Seeds of Heroism - Chapter 34
Chapter 34 – content >!castration, general violence, death!<
Despina shielded her face from errant drops that she really hoped were just rain leaking through the tunnel and shifted the hood over her head. When the curtain of brackish water was behind her, she grabbed the hood again to make absolutely sure her face was covered.
“Where on Bythos have you brought me?” she asked, annoyed.
Lucille’s heels clicked on the uneven stone, but the guild master of Calvino’s adventure guild never wavered in her step. “I am bringing you to a hub of… deals and services that is familiar to a lot of adventurers due to its ability to provide what cannot be bought or procured elsewhere. I think it is about high time you became familiar with it.”
“You’re taking me to a meeting place for criminals,” the princess stated matter-of-factly.
“Some of them are, yes. Others simply shun the light, so to speak, that the official channels bring with them. And then there are those that are simply not welcome elsewhere. The outcasts and pariahs that would not find work up above.”
Despina scoffed. “Right, and I’m sure they’re all lovely people who won’t get any ideas when the virgin princess of house Coglione suddenly pops up in their midst. You know that I will hold you responsible if anything happens to me down there? I haven’t had a guard with me ever since Leonia…” She trailed off, her eyes flickering down as she remembered the woman she cherished and idolized abandoning her like an unwanted puppy. No, that was unfair. In truth, she simply didn’t know why she had abandoned her position as her guard. Was she really that racked with guilt?
“I have heard that you have made great strides in improving your capabilities for self-defence. I saw the results of your attack on that knight, after all. Is my information incorrect?” The black parasol striking the floor added an irregular clicking to that of her heels that made it hard to concentrate on Lucille’s words.
“I try.”
Lucille hummed. “Either way, I think you underestimate your standing amongst the common folk. But it is best for you to find that out on your own. See that torch? It marks the entrance.” Lucille pulled the rusty lever of an inconspicuous door on her left and pushed the door open without any visible strain. “Welcome to the Vecchio, your highness.”
The space that the vaulted ceiling afforded the hall was a shock after the claustrophobic tunnels. Only after staring at the arches of the former wine cellar for a solid two seconds did Despina notice the shouts and the bickering going on amongst the thirty-odd people. Some stood off to the side, leaning against the sides of the alcoves, but most stood in the centre, gesturing wildly as they argued. One man even stood on a literal soap box, trying to make himself be heard.
“…we can’t guarantee that we will…”
“…insanity, once those prissy cunts get…”
“…for the church and the maiden of light will make sure…”
“…suicide, pure and simple!”
The smell of sewage was less overpowering here, but it was still present throughout the hall, interlaced with smoke and stale wine.
The princess turned to the guild master with an expression that was supposed to be sceptical, but was more reminiscent of a kitten caught in a rain shower. “What is this supposed to be?”
Lucille swept her arm out over the crowd. “Call them a collection of like-minded individuals, united by a common concern for the kingdom.”
“Ugh!” The pained grunt drew both Despina’s and Lucille’s attention. They were in time to see a woman’s fist bury itself in the crotch of the man that had chosen to orate from a box. It served neatly to quiet the crowd as well as the busted man. The woman smiled, looking rather pleased with the uppercut that had just pinned both of his nuts against his pelvis. Several women started laughing, the high, clear laughter accompanying the man on his way down. He groaned hoarsely as he slunk to the ground, folded around the fist in his balls. The woman stepped over him, taking his place on the box.
“That is what awaits us if we go up against those Cillian bitches, friends! A swift punch to the nads, quick and precise, and we will be writhing on the ground pathetically, holding our wounded pride as if it were a weak pair of balls! We have already seen what fate awaits us if we fight, we have seen it in Roridafiga, when those monsters rained a hailstorm of testicles down upon the defenders. To those with sacks dangling between their legs, I ask: is that what you want? For your nuts to be ripped from you and lobbed across the city for the mongrels to feed on? And to the ladies, I ask you: is that what we wish for our husbands, our fathers, our sons? For their manhood to be trampled underfoot?”
A woman with an eyepatch, her arms webbed with scars, pointed at the talker. “My father’s been dead for a long time and I got no other cocks in my life. What the hell do I care if the Cillian cunts castrate every man, elf and goblin between here and Kumarbi? Men are wusses anyway, I say we fight, just like we have always done, and send them packing with their cocks tucked between their legs.” Approving murmurs accompanied her, mostly from the women.
But the woman on the box didn’t let the objections irritate her. “No cocks in your life? Then you’re in luck, sister. Just think, if these cold bitches turn every pair of nuts in the vicinity to mince, the guys that managed to keep their dangly bits must be some prime specimen to fight them off. Manly enough to even show you a good time, unlike the wusses in the guild. The way I see it, you’re going to be much happier under the Cillians.”
“Psh,” the one-eyed woman chuffed but didn’t argue any further. She seemed to be in thought, considering if the argument she had just heard held any merit. Several men were booing her, making thumbs-down gestures towards the veteran adventuress.
Before another dispute could break out, Lucille handed a scroll to a stocky middle-aged woman Despina hadn’t noticed before. She was smoking a massive pipe, and only when Lucille stuck the scroll in her face did she rise out of the blue band of smoke. She unfurled it and a smile split her scarred face.
“Speaking of guild wimps, I heard the most interesting thing, Sabina. Mind if I use this little thing real quick?” the portly woman asked and had already steered the one-eyed woman off the box.
Her answer, a muttered, “Of course not, Madama Macellaia,” came about two seconds after she had lost her elevated position.
“You see, little Sabina, few people know this about me, but I am really fond of animals. Most just see me as fat old Macellaia, the woman who isn’t afraid to smack a few sacks to make sure everyone behaves at the Vecchio, but it’s true. I’ve always loved animals. Especially little birds. Oh, the songs that they sing, they’re just lovely.”
Madama Macellaia spoke in a jovial tone, as if she was telling stories to a crowd of children. All of a sudden, Sabina was looking a lot less sure of herself. “There’s a species I’m particularly fond of, but it’s all the way over in Affalstat, so I can’t hear its beautiful song as often as I would like. But when I do, this little bird always tells me something interesting. Like, for example, that it saw a woman with an eyepatch really similar to yours take a real big bag of money from one of lady Yohanna’s servants. Isn’t that just the most curious thing?”
