Lunar Kiss
The Great Moon glides along its lunar orbit, awaiting its eclipse, pulled in by the immense black hole of the Dead Moon. An enchanting ensemble of melodies sweeps through the night, as string instruments and lively rhythms intertwine. The elite of Thiel revel in the final masquerade ball of the season. Wine flows like a tide and no thirst goes unquenched.
servants carries trays aloft, loaded with tonics, rare liquors, and hedonistic concoctions. The vibrant Great Palace Garden teems with music and dancing. Elaborate animal masks conceal the faces of Thiel’s elite and aristocracy. Those not dancing wander through the gardens in search of a night of debauchery and mischievous adventures. Hidden within a secluded corner of the palace maze, a mass of entwined bodies indulges in rhythmic orgies.
“She is truly stunning.” The woman’s face is concealed behind an elegant golden fox mask adorned with precious stones.
“Yes, a gentleman derives a certain pleasure from watching his wife at play.” The man raises an eyebrow behind his golden stag mask as his wife succumbs to an intense encounter from behind.
“May I join in?” The woman fans her fox-masked face.
“My dear lady, certainly. What do you say to a tonic that heightens the senses?” He licks his parted lips. “Perhaps even a little resistance?”
Excitement fills their eager hearts as the man’s lustful gaze roams her figure. His antlered stag mask fails to hide his lingering admiration.
“Of course, although I request a rather rough handling.” She takes the man’s hand.
“Rearguard?” He tugs at her silks, exposing her peachy arse, then bends her over.
“Preferably,” her silks fall to the floor.
In the heart of the Great Palace courtyard, the summer thrones stand. The King’s Guard forms a wide crescent around the royal thrones, a human wall of shining armor that reflects the colorful, swirling silks of the dancing crowd. Their capes flutter in royal blue, flying the sigil of an eagle conquering the world. Sheathed long swords hang at their waists, while they hold tall spears in their right hands.
King Adal reclines at the foot of his summer throne, encircled by a coterie of courtesans, the Baruci, adorned in meticulously crafted golden cat masks. Their entire visage is concealed behind the gilded masks, reflecting kaleidoscopic swirls of silk from summer's revelry. Each Baruci is draped in the rarest Thielian silks, translucent as a wisp of cloud and glistening like stardust, with loose, low-cut, deep V-necks exposing their breasts and legs. Some Baruci wear stockings and suspenders; most are as naked as the Great Moon, above them.
The air is infused with a heady blend of rare fragrances—jasmine, vanilla, and sweet ginger—as the Barucci attend King Adal, fanning him with elaborate peacock feather fans. Their soft whispers falling as light as snow and singing the sweetest of melodies in his ears.
Queen Aina lounges on a white bear pelt amidst the Baruci courtesans, entwined in a tangle of silks and long legs. The courtesans attend her, offering sips of rare elixirs and sharing them with kisses, tongues entwined in an interplay of pleasure and restraint. As the music sways, The Baruci move as one, a gentle tide of silks lapping on a shore of limbs with exploring hands and intoxicated whispers—a decadent dream, a symphony of desire. A Thielian summer ball.
A line of loyal subjects awaits, ready to pay homage to their great King Adal at the entrance of the armored circle.
King Eiden and Lady Nuria approach from the front of the line. Adal gazes upon the masses of Thiel, peering through his onyx eagle mask as they dance in giddy pirouettes and leaps.
“Welcome, King Eiden.” Adal rises to his feet, elixir-laced wine goblet in hand, and performs an overly elaborate bow.
King Eiden responds with a bow, flourishing his arms and wrists. His aging eyes hide behind a pure gold dragon mask matching his crown.
The two kings stride forward and embrace. “Come, join us,” King Adal beckons, sweeping his arms toward The Baruci entourage of exotic masked ladies. “Two kings are better than one on this occasion.”
King Eiden stifles a blush and a laugh. “King Adal, allow me to introduce the queen-in-waiting, Lady Nuria.”
Lady Nuria separates her arm from King Eiden’s and offers a low bow. “Your grace.” Nuria wears a simple silver cat eye mask, her lower face boasting tempting cherry-red lips. In Tivanian fashion, her slender body is draped in loose white silks, exposing her slender thighs and flat midriff.
“Welcome, Lady Nuria. Thielian society awaits your presence.” King Adal flashes a gracious grin and takes a large gulp of wine. “Brother, you failed to mention that Lady Nuria is such an enchanting beauty.”
King Eiden pulls Nuria close.
“Lady Nuria, this is my wife, Queen Aina.” The queen sprawls, surrounded by her Baruci entourage, in a tangle of limbs. She lifts her left hand, and King Adal guides his queen to her feet.
“Queen Aina,” King Eiden’s smile, is warm and genuine. “You look as radiant as ever.”
