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I have several chapters planned, each a kind of micro adventure with one overarching story trope. Most of this story will be first person perspective from "you". I am going to explore gay sex (both m/m and f/f) within this story but not this chapter. For right now its pretty vanilla, but this is supposed to represent the sexual maturing of a person over decades. So things are going to get a little weird.
I stared into the heart of the fire, searching for the next words. “- and then the two of us escaped by sliding out through the latrine shaft. She had the golden egg, I had the papers and letters in an oiled leather pouch. They did not find out until about 3 days later when no one came around to put oil in the candles!”

The soldiers collected around the fire roared with laughter. One young officer theatrically fell over backwards out of their seat.

“I can’t believe you and the high mage herself went on a mission together.” he said, dusting himself off as he stood up. “I knew that spies and mages collaborated, but I’ve never heard of them going on field missions together.”

“Well, she was not the high mage back then, but rather ‘Novice Mage Emilia’.” I explained “Because of the nature of the egg we needed someone to nullify the magic. It is rare but it sometimes happens.

“Now, it is time for me to get back to the command tent. Get some rest, the enemy will be upon us in the next few days”

I left them to the fire, merriment and the night. High morale is important in the build up to a battle. At least, that’s what I told the Grand Admiral when she asked me why I was spending so many hours visiting campfires and fraternizing with the soldiers. The truth is that since my position had been elevated I missed the camaraderie of the barracks.

It would be wholly inappropriate for me to spend time with the soldiers at the castle garrison. There needed to be a separation between command and battalion. But gathered around a campfire, miles from home, facing what would likely to be a great battle of our time; everyone could use some reassurance and stories of glory.

Passing through the large war camp, I looked towards the edge of the cliff we’re on. A massive purple tent blocked out the night sky. Lit not by the glimmering campfires and torches dotted around the camp, but by the steady light of glowstones. Rocks enchanted to emit light in the darkest of conditions.

The mages staying in the tent would be auxiliary to the soldiers who would inevitably end up fighting for their lives and country on the white sand below. Led by the high mage, using a recently discovered technique, they will rain fire and death down upon our enemies.

I feel bad for the approaching Kagneyan fleet. The men and women on the boats will not have witnessed anything like the power they are about to be overcome by. And it’s only by the wishes of their mad prince, Armand, that they sail into destruction. While I grew up with a sword and bow in hand, my preference has always been to use other available options first. The upcoming wanton destruction had been souring my mood for weeks. We had tried diplomacy, but that arrogant brat would have none of it.

My mind shifts back to Emilia, 20 years ago. Both of us were so young. She had finished her training, been a novice for several years and had been promoted to adept. While I was just getting settled in my career as a spy for the realm. We both lived in the castle garrison, and while we were friendly and saw each other often we weren’t friends.

One day the master of spies called me into his office. I was surprised to see several high ranking military leaders already there, as well as the then High Mage and Emilia. Her blue adept robes were replaced with worn leather riding clothes. Quickly I was filled in on the situation, a royal opposed to the ban of the use of slaves throughout the kingdom had holed up in her family’s castle and was rallying any allies she could find. Hiring mercenaries and brigands to fill ranks. The influx of these unsavory types had caused large amounts of unrest in the surrounding country. My king had decided to send a spy to infiltrate the court and find some correspondence, any evidence really that the noble was actively engaging in slave trade and fomenting rebellion. The noble also had possession of a powerful artifact, an egg with the ability to enhance the user’s charisma and charm.

Originally there was another spy slated for the mission, a man with far more experience than me. He had, however, broken a wrist in an unfortunate fall while hanging from the window of his mistress's house. My king’s advisors had decided that I was the next best substitute. While I was elated, I was also confused. I had been on my share of field missions but nothing as important or risky as this. I learned that Emilia would be joining me, to take control of the egg. We would leave within the hour. So I prepared hurriedly and Emilia and I set off shortly thereafter.

We spent two weeks riding together. I enjoyed her company, and conversation came easy. Her attention to detail and methodical way of thinking really gave me joy. She would notice the smallest details and extrapolate so many theories for its importance. I think she would have made an amazing spy. She was of course a phenomenal mage. Affinity for magic, especially as powerful as she had it would never have been wasted on spying.

