Chapter 152: Jircniv’s reading. +18 Albedo’s recommendation.

You turn back to Jircniv, swirling the last of the Baharuth vintage in your goblet before setting it down. Leinas remains at her post near the door, her amber eye still tracking you with the wariness of someone who has just learned the wolf she was guarding against is actually a dragon wearing a wolf's skin.

"If my memory serves, you should be starting volume eight about now," you say.

Jircniv's eyebrows rise. He reaches for the leather-bound tome resting on a side table, its spine cracked from recent reading. "Volume eight. The one about the village." He taps the cover thoughtfully. "Carne Village."

"The very same," you confirm. "Though I imagine the version you're reading will differ considerably from the reports your spies have been sending back."

A slow grin spreads across Jircniv's weathered face. He leans forward, elbows on the desk, the politician in him surfacing with obvious delight. "You're telling me that the village described in this book is the same one where you've established your residence."

"Magical construction, hidden from casual observation. The summoned goblin mercenaries patrol the surrounding forest, the village chief hasn't handed over his title to Enri yet, she trains her horn-summoned warriors not yet realizing the position she's building towards, and the magical school is available for the local children." You pause, letting that settle. "The book describes a version where things went rather differently for that settlement."

"I noticed," Jircniv says dryly. "My intelligence operatives have been sending back increasingly confused reports about the area. Something about the village being far more prosperous than any frontier settlement has any right to be, mysterious magical structures appearing overnight, and a small army of disciplined goblins conducting patrols." He glances at Leinas. "Though I'll admit, the quality of their observations dropped considerably once they encountered your household staff."

Leinas's jaw tightens. She clearly knows exactly what kind of 'household staff' Jircniv is referencing.

"The clothing choices of my companions are not a distraction technique," you say with a straight face. "They simply prefer comfortable attire."

Jircniv snorts so hard he nearly spills his wine. "Comfortable. Yes. That's certainly how my operatives described the half-naked women parading around a frontier village. Very comfortable."

You rise from your chair, the casual visit having reached its natural conclusion. Jircniv watches you stand with the expression of a man who has grown accustomed to impossible friends dropping by unannounced.

"Enjoy volume eight," you tell him. "It covers the individual growth and Army attack on Carne Village."

"I'll make note of the discrepancies," Jircniv replies, raising his goblet in a mock salute. "For the sake of my entertainment, if nothing else."

You give Leinas a polite nod as you pass her. She does not return it, but neither does she step into your path. Her amber eye follows you to the spot where your Gate will open, and you catch the flicker of something beneath her professional mask. Not hostility. Something hungrier than that.

The portal shimmers into existence, the silver-edged doorway opening onto the vast throne room of Nazarick. You step through without looking back, the dimensional barrier closing with a soft chime.

The throne room stretches before you in its familiar grandeur. Albedo stands at the base of the throne's dais, her golden eyes brightening as she registers your return. Her wings fold against her back as she descends the steps with fluid grace.

"Welcome back, my Lord," she says, her voice carrying that particular warmth reserved for moments when no one else is listening. "Shall I prepare anything for your return?"

You step forward and Albedo melts into your arms with the practiced ease of someone who has memorized every angle of your body. Her lips meet yours in a slow, deep kiss that tastes faintly of honeyed tea. Your hands find her waist, fingers tracing the curve of her hips through the fabric of her dress as you guide her backward up the throne's steps.

She goes willingly, her wings folding tight against her back to accommodate the narrow destination. When her thighs meet the edge of the throne seat, you lift her effortlessly and settle her onto the polished obsidian. Her golden eyes gleam with anticipation as you part her knees, stepping between them. The white dress pools around her hips as you push her legs upward, and she reaches behind herself to unfasten the bodice with practiced fingers.

