Beyond Maximar's walls, slowly, a convoy made its way.
Maximar's pristine walls rose in the distance. The carriage wheels rolled across thin walkways and marble bridges, glittering with proud glory. The shadow of Abra caused horses to neigh and soldiers to gasp in fear, yet they understood there was nowhere to run from this beast; many scouts who dared venture too far had fallen to it.
They passed a stone tower upon a cliffside above them, its top covered in wood.
Warhorses were in front of and behind the adorned wooden carriage, a golden and silver symbol proudly depicting a crown made of branches and leaves, an antique of a long-gone era.
Inside were two people, a man and a woman. In the modern world, she would still be merely a girl.
The woman looked to the floor; her dark, shoulder-length locks were in a carefully arranged disarray, giving her a sort of naive charm, her large, expressive eyes further adding to it.
Yet, despite her honored status, she seemed far from happy; one could dare say she appeared distressed in a silent, disassociated way. Wistfully looking from her window at nothing in particular.
Her clothes consisted of a carefully knit, button-up, dark green and black checkered dress. The buttons were wooden, carefully crafted with the most intricate of druid magics, yet they were just loose enough to show tiny gaps in the fabric between one another, revealing tiny glimpses of skin and cleavage. The sleeves were long, the dress stretching only just low enough to hide her undergarments, revealing her white upper thighs.
It would be considered improper if it weren't so carefully sculpted to be otherwise. Nothing of real sensitivity was revealed, only enough to rile one's appetite. Curious, but not quite outrageous.
"Willow Moss." The man said, his voice so cold, even the hot air around them seemed to cool, yet her mind was merely playing tricks.
"I hope you're preparing yourself and aren't dozing off."
Heart lurching and lungs shuddering, she nodded hurriedly, her head lowering on instinct, eyes not daring to gaze into the two dark pupils piercing her skull.
"O-O-O-Of c-cou-r-rse..." Willow spoke as if she were choking; she certainly felt like she was.
"Ugh." Obsidian groaned. He, unlike the orphan sitting in front of him, was not a pawn to be sold off to the highest bidder.
He, with his long raven hair, black pupils, and olive skin akin in color to tree bark, was an illegitimate son of his father. One who was rather fortunately poised. He wore grand robes colored with a green so dark it was nearly black, interrupted only by the most cultured of white inscriptions and symbols.
'He wanted a purple robe, the color of royalty and wealth, but could not afford it.' Willow remembered, a flicker of something appearing and vanishing in her eyes.
Obsidian did not notice. Instead, he turned inwards.
'To think father would be this... Unorthodox. I always knew the Kings of the Federated Kingdoms were plotting at all times, but this surpasses even my standards.'
"You remember the plan, yes? Repeat it to me." He was sure she remembered, how could she not? Still, he smirked as he watched her squirm, feeling the power he held like a pointed blade.
"I-I m-must... S-Seduce a m-man o-o-of p-power to s-secure a diplomatic beachfront... S-Sir Obsidian."
He nodded, pleased.
The woman was not ashamed; she was afraid. There was no spine to rage against this humiliation, no pride to shield, and certainly no faction that would stand by her.
She was an orphan, taken and traded for her pretty eyes, soft flesh, and her assets, to put it politely. Indeed, merely aged 14, she was already seen to be at ripe courting age. If she didn't become a mother by 20, she would be seen as a failure.
A terrible fate.
'G-Given my virgin status, and so-called beauty, it's natural they chose me to be a seductress...'
Still, there was far more at play.
Obsidian rolled his eyes at her clear submissiveness, another reason she was chosen. She was beautiful but also easily intimidated and manipulated, like soft clay to be molded.
Hence why he was here.
'I'll throw her at the most powerful man we see and silently ensure she doesn't get used against us... Or me, rather.'
While Obsidian could only speculate about the rest of his father's intent, he felt supremely confident in his intellect.
His father would likely declare Willow Moss his illegitimate heir; her black hair would serve as sufficient proof, and he would then legitimize her, using her new status in this mysterious city to minimize damage to his reputation while also securing an unofficial alliance with a person of power here.
She could also double as an agent for them, but that would be too risky given her personality.
'Truly. I am wise to read my father like a book. The fool won't have any idea what I plan.'
He had one objective: break Willow. Using some wealth he had saved, he managed to bribe her prison guards.
'Father was treating her well, intending to buy her loyalty. It worked to profound success; she was truly his to command, until I stepped in.'
He broke her, randomly; he appeared at night, morning, or day, and made her life a living hell. Carefully, without damaging her pristine look, he ate away at her mind and even her body, though he didn't touch her most sacred parts.
He wasn't interested in her, nor was he in anyone; either they were not worthy of him, or were beyond his reach. When he finally could reach them, they lost their appeal, akin to rotten fruit.
She didn't dare to resist for long; leveraging his status and her low birth, he won. With her on his side, like a trained steed, she would use her new status in the city to serve as a slingshot to the high life away from his father's condescending grip, supplying him with enough wealth to live however he wanted.
'Father won't suspect a thing... My record leaves much to be desired, marked by a failed venture and scant, mild successes. Another step of my master plan...'
Obsidian chuckled. Clearly, his apparent incompetence wasn't accidental; it was all intentionally designed by him.
Willow was shrinking away as his fingers thudded against the wooden confines of the carriage. His eyes locked onto the city they now approached.
'This way, he thought to send me, a disposable pawn, along with an Orphan. If either of us dies, it does nothing to harm him, and even if we do betray him, we can't touch him for years. But with this place... I may just achieve all that I've wanted for so long.'
In the end, he would leave this wretched state behind, starting a new, better life in a nation that would respect his genius. All he had to do was break the girl, put her in a position of leverage over a man of power, use that leverage to amass wealth and influence, and then run. Run without ever looking back.
'Maybe I could take over the whole city? Haha, the look on father's face would truly be sublime...'
With a wicked smile, he sighed. His mind: Adrift in his typical daily daydreaming. And quietly, Willow wondered what the man she would seduce would look like. Old or young, kind or cruel... She just hoped he would he would make it easy for her.
After all, if she did well, Obsidian might spare her his wrath, and she might just get her happily ever after.
'Maybe if he's nice... It won't be so bad.'