Chapter 173: Leinas +18 occupation. Lucretia, Mina and Mina Tepes.

You shift your weight slightly, settling deeper inside Leinas as her post-climax warmth surrounds you. Her legs remain wrapped loosely around your hips, her breathing steady and content. Your attention stays fixed on the two scrying mirrors.

In the left mirror, the training hall has filled considerably. Lisara stands beside Olivia, who has picked up a wooden practice sword with a heavy grip. But she's not alone. Charlotte holds a blade in her opposite hand, demonstrating a basic guard stance with quiet precision. Milly practices footwork nearby, her blue eyes focused and determined, her half-cup maid outfit somehow not impeding her movement at all.

Neia works through archery fundamentals in the corner with Fiona, their bows drawn in synchronized practice. Even Lacus has joined, her pink hair tied back, moving through basic forms with Alicia who corrects her posture with gentle authority.

"There's more of them than I expected," you murmur.

Leinas cranes her neck to look at the mirror more closely. "Who are all those women?"

"My harem. I leave them to choose how they train daily, be it martial, weapons or magic. I've specifically not directed them individually or limited their choices."

On the training floor, Olivia swings her practice sword experimentally. The form is terrible, all brute force and no technique, but the power behind it is genuine. Charlotte notices and approaches.

"Your grip is wrong," Charlotte says, not unkindly. "Here. Like this." She repositions Olivia's fingers on the hilt. "You have strength. We can build on that."

Olivia stares at Charlotte's exposing sports wear for a moment before shrugging and trying the corrected grip. The next swing is cleaner, though still rough.

In the right mirror, Euphemia has taken Angelica to the manor's small library. Angelica sits in a chair wrapped in her robe, but her posture has straightened considerably. She holds a book open on her lap, her red eyes scanning the pages with the rapid efficiency of noble education.

"This is a basic primer on magical theory," Euphemia explains. "If you have aptitude, we can begin practical exercises tomorrow at the school."

Angelica looks up. "I studied magical theory for years. I just never had the chance to practice."

Euphemia's violet eyes brighten with genuine interest. "Then you're ahead of most of us. What affinity did they test you for?"

"Light and enchantment. Dual affinity." Angelica's voice carries a trace of the pride she thought she'd lost forever. "They said it was wasted on a commoner bride."

"It's not wasted here," Euphemia says simply.

Beneath you, Leinas shifts her hips, a slow roll that draws your attention back to her. Her amber eyes find yours with quiet confidence.

"You're building something," she says. "Not just collecting women. You're training them."

"For the adventure ahead."

"What kind of adventure requires this many fighters?"

You consider the question while watching Charlotte drill Olivia through basic footwork patterns. The blonde woman moves with surprising natural athleticism, her labor-built endurance translating well into sustained movement.

"The kind where they might die if they aren't prepared," you answer.

Leinas absorbs this in silence, her fingers tracing the muscles of your chest. Then she squeezes her inner walls around you deliberately, a lazy clench that makes your breath catch.

"Then train me too," she says. "I was one of the Empire's best knights. I can contribute more than just this."

You wave a hand and the two scrying mirrors return to their normal reflective surfaces, the images of Olivia swinging practice swords and Angelica reading magical theory dissolving like morning frost. Your attention settles fully on the woman beneath you.

You resume your rhythm, hips rolling deep and deliberate, and Leinas gasps at the renewed focus. Her amber eyes find yours, still hazy from her earlier climax, her golden hair spread across the dark pillow like spilled honey.

"You're a fool," you say, your voice carrying a particular edge of affection wrapped in dismissal. "Those girls are barely what you'd call copper class. Their adventures will start with zombies and easy targets."

Leinas's brow furrows, her walls clenching around you involuntarily as you thrust deeper. "Copper class? I saw them training. Some of them have real potential."

"Potential is not current capability." You grip her hips and pull her flush against you, grinding slow and deep. "It wouldn't even be entertaining to see you among that group as anything but a teacher."

Her amber eyes widen. The insult lands, but so does the implication beneath it. You watch understanding dawn across her restored face, the way her lips part slightly as she processes what you're actually offering.

