It’s been three whole days.
Three days of bland rations, cold leftovers, and whatever lukewarm goo the succubi try to pass off as "porridge." Three days of watching humanoids flirt, fondle, and frolic while his majestic stomach sits empty, grumbling with the fury of a hundred dormant volcanoes.
Valgereth has had enough.
The dragon-turned-debonair-stud stomps up the stone steps to Lucien’s royal tent, trailing black smoke with every step. Birds scatter. Ash swirls. A nearby miner dives for cover as Val snarls, "DARK LORD!"
No response.
Val plants both hands on his hips and bellows again. "You call this royal service?! I demand a proper breakfast! NOW!"
Seated beside the tent flap with a steaming cup of holy herb tea is Serenith, legs crossed, robes loose, and face full of amusement.
"He’s busy." She breathes before sipping delicately.
Val blinks at her. "Busy doing what? He better be baking me a volcanic omelette with blood syrup!"
Serenith shrugs. "If by ’baking’ you mean plowing, then yes. Baking something soft and squishy. Two, actually."
Val snarls. "I am funding this operation! I wait for no one!" He shoves the tent flap aside and storms in.
It takes exactly two seconds.
Slapping sounds. Whimpers. Whispers. A weird, wet slurp.
Val’s eye twitches as he turns the corner of the room divider.
As his eyes find their focus among the flickering shadows, they shoot open wide.
"WHAT IN THE BURNING BRIMSTONES?!"
He glimpses Lucien, just as the sweat-soaked demon lord slips himself back down Vile’s eager throat, again... and again. Her forked tongue lashes at the base of his business while Vex helps her sister past her oral limits with a firm hand to the back of Vile’s head.
The mighty dragon clutches his chest and lets out a high-pitched squeal. "AAAHHH! MY EYES!"
He retches dramatically, gagging and stumbling back out the tent.
A moment later, Lucien appears, half-dressed, his trousers clinging to one leg and the twins clinging to his torso. Both of them look flushed, tousled, and extremely pleased with themselves.
Lucien adjusts his belt. "Almost got my dick bit off again! What in the hell just happened?"
Serenith is on the ground. Cackling. Face red. Tears streaming down her cheeks as she slaps at the ground, gasping for air.
Val stands beside her, arms crossed and face locked in a disgusted scowl.
"You," he growls, "are disgusting with your wet, fleshy, noisy copulation. Slap slap squelch squelch suck suck. It’s barbaric!"
Lucien grins. "Not a fan of the ladies?"
Val blinks. "What?"
Lucien leans in and whispers. Val’s eyes widen as he reels back.
"No! I love the ladies. But if she’s not a few tons, covered in scales, and able to crush me between her thighs, then what’s the point? These tiny, meat-wrapped toothpicks you play with." He gestures at the giggling twins. "They barely count as finger food."
The twins gasp, pouting in mock offense.
One of them reaches out. "Aww, poor Val. You just need a little loving—"
He slaps her hand away with a snarl. "I’d rather rut with a wyvern with halitosis than one of you... soap-slippery meat popsicles!"
He storms off, smoke trailing from his mouth. "If I don’t get breakfast in the next ten minutes, I start eating miners!"
Lucien gives a low whistle. "Well... someone woke up on the wrong side of the gold pile."
He gives the twins a gentle slap on their butts. "Go on. Find him something edible before he starts nibbling on the employees."
They salute with a wink. "Yes, boss!" Each planting a kiss on opposite cheeks before skipping off.
Lucien stretches luxuriously, rubbing the back of his neck and strolling across the central compound to a smaller side tent.
He raps on the frame. "Alexel? I’m coming in!"
Inside, the tent is dimly lit, cozy, and filled with scrolls, maps, and datapads floating by enchanted candlelight. Alexel sits at a mahogany desk, flushed, beaming, fingers twitching nervously.
Lucien pauses, raises an eyebrow, then snorts.
"Sorry to interrupt. I see you’re... busy." He gives a very knowing smirk.
Alexel stiffens and stammers, "I-I was just, uh... dictating... logistics."
"Dictating?" Lucien snorts. "Good one."
From beneath the desk comes a small cough.
Lucien chuckles and turns on his heel. "Finish up. Meet me at the admin building in ten. We’ve got something big to plan."
Alexel gives a trembling salute, eyes glassy. "Y-yes, my lord!"
"Keep him focused, Nysa!" Lucien calls out as he leaves.
"Y-Yes, Lord Lucidius." A small voice whimpers from beneath Alexel’s desk.
Ten minutes later, Lucien stands at the head of a long obsidian table inside the administration building. Serenith floats nearby, a mug of divine espresso in hand.
Veyra has returned in her light armor, bright-eyed and clipboard-ready. Sila, head of mining operations, stands with soot-streaked cheeks and a pickaxe on her back.
Alexel stumbles in last, slightly rumpled, and clears his throat as he smooths his vest.
Lucien slaps down a thick scroll and unrolls it across the table and they all fall silent around him before leaning in.
Veyra’s eyes widen. "Oh."
"That’s..." Sila blinks.
Alexel’s glasses fog slightly.
Serenith furrows her brows and floats over the table. "Is that what I think it is?"
Lucien’s grin could split a mountain.
"Yes," he says proudly. "It’s the next major step in our expansion plans."
The blueprint is huge, sprawling, twisting architecture, multi-layered domes, shimmering illusion runes along the sides. A dozen taverns. An arena. Massive baths. Pleasure wings. Hotel suites. Magical transportation hubs.
Serenith narrows her eyes. "It’s a... pleasure district?"
Lucien clasps his hands behind his back and nods.
"Not just any pleasure district," he corrects. "The Ashland Pleasure Fortress. Entertainment. Comfort. Luxury. An attraction for locals, nobles, even foreign dignitaries. And yes..." he points to a section near the northern wing... "we’ll even have an exclusive Dragon Massage Parlor. Just for Val."
Sila blinks. "That... ambitious."
Alexel is already sweating. "We’ll need hundreds of new contractors. Security. Sanitation mages."
Serenith stares at him. "Do you actually think the Ashlands are ready for something like this?"Lucien turns to her, eyes gleaming.
"No," Lucien replies as he turns to her, eyes gleaming. "But they’re gonna love it."
He raises one finger, pointing toward the far horizon.
"And once word gets out? This becomes more than just a mining kingdom. It becomes a destination. We draw in nobles. Adventurers. Rich perverts from the Eastern Shores. Tourism will be our second pillar of gold."
"You’re insane." Serenith chuckles.
"That’s what the gods thought, too." Lucien shrugs, "Then they sent me here."
Sila scratches her chin. "...If you give me a month and two hundred workers, I can maybe start excavation."
"I’ll begin drawing up zoning plans." Alexel sighs.
Ignara, meanwhile, beams with anticipation. "I can reach out to the merchant guilds for spa-grade silks and imported alcohol."
Lucien slams the table before quickly rolling up the scroll.
"Not yet. We’ve still got lots of work to do, and more importantly, trade routes to secure."
He turns to Serenith with his signature smirk. "You and I are going on a little adventure, feather-buns."
Serenith cocks a brow, then her mouth parts slightly. "You can’t be serious?!"
From the hallway, a sudden booming voice echoes:
"WHERE. IS. MY. BREAKFAST?!"
Lucien rolls his eyes.
"We probably need to feed him first."
"Good luck. I think he’s been eyeing those ogres you just hired." Veyra chuckles nervously.