We spent a few more weeks together pretending to be two bandits trying to earn some coin by joining the cause. We managed to get a private room together in a nearby town, this way we could compare notes and discuss strategies without worrying about being discovered or overheard. The room only had one bed and the nights were cold. So we slept together. Back to back, fully clothed, of course. Mages and spies, while not sworn to be chaste, are expected to be fully focused on the task at hand. The mission was difficult and we had to come up with new plans on the fly all the time. It was a lot of fun working with her. After weaseling our way into the good graces of the noble, we completed our objective, golden egg, documents, latrine shaft.

During the trip back things changed. I remember vividly climbing the crest of the hill we were camped on, a pile of small dry sticks heaped in my arms. I entered the twin flaps of the pavilion briefly making eye contact with Emilia, she was in her travel blankets in her chosen spot on the floor. A small fire sputtered in the middle, the smoke making its way out of a vent in the top of the pavilion. Above it a small black pot with something thick and hearty, stirred gently as large bubbles formed and popped on its surface. Bits of vegetables just showed floating gently near the top. I piled the sticks against the inside wall and grabbed a few likely suspects to throw on the fire. At that point I realized she was still staring at me. So I stared back. She moved aside her blankets revealing her naked body.

As dirty, ragged and tired as I was. I quickly stripped down and joined her under the covers. Her skin was soft and warm against mine. At first she just embraced me. Slowly rubbing my wind chilled skin. She began to kiss me, tiny little kisses. Her lips barely pursed. She kissed my bare chest and slowly up my neck to my cheeks and then my mouth. It felt like a butterfly, doing the world’s tiniest dance on my body. She pushed her lips against mine. As soon as I split my lips her tongue darted inside my mouth. I was so distracted and elated that I almost didn’t notice her hands wrap around my rapidly hardening cock.

I surrendered myself to her. I could feel a power drawing us closer. I felt like I was inside her skin. No. It was more like we had become one, one body, one skin. At this point I had overcome my shock at this new paradigm. I started roaming my hands along her body. Feeling out all of her. Up and down her sides, feeling the muscles in her arms and legs. My fingernails dragged along her back and shoulders. I ran my hand along her butt, squeezing one cheek and then the other in my hands. The whole time she was slowly, gently stroking my erection. I moved my hands down her stomach, towards the v of her groin. She quickly grabbed my hand, pinning it to the ground above my head. The speed and aggression of it scared me briefly, but quickly I realized how much I admired her and how she could consistently surprise me. She rolled her body over mine. I could feel her pubic mound as it slid over my thigh until she was sitting on my midriff, her legs spread wide. She grabbed my other arm and pinned my two hands together. Her hair and breasts spilled down over my face and chest. She looked down at me, directly into my eyes.

“You’re my new toy, and I want you inside of me.” she explained.

After a few seconds of staring at each other, I realized that she was waiting for an answer from me. Stammering I did my best to get some words out “Uh, yes please?”. Fool! Ordinarily I was an oak in a wind storm, immovable, unbreakable. But this incredible woman had completely disabled me in seconds.

She took her free hand and reached between the two of us, giving me a few light but earnest tugs before guiding me between her vulva. Slowly she lowered herself down on me. I felt the walls of her vagina sliding over and around me. They put a gentle, earnest pressure on the outsides of my cock. She was so warm and after a little movement back and forwards we had lubrication to spare, I could feel it seeping out on to the base of my penis and my pubic bone.

A tingling tickling sensation like a very light static shock ran down the length of my shaft, into my body. I could feel it traveling along my vas deferens all the way through my testicles and up into my lower body. It was like she had grown roots down into me, the roots stretched and pulled her back into me as she began to lift herself up for the first time. It was almost like a magnetic force gently pulling us back together. After a few strokes she sat upright. Her hair fell over her shoulders and chest, her face was pointing upwards. Mostly serene but every once in a while she would make a little noise or wrinkle her nose. With my hands no longer pinned in place, I just left them where they were figuring I would hold out for a bit longer.

