky butt. The girl squealed in shock and shame. Aelina pried open the shy, tightly closed bud. Like a bee, she extended a phantom limb. She thrust in, rough and hungry, and greedily drew out the honey. The flower trembled with the bee’s buzzing wings. Under that greedy draw, the bloom opened and overflowed with nectar.

The head maid took out a collar. She fastened it around each wet flower’s neck, and prompted Aelina.

“Master, she’s the Duke of Monte Cristo’s eldest daughter…”

“Master, what tool do you require?”

“Master, are you sure she goes in 2B?”

“No. Create 2A, inherit 2B. Implement dance-and-music, yoga, and lactation interfaces.”

As Aelina sank deeper into her fantasy-sim harem, the carriage filled with a sweet, happy scent. The air grew so thick it felt like you could squeeze it and have syrup drip from your fist.

Fro hung from the tree. His face was flushed. Sweat beaded on his brow. His whole body burned, like he was inside a furnace. His mouth was parched. Power surged through him. Especially down there—his little hook had become a big hook. It strained fiercely against the leather that bound it.

“It… it’s working!” Fro felt strength flood him, and fighting spirit too. It was too strong. The straps on the sleeping bag creaked tight. He wanted to vent all that strength. War intent stained his eyes red. The knife-cold autumn wind on his cheeks melted against his heat. His fighting spirit ran too hot. Even the way he looked at the four mares turned sharp, like a Knight’s charging lance.

His war-lit gaze tracked along the pony’s tail. It paused for a moment at the puckered chrysanthemum. Then it slowly climbed to the head. In the roaring heat, a ridiculous thought took root. Since when did the pony look so delicate and pretty? Those big eyes were wet and full of shy tenderness. The short mares felt his shocking war intent. They stomped uneasily. If their ropes weren’t tied to the tree, they would have bolted.

Fro felt like a Knight starved for battle. His fevered brain blurred. He saw himself astride a silver-white charger, lance in hand. He charged at the pony. He gathered all his strength into one thrust. He drove the lance into flesh. It was a craving that could not be met. He wrestled between illusion and reality. One moment he was a charging Knight. The next, an Elf trussed up in a sleeping bag.

“Is… is this the inner demon Aelina mentioned? No. I have to beat it. Take the next step!” Fro bit the tip of his tongue hard. He forced a little clarity into his head.

The mares had already been scared stiff by Fro’s overflowing war intent. They huddled together, shivering in the cold wind. They dreaded that the Golden Ape hanging from the tree would suddenly drop, grip his lance, and charge them.

“Yo yo, look at our Knight. Heh, he’s in heat.” A familiar, unreal voice rang out. Fro, locked in combat with his inner demon, looked down. He saw a mouth split into four petals. The figure was blurred, glowing a deathly green. Fro thought it a hallucination. He shook his head hard. He stared wide-eyed, unsure.

“Du… Durant?”

Standing beneath the tree was Durant, the very one Fro had skewered with his longsword. The half-elf slaver laughed. His mouth split in four. A deep gash at his neck laid bone bare. His eyes were vicious and mocking as they flicked to the Elf’s bulge.

“Looks like that slut trained her dog real well.” Durant let out a gross hee-hee-hee and mimed a lewd stroke. “She’s dripping and ready to get fucked. Yet she’s got you hanging here to suffer. What do you say? Want your old pal to give you a hand?”

“Inner demon! Get out!”

“Hahahaha.” Durant bent double laughing. He flipped up a stone and smashed it into Fro’s nose. The Elf cleared a little. Fro, who had always feared ghosts, stammered, “Y-you… you’re a ghost?”

“You two mutts! I’m here for payback!” Durant’s face darkened with hate. His outline wavered thinner. He spat hard on the ground. “I’ll slice off your long ears. Then I’ll shove a mace into her slutty cunt.”

“Durant! Once I finish cultivating, I’ll twist your head off!”

“Cultivating?” Durant laughed till he rolled on the ground. The grin split his wound. Yellow teeth jutted through the tear. “I get it. That slut raised herself a fine dog. You think she tied you up for your sake? No. It’s a leash. To stop you from fucking that piece of meat.”

“You bastard! Just wait till I get loose! I’ll chop you down!” Fro’s neck thickened with rage. He fought the bindings. The straps groaned. The bound sleeping bag swung on the branch.

“Yo? Not too bright, are you?” Durant said. “Haven’t you noticed? Don’t you often smell a sweet, blissful scent around her? She’s a born slut. When a whore goes into heat, she gives off a perfume. You smell it and you just want to mount her. Sir Knight, remember the first night you met her? The noseless brat caught her scent. He’s normally mild as milk. He barged into the tent to fuck that slut. She did it to create a chance to meet you. To trick you into being her dog. Won’t admit it? Aren’t you her dog? She tosses a bone and you fetch. When she’s in a good mood, she throws you a few scraps.”

“You know what? When I went into the tent, the yellow-faced hag told me. That slut almost got ridden by Noseless. She even climaxed. Her panties were soaked. I took a lick. Tsk tsk, sweet as sugar. That night I fucked two girls to vent.”

“Shut up! You filthy, lying swine!” Fro roared. He refused to believe Durant’s foulness. Yet his mind filled in the scene on its own. The noseless one’s ugly face. His snuffling, yellow snot rolling in his nostrils. He lunged at pure, snow-white Aelina. Her face flushed. Wet between her thighs… The heat in him climbed higher.

No. No! That’s disgusting. How could noble Aelina be like that? She’s purer than salt. Durant is lying!

“Hahaha, don’t believe me? Then let’s test it.” Durant pulled a blood-stained, rusty dagger from nowhere. The edge was nicked and ugly, but deadly.

“Let’s bet. In a moment, I’ll stick you with this. We’ll see if your elegant goddess comes out to save you.”

“Aelina! Aelina! Wake up! There’s a bastard here who deserves to die twice!” Fro’s shout rang through the whole forest.

“Hee-hee-hee, she won’t come. If she does, holding some stupid crossbow, I’ll stab you to death before she kills me. I’ll even cut off your dick.” Durant leveled the dagger at Fro’s crotch. “To save you, she’d have to come use her Magic Wand to take off your bindings. She’d have to armor you and hand you a sword. Then her pussy’s mine to ruin. Remember to pound her a few extra times for your big bro.”

“Too bad that despicable slut won’t show. She’ll only play dead in the carriage. Then come out to collect your corpse. You can shout a hundred times and it won’t matter. Yo, Dog Knight, don’t believe me? I’ll stand right here and wait. Call to a hundred and see if she comes.”

“Aelina! Aelina! Aelina!” Fro cried in despair. His eyes locked on the shut carriage door. Aelina always took the night watch. She’d said she needed no sleep, only to close her eyes. She couldn’t be asleep. Unless Durant was right.

“Hee-hee-hee, that’s twenty-one.” Durant’s dagger crept closer as he tapped Fro’s foot. “In a second, I’ll jump. First thrust goes straight to your crotch.”

“Aelina!”