NTR: Barbarian Harem Conquest

Early morning air drifted through the balcony doors.

Kane woke, stretching his arms before walking to the stone railing.

Down in the sprawling training yards of the Menual palace, Kessa and Thora were already running the new southern recruits into the ground.

The agile beastwoman vaulted over a barricade with terrifying grace, barking sharp tactical corrections at a squad of spearmen.

Across the yard, Thora simply roared at the sweating palace guards to run faster, her hair tied back tightly as she swung a wooden training sword to keep their pace brutal.

’They are turning those soft southern boys into real soldiers,’ Kane smirked, leaning against the stone and watching the organized chaos.

A knock pulled his attention away from the courtyard.

”Come in,” Kane called out, turning away from the balcony.

Firlia slipped into the master suite, her long green hair woven into complex braids that cascaded down her back.

She looked remarkably fresh for such an early hour, balancing a silver tray on her palms.

”Your tea, Lord Kane.”

”Tea?” Kane raised an eyebrow, walking over.

”You made it yourself?”

”Menual had some good powders hidden in their royal pantry,” Firlia explained, offering a shy smile.

”I thought you might want something warm before dealing with the council today.”

”Hmm.”

Kane picked up the cup. Taking a slow sip, his eyes widened in surprise.

The flavor was rich, balanced with a hint of southern spices he hadn’t tasted before.

”This is great, Firlia.”

”Thank you,” she replied, her pointed ears twitching happily.

Even after ending the brief exchange, the elven woman just stood there.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her slender fingers fidgeting nervously.

”What is it?” Kane asked, setting the empty cup down.

”You look like a scout who lost a map.”

”It’s just...” Firlia hesitated, keeping her gaze pinned to the floorboards.

”Aldrin has been left behind in the Elven empire. We barely spoke before the march.”

”Call him down here,” Kane offered, leaning back against the edge of his desk.

”Send a messenger bird today. I don’t mind if it makes you happy. You earned a comfortable life in this new capital, and if you want your boy here, I will sign the travel pass.”

”No...”

Firlia stepped closer, her voice dropping into a breathless whisper.

”It’s just, we didn’t do anything for a while... and I...”

Kane didn’t wait for her to struggle through the rest of the sentence.

Closing the distance between them in a stride, he wrapped a hand firmly around her waist, pulling her against his chest.

”You want to do it?” Kane asked.

”...Yes,” she squeaked, a blush painting her pointed ears completely red.

”Say it again,” Kane insisted, his thumb tracing the curve of her hip deliberately.

”Look at me and say it clearly.”

Firlia tilted her chin up, finding a sudden resolve.

”I want to do it, Kane.”

Kane nodded slowly, his grip tightening just enough to send a shiver down her spine.

”Maybe tonight. Let’s finish our administrative work first.”

Firlia let out a shaky breath, stepping back to compose herself.

She took a seat in a chair across the room, picking up her own cup of tea.

”How is Menual surviving the finance transition?” Kane shifted gears.

”They are well versed in squeezing copper from a stone,” Firlia answered, her professional demeanor returning as she sipped her drink.

”Their tax rate is brutal on the common people. That is exactly why there are very few working farmlands across this empire. Nobody wants to grow crops just to hand eighty percent of the harvest to a greedy aristocrat.”

”Let’s improve it today,” Kane decided, crossing his arms.

”Ask the Bloodfang warriors to move through all the surrounding towns. Invite any citizen who actually wants to do farming. Tell them to meet Greta at the city gates. She will distribute land and guarantee our protection.”

Firlia nodded quietly, retrieving a small piece of parchment from her pocket to jot down the orders.

”What else, other than the farms?”

”We captured plenty of trade ships from their docks,” Kane calculated, visualizing the southern river routes.

”Let’s enhance the fleet. Build a few defensive sledges for the harbor, and make the main entry gate harder to breach. I want iron spikes and reinforced timber blocking the water access.”

She noted everything down meticulously, her quill scratching loudly in the quiet room.

”I will inform Sarah of the budget requirements for the harbor upgrades.”

”Make sure she doesn’t take everything for herself,” Kane warned with a grin.

”That woman loves gold more than breathing, and I need that silver spent on timber, not silk.”

Firlia smiled, dipping her head in a graceful bow before slipping out of the room to begin her morning tasks.

After refreshing himself with a basin of cool water, Kane navigated the palace corridors

until he found Griselda.

The angel stood quietly in a sunlit corner of the royal library, staring out over the sprawling capital.

”You saw the core,” Kane said, stopping right beside her.

Griselda turned, her eyes wide.

[Yes. It’s incredibly potent.]

”What do you think about it?”

[It needs the Elven World Tree to operate correctly. Without a host, it is just a starving battery.]

”Can it cure you?”

Griselda froze.

Her entire posture stiffened as the question registered.

[Me?]

”Can I use it on you instead of the World Tree?” Kane clarified, his voice leaving no room for misinterpretation.

[But... then the war with Queen Sylva...]

”It can wait,” Kane interrupted, stepping closer.

”I need your angelic power now. Sylva is just a politician playing games with borders. You are a divine weapon.”

[I don’t know how it will go]

Griselda admitted, her text trembling slightly in the air.

[My core was damaged a long time ago. The corruption is sealed directly into the mark on my chest.]

Kane reached out, his hand moving gently to the center of her collarbone, right above her breasts.

He clearly remembered the moment they first met.

’She acts tough, but this thing is eating her alive,’ Kane thought.

’I cannot afford to have a crippled angel in my inner circle when the real battles start.’

”Come with me,” Kane ordered, grabbing her wrist gently.

He led her swiftly down the hall and pushed open the doors to Misha’s quarters.

The white-haired oracle sat at a vanity mirror, calmly combing her long locks.

”Husband,” Misha greeted.

”Misha, can you trace the flow of mana inside a body?” Kane asked, pulling Griselda into the center of the room.

Misha turned, her golden rings pulsing with mild curiosity.

”I can try.”

”Find out what is wrong with Griselda’s core,” Kane instructed.