Sweat beads dotted her forehead. “What the hell are you trying to say?”
The mirthful tone was gone, replaced by a cruel growl. “I think you know exactly what I am saying. You are on your knees slicking Cillian cock before it’s coming to fuck us all.”
Sabina gritted her teeth, staring down the woman that ostensibly led the Vecchio. She was the first to look away.
Her hand shot up as some kind of sign. “Marcus, now!”
In the back half of the crowd, a man pushed aside two other people and, in one swift motion, pulled out a knife and threw it at Macellaia.
She had seen it coming. The stout woman had already stepped down from the box and placed a hand on Sabina’s shoulder. With a quick yank, she pulled the woman in front of her. The knife struck her in the abdomen with a meaty blow.
A cry from Sabina was followed by a sneer from her accomplice. The man she had called Marcus turned to someone in the back and drew his sword. “Kill the ones that resist! The rest are hostages!”
Three other men brandished their weapons, approaching the crowd menacingly. One of them was close to Madama Macellaia, owing to the fact that he had been leaning against the alcove just behind her.
“Oi, Cillia sends its regards, whore!” he barked and lifted a mace. Before he could strike, two blurs flashed through the air, accompanied by two twanging noises, and buried themselves in the stone wall behind him.
Despina frowned in confusion at what had happened. The man stood stock-still, weapon raised, not moving an inch. As if someone had pulled the plug from a bathtub, the colour drained from his face until he was white as a sheet. Then, with a strange noise halfway between a whimper and a scream, he collapsed to the ground.
*What?* In search for an answer, Despina’s eyes travelled to the wall behind the man. Two bolts stuck out of it, still wobbling from their impact. Wrapped around each bolt was a white sphere.
The projectiles had struck the testicles perfectly centre. Liquified ballmeat leaked out of each puncture, the chunky paste running along the bolts before dripping to the ground. It mingled with a steady drip of white falling from the reddish cords attached to the orbs, semen leaking from the strings that once attached manhood to man. It would be his balls’ last ever attempt at ejaculation, wasting their cum at trying to impregnate the stained ground.
“Pow, right in the cumtanks!” a woman among the crowd said. Mounted on her arm was a miniature crossbow.
A woman next to her who looked almost identical, including the strange contraption on her arm, turned and said, “Woo, I told you I could hit his disgusting ball dead centre! You owe me ten soldini!”
The first woman turned to her twin, her face twisted in disbelief. “I hit the left ball way more centre than you did the right nut. If anything, you owe me!”
“What?!”
Despina looked at the man writhing in agony. *Former man*, she corrected herself. Only then did she truly realize the feat of marksmanship and emasculation she had just witnessed. It was as if someone had switched on a heater in her loins, as blood rushed to her pussy with force.
“None of you fucking move! Keep your weapons lowered, or the girl gets it!” Marcus, the man that had thrown his knife and inadvertently hit his companion, held a sword to the throat of a young adventuress, a deer beastkin that looked about as pale as the poor sod who had just got his nuts ripped off.
Madama Macellaia shook the injured Sabina in her grip at him. “Still got your hussy right here, dickless. And she’s slowly bleeding out, so I suggest it’s you and your friends who don’t move.”
Around the two, chaos erupted. People pointed weapons, screaming over each other in a bid to defuse, or in the case of the crossbow-wielding twins, escalate the situation. It was only a matter of time before someone would start swinging a sword, and Despina wasn’t sure if the folks proclaiming to fight for Calvino truly knew who among the crowd was their enemy.
“You see what they are lacking?” Lucille’s dark voice startled the princess. She jumped back, and immediately pulled her hood down into her face.
“By Norea, you…” She swallowed the insult on her tongue. “They lack a brain, that’s clear to see.”
“That is not something anyone can give them. No, I am talking about something much more immediate.” Despina gave her a blank look. “They need leadership.”
Despina let her eyes wander over the irate group that was ready to cut each other down. “They have madama Macellaia.”
“A shrewd woman, strong, but entirely inflexible. She would never lead them out of the shadows. She would never lead them into a fight. Her only concern is keeping the Vecchio safe.”
“You do it then. You are guild master, you have connections. They would follow you.”
“True, I have considerable resources, I am owed favours that go back decades. But I am more suited to… administrative tasks. Not to mention, I am sure by now you have figured out that I am not like most people. I am not human, neither elf nor any of the other races the church acknowledges. I am much more… which is why I cannot inspire the necessary fervour in them, cannot nurture this humble seed to grow. They need someone to stoke their patriotism, their willingness to lay their lives on the line for their kingdom. Someone like their princess.”
Marcus was throwing out the occasional slash, threatening to cut anyone daring to come closer while he was busy choking the deer woman out. Already, her lips were turning blue.
“I… I can’t. I am not fit to lead anyone.”
“They would follow you to the ends of Bythos.”
Macellaia had produced a dagger from somewhere, the point of it digging into the skin on Sabina’s neck.
“I am just some girl! I would lead them to their deaths!”
“Death is marching upon Calvino as we speak, but you can save them, you can show them a future for their land and their people.”
The twins had reloaded their crossbows, threatening to shoot anyone with balls.
“They would have to be fools to believe in me!”
“They already believe in their princess. Now it’s time to become their heroine.”
“I… fuck!”
With a quiet huff, Despina broke away from Lucille and sneaked along the wall of the Vecchio. No one paid her any mind, too occupied were they with each other. Entirely unbothered by the group of people, she ended up right behind Marcus, who believed everyone to be in his field of vision.
A fiery mix of anger at Cillia, resentment of Lucille dragging her down here to prove some sort of point and fear of what was about to become of her boiled in her midst, a bubbling cauldron that threatened to spill over when she spotted the freshly castrated man writing on the floor, his two babymakers pinned to the wall behind him.