From my perspective she was kneeling, straddling me, I could see her stomach, the skin pale with tiny lightly colored hairs all over. I could see her breasts from below, bouncing with each up and down motion. I could see her chin moving around, I thought she was just clenching her jaw, but then I realized that she was in fact whispering, incanting. Tendrils of what seemed like mist coalesced above us, a small cloud formed, then condensed into two globes of water and finally froze over in the shape of a mushroom sized piece of Ice. She opened her eyes, staring at it, then down at me. She raised a hand and I felt some form of fabric slide over my hands and clamped them down to the earth. The iceshroom slowly descended towards my chest. She made it glide over my skin, leaving a glistening trail of water as the ice melted against my warm skin. The sensation was phenomenal. It was right on the cusp of being too cold for me, any colder and I probably would have been wincing a little. I closed my eyes while the cold penetrated me deep beneath my skin, almost like a finger pushing through my chest and caressing my lungs. This is the best way I can describe it, but to me it was beautiful like she was inside me as I was inside of her. The steamy warmth of her pussy contrasted with the shivering cold causing goose bumps all over my chest put my reptile brain into overdrive.

I started bucking my hips wildly underneath her. Pulling at the restraints above my head. Then something absolutely devastating happened. She removed the ice from my skin. I was incredulous. I had been so close. Why would she deny me like this? I opened my eyes, mouth agape, paralyzed. Her eyes were glowing yellow. Hair standing on end like a halo behind her face. The raw power crackled in the air. She had one hand between her legs, a blur moving side to side. The iceshroom was being drawn all over her skin, instead of a trail of moisture, it was evaporating immediately. Everything around us seemed to draw thin, stretching like a thick dough being pulled into her. Her head dropped curling down towards my chest. A flash of light and everything was back to normal. Emilia’s cry pierced the night, for several seconds she convulsed and undulated. Once she had grown silent, all of the normal nighttime noise was gone; there was just the gentle hiss of the fire, now low coals, and the distant flapping of a flock of birds flying off.

I didn’t know what to do. I am sure I looked like I had been poleaxed. She looked at me, smiled briefly. Got up and walked over to where the sticks I had intended on putting on the fire lay. She picked them up and removed the soup from the fire, before placing the sticks on the fire stoking it up. She ladled some soup into a bowl, walked back over to where I was. I sat straight up in front of her. Her casual nakedness standing tall above me dominated my view. She handed the bowl down to me. I cupped it in my hands, the bowl was so warm against my somehow ice cold flesh. I realized my entire body was numb with cold. And the first bite of the stew warmed my insides so well that I began ravenously attacking the soup. The soup itself wasn’t warm, it's more like my body had been totally drained of all its energy and it knew it needed food.

She moved around the back of me, placing her legs out straight on either side of my hips and curled her arms around my waist under the bowl. Her chest pressed against my back and it felt so good. Like the first time in the sunshine after a long winter. I felt her cheek press against the top of my back. Her soft hair was like a scarf around the back of my neck. Once the soup was finished she lay me down resting her head on my chest and we drifted off to sleep.

Snapping back to reality I shook my head, drawing my eyes away from the tent and a long lost lust. With a sense of urgency, slightly embarrassed at how much of a fool I must have looked standing for several minutes staring off into the night with a raging erection. I rushed over towards the massive tent in the center of the camp.

King Lee’s massive war table stood in the center of the room. All over a map of the coastline little figurines scattered the surface. Each one represents a different squadron or battalion of soldiers as well as both magic users and kinetic weapons. We weren’t sure exactly where the enemy was going to come to shore but we had a good idea. On approach I saw several boys, too young to fight as warriors but old enough to ride a horse and carry a message, hurrying out of the tent with folded up letters bearing the king’s wax seal.

“Ah lord commander, you’re just in time -” said a woman, long gone grey, using a long curved crook to push and pull different figurines to different locations on the map. Mostly to our location. “- the mages have confirmed that the enemy ships are heading right to our location. We expect them to be upon us late tomorrow afternoon. Let the men rest tonight, tomorrow we shall move down to the dunes behind the beach and lie in wait.

“Once the landing skiffs are unloaded and all of their men are in the water, the mages and catapults will immolate their ships, sinking their means of escape. Thereafter they will egg on the waves to such a size that their little rowboats will be capsized and washed ashore. Once the bedraggled forces have landed on the shore, the foot soldiers will engage with strict orders to take prisoners over killing. Any resistance or groups of warriors that manage to dig in will be taken out by the archers and then the cavalry.”

“Your goal, lord commander, is to figure out where Armand is, and take him captive. Alive. You and your dragoons are pivotal to our success. If Armand is to escape or worse, get killed I think we will not find peace with the Kagneyans in our lifetime.”

Bowing I tugged on my earlobe twice to signal that I heard and understood the grand admiral’s request. Leaving immediately I went to find the officer’s tent to give them the orders for the next day. With that task done, I settled in for a night of disturbed sleep.