"I prepared myself," she murmurs against your mouth as you break the kiss, predicting exactly what you were about to say. Her breasts spill free, full and pale, the pink nipples already hardened in the moment. She arches her back deliberately, letting them sway with the motion, knowing exactly what the sight does to you. "There's nothing else you need."

You pull her panties aside rather than removing them entirely, the damp silk pressing against your knuckles as you stroke along her slit. She is slick, warm, ready. Her breath hitches when your fingers find her entrance and gather the moisture there, spreading it deliberately across her folds. A soft moan escapes her throat.

You position yourself and push inside her in one smooth stroke. Albedo's head falls back against the throne, her horns catching the ambient light as a gasp of pure satisfaction escapes her lips. Her legs wrap around your hips, heels pressing into the small of your back to draw you deeper.

"Status report," you say, your voice only slightly strained as you begin moving at the rhythm she prefers. Slow, deep, grinding. Her body responds with rhythmic contractions around you, her internal muscles working with inhuman skill.

"The Elven Kingdom," Albedo manages, her composure admirable even as her breasts bounce with each thrust. She grips the armrests of the throne. "Progress is questionable overall, though the infrastructure situation is simpler than expected. There was so little existing framework that building semi-new is easier than renovating decayed systems. Roads, housing, agricultural plots. All progressing well."

Her wings unfurl slightly, trembling with each deep stroke. You watch the way her breasts move, the hypnotic sway of pale flesh catching golden light.

"However," she continues, breath coming shorter now, "the daily influx of hundreds of resurrected elves has slowed some things considerably. Processing, housing, feeding. The numbers are staggering even by our standards. Your announced restrictions have kept their interference minimal and beneficial, my Lord. They cannot organize opposition when they are still learning their own history again."

You increase your pace slightly. Albedo's thighs tighten around you, her moan echoing off the vaulted ceiling.

"And the punishment preparations," she gasps. "Far faster than expected. His uncounted victims are eager beyond anything we anticipated. Many of those you resurrected have learned what we have planned for Decem Hougan and are volunteering for roles in the event. Some want to participate directly. Others simply want to watch."

"Household developments?" you ask, rolling your hips in a way that makes her claw at the throne.

"You saw the Carne Manor depart for school without incident. Kallen and Lucy are at the park. The known infiltrating operatives continue their cataloging under observation. No new threats have appeared." Her voice breaks on the last word as you hit a particularly deep angle. "And Leinas Rockbruise will approach Jircniv within days requesting introduction to you. I overheard your conversation through the Nazarick's link."

Her golden eyes meet yours, burning with possessive heat even as her body writhes beneath you.

You increase your pace, driving deeper into Albedo with each thrust. Her wings snap outward, trembling, the feathers catching the ambient glow of the throne room's enchanted lighting. Her breasts bounce with the motion, pale flesh swaying hypnotically as her back arches against the obsidian seat. She grips the armrests until her knuckles whiten, golden eyes half-lidded with pleasure but still tracking your face with that possessive intensity she never fully surrenders.

"Leinas," you say between thrusts, your tone conversational despite the exertion. "She's a beautiful detail from the stories. I'd like to ride her a few times. I'll get bored of her quickly, so don't waste effort keeping track of her."

Albedo's internal muscles clench around you, a deliberate squeeze that makes your breath catch. Her lips curl into a knowing smile. "Understood, my Lord. She'll be cataloged and available when she arrives. Nothing more." Her voice carries a faint edge of satisfaction at the dismissal, the hierarchy reinforced without needing elaboration.

You shift your angle, grinding forward in a way that makes her gasp and abandon whatever else she might have said. Her thighs lock tighter around your hips, heels digging into your lower back. The wet sound of your coupling echoes through the vast chamber, shameless and unhurried.

"Renner," you manage, your rhythm building toward its peak. "Any changes? She was prepared for the Elven envoy. Should have arrived at Re-Estize yesterday to announce my demand."