Her mind went blank as she wrestled to keep a lid on her emotions. It felt like she was trying to keep a storm in a bottle, and she knew it was a futile effort. So, instead, she turned to the nearest targets that she could find, trying to find some solace in a familiar pleasure.
Despina did not even manage to close her hand around the bulge dangling enticingly in front of her. About a span from the juicy orbs that Marcus presented to her, the cauldron inside her burst. A whistling like blades caressing stone rushed through the hall, reflected off the walls, and noise begot more noise.
The wind followed a heartbeat later.
Before her eyes, air sliced apart the fabric of his breeches like paper. How clean and methodical the violent forces she had unleashed seemed. Her magic made a perfect cutout around his sack, leaving only his nuts exposed so she could watch exactly how these silly little things would be maimed.
His right nut hung further back, and thus closer to Despina’s hand. It bore the brunt of the spell. Concentrated on the tiny area that was just that little orb, wind tore and squashed at the testicle, at once cutting into the flesh of it while also pressing down on it like a hammer. It twisted the ball towards a different direction over each millimetre of its surface area, either widening and deepening the cuts or compressing them, the torn shell of his nut too weak to resist the pressure.
She saw the testicle collapse in on itself near the bottom part, while being torn in multiple chunks near the top. When her magic was halfway through destroying the right ball, it also reached the left one.
While the spell had grown weak enough to not immediately open up gashes in skin and ball, it wouldn’t stop at leaving him a half-man. The air blast flowed in a more uniform direction, twisting the left nut several times around its axis in less than a quarter of a second, and it kept going.
As the spell rent apart the nutmeat of Marcus’ right ball, it kept twisting his left nut. The ball ascended in its sack as the nutcord curled around itself, the lifeline of the ball connecting it to the rest of his body shortening with each turn. With the twentieth rotation, the cord snapped, ending the manhood of someone that had threatened her kingdom, her people.
His entire scrotum followed, the force of the rapidly spinning, dislocated nut inside it putting too great a strain on it. It tore like a paper bag, and sack, a whole testicle and the mushy remains of another surged through the air.
The air blast she had just unleashed knocked the crowd of people down, ending one sort of chaos for another one. The only people to remain standing were Despina, Lucille and Macellaia, along with her hostage. Despina thanked the Goddess for that as she saw the ball the wind had twisted off sail directly into Sabina’s mouth. The gonad lodged itself into her throat, choking her.
A cloud of dust had billowed up, replacing the howling of the wind with a sudden silence. When it settled, Despina had claimed the box for herself.
“Heed me! Remember that the Cillians in their infamy use slaves for many of their heinous purposes. See these two tardy castrati?” she asked and pointed to Marcus and his companion that had got his nuts shot off. “See what they are wearing around their necks? Cillia is so reprobate, they never take a slave’s band off to never give them any hope of escaping their fate. The traitors amongst you all wear such bands!”
One of the twins gave a sniff at that. “And why would we trust you, little girl? Who made you an expert on Cillian scum?”
Again, the crowd started shouting, demanding that she sod off. Despina gritted her teeth. Stunned silence descended upon the hall again when she pulled off her hood.
“I suppose that would be my mother, the queen. A healthy distrust of the Cillian republic is part and parcel of royal education.”
“P-princess?!” the twins said in unison before sinking to their knees. “Please forgive us, we had no idea…”
“Rise, girls, you did well. It was the first time I have ever witnessed someone geld a boy with a crossbow. Both of your shots impressed me deeply.” *They also made me soak my panties. Goddess, I want to masturbate so bad*, Despina thought. “For now, fetter the spies amongst us. I’m sure you know how to motivate them should they resist.”
Smiles blossomed on the twins’ faces and they got to work. When the Cillians were safely bound, and Sabina and the recently castrated men were treated, the people looked at Despina expectantly.
She swallowed, hoping none of them noticed how dry her throat was. “If we are to resist Cillia, we need to organize ourselves. Plan our approach. And we need to do it quick, seeing how close their army is. I will not lie to you, I wish to make them bleed. My sister and brother, Cecilia and Filippo, were in Roridafiga when Cillia attacked. They are already presumed dead – or worse. Like many of you, I have lost family at the hands of Cillian scum. Brave women and men of Calvino, are you with me? Will you fight for me, help me save my kingdom? Will you help me avenge my family?”
Cheers erupted in the hall amongst adventurers and scoundrels alike. The resistance of Calvino was born.
---
“There is no way we can avoid her, we have to knock her out,” Aramis whispered.
“Is there really no other way inside?” Jim asked.
“Not that I have seen. Unless you know how to climb up sheer walls and open closed windows from outside without anyone hearing you!” he hissed back.
“This would have been no problem in Smâhspera, pretty much every house is overgrown with ivy there,” Liriel muttered.
“I’m going in, you two stay here. Keep watch so we don’t get any surprise visitors,” Aramis said and started to move towards the open glass door.
“Don’t kill her,” Jim said after him. Aramis rolled his eyes.
They had made it to the von Haller mansion with relative ease, aside from a few wolf-whistles meant for Aramis. Thankfully, Liriel’s spell had worn out while they were on their way to the estate, which the foxkin let everyone know by noisily readjusting his reappearing manhood. It had, of course, earned him a kick from Liriel who wished to confirm that he really did have his balls back. They had changed clothes in some alley, and Jim was loath to admit that he didn’t want to. Unlike the foppish clothes he had worn at court, at least the skirts of the maids left his… assets plenty of room. Even if his cock was now arguably even more restricted. Still, it felt nice to feel his junk have room to sway.
Rounding the high walls of the estate, they found a spot that seemed secluded enough to scale it unseen. The humanoid figures on the other side had given them quite the shock the moment they hopped down, before they realized they were standing in a little garden of statues and sculptures a second later.
Together, Liriel and Jim watched their companion creep into the room, carefully avoiding a vase on a table to the left. He stepped over a very worn-looking floor board and continued sneaking up on the unsuspecting maid across the carpet. She continued cleaning the floor with a mop.
With bated breath, they watched Aramis come up behind the woman, his arms in position to strike. Then, right when she stooped down to pick up a blanket from a wicker chair, he struck.
