The meeting kept going for what felt like an eternity.
Vicky's voice stayed cool and cutting; Sylvana threw in elegant barbs wrapped in ancient elven superiority, and the Pontiff kept turning redder with every concession he was forced to swallow. Prince Alaric played the reasonable prince card, trying to salvage what little dignity his kingdom had left. It was all very impressive political theater.
They kept arguing to the point that I thought about whipping my dick out and slamming it on the table to end this pointless discussion.
I was bored out of my mind.
They argued about borders, about tribute, about the 'purity of faith', about reparations for burned forests. It was the same song and dance, the same mortal concerns about dirt and power that had been repeating for millennia.
'This is why I let Vicky handle the talking,' I thought, leaning back in my seat. 'Mortals love their words. I love results.'
I was a goddess.
My perspective was... different, and my priorities were a bit more... immediate.
'I just want a good hard dicking and a good meal. Is that too much to ask?' I mentally sighed to myself.
While they bickered over maps and bloodlines and whose ancestors screwed whose ancestors first, my mind wandered to far more interesting things. The new city. Our city.
Vicky had been right. A simple border village was too small-minded for what we were becoming. We needed something grander. Something that screamed power, opportunity, and temptation all at once.
A capital built around the Nightmare Tower.
The idea had taken root the moment she whispered it to me after our last "private strategy session." We would relocate the Tower—drag that glorious, ever-shifting monument of terror and wonder right into the heart of the new territory. Then we'd construct an entire city around its base like a crown of stone and magic. Guild halls, taverns, training grounds, brothels, arenas, temples—my temples, obviously—and markets that never slept. A haven for every adventurer, sellsword, rogue mage, and desperate soul who wanted to escape the suffocating grip of Vandor and the Church of the Eternal Light.
Adventurers were perfect. They chased coin and glory, not dogma. They respected strength over sermons. Give them a safe place to rest, good-paying quests, and the chance to climb the Nightmare Tower for riches and power beyond mortal dreams… and they would flock here in droves. Many would stay. Many would kneel.
And the Tower itself? That was the real prize.
Its floors shifted and evolved constantly, spitting out monsters, treasures, and challenges that grew stronger the deeper one went. It was a grinder that forged legends and culled the weak. By placing the city around it, we would create a constant flow of battle-hardened fighters who owed their growth, their wealth, and eventually their loyalty to me.
I could already picture it: hopeful newbies forming parties at dawn, broken veterans crawling out of the higher floors at dusk, bloodied but richer. Priests of mine walking the streets, offering healing and blessings. My angels patrolling the skies above. Elves, beastkin, dark elves, humans who had grown tired of the Church's boot on their necks—all of them living under one banner.
The banner of the Goddess who didn't give a damn about "purity."
A soft, dangerous smile tugged at my lips. The room's temperature dipped again without me meaning to. Solarius flinched visibly this time. Good.
Vicky noticed, of course. She always did. Her crimson eyes flicked to me for the briefest moment, a silent question. I gave her the tiniest nod.
'Keep going. I'm fine.'
She turned back to the table and continued laying out the terms with that icy queen voice of hers that made even me a little proud.
"… and the Fortune's Gate, as it shall be known, will stand as an independent sovereign territory. Any who seek refuge within its walls shall be protected. Any who attempt to bring the Church's 'purification' inside its borders will be met with the full wrath of the Goddess."
Prince Alaric's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt. Smart boy. He was starting to understand that this wasn't a negotiation between equals anymore. This was a surrender with extra steps.
I let my consciousness drift again, imagining the Tower's dark spire piercing the clouds. I could already feel the connection thrumming in my veins. Once the city was built and the Tower properly anchored, I would be able to manifest more easily there. Walk among my people. Reward the worthy. Punish the stupid.
And maybe, just maybe, find a few particularly talented adventurers worthy of… personal attention.