Albedo's composure fractures further with each stroke, her answers coming in breathless fragments. "The envoy arrived yesterday afternoon as scheduled. Princess Renner received them personally in the throne room alongside King Ramposa. The envoy presented the demand with diplomatic framing." A moan escapes her as you thrust particularly deep. "The King received your private warning through Gazef beforehand, so there was no surprise element. He accepted the terms publicly while expressing concern about implementation timelines."

Her wings fold and unfold in spasmodic jerks. "Renner reported through her mirror-link this morning, while you were waking up the household. The noble houses are scrambling to inventory their elven holdings. Several have already begun voluntary transfers to avoid being singled out. The ones who resisted initially are now reconsidering after hearing about the Elf King's live capture and planned public punishment."

You feel the pressure building, Albedo's body responding with increasing urgency around you. Her moans grow louder, echoing off the vaulted ceiling. She reaches up and pulls you down toward her, kissing you fiercely as her climax approaches.

"The envoy returns tomorrow," she gasps against your mouth. "With the King's formal acceptance and a list of elven holdings for transfer coordination."

You drive into her one final time, burying yourself to the hilt as her body convulses around you. Her scream reverberates through the throne room, wings snapping rigid before collapsing limply against the seat. You follow her over the edge, the release washing through you as her internal muscles milk you with inhuman precision.

Albedo lies sprawled across the throne, chest heaving, wings draped over the armrests like discarded silk. Her golden eyes find yours with drowsy satisfaction. "Is there anything else you require, my Lord?"

You lean down and capture Albedo's lips in a slow, lingering kiss. She responds with lazy satisfaction, her mouth opening beneath yours as her arms drape around your neck. The taste of her mingles with the faint honeyed sweetness that clings to her tongue. Your hands find her waist and you lift her effortlessly, her legs still wrapped around your hips, still connected to you in the most intimate way possible.

She gasps against your mouth as you turn and lower yourself onto the throne, settling her weight onto your lap. The shift in angle makes her shiver, her wings folding forward briefly before settling against her back. You are still inside her, still hard, and she rolls her hips experimentally once she finds her new position. A soft sound escapes her throat.

You break the kiss and bring your hands to her breasts, cupping the full pale mounds and kneading them. Her nipples press against your palms, stiff and responsive. She arches into your touch, golden eyes half-lidded with renewed pleasure.

"Daily tasks and visits are done until the Manor's dinner," you tell her, fingers circling her nipples slowly. "That gives me roughly five hours open."

Albedo hums, her hips making small grinding motions as she adjusts to the seated position. Her thighs bracket yours, the warmth of her body enveloping you completely. "Five hours is a considerable window, my Lord."

"So I'm asking your opinion," you say, rolling her left nipple between your fingers and watching her breath catch. "Should I go recruit the next addition to the Manor's group, or spend the day enjoying my women here at Nazarick?"

Albedo considers the question with the seriousness she brings to all strategic matters, even as her body responds to your hands with involuntary twitches and soft moans. Her golden eyes focus on your face with calculating intensity.

"Laura Bodewig's extraction window closes tomorrow afternoon," she says, her voice measured despite the flush spreading across her chest. "If the Russian military activates their leverage as scheduled, Major Orimura will issue absolute orders by seven in the morning their time. That gives you approximately eighteen hours before the window narrows considerably."

She shifts her weight, pressing herself down onto you with deliberate slowness. Her breasts sway with the motion, catching the throne room's ambient glow.

"However," she continues, her tone shifting to something warmer, more possessive, "the Manor's dinner will bring everyone together in one place. Charlotte will return from her first day at school with observations worth hearing. Kallen and Lucy will have completed their park visit. The household benefits from your presence at moments like those."

Her hands slide up your chest to rest on your shoulders. She leans forward, her breasts pressing against you, nipples dragging across your skin.

"My recommendation depends on your priorities, my Lord. If you want Laura secured before complications arise, today is the optimal window. If you want the household to feel your consistent attention rather than your absence, stay." She pauses, grinding down once with emphasis. "Though I confess my preference is obvious."