His left arm snapped around her neck, trying to choke her. His right arm pressed down on its sibling, forcing the maid’s eyes to snap wide open and a gasp to escape her lips as she felt the pressure on her throat.
She threw herself to this and that side, but was unable to get Aramis to release the chokehold. Then, she slammed her palm back and struck home.
Aramis wavered and tears shot into his eyes as he was suddenly getting his balls slapped, but he didn’t release his hold. Unfortunately, the maid wasn’t done.
Her hand snapped shut around the soft bag her palm had just smacked. With both testicles securely in her hand, she started squeezing. This time, it was Aramis’ turn to gasp. As he was trying to choke the maid out, she was bearing down on his nuts with all of her might.
The foxkin started to squeal and he now stood in a comically wide stance, vainly trying to alleviate the pressure on his nuts. Her knuckles had turned white from the force she was exerting, and his nuts compressed further and further in her grip. Her long, sharp nails dug into his balls, trying to pierce the protective shell of his balls.
“Come on, come onnn,” he gasped and reinforced his hold on her throat. This was now a contest of endurance between her trying to stay conscious, and his balls trying not to splatter in her hand. He didn’t even feel himself choking her any more, the only sensation that registered in his mind were his nuts being crushed.
Already, he could feel little gristly cracks and pops emanate from his balls, each one accompanied by an even greater burst of pain. Her nails were weakening the shell of his balls and, slowly, they were starting to tear and give under the pressure of her squeeze. His testicles were losing the battle.
His vision started to grow dim. He couldn’t- she was too tough, too strong. His nuts were going to be turned to mush in her hand and-
With no sound at all, she slumped in on herself, and Aramis sank to the ground along with her. He pulled his balls from her hand as if he pulled them from a vice and cradled them.
“Good job, I knew you could do it,” Liriel said and smiled. Jim looked over her shoulder, worry carved onto his face.
“Are you alright?” he asked. Aramis mewled in response.
“Oh, he’s perfectly fine. That girl just had a bit more fight in her than he thought, right?” Liriel asked.
The beau grabbed the bucket the maid had been using along with her mop, stuck his head in and emptied his stomach.
“Well, perfectly fine for someone getting their berries half juiced,” Liriel amended.
To distract himself, Jim inspected the maid for weapons. Liriel was quick to kneel down beside him and monitor that his hands didn’t wander too much.
“Oh?” he said.
“Find something?”
“Yes, a key… Doesn’t look like it’s for the front door.”
“Mhmm, guess we just have to try it out. Aramis, are you done gargling with your acorns?”
“Screw you,” he squeaked. “You could have helped…”
“And miss you going cross-eyed while she is digging her nails into your plums? No way,” she said with a giggle. “You do still have your plums, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, quit being annoying.”
“You know, I think I heard something crunch down there, sure you don’t want me to check?”
“No!” he cheeped quickly and covered his groin. “You’re just going to squeeze them more…”
“You know me too well,” she laughed and headed for the next door. “Come on, we need to find whatever this von Haller guy is up to.”
Jim, Liriel and a limping Aramis made their way further into the mansion. Peering through a keyhole, Liriel found the kitchen that was bustling with activity from several servants and they decided to avoid the area. Instead, they came to a grand stairway with a large circular window. Heading upstairs, they came to a door on their right, while the hallway split to a crossing on their left.
Jim peered down the hallway, satisfied that there were no maids making their way towards them. He nodded to Liriel, and she gently tried to open the door on their right. It revealed a luxurious white and blue bathroom of marble and tile. The elf closed the door again and they headed along the hallway. Several doors lined it, with only a single double door on their right standing out. The group nodded to each other and opened it.
The room was dominated by an unlit fireplace and a heavy oak table with comfy looking chairs around it. Some shelves with books decorated the walls opposite the fireplace. Windows offered a view of the night sky, and one more double door led further inside.
They opened it and gasped at the eerie scene before them. The room was narrow, and together with its high ceiling drew their eyes towards the open windows at the back. Wind rustled the sheer white curtains, and they seemed to glow in the moonlight. Just like the figure lying on a stone altar in front of them.
Her grey eyelashes cast grey shadows over her sunken cheeks. Her hands were folded peacefully across her chest. Soft, brown locks of hair peeked out under a headdress of pure white flowers, and no discernible injury blemished her skin. It was as white as porcelain.
“What… who is this?” Liriel asked quietly.
“I don’t know… one of the lord’s guests, maybe?” Aramis said.
“I don’t think we should be here.” Jim urged them to leave the room. Whatever was going on here, he did not want to disturb a body.
Liriel couldn’t tear her eyes from the dead woman. “Why would she just be laid out here like that?”
“No idea, but it’s not what we are here for. Come on, close the door.”
Aramis, with some effort, bowed his head. “I would have loved to know you, my dear. Rest in peace, knowing that your beauty transcends even death,” he said and left her to her eternal slumber.
Silently, they crept back down the hallway, stopping at each door to peer inside. While the first two were simple bedrooms with sparse furniture, the third door proved to be interesting. It didn’t open when Aramis pushed the handle.
He took a second to peer through the keyhole, but couldn’t make out much in the dark room. He shrugged and unlocked the door with the maid’s key.
Before he could fully open it, the door handle was yanked out of his hand. Someone had thrown the door open, and this person was now reaching for Aramis with both hands. One towards his mouth, the other towards his groin.
For the second time that night, his nuts were roughly grabbed. But instead of another brutal squeeze that he wasn’t sure would have left him intact, the hand around his balls crackled with electricity. Lightning discharged into his nuts, frying his twins.
“Back! Back you two! I have him by the jizz tanks and if you don’t let me go, he’ll be singing soprano from now on!” a woman yelled out over the muffled cries from the man at her mercy.
For a few seconds, Aramis muffled screaming and the crackling lightning alone filled the air. Then, Jim and Liriel cried out in unison.