You know, a lovely adventure party, their bond forged in battle, their bodies slick with sweat after a hard-fought climb… all that pent-up energy and adrenaline seeking an outlet. They head to an inn, have a few celebratory drinks, and one thing leads to another… until they find themselves on their knees before their goddess, eager to show their gratitude in a much more intimate way.
My panties were already getting damp just thinking about it.
'Yeah. That sounds nice.' I shifted in my seat, my Valkyrie armor creaking softly. 'A very... nice celebration.'
"We cannot—and will not—agree to this!" Solarius's voice cracked, dragging me out of my beautiful daydream of a massive feast and a long, exhausting session in bed.
I blinked, my eighteen wings rustling slightly behind me, a sound like dry autumn leaves that immediately made the entire room freeze.
The old Pontiff had his hands clenched so tight they were shaking.
"To hand over the buffer zone is one thing. But to demand we release the sub-human filth we have rightfully enslaved? To demand that we recognize a city of heretics on our very border? It is a spit in the face of the Eternal Light! The heavens will weep!"
"Let them weep," Vicky replied, her voice smooth, completely unfazed by his dramatic hand-wringing. "If your goddess has a problem with it, she is welcome to descend and discuss it with us personally. Until then, you will sign."
"Prince Alaric, surely you see the madness in this!" Solarius turned to the young prince, practically begging. "If we agree to these terms, we are signing the death warrant of the Vandor Kingdom!"
Alaric didn't answer right away. He was staring at the heavy parchment, his golden hair slightly damp with sweat. He was smart. He knew that if they refused, the 'angels' standing behind me would probably turn his kingdom into a smoking crater before the week was out. But agreeing to this meant giving up their historical buffer zone and allowing a sovereign, non-human-friendly super-city to rise right next door.
"We need time," Alaric said, his voice tight, his golden eyes flicking up to meet Vicky's. "To relocate the non-human populations, to finalize the border redraws... and to consult with my father, the King. A treaty of this scale cannot be decided in a single afternoon."
"You have three days," Vicky said coldly.
"Two," I interrupted.
The entire table went dead silent. It was the first time I had spoken during the entire negotiation, and the sheer weight of my voice made the wooden table beneath us groan. Alaric stiffened, his eyes locked onto mine, while Solarius looked like he was about to have a stroke.
I leaned forward, resting my chin in my hands, giving them a lazy, dangerous smile.
"I'm getting bored," I said honestly, my crimson eyes gleaming in the dim light. "And when I get bored, I start wanting to break things. Two days, little prince. You will bring the signed treaty, and you will begin the transfer of the elven and beastfolk prisoners. If you don't..."
I let the threat hang in the air, allowing the oppressive, suffocating weight of my divine pressure to leak out just a tiny bit. The knights behind Alaric took a collective step back, their armor clinking in terror. Even the proud Lion of Vandor looked like he wanted to swallow his tongue.
"Two days," Alaric choked out, his throat dry. "We... we accept the timeline."
"Excellent," Vicky smiled, her cold, beautiful face radiating absolute triumph. "Then we are done here for today. I suggest you begin writing your letters, Prince. You have a lot of slaves to round up."
With that, the meeting was over. At least for the time being.
As the humans and their stunned entourage scrambled to leave, I allowed myself a final look at the Prince. He was a clever one, that Alaric. He understood the changing tides. He had potential.
A potential to be corrupted.
Once they were gone, the tense atmosphere immediately relaxed.
Sylvana let out a long, shuddering breath, and I saw her shoulders slump slightly. The fanaticism was still there, burning in her emerald eyes, but the performance was over. She turned to me, her adoration almost palpable.
"That was... magnificent, my Goddess," she breathed. "To see their faces. To see that pontiff squirm like a worm on a hook. Your wisdom is truly boundless."
Vicky, ever the pragmatic one, was already rolling up the parchment.
"Two days, Sister? That is... a tight schedule. Do you think the old king will agree to it? He could simply refuse, and we would be forced to follow through."
"And follow through we will," I said, standing up and stretching. My 18 wings flared wide, scattering golden motes of light across the ruined stones. "But he won't refuse. Did you see the boy's face