"Which is?"

"That you stay here with me for the afternoon and handle Laura tomorrow morning when the timeline is clearest." Her lips brush your ear. "I have several floors of Nazarick that would benefit from your personal inspection. And I believe Jibril has been waiting patiently in the library since you returned."

You settle deeper into the throne, letting Albedo's slow rhythm wash over you. Her hips roll in languid circles, each descent pressing you fully inside her with a wet, intimate sound that fills the vast chamber. Her wings sway gently with the motion, feathers catching the ambient glow. You watch her breasts move with each grind, the pale flesh bouncing softly as she maintains her unhurried pace.

"I should visit Jibril again," you tell her, your hands resting on her thighs. "Maybe Yuri, Narberal, and Aura. Spend some time with Gabriel and Ikaros as well."

Albedo hums, her golden eyes half-lidded with pleasure. She shifts her angle, pressing her clit against your pelvis with each downward motion. "A full afternoon of attention for your loyal guardians. They'll be pleased."

"But to be clear," you continue, your tone casual despite the sensation building beneath her movements, "I was already planning Laura for tomorrow. The timeline is clear enough."

"I assumed as much, my Lord." Her internal muscles squeeze deliberately, a possessive pulse. "Your strategic timing has never been in question."

You let the silence stretch for a moment, enjoying the way her body works around you, before continuing. "I was considering one of a few options for today. Orihime from Bleach. Tabitha - Charlotte de Gallia. Maybe Henrietta de Tristain from Zero no Tsukaima. Or Guild Girl from Goblin Slayer."

Albedo's rhythm falters for just a fraction of a second. Her golden eyes sharpen, the drowsy satisfaction replaced momentarily by calculating interest. She recovers quickly, resuming her grinding pace, but you notice the way her fingers tighten on your shoulders.

"Four candidates," she says, her voice carefully neutral. "Three from different worlds. All requiring dimensional travel and individual assessment."

"Being back before dinner with one of them, or rejected by them, should be simple enough," you finish. "Five hours is more than sufficient for a recruitment conversation or two."

Albedo leans forward, her breasts pressing against your chest as she brings her lips close to your ear. Her hips never stop their slow, grinding motion. "Orihime Inoue possesses healing abilities that could benefit the household considerably. Charlotte de Gallia and Henrietta de Tristain carry royal blood and magical affinity. The Guild Girl has administrative experience managing adventurers."

She pulls back to meet your eyes, her expression shifting to something warmer. "Each would serve different purposes. Which appeals to you most?"

"I haven't decided yet. I'll be retrieving Orihime before her powers develop giving her a completely different path possibility. Charlotte and Henrietta will be denied their wands during the initial challenges forcing them into manual combat. Guild Girl has administrative experience, but no practical experience. They will all be good additions."

Her lips curl. She increases her pace slightly, rolling her hips with more deliberate pressure. "Then perhaps I can help you narrow the field while we finish here." Her hands slide from your shoulders to your chest, palms flat against you. "Orihime's world is accessible and her potential even without her abilities are genuinely useful. Henrietta's kingdom is politically unstable, making extraction simpler. Charlotte de Gallia is an experienced magical combatant who will devote herself to whoever can restore her mother. Guild Girl operates in a world where adventurers are already accustomed to unusual beings."

She clenches around you, a deliberate squeeze that makes your breath catch. "My recommendation, my Lord, is Orihime or Charlotte and Henrietta. The former for utility. The latter for political connections in a world where magic is commonplace and your abilities would be less shocking."

Her wings fold forward, brushing against your arms. "Though I confess, the idea of you spending the afternoon recruiting rather than here with me makes me selfish enough to suggest you simply stay."

The wet sounds of her riding fill the throne room, unhurried and shameless. Her composure has returned fully, but the possessive edge in her voice remains.