“*Zenobia?!*”
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*[A guide to the world of Bythos!](https://imgur.com/uVKT2Kc)*
*I won’t mention any names but _some_ people really got off lightly so far, it was about time they put their balls, err, money where their mouth is*
Despina shielded her face from errant drops that she really hoped were just rain leaking through the tunnel and shifted the hood over her head. When the curtain of brackish water was behind her, she grabbed the hood again to make absolutely sure her face was covered.
“Where on Bythos have you brought me?” she asked, annoyed.
Lucille’s heels clicked on the uneven stone, but the guild master of Calvino’s adventure guild never wavered in her step. “I am bringing you to a hub of… deals and services that is familiar to a lot of adventurers due to its ability to provide what cannot be bought or procured elsewhere. I think it is about high time you became familiar with it.”
“You’re taking me to a meeting place for criminals,” the princess stated matter-of-factly.
“Some of them are, yes. Others simply shun the light, so to speak, that the official channels bring with them. And then there are those that are simply not welcome elsewhere. The outcasts and pariahs that would not find work up above.”
Despina scoffed. “Right, and I’m sure they’re all lovely people who won’t get any ideas when the virgin princess of house Coglione suddenly pops up in their midst. You know that I will hold you responsible if anything happens to me down there? I haven’t had a guard with me ever since Leonia…” She trailed off, her eyes flickering down as she remembered the woman she cherished and idolized abandoning her like an unwanted puppy. No, that was unfair. In truth, she simply didn’t know why she had abandoned her position as her guard. Was she really that racked with guilt?
“I have heard that you have made great strides in improving your capabilities for self-defence. I saw the results of your attack on that knight, after all. Is my information incorrect?” The black parasol striking the floor added an irregular clicking to that of her heels that made it hard to concentrate on Lucille’s words.
“I try.”
Lucille hummed. “Either way, I think you underestimate your standing amongst the common folk. But it is best for you to find that out on your own. See that torch? It marks the entrance.” Lucille pulled the rusty lever of an inconspicuous door on her left and pushed the door open without any visible strain. “Welcome to the Vecchio, your highness.”
The space that the vaulted ceiling afforded the hall was a shock after the claustrophobic tunnels. Only after staring at the arches of the former wine cellar for a solid two seconds did Despina notice the shouts and the bickering going on amongst the thirty-odd people. Some stood off to the side, leaning against the sides of the alcoves, but most stood in the centre, gesturing wildly as they argued. One man even stood on a literal soap box, trying to make himself be heard.
“…we can’t guarantee that we will…”
“…insanity, once those prissy cunts get…”
“…for the church and the maiden of light will make sure…”
“…suicide, pure and simple!”
The smell of sewage was less overpowering here, but it was still present throughout the hall, interlaced with smoke and stale wine.
The princess turned to the guild master with an expression that was supposed to be sceptical, but was more reminiscent of a kitten caught in a rain shower. “What is this supposed to be?”
Lucille swept her arm out over the crowd. “Call them a collection of like-minded individuals, united by a common concern for the kingdom.”
“Ugh!” The pained grunt drew both Despina’s and Lucille’s attention. They were in time to see a woman’s fist bury itself in the crotch of the man that had chosen to orate from a box. It served neatly to quiet the crowd as well as the busted man. The woman smiled, looking rather pleased with the uppercut that had just pinned both of his nuts against his pelvis. Several women started laughing, the high, clear laughter accompanying the man on his way down. He groaned hoarsely as he slunk to the ground, folded around the fist in his balls. The woman stepped over him, taking his place on the box.
“That is what awaits us if we go up against those Cillian bitches, friends! A swift punch to the nads, quick and precise, and we will be writhing on the ground pathetically, holding our wounded pride as if it were a weak pair of balls! We have already seen what fate awaits us if we fight, we have seen it in Roridafiga, when those monsters rained a hailstorm of testicles down upon the defenders. To those with sacks dangling between their legs, I ask: is that what you want? For your nuts to be ripped from you and lobbed across the city for the mongrels to feed on? And to the ladies, I ask you: is that what we wish for our husbands, our fathers, our sons? For their manhood to be trampled underfoot?”
A woman with an eyepatch, her arms webbed with scars, pointed at the talker. “My father’s been dead for a long time and I got no other cocks in my life. What the hell do I care if the Cillian cunts castrate every man, elf and goblin between here and Kumarbi? Men are wusses anyway, I say we fight, just like we have always done, and send them packing with their cocks tucked between their legs.” Approving murmurs accompanied her, mostly from the women.
But the woman on the box didn’t let the objections irritate her. “No cocks in your life? Then you’re in luck, sister. Just think, if these cold bitches turn every pair of nuts in the vicinity to mince, the guys that managed to keep their dangly bits must be some prime specimen to fight them off. Manly enough to even show you a good time, unlike the wusses in the guild. The way I see it, you’re going to be much happier under the Cillians.”
“Psh,” the one-eyed woman chuffed but didn’t argue any further. She seemed to be in thought, considering if the argument she had just heard held any merit. Several men were booing her, making thumbs-down gestures towards the veteran adventuress.
Before another dispute could break out, Lucille handed a scroll to a stocky middle-aged woman Despina hadn’t noticed before. She was smoking a massive pipe, and only when Lucille stuck the scroll in her face did she rise out of the blue band of smoke. She unfurled it and a smile split her scarred face.
“Speaking of guild wimps, I heard the most interesting thing, Sabina. Mind if I use this little thing real quick?” the portly woman asked and had already steered the one-eyed woman off the box.
Her answer, a muttered, “Of course not, Madama Macellaia,” came about two seconds after she had lost her elevated position.
“You see, little Sabina, few people know this about me, but I am really fond of animals. Most just see me as fat old Macellaia, the woman who isn’t afraid to smack a few sacks to make sure everyone behaves at the Vecchio, but it’s true. I’ve always loved animals. Especially little birds. Oh, the songs that they sing, they’re just lovely.”
Madama Macellaia spoke in a jovial tone, as if she was telling stories to a crowd of children. All of a sudden, Sabina was looking a lot less sure of herself. “There’s a species I’m particularly fond of, but it’s all the way over in Affalstat, so I can’t hear its beautiful song as often as I would like. But when I do, this little bird always tells me something interesting. Like, for example, that it saw a woman with an eyepatch really similar to yours take a real big bag of money from one of lady Yohanna’s servants. Isn’t that just the most curious thing?”