"Which might actually be a good idea," you continue, your pace steady and unhurried. "It could be years until they reach your tier. Are you willing to go to their school and be a combat instructor until then?"

Leinas stares up at you. The ceiling mirror reflects her expression, the way her jaw works as she fights between wounded pride and genuine excitement. Her fingers dig into your forearms.

"You want me to teach them," she says slowly. "Not fight beside them."

"I want you to shape them into something worth fighting beside. Those women in that training hall? Most of them hadn't seen sword in person a week ago. Charlotte has advanced academy education but no practical experience. Olivia has developed some strength yet zero technique. The pink-haired one can barely swing without losing her balance."

Leinas's hips rise to meet yours, her body responding to the conversation with a heat that surprises her. "I was the Empire's third-ranked knight before the curse. I trained squires at the Imperial Academy for two years."

"I know exactly what you were. That's why I'm asking."

She swallows hard, her throat working visibly. Her inner walls squeeze around you as her emotions churn. "You're not putting me aside. You're giving me a purpose."

"I'm putting your skills to better use. Unless you want me to assign you as a bodyguard again."

Leinas pulls you down suddenly, her mouth finding yours in a fierce kiss that tastes of gratitude and defiance in equal measure. When she releases you, her amber eyes are bright with something you haven't seen in them before. Not the hollow resignation of a woman accepting servitude. Not the desperate gratitude of a curse victim. This is the sharp gleam of a knight who has found her post.

"Yes," she says against your lips. "I'll teach them. I'll make them worthy of fighting beside me. And when they are, you'll let me adventure with them."

It isn't a question. Her legs wrap tighter around your hips, pulling you deeper, her body demanding what her words have already claimed.

You increase your pace, driving into Leinas building toward your own release. Her amber eyes widen as she feels the shift in your rhythm, her restored face flushing deep crimson. Her legs lock around your hips and her back arches off the sheets as her second climax crashes through her, her walls clenching rhythmically around you. You follow moments later, burying yourself deep and finishing inside her with a groan that echoes off the mirrored walls.

Leinas lies beneath you, panting, her golden hair plastered to her forehead, her amber eyes glazed with satisfaction. You pull out slowly and she makes a soft sound of protest before catching herself.

"When you're ready and dressed," you tell her, standing and retrieving your clothes from storage, "ask Nazarick to guide you to the school. Your students will be surprised."

Her eyes sharpen at the word students. She nods once, already sitting up with renewed purpose.

You leave her examining herself in the mirrors with a different expression now. Not disbelief at her restored face, but the focused determination of a knight given a posting.

The corridors of Nazarick carry you toward Shalltear's chambers. The sounds reach you before the door does. Wet splurching, and a high-pitched whimpering that resolves into a woman's voice, broken and pleading. You push open the door without ceremony.

Shalltear sits in an ornate chair before a shocking sight, her crimson eyes bright with amusement, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders. Zombies arranged in a circle around a rope-suspended Clementine, her mouth and pussy being filled by limp zombie-dick. Her eyes still hold a spark of awareness, her mouth working around the limp cock as she tries to beg. Some sanity remains. Enough to feel revulsion. Enough to attempt resistance against the bindings.

"Enjoying yourself?" you ask.

Shalltear turns, her fangs gleaming. "My lord! I didn't expect you so soon. She's been particularly entertaining today. She bit off one of the zombies penis."

You laugh. "It's the day we go meet Mina Tepes. Get dressed."

Shalltear's crimson eyes widen with genuine excitement. She rises from her chair immediately, Clementine forgotten. "Truly? Now?"

"Now. We'll walk together to the library."

She vanishes instantly into her wardrobe, reappearing moments later in a flowing black dress with silver embroidery, her hair brushed to a mirror shine. You lead her through Nazarick's corridors to the 1002nd floor library where Jibril sits among her mountains of books.

"Jibril. I need the Dance in the Vampire Bund dimension. Far pre-story timeline. The one where Mina Tepes is still with her mother Lucretia."