“Lady Nuria, welcome,” Queen Aina’s melodic accent sings, lingering on her vowels and her ‘w’s sharpened into ‘v’s. Her long golden hair shimmers, haloed by an elegant white-gold crown with a matching eagle eye mask. Clad in revealing white silks, everything beneath is visible. She stands arm in arm with King Adal, a celestial figure and an angelic gift from the heavens. “Come, Lady Nuria, join me.” Queen Aina glides down the steps of the dais, standing two heads taller than Nuria.
The queen nods to the entourage of Baruci courtesans. They stand, then disperse into the dancing crowd on swaying hips, gracefully moving through the masked masses.
King Adal gestures for King Eiden to sit beside him on the queen’s throne. “We sit as equals beneath the trinity.”
King Eiden conceals a blush behind his mask as he takes his seat next to Adal, both enthroned in shining white marble. Their queens lounge at their feet, on the white bear pelt and soft, colorful cushions.
“Lady Nuria is a rare beauty; is she not my queen?” King Adal leers, still high on a tonic, the way only a king can.
“Thank you, your graces, but I assure you, my homeland is renowned for ladies far more beautiful than I,” Nuria replies, gracefully.
“I highly doubt there is a beauty that can compare. Tell me, Lady Nuria, what brought you to my great Kingdom of Thiel?” King Adal leans forward, peering down at her with eager eyes.
Nuria sits up, cross-legged, holding her head high, confident, as she looks up at King Adal. She takes a slow, deliberate sip of wine. Her lips linger on the taste, and her voice is as intoxicating as the wine as she purrs her ‘r’s and rolls her ‘s’. “My homeland, Aradesh, is famed in Tivania for its wine. Our lands are much drier than Thiel’s, yet they are just as fertile. The cooling coastal winds and warmer winters bless us with rich harvests.” Nuria takes another leisurely sip of wine. “Throughout Tivania, people prize my family’s wine. The yield is limited, but the quality is exceptional. The first picks are jealously coveted and often aged in oak for several great cycles.” Nuria takes a delicate sip of wine and savors the taste. “However, a lady can grow tired of farmers, grapes, and wine.”
“I see that Thiel’s hospitality delights you.” King Adal gestures to the wine with a laugh.
Nuria looks up at King Adal. “I came to Thiel to negotiate with silk merchants, for Thielian silks are renowned even in the farthest corners of Tivania. King Eiden and I met in the silk markets, although I did not know him to be a king. I mistook him for an eastern silk merchant.” Nuria takes quick sips of her wine, the actions of a confident drinker. She then leans back, resting on her elbows, and gazes lovingly at King Eiden. “Over the cycles, we grew very close, and our love blossomed.” Nuria, humbled like a nun at prayer, meets King Adal’s suspicious gaze. “It is by the hand of The One that we found love.”
King Adal ponders his next words. “I must confess, Lady Nuria, I did not believe such a fanciful tale, even from King Eiden’s own lips. I had to meet you for myself.” He licks his wine-stained lips. “For generations, our kingdoms have had their differences, but together, we have built an age of harmony, with Thiel and Galt united in friendship. We sit here, united as brothers, and therefore, you are welcome as my sister.” King Adal lowers his right hand toward Queen Aina. “My queen, let us introduce Lady Nuria to Thiel’s high society.”
“As you command, my love,” Graceful as an angel, Queen Aina stands and offers her arm to Nuria.
Nuria stands and places a delicate kiss on King Eiden’s cheek.
Queen Aina links arms with Nuria, and they glide into the midst of the dancing crowd. Six royal guards peel from the protective circle and flank them on every side. The celebrating mass’s part, engulfing them in their revelry.
King Eiden raises his thick gray questioning brows. “So?”
King Adal’s voice slurs as his regal demeanor dissipates. “Brother, she is beyond beautiful. You cannot possibly mean to Nuria back to Galt? I cannot even imagine it. The warm sun and rich society of Thiel are far more suitable.” King Adal’s face loses its joviality. “Stay here in Thiel, where you are a symbol of the peace we have built. This is just the beginning of what we can accomplish together.”
The lively music transitions into an atmospheric tune, where strings weave as slowly as the soon-to-be-eclipsing moons.
“I admit, life here has grown on me.” King Eiden’s shoulders sag, and his somber eyes wander in thought. “I cannot stay, Adal. You know my duty is to Galt.” A resolute expression settles on his face. “I’ve been here for two great cycles, and with the new trade alliances, my people can build a better future. I must return, summon the lords, and inform them of what we achieved.”
“As I expected,” King Adal nods, deflated. “You know Thiel is always open to you and your kin.” Adal’s brow furrows in thought. “You should bring your son and lords.” Adal’s voice quickens with earnestness, “they, too, can appreciate our culture and society and forget the differences of our past.”