Sweat beads dotted her forehead. “What the hell are you trying to say?”
The mirthful tone was gone, replaced by a cruel growl. “I think you know exactly what I am saying. You are on your knees slicking Cillian cock before it’s coming to fuck us all.”
Sabina gritted her teeth, staring down the woman that ostensibly led the Vecchio. She was the first to look away.
Her hand shot up as some kind of sign. “Marcus, now!”
In the back half of the crowd, a man pushed aside two other people and, in one swift motion, pulled out a knife and threw it at Macellaia.
She had seen it coming. The stout woman had already stepped down from the box and placed a hand on Sabina’s shoulder. With a quick yank, she pulled the woman in front of her. The knife struck her in the abdomen with a meaty blow.
A cry from Sabina was followed by a sneer from her accomplice. The man she had called Marcus turned to someone in the back and drew his sword. “Kill the ones that resist! The rest are hostages!”
Three other men brandished their weapons, approaching the crowd menacingly. One of them was close to Madama Macellaia, owing to the fact that he had been leaning against the alcove just behind her.
“Oi, Cillia sends its regards, whore!” he barked and lifted a mace. Before he could strike, two blurs flashed through the air, accompanied by two twanging noises, and buried themselves in the stone wall behind him.
Despina frowned in confusion at what had happened. The man stood stock-still, weapon raised, not moving an inch. As if someone had pulled the plug from a bathtub, the colour drained from his face until he was white as a sheet. Then, with a strange noise halfway between a whimper and a scream, he collapsed to the ground.
*What?* In search for an answer, Despina’s eyes travelled to the wall behind the man. Two bolts stuck out of it, still wobbling from their impact. Wrapped around each bolt was a white sphere.
The projectiles had struck the testicles perfectly centre. Liquified ballmeat leaked out of each puncture, the chunky paste running along the bolts before dripping to the ground. It mingled with a steady drip of white falling from the reddish cords attached to the orbs, semen leaking from the strings that once attached manhood to man. It would be his balls’ last ever attempt at ejaculation, wasting their cum at trying to impregnate the stained ground.
“Pow, right in the cumtanks!” a woman among the crowd said. Mounted on her arm was a miniature crossbow.
A woman next to her who looked almost identical, including the strange contraption on her arm, turned and said, “Woo, I told you I could hit his disgusting ball dead centre! You owe me ten soldini!”
The first woman turned to her twin, her face twisted in disbelief. “I hit the left ball way more centre than you did the right nut. If anything, you owe me!”
“What?!”
Despina looked at the man writhing in agony. *Former man*, she corrected herself. Only then did she truly realize the feat of marksmanship and emasculation she had just witnessed. It was as if someone had switched on a heater in her loins, as blood rushed to her pussy with force.
“None of you fucking move! Keep your weapons lowered, or the girl gets it!” Marcus, the man that had thrown his knife and inadvertently hit his companion, held a sword to the throat of a young adventuress, a deer beastkin that looked about as pale as the poor sod who had just got his nuts ripped off.
Madama Macellaia shook the injured Sabina in her grip at him. “Still got your hussy right here, dickless. And she’s slowly bleeding out, so I suggest it’s you and your friends who don’t move.”
Around the two, chaos erupted. People pointed weapons, screaming over each other in a bid to defuse, or in the case of the crossbow-wielding twins, escalate the situation. It was only a matter of time before someone would start swinging a sword, and Despina wasn’t sure if the folks proclaiming to fight for Calvino truly knew who among the crowd was their enemy.
“You see what they are lacking?” Lucille’s dark voice startled the princess. She jumped back, and immediately pulled her hood down into her face.
“By Norea, you…” She swallowed the insult on her tongue. “They lack a brain, that’s clear to see.”
“That is not something anyone can give them. No, I am talking about something much more immediate.” Despina gave her a blank look. “They need leadership.”
Despina let her eyes wander over the irate group that was ready to cut each other down. “They have madama Macellaia.”
“A shrewd woman, strong, but entirely inflexible. She would never lead them out of the shadows. She would never lead them into a fight. Her only concern is keeping the Vecchio safe.”
“You do it then. You are guild master, you have connections. They would follow you.”
“True, I have considerable resources, I am owed favours that go back decades. But I am more suited to… administrative tasks. Not to mention, I am sure by now you have figured out that I am not like most people. I am not human, neither elf nor any of the other races the church acknowledges. I am much more… which is why I cannot inspire the necessary fervour in them, cannot nurture this humble seed to grow. They need someone to stoke their patriotism, their willingness to lay their lives on the line for their kingdom. Someone like their princess.”
Marcus was throwing out the occasional slash, threatening to cut anyone daring to come closer while he was busy choking the deer woman out. Already, her lips were turning blue.
“I… I can’t. I am not fit to lead anyone.”
“They would follow you to the ends of Bythos.”
Macellaia had produced a dagger from somewhere, the point of it digging into the skin on Sabina’s neck.
“I am just some girl! I would lead them to their deaths!”
“Death is marching upon Calvino as we speak, but you can save them, you can show them a future for their land and their people.”
The twins had reloaded their crossbows, threatening to shoot anyone with balls.
“They would have to be fools to believe in me!”
“They already believe in their princess. Now it’s time to become their heroine.”
“I… fuck!”
With a quiet huff, Despina broke away from Lucille and sneaked along the wall of the Vecchio. No one paid her any mind, too occupied were they with each other. Entirely unbothered by the group of people, she ended up right behind Marcus, who believed everyone to be in his field of vision.
A fiery mix of anger at Cillia, resentment of Lucille dragging her down here to prove some sort of point and fear of what was about to become of her boiled in her midst, a bubbling cauldron that threatened to spill over when she spotted the freshly castrated man writing on the floor, his two babymakers pinned to the wall behind him.
Her mind went blank as she wrestled to keep a lid on her emotions. It felt like she was trying to keep a storm in a bottle, and she knew it was a futile effort. So, instead, she turned to the nearest targets that she could find, trying to find some solace in a familiar pleasure.
