It had been three whole days.
Three days of bland rations, cold leftovers, and whatever lukewarm goo the succubi tried to pass off as "porridge." Three days of watching humanoids flirt, fondle, and frolic while his majestic stomach sat empty, grumbling with the fury of a hundred dormant volcanoes.
Valgereth had had enough.
The dragon-turned-debonair-stud stomped up the stone steps to Lucien's royal tent, trailing black smoke with every step. Birds scattered. Ash swirled. A nearby miner dove for cover as Val snarled, "DARK LORD!"
No response.
Val planted both hands on his hips and bellowed again. "You call this royal service?! I demand a proper breakfast! NOW!"
Seated beside the tent flap with a steaming cup of holy herb tea was Serenith, legs crossed, robes loose, and face full of amusement.
"He's busy." She breathed before sipping delicately.
Val blinked at her. "Busy doing what? He better be baking me a volcanic frittata with blood syrup!"
Serenith shrugged. "If by 'baking' you mean plowing, then yes. Baking something soft and squishy. Two, actually."
Val snarled. "I am funding this operation! I wait for no one!" He shoved the tent flap aside and stormed in.
It took exactly six seconds.
Slapping sounds. Whimpers. Whispers. A weird, wet slurping sound.
Val's eye twitched. He turned the corner of the room divider.
As his eye's found their focus among the flickering shadows, they shot open wide...
"WHAT IN THE NAME OF BURNING BRIMSTONE!"
He glimpsed Lucien, just as the sweat-soaked demon lord slipped his shaft back down Vile's eager throat, again... and again. Her forked tongue lashed at the base of his balls while Vex helped her sister past her oral limits with a firm hand to the back of Vile's head.
The mighty dragon clutched his chest and let out a high-pitched squeal. "AAAHHH! MY EYES!"
He retched dramatically, gagging and stumbling back out the tent.
A moment later, Lucien appeared, half-dressed, his trousers clinging to one leg and the twins clinging to his torso. Both of them looked flushed, tousled, and extremely pleased with themselves.
Lucien adjusted his belt. "Almost got my dick bit off again! What in the hell just happened?"
Serenith was on the ground. Cackling. Face red. Tears streaming down her cheeks.
Val stood beside her, arms crossed and face locked in a disgusted scowl.
"You," he growled, "are disgusting with your wet, fleshy, noisy copulation. Slap slap squelch squelch suck suck. It's barbaric!"
Lucien grinned. "Not a fan of the ladies?"
Val blinked. "What?"
Lucien leaned in and whispered. Val's eyes widened. He reeled back. "No! I love the ladies. But if she's not a few tons, covered in scales, and able to crush me between her thighs, then what's the point? These tiny, meat-wrapped toothpicks you play with." he gestured at the giggling twins, "They barely count as finger food."
The twins gasped, pouting in mock offense.
One of them reached out. "Aww, poor Val. You just need a little loving—"
He slapped her hand away with a snarl. "I'd rather rut with a wyvern with halitosis than one of you… soap-slippery meat popsicles!"
He stormed off, smoke trailing from his mouth. "If I don't get breakfast in the next ten minutes, I start eating miners!"
Lucien gave a low whistle. "Well... someone woke up on the wrong side of the gold pile."
He gave the twins a gentle slap on their butts. "Go on. Find him something edible before he starts nibbling on the dwarves."
They saluted with a wink. "Yes, boss!" each planting a kiss on opposite cheeks before skipping off.
Lucien stretched luxuriously, rubbing the back of his neck and strolling across the central compound to a smaller side tent.
He rapped on the frame. "Alexel? I'm coming in!"
Inside, the tent was dimly lit, cozy, and filled with scrolls, maps, and datapads floating by enchanted candlelight. Alexel sat at a mahogany desk, flushed, beaming, fingers twitching nervously.
Lucien paused, raised an eyebrow, then snorted.
"Sorry to interrupt. I see you're... busy." He gave a very knowing smirk.
Alexel stiffened and stammered, "I-I was just, uh… dictating… logistics."
From beneath the desk came a soft cough.
Lucien chuckled and turned on his heel. "Finish up. Meet me at the admin building in ten. We've got something big to plan."
Alexel gave a trembling salute, eyes glassy. "Y-yes, my lord!"
"Keep him focused, Nysa!" Lucien called out as he left.
"Y-Yes, Lord Lucidius." A small voice whimpered from beneath Alexel's desk.
------------------
Ten minutes later, Lucien stood at the head of a long obsidian table inside the administration building. Serenith floated nearby, a mug of divine espresso in hand. Veyra had returned in her light armor, bright-eyed and clipboard-ready. Sila, head of mining operations, stood with soot-streaked cheeks and a pickaxe on her back.
Alexel stumbled in last, slightly rumpled, and cleared his throat as he smoothed his vest.
Lucien slapped down a thick scroll and unrolled it across the table.
The table fell silent.
Everyone leaned in.
Veyra's eyes widened. "Oh."
Sila blinked. "That's..."
Alexel's glasses fogged slightly.
Serenith furrowed her brows and floated over the table. "Is that what I think it is?"
Lucien's grin could have split kingdoms.
"Yes," he said proudly. "It's the next major step in our expansion plans."
The blueprint was huge, sprawling, twisting architecture, multi-layered domes, shimmering illusion runes along the sides. A dozen taverns. An arena. Massive baths. Pleasure wings. Hotel suites. Magical transportation hubs.
Serenith narrowed her eyes. "It's a... pleasure district."
Lucien clasped his hands behind his back and nodded.
"Not just any pleasure district," he corrected. "The Ashland Pleasure Fortress. Entertainment. Comfort. Luxury. An attraction for locals, nobles, even foreign dignitaries. And ye…" he pointed to a section near the northern wing… "we'll even have an exclusive Wyvern Massage Parlor. Just for Val."
Sila blinked. "That... that's ambitious."
Alexel was already sweating. "We'll need hundreds of new contractors. Security. Sanitation mages."
Serenith stared at him. "Do you actually think the Ashlands are ready for something like this?"
Lucien turned to her, eyes gleaming.
"No," he said. "But they're gonna love it."
He raised one finger, pointing toward the far horizon.
"And once word gets out? This becomes more than just a mining kingdom. It becomes a destination. We draw in nobles. Adventurers. Rich perverts from the Eastern Shores. Tourism will be our second pillar of gold."
There was a pause.
Then Serenith chuckled. "You're insane."
Lucien shrugged. "That's what the gods thought, too. Then they sent me here."
Sila scratched her chin. "...If you give me a month and two hundred workers, I can maybe start excavation."
Alexel sighed. "I'll begin drawing up zoning plans."
Ignara beamed. "I can reach out to the merchant guilds for spa-grade silks and imported alcohol."
Lucien slammed the table before quickly rolling up the scroll. "Not yet. We've still got lots of work to do, and more importantly, trade routes to secure."
He turns to Serenith with his signature smirk. "You're and I are going on a little adventure, feather-buns."
Serenith cocks a brow, then her mouth parts slightly. "You can't be serious?!"
From the hallway, a sudden booming voice echoed:
"WHERE. IS. MY. BREAKFAST?!"
Lucien rolled his eyes.
"We probably need to feed him first."
Veyra chuckled nervously. "Good luck. I think he's been eyeing those ogres you just hired."