Jibril's wings flutter as she rises, her blue eyes already scanning her index. "The Vampire Bund. Yes, I have it catalogued. Pre-series divergence point approximately four hundred years before canonical events. Queen Lucretia still alive. Young Mina approximately twelve years of age." She pulls a crystalline key from a shelf. "Shall I open the Gate, or would you prefer to browse first?"

"Open it. We're going in."

Jibril inserts the key into the air itself, and a Gate tears open before you. Through it, you see moonlit spires and ancient stone, a castle perched atop cliffs overlooking a dark sea. The air smells of salt and old blood.

Shalltear's crimson eyes gleam. "Another vampire queen. How delightful."

You step through together.

The salt wind carries the scent of old stone and something darker as you approach the castle gates. Shalltear walks beside you, her silver hair catching moonlight that seems brighter than it should be in this world of perpetual dusk. Guards line the approach, werewolves and vampires alike, their eyes tracking your unfamiliar forms with predatory wariness.

You activate Moderate Aura of Slumber.

The effect ripples outward like a stone dropped into still water. The outermost guards slump first, their weapons clattering against stone walls as their knees buckle. The alert spreads inward faster than the sleep claims them, shouts of warning echoing through corridors. A werewolf captain reaches for a bell rope and his fingers go slack mid-motion. Three vampire sentinels on the battlements fold gracefully onto the walkway.

By the time you reach the castle entrance, only four figures remain standing. Two massive werewolves with silver-grey fur bristling along their arms, their transformed bodies fighting the magical exhaustion through sheer primal rage. A vampire lord in formal black attire, his crimson eyes burning with furious awareness. And a woman in white armor, her katana drawn, her jaw clenched so tight the tendons in her neck stand out like cables.

"State your business or die where you stand," the armored woman snarls.

"I didn't want to waste hours going through paperwork for a non-aggressive meeting with your queen and princess," you say calmly. "Everyone is merely asleep. Check for yourself."

The armored woman gestures sharply. One of the werewolves breaks formation, dropping to check the pulse of a fallen guard. He grunts confirmation.

"They're alive. Just sleeping."

"I don't intend aggression," you say. "But that doesn't mean I'm patient for fools."

Shalltear chuckles, a sound like crystal bells laced with malice. "Shall I remove them, my lord?"

You reach over and pet her silver hair gently. "Only if they try to stop us. My little show was just to skip waiting in line."

You disable the Moderate Aura of Slumber. The four remaining defenders stagger slightly as the mental weight lifts, exchanging confused glances. The armored woman sheathes her katana with deliberate slowness, her eyes never leaving yours.

"You will be accompanied," she states.

"Irrelevant."

They make room, falling into a flanking formation that follows you through corridors of ancient Gothic stonework. Shalltear walks with the bearing of visiting royalty, her crimson eyes cataloging everything with open amusement.

The throne room opens before you, vast and candlelit, vaulted ceilings disappearing into shadow. At its center sits Queen Lucretia Tepes, a woman of breathtaking ethereal beauty, her silver-white hair cascading past her waist, her crimson eyes holding centuries of wisdom and maternal warmth. She wears a flowing gown of deep violet, her pale hands folded in her lap with composed dignity despite the obvious alarm of her castle being breached.

Shalltear steps forward with a curtsy that would grace any royal court. "I am Shalltear Bloodfallen, guardian of my lord's domain. We come seeking audience with Queen Lucretia and the young princess."

Lucretia's crimson eyes narrow slightly. "You put my entire guard to sleep."

"A convenience," you say. "Though we're not all present yet."

You raise your hand and cast Gate.

The portal tears open in the center of the throne room, its edges burning with arcane fire. Through it, a different world becomes visible. Modern skyline. Glass towers. A young woman standing in an office, her silver-white hair identical to Lucretia's, her crimson eyes wide with shock.

The modern Mina Tepes stares through the Gate at her long-dead mother sitting on her throne.

Lucretia's composure shatters. She rises from her seat, her hands trembling, her lips parting in disbelief. "That is my daughter. Mina?"

Mina steps through the Gate. Her movements are slow, mechanical, her body operating on pure instinct while her mind reels. She crosses the threshold into the throne room of her childhood, into a past she thought was forever lost. Her eyes lock onto Lucretia's face.