Despina did not even manage to close her hand around the bulge dangling enticingly in front of her. About a span from the juicy orbs that Marcus presented to her, the cauldron inside her burst. A whistling like blades caressing stone rushed through the hall, reflected off the walls, and noise begot more noise.
The wind followed a heartbeat later.
Before her eyes, air sliced apart the fabric of his breeches like paper. How clean and methodical the violent forces she had unleashed seemed. Her magic made a perfect cutout around his sack, leaving only his nuts exposed so she could watch exactly how these silly little things would be maimed.
His right nut hung further back, and thus closer to Despina’s hand. It bore the brunt of the spell. Concentrated on the tiny area that was just that little orb, wind tore and squashed at the testicle, at once cutting into the flesh of it while also pressing down on it like a hammer. It twisted the ball towards a different direction over each millimetre of its surface area, either widening and deepening the cuts or compressing them, the torn shell of his nut too weak to resist the pressure.
She saw the testicle collapse in on itself near the bottom part, while being torn in multiple chunks near the top. When her magic was halfway through destroying the right ball, it also reached the left one.
While the spell had grown weak enough to not immediately open up gashes in skin and ball, it wouldn’t stop at leaving him a half-man. The air blast flowed in a more uniform direction, twisting the left nut several times around its axis in less than a quarter of a second, and it kept going.
As the spell rent apart the nutmeat of Marcus’ right ball, it kept twisting his left nut. The ball ascended in its sack as the nutcord curled around itself, the lifeline of the ball connecting it to the rest of his body shortening with each turn. With the twentieth rotation, the cord snapped, ending the manhood of someone that had threatened her kingdom, her people.
His entire scrotum followed, the force of the rapidly spinning, dislocated nut inside it putting too great a strain on it. It tore like a paper bag, and sack, a whole testicle and the mushy remains of another surged through the air.
The air blast she had just unleashed knocked the crowd of people down, ending one sort of chaos for another one. The only people to remain standing were Despina, Lucille and Macellaia, along with her hostage. Despina thanked the Goddess for that as she saw the ball the wind had twisted off sail directly into Sabina’s mouth. The gonad lodged itself into her throat, choking her.
A cloud of dust had billowed up, replacing the howling of the wind with a sudden silence. When it settled, Despina had claimed the box for herself.
“Heed me! Remember that the Cillians in their infamy use slaves for many of their heinous purposes. See these two tardy castrati?” she asked and pointed to Marcus and his companion that had got his nuts shot off. “See what they are wearing around their necks? Cillia is so reprobate, they never take a slave’s band off to never give them any hope of escaping their fate. The traitors amongst you all wear such bands!”
One of the twins gave a sniff at that. “And why would we trust you, little girl? Who made you an expert on Cillian scum?”
Again, the crowd started shouting, demanding that she sod off. Despina gritted her teeth. Stunned silence descended upon the hall again when she pulled off her hood.
“I suppose that would be my mother, the queen. A healthy distrust of the Cillian republic is part and parcel of royal education.”
“P-princess?!” the twins said in unison before sinking to their knees. “Please forgive us, we had no idea…”
“Rise, girls, you did well. It was the first time I have ever witnessed someone geld a boy with a crossbow. Both of your shots impressed me deeply.” *They also made me soak my panties. Goddess, I want to masturbate so bad*, Despina thought. “For now, fetter the spies amongst us. I’m sure you know how to motivate them should they resist.”
Smiles blossomed on the twins’ faces and they got to work. When the Cillians were safely bound, and Sabina and the recently castrated men were treated, the people looked at Despina expectantly.
She swallowed, hoping none of them noticed how dry her throat was. “If we are to resist Cillia, we need to organize ourselves. Plan our approach. And we need to do it quick, seeing how close their army is. I will not lie to you, I wish to make them bleed. My sister and brother, Cecilia and Filippo, were in Roridafiga when Cillia attacked. They are already presumed dead – or worse. Like many of you, I have lost family at the hands of Cillian scum. Brave women and men of Calvino, are you with me? Will you fight for me, help me save my kingdom? Will you help me avenge my family?”
Cheers erupted in the hall amongst adventurers and scoundrels alike. The resistance of Calvino was born.
---
“There is no way we can avoid her, we have to knock her out,” Aramis whispered.
“Is there really no other way inside?” Jim asked.
“Not that I have seen. Unless you know how to climb up sheer walls and open closed windows from outside without anyone hearing you!” he hissed back.
“This would have been no problem in Smâhspera, pretty much every house is overgrown with ivy there,” Liriel muttered.
“I’m going in, you two stay here. Keep watch so we don’t get any surprise visitors,” Aramis said and started to move towards the open glass door.
“Don’t kill her,” Jim said after him. Aramis rolled his eyes.
They had made it to the von Haller mansion with relative ease, aside from a few wolf-whistles meant for Aramis. Thankfully, Liriel’s spell had worn out while they were on their way to the estate, which the foxkin let everyone know by noisily readjusting his reappearing manhood. It had, of course, earned him a kick from Liriel who wished to confirm that he really did have his balls back. They had changed clothes in some alley, and Jim was loath to admit that he didn’t want to. Unlike the foppish clothes he had worn at court, at least the skirts of the maids left his… assets plenty of room. Even if his cock was now arguably even more restricted. Still, it felt nice to feel his junk have room to sway.
Rounding the high walls of the estate, they found a spot that seemed secluded enough to scale it unseen. The humanoid figures on the other side had given them quite the shock the moment they hopped down, before they realized they were standing in a little garden of statues and sculptures a second later.
Together, Liriel and Jim watched their companion creep into the room, carefully avoiding a vase on a table to the left. He stepped over a very worn-looking floor board and continued sneaking up on the unsuspecting maid across the carpet. She continued cleaning the floor with a mop.
With bated breath, they watched Aramis come up behind the woman, his arms in position to strike. Then, right when she stooped down to pick up a blanket from a wicker chair, he struck.
