The next day...
Serenith stands with arms crossed and a deep frown creasing her brow, her wings twitching slightly as she glares at the closed flap of the royal tent.
Moans, giggles, the occasional crash of furniture, as well as various squelching and gurgling sounds echo from within, punctuated every so often by a chorus of overlapping female voices all shouting his name at once, like a very enthusiastic choir praising a sex-god.
A few paces away, Lucien’s High Council sits around a stone slab repurposed as a table, poring over scrolls, maps, and personnel reports. Every few minutes, one of them bursts into laughter, especially when a particularly raunchy sound escapes the tent.
Suddenly, the tent flap explodes open.
Vile stomps out, half-naked, panting, her hair a tangled mess, sweat glistening off her crimson skin as she raises her hand high.
"I need THREE jars of slime lube and a double-dose of horny root extract, stat!" she barks.
An attendant dashes forward with supplies already in hand, as though this exact request had been anticipated and pre-stocked for exactly this moment. Vile snatches the items, flashes Serenith a delirious grin, and disappears back inside, hips still swaying to some rhythm only she can hear.
"I need to..." Serenith blinks, "Ugh, never mind!"
At the table, the whole team snickers at her and Serenith scowls, sticking her tongue out at them.
Ignara sips from a goblet and smirks. "Relax, feathers. He’s in there with the twins and eight succubus overseers. He’s got his hands full."
Serenith groans and slumps to the ground beside a dwindling fire. "It’s already been hours. How long can a man possibly last?"
"He’s no man." X’zelle purrs. "That’s a sex-god moonlighting as a Demon Lord."
Ignara bursts out laughing and gives her a high-five.
The next morning, Serenith snorts awake as something pokes her repeatedly in the side. She blinks, then yelps, swatting at the stick held by a grinning Lucien who’s crouched in front of her, hair mussed, collar askew, looking every bit like a man who has personally, and single-handedly, kept an entire mining operation’s morale afloat overnight with nothing but his hips.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," he says sheepishly. "Sorry about... yesterday, the, uh... performance evaluations got a little out of hand."
Behind him, Vex and Vile lead a stumbling line of exhausted succubi out of the tent. Some lean on each other, others drag their feet with glazed eyes and blissful, dopey grins, robes hanging half-fastened, wings drooping like wilted flowers after a very thorough storm.
Lucien turns to them and bows dramatically. "Thank you for the evaluations, ladies. You’ve all passed with flying colors. I look forward to working with each of you... extensively."
Sila, the head overseer, staggers out last. Sweat-slicked and grinning like a madwoman, her ledger somehow still clutched to her chest, as though even in the throes of a night like that, she never once let go of the paperwork.
Lucien wraps an arm around her waist, grinning proudly. "Now you, Sila, you’ve got stamina. The only one who almost kept up. You’re getting the royal treatment today."
Sila tries to salute, misses entirely, then nearly collapses.
Lucien catches her. "Vex! Vile! Get her to the spa tent. Full-body massage. Hot stones. Bubbles. Oils. I want her primed and radiant. Today I meet the dragon. Tomorrow, we mine like never before."
Groth groans from the table. "Are you sure you know what you’re doing, my lord?"
Lucien winks. "Absolutely not. But when has that ever stopped me? Besides, you’re coming with me."
Groth lets out a muffled squeak as her armor hisses, a puff of steam shooting from her collar.
X’zelle stands up and snaps off a formal salute. "All miners are officially contracted, My Lord. Vex and Vile have been briefed on labor laws as per your orders and will train the overseers. Implementation begins immediately."
Alexel steps forward next, robes immaculate, clipboard floating beside him in a rune field. "Construction has commenced in two additional towns. Roadworks are progressing rapidly with our new workforce, and we’ve already completed almost twenty percent of the canal construction project."
"Mmm." His pink-haired succubus assistant moans, draping herself across his back. " You sound so cute when you talk logistics."
Everyone snorts.
Alexel clears his throat, flushed. "Also, I’ve commissioned a statue, sire."
"Unfortunately, not all good news, Lord Lucidius." Ignara sighs, swirling her wine, "The royal coffers are dangerously low. The labor contracts are expensive. Between wages, pensions, and entertainment budgets, we’re bleeding coin. The brothels and taverns are pulling in profits, but it’s not enough. We need more capital or we’re going to stall."
"Then we’ll fix that." Lucien nods. "We just need the right investor. And I know exactly who."
He walks casually around the table, then leans close to Groth, whispering in her ear. "Besides, I’ve been looking forward to working alone with you, General Groth. Always wondered what you looked like under that armor."
Groth lets out a sharp exhale and a burst of steam from her helmet vents.
Later that day the entire high council, along with the twins and dozens of staff, gathers at the yawning mouth of the mine where torches line the tunnel entrance, and the air smells of sulfur and old stone, cool and damp compared to the scorched world outside.
Lucien stands tall in his shimmering royal coat, sword sheathed across his back, one hand resting on Bugatti’s fiery mane, while Groth stands beside him, arms crossed, and Serenith floats behind, tapping her foot impatiently against empty air.
"You seem excited to watch me get roasted by a dragon." Lucien says, cocking an eyebrow at her.
"Because you might actually die." Serenith grins, "And then I finally get to go home and not have to hear you plow a carriage’s worth of women every day."
"In that case, let’s not keep destiny waiting. Shall we?" Lucien chuckles and points his hand toward the cavern.
Groth sighs and checks her sword, tightening a strap that doesn’t need tightening, the universal tell of a soldier trying not to look nervous before she files in behind Lucien, while the Twins blow him kisses, already placing side bets on how many times he’ll say something inappropriate before the dragon roasts him.
Serenith rolls her eyes, though she can’t quite keep the worry off her face.
And with a wicked grin, Lucien steps into the darkness of the dragon’s den, ready to negotiate.