"Mother."

The word breaks something inside both of them. Mina collapses into Lucretia's arms, sobbing with a grief four hundred years in the making. Lucretia catches her daughter, her own tears falling silently into silver-white hair that matches her own.

From a hidden alcove behind a tapestry, the current Mina Tepes watches with enormous crimson eyes. She sees herself, crying in her mother's arms. She sees the Gate still shimmering behind them. She sees the armored woman and the werewolves standing utterly speechless.

The four guards who followed you stare at the scene with open bewilderment. A second princess. A portal to another time. Their queen weeping.

Nobody moves. Nobody speaks. The only sound is Mina's broken sobbing and Lucretia's whispered reassurances in a language older than the castle itself.

You wait. The sobbing gradually subsides into hitching breaths as future Mina clings to her mother with the desperation of someone who thought this moment impossible. Lucretia strokes her daughter's silver-white hair, murmuring soft words in an ancient dialect, her crimson eyes wet but her composure slowly returning.

You catch the movement behind the tapestry. A pair of crimson eyes, identical to both women's, watching with confusion and dawning horror. You raise a single finger and beckon.

The tapestry shifts. Present Mina Tepes steps out, her small frame rigid with defiance despite the fear in her eyes. She looks between her mother and the other version of herself with an expression no twelve-year-old should possess, the calculating awareness of a vampire princess raised in political danger.

"Princess Mina Tepes," you announce. "Let me introduce Queen Mina Tepes from four hundred years in the future."

Young Mina stares at her older self. Adult Mina lifts her tear-streaked face from Lucretia's shoulder and meets her younger self's gaze. Something passes between them that transcends words.

"Queen Mina," you say. "Once you catch your breath, would you please share with your mother and younger self the future. Specifically the following ten years."

Queen Mina's composure hardens. She pulls back from Lucretia, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, and straightens her spine with the bearing of a queen who ruled alone for four centuries. Her voice is steady when she speaks, though it carries the weight of centuries.

"Months from now, the rebel lords assassinate my mother. Lord Ivanovic poisons her blood supply. I watched her die screaming while they held me back." She points at Lord Ivanovic without looking at him. "He sits in this room right now, already planning it."

Ivanovic's face goes chalk-white. Vera's katana is half-drawn before she catches herself.

Mina continues. Her voice does not waver as she describes the civil war that followed. The betrayals. The werewolf clans torn apart. The three lords who used her mother's death as pretext to seize territory. How she survived alone, a child queen hunted by those who murdered her family. How she built the Bund from nothing over four hundred years, piece by piece, always alone.

Young Mina's hands are shaking. Lucretia has gone absolutely still, her maternal warmth replaced by something cold and terrible.

Lucretia turns to you. Her voice is quiet but carries the weight of a sovereign who has just learned the date of her own murder. "What do you want?"

"There is a certain rule that even I choose to obey," you say. "The act of grooming a child to be a sexual partner without their consent is a horrible tragedy. But I ask this: if I have the consent of her adult self, does it qualify as proper consent?"

The throne room goes silent. Vera's hand tightens on her katana hilt. Young Mina's crimson eyes widen.

"I offer you, Mina Tepes, removal from this timeline," you continue. "Away from those who are betraying your mother. They will have to second-guess all their plans while you are living safe in a new future. I require the consent of your future self, and ideally your mother's. I brought the two of you together so that consent could be given simultaneously."

Queen Mina stares at you. Then at her younger self. Then at her mother. Her jaw works silently for several long seconds.

"You're asking me to consent to my own grooming," she says flatly.

"I'm asking if you, as an adult who has lived four hundred years alone, would choose a different path for yourself if you could."

Lucretia's voice cuts through the silence like a blade. "You would take my daughter."

"I would give her a future where you live," you reply. "Where she is protected. Where she is wanted honestly."

Queen Mina closes her eyes. When she opens them, something has shifted in her expression. Not acceptance. Not yet. But consideration.

"Tell me everything," she says. "What life would she have. What you would do. What protections exist. And then I will decide."