King Eiden places his hand over his eye mask, rubbing his temples with his forefinger and thumb. “We can be proud of our alliance, Adal. Our fathers fought tooth and nail for land and wealth. We hold on to peace, but Galt does not forget. These are our lands, the lands of Elsan, by ancestral blood right. My lords would rather go to war than drink your wine.” Eiden slumps back into the throne, taking a long draught of wine and licking his lips in appreciation. “Adal, Prince Madon harbors a mind of violence and treachery. He meddles with the kingdom, and his intentions are ill-willed. I have held the peace with Thiel; now stability is needed in Galt.”
King Adal and King Eiden sit in momentary silence, observing the dancing masses. Soft chimes tinkle in the breeze, accompanied by the rustling of leaves in the orchard. Thousands of illuminating fire lanterns flicker like golden orbs of fruit, swaying among the citrus trees in the palace’s lush gardens.
“The burdens of being kings,” Adal breaks the silence, a touch of wistfulness in his voice. “We find happiness for all but ourselves. Let’s discuss this further before you leave. I have plans for us.”
“His Holiness, Cardinal Lehon, Order of The One.” The royal announcer’s voice declares.
“The One save us from his pious mass of blubber,” King Adal whispers under his breath before he finds his most regal smile.
Cardinal Lehon waddles towards the thrones, his shuffling steps obscured by his rotund belly. He pants like a dying dog with each waddle, while his squat arms flail about in arduous effort. A river of sweat glistens on his forehead. Draped in crimson silk robes, Cardinal Lehon resembles more of a human blood clot than a holy man. His simple white eye mask slips down his plump face, carried by a tide of sweat, settling on his tiny nose. On each arm hangs a Baruci courtesan wearing silk gowns that leave nothing to the imagination, peachy rears totally exposed, their faces concealed by cat masks.
“Cardinal Lehon,” King Adal calls out, acknowledging his presence. “Welcome. It seems you have taken charge of the festivities. I’m sure the masses have experienced your holy touch.” Amusement lingers in King Adal’s words.
“Thank you, my king,” rasps the Cardinal, wheezing through his wine-stained lips.
“I see The One has provided you with suitable companions for the evening, Your Holiness.” King Adal glances at each courtesan.
“The One provides. The nature of my assistants is inherently holy.” Cardinal Lehon delivers a deferential and gracious bow.
“Holy, indeed,” King Adal raises an eyebrow in amusement.
Cardinal Lehon restrains his protests and redirects his gaze from King Adal to the king of Galt. “King Eiden,” the cardinal bows as far as his protruding belly allows. He rests a sly hand on each courtesan’s soft buttocks. He speaks as if savoring a mouthful of sticky toffee pudding: “As the Grand Cardinal of The Order of The One, I believe it is only fitting to bless your upcoming wedding. A private ceremony at The Great Temple of The One. It is my holy duty to ensure the grace of The One is ever present in your lives. A ceremony at your behest.”
“Thank you, cardinal. Although, as you know, we in Galt do not serve a god such as yours, I will still consider your offer.” King Eiden scratches his head, the weight of his heavy crown burdening him.
Cardinal Lehon nods in acceptance. “Of course, King Eiden.” He gazes up with reverence at the eclipsing night sky. “May The One guide you, keep you, and pour his divine waters upon you, baptizing you in righteousness. May he forever open your hearts to the holy path of light—”
“Yes, yes. Thank you, Lehon. Don’t you have souls to save? I’m sure there are some young boys in need of private redemption by your holy hands.” King Adal’s patience evaporates.
“My king, The Temple of The One is always open to you.” There’s a hint of pity in the cardinal’s tone. “Do not be strangers.” The cardinal bows and departs, blending into the dancing crowds.
“He wants something,” King Eiden muses. “I have been here for two great cycles, and we have seldom exchanged words, let alone an invitation.”
“Lecherous Lehon always wants something. Whores, money, wine, boys—you name it. Everyone knows he has strayed from his path. But enough of that, brother.” King Adal stands and stretches. “Where are our queens? Let us dance on the last night of summer.”
The crowd erupts in thunderous cheers as the two moons begin their eclipse. They collide in a lunar kiss. A hushed awe falls over the revelers as the celestial bodies converge, locking in their lunar embrace. The once-vibrant Great Moon, bathed in radiant luminescence, succumbs to the encroaching shadow of the Dead Moon, casting a veil over the masses. The collision of the moons intensifies with each passing moment, plunging the kingdom into a deeper abyss of darkness. As the eclipse consumes all light in a moment of cosmic convergence that transcends the boundaries between the living and the eternal void, the crowd goes into a chilling hush and then lets out a collective gasp.
The darkness steals the light.