His left arm snapped around her neck, trying to choke her. His right arm pressed down on its sibling, forcing the maid’s eyes to snap wide open and a gasp to escape her lips as she felt the pressure on her throat.
She threw herself to this and that side, but was unable to get Aramis to release the chokehold. Then, she slammed her palm back and struck home.
Aramis wavered and tears shot into his eyes as he was suddenly getting his balls slapped, but he didn’t release his hold. Unfortunately, the maid wasn’t done.
Her hand snapped shut around the soft bag her palm had just smacked. With both testicles securely in her hand, she started squeezing. This time, it was Aramis’ turn to gasp. As he was trying to choke the maid out, she was bearing down on his nuts with all of her might.
The foxkin started to squeal and he now stood in a comically wide stance, vainly trying to alleviate the pressure on his nuts. Her knuckles had turned white from the force she was exerting, and his nuts compressed further and further in her grip. Her long, sharp nails dug into his balls, trying to pierce the protective shell of his balls.
“Come on, come onnn,” he gasped and reinforced his hold on her throat. This was now a contest of endurance between her trying to stay conscious, and his balls trying not to splatter in her hand. He didn’t even feel himself choking her any more, the only sensation that registered in his mind were his nuts being crushed.
Already, he could feel little gristly cracks and pops emanate from his balls, each one accompanied by an even greater burst of pain. Her nails were weakening the shell of his balls and, slowly, they were starting to tear and give under the pressure of her squeeze. His testicles were losing the battle.
His vision started to grow dim. He couldn’t- she was too tough, too strong. His nuts were going to be turned to mush in her hand and-
With no sound at all, she slumped in on herself, and Aramis sank to the ground along with her. He pulled his balls from her hand as if he pulled them from a vice and cradled them.
“Good job, I knew you could do it,” Liriel said and smiled. Jim looked over her shoulder, worry carved onto his face.
“Are you alright?” he asked. Aramis mewled in response.
“Oh, he’s perfectly fine. That girl just had a bit more fight in her than he thought, right?” Liriel asked.
The beau grabbed the bucket the maid had been using along with her mop, stuck his head in and emptied his stomach.
“Well, perfectly fine for someone getting their berries half juiced,” Liriel amended.
To distract himself, Jim inspected the maid for weapons. Liriel was quick to kneel down beside him and monitor that his hands didn’t wander too much.
“Oh?” he said.
“Find something?”
“Yes, a key… Doesn’t look like it’s for the front door.”
“Mhmm, guess we just have to try it out. Aramis, are you done gargling with your acorns?”
“Screw you,” he squeaked. “You could have helped…”
“And miss you going cross-eyed while she is digging her nails into your plums? No way,” she said with a giggle. “You do still have your plums, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, quit being annoying.”
“You know, I think I heard something crunch down there, sure you don’t want me to check?”
“No!” he cheeped quickly and covered his groin. “You’re just going to squeeze them more…”
“You know me too well,” she laughed and headed for the next door. “Come on, we need to find whatever this von Haller guy is up to.”
Jim, Liriel and a limping Aramis made their way further into the mansion. Peering through a keyhole, Liriel found the kitchen that was bustling with activity from several servants and they decided to avoid the area. Instead, they came to a grand stairway with a large circular window. Heading upstairs, they came to a door on their right, while the hallway split to a crossing on their left.
Jim peered down the hallway, satisfied that there were no maids making their way towards them. He nodded to Liriel, and she gently tried to open the door on their right. It revealed a luxurious white and blue bathroom of marble and tile. The elf closed the door again and they headed along the hallway. Several doors lined it, with only a single double door on their right standing out. The group nodded to each other and opened it.
The room was dominated by an unlit fireplace and a heavy oak table with comfy looking chairs around it. Some shelves with books decorated the walls opposite the fireplace. Windows offered a view of the night sky, and one more double door led further inside.
They opened it and gasped at the eerie scene before them. The room was narrow, and together with its high ceiling drew their eyes towards the open windows at the back. Wind rustled the sheer white curtains, and they seemed to glow in the moonlight. Just like the figure lying on a stone altar in front of them.
Her grey eyelashes cast grey shadows over her sunken cheeks. Her hands were folded peacefully across her chest. Soft, brown locks of hair peeked out under a headdress of pure white flowers, and no discernible injury blemished her skin. It was as white as porcelain.
“What… who is this?” Liriel asked quietly.
“I don’t know… one of the lord’s guests, maybe?” Aramis said.
“I don’t think we should be here.” Jim urged them to leave the room. Whatever was going on here, he did not want to disturb a body.
Liriel couldn’t tear her eyes from the dead woman. “Why would she just be laid out here like that?”
“No idea, but it’s not what we are here for. Come on, close the door.”
Aramis, with some effort, bowed his head. “I would have loved to know you, my dear. Rest in peace, knowing that your beauty transcends even death,” he said and left her to her eternal slumber.
Silently, they crept back down the hallway, stopping at each door to peer inside. While the first two were simple bedrooms with sparse furniture, the third door proved to be interesting. It didn’t open when Aramis pushed the handle.
He took a second to peer through the keyhole, but couldn’t make out much in the dark room. He shrugged and unlocked the door with the maid’s key.
Before he could fully open it, the door handle was yanked out of his hand. Someone had thrown the door open, and this person was now reaching for Aramis with both hands. One towards his mouth, the other towards his groin.
For the second time that night, his nuts were roughly grabbed. But instead of another brutal squeeze that he wasn’t sure would have left him intact, the hand around his balls crackled with electricity. Lightning discharged into his nuts, frying his twins.
“Back! Back you two! I have him by the jizz tanks and if you don’t let me go, he’ll be singing soprano from now on!” a woman yelled out over the muffled cries from the man at her mercy.
For a few seconds, Aramis muffled screaming and the crackling lightning alone filled the air. Then, Jim and Liriel cried out in unison.
“*Zenobia?!*”
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*[A guide to the world of Bythos!](https://imgur.com/uVKT2Kc)*
*I won’t mention any names but _some_ people really got off lightly so far, it was about time they put their balls, err, money where their mouth is*