I dreamed that I was trapped in the twisting core of a rope. The rope was made of skin. Each strand writhed and slid over my skin. The sensation was immediately familiar, the warmth of Emilia’s skin way back when she had sat behind me all those years ago. The skin was bronze, hairs extending from the pores were obsidian black. What started as gentle caressing, quickly turned to very uncomfortable bondage. Tendrils began to wrap around my arms and legs, tugging me painfully in different directions. I noticed the pallor of the skin changing from a healthy bronze towards a sickly green. One of the ropes caught me under my chin, wrapping around my neck tightly.

My eyes popped open to the soft pre dawn light sifting through the porous canvas of my tent. Something was wrong, I just knew it to be true. Over the years I had learned to trust these sudden overwhelming swings of emotion. They had treated me well before. Something was wrong and I needed to figure out what it was and how to fix it.

Activity had just started up in the camp, most of it was based around the preparation of food. Buckling my sword belt, I stepped out into the morning. A baker, who clearly had some low level of magical ability was using a fire spell of some kind to turn bread into toast for a hungry looking nightwatchman. Some of the more complicated structures had already started being torn down. This included the mages’ tent. There was to be no sign of the army visible once we came into their longsight range. I sprinted down through the camp, dodging tent ropes and dopey recruits rubbing sleep from their eyes. The edge of the cliff came into view and suddenly so did the horizon and the expansive water before it. Once I could see the ocean, the pounding of my heart began to slacken and I slowed to a jog. The worst had not come to pass. There were no ships just beyond the wave break or hundreds of enemy soldiers on the beach. Only an errant seagull valiantly tapping at something.

Moments later a wave of force knocked me off my feet and into a nearby tent, crushing it. My back crunched into the main post knocking the pegs holding it up out of the ground. The tent collapsed down on top of me, I gasped for breath, the impact had deflated me. My lungs were caving in on themselves. The fabric was cloying. I felt like I was suffocating. Stunned and disoriented, the weight of the tent pinned me to the floor, my body ached from just the sheer force of the wave, I am surprised that my insides hadn’t turned to soup.

Two more massive explosions rocked the earth. The tips of my fingers felt the hilt of my dagger on my belt. I managed to draw it and began desperately slashing at the suffocating fabric. The influx of air into my lungs burned, but the veil that had quickly descended on me instantly lifted. My lungs filled up, the blood in my body reoxygenated. I found my strength, pushing and ripping the tent off of me. Ash, smoke and blood curdling screams greeted me. People running helter skelter, some in their nightclothes, some clutching bleeding body parts. Some rushed to aid fallen friends and strangers. An aggressive high pitched scream grew closer. In the sky above me a large ball, molten red, flew through the air. The wind passing past it scorched instantly, a thick plume of black tarry smoke followed it. The ball impacted the earth a few hundred yards away from me, deeper in the camp. Clods of earth and broken bits of wood flew through the air right before the fireball mushroomed into the sky and turned to smoke.

Several things were apparent to me all at once. The Kagneyans had traveled faster than any modern magic technique could take them, they were either firing death from a massive distance or they had camouflaged their ships on the ocean to sneak within range. And finally, that they had somehow managed to fuse technology and magic in a destructive force that no-one in Laceria had even dreamed of. This was where Armand drew his confidence from. He knew what we were likely to do and he knew he had the technology to overcome it.

I stumbled to my feet and tried to let my body take over, there was no use in shouting orders. Rank meant nothing in this hell. Everyone was equally unprepared, terrified and vulnerable. The best I could do was get to the mages and help them, maybe they could protect us from this barrage. Limping heavily, blinded by tears and eyes red with smoke. One hand out in front of me I pushed my way through throngs of panicked people. Tents on fire, animals running amok, sparks and bits of burnt fabric floated in the air. Several more explosions boomed out across the plateau. I reached the mages and the edge of the tent in time to see the beginnings of some form of resistance. Sitting in heavy wooden chairs, were several serene men and women, all wearing the red robes of archmages. Right in the middle was Emilia, I could not see her face but her forest green satin high mage robe was opalescent in the sunlight. They were side by side lined up along the cliff. They were chanting. From what I understood the words meant nothing, it was the intention and intonation of the spell that gave it its power, not the words. I stopped dead in my tracks when I noticed the next detail. Several of the chairs had other people, wearing silk gowns, knelt down in front of them.

Crackling into existence a blue green light formed overhead. It quickly grew to a bubble, then split to a much larger half dome extending over our heads. More silken clad people and more mages joined the group. The silken robed folks found a mage that was unattended to. They knelt down in front of them and pulled their robes up over their thighs. The chairs had areas cut out, appropriate for heads and necks. Lips and tongues met glistening genitals. The mages’ thighs tensed and stretched, but their heads were focused upwards. As the attendants got to work, the mages’ eyes started to glow.

The first cry of passion began a rapid expansion of the translucent film, mostly backwards extending up and over the camp. Each cry joining the first one put the shield further and further over our heads. Another of the massive balls sailed through the sky, roaring angrily. Anyone paying attention held their breath as it crashed into the barrier. A massive explosion and gout of fire and smoke swirled harmlessly dozens of feet above our heads.

Several mages physically recoiled with the explosion, it seemed like somehow the force applied to the intercepting field they were creating still affected them, although to a lesser extent than a direct impact. The situation started to clarify in my mind. The mages were getting eaten out while this battle was happening.

Fractionally after I reached this conclusion, the world began to tilt. Half expecting some kind of reality bending effect during such powerful spellcasting I didn’t put much heed to it. That was until I realized that the earth below me was slowly tipping towards the sea. The explosions above our heads had stopped. They had been replaced with explosions far away, almost indistinguishable from the waves crashing on the rocks below. The earth trembled beneath my feet. Falling to my knees I made to hold onto something. The shield faltered as several of the mages toppled downwards, screaming into the sea. The cliff we were standing on was collapsing, the radical weapon undermining the very mountain below us. I looked down towards my feet, the turf I had been standing on now slid into the ocean, taking me for a ride.

I fought hard and long. The frigid water, mud and stone, collapsed tents, dead and dying people all in one large turbulent washpot. Bubbles rose from debris streaming down into the dark depths below. I followed them, swimming weakly up towards the dimly lit surface above me. I craved life, I would claw and scratch and kick to maintain it. I wanted the sun, the joy of seeing a loved one smile, trying a new food for the first time.

Streaming sea water cascaded over my hair, my head popped out of the surface of the ocean. For the second time in what felt like hours but had been seconds my lungs begged for air. A nearby barrel, still floating, for now, became a place for me to latch on. I threw my arms around it gripping the fingers in my other hand trying to make an unbreakable bond. I kicked on. Every second was agony. I had to fight the parts of me telling me to let go, to let the suffering and fight be over. Surrendering to the ocean and the void at the bottom. I just focused on keeping my mouth and nose above water, readjusting my grip on the barrel every so often.

What happened thereafter I cannot be sure. My pounding head brought me to, my back was on solid ground, wood most likely. I couldn’t make out my surroundings through bleary, swollen eyes. My insides roiled and I heaved, bile and salt water spewed out onto the deck of what could now be made out as a large ship. All around me sailors moved, weaving between ropes, spars and fabrics. Several other bedraggled bodies were spread out on the deck. Some unmoving, others just coming round like I was, even more still were being shackled and herded into groups.

I saw several mages of different ranks, each with their mouths gagged tightly, no invocation - no spell. People in Kagneyan navy uniforms lashed out at my fellow countrymen with cudgels and batons. Herding them together. Disarmed and disoriented, seasoned soldiers and new recruits alike were powerless to do anything other than obey orders or suffer sharp raps to vulnerable body parts. Someone noticed me, yanking me to my feet they ripped off my sword belt, they didn’t need to because my sword had fallen out and been claimed by the ocean at some point. I was shoved aggressively towards a group of huddled people. Not wanting to score a broken limb along with all the other pain I was already experiencing I meekly submitted. There was some level of comfort once I reached the others. These bodies were shivering and reeked of terror, desperation and death. But they were soft and bundled all together was somewhat warmer than being alone on the floor.

A sharp whistle stopped most activity. All of the sailors and some of the soldiers snapped to attention. Most of them stopped what they were doing but maintained menacing postures glaring at their new captives. Some continued grabbing and shoving people into different groups, cruelly forcing mages to their knees and stuffing gags of wood and cloth into their mouths. A person walked into view, wearing tight leather armor. Bits of gold and platinum creating accented edges, shining in the dawn glow. I recognised his smug, arrogant fool face immediately. Armand. The bitch prince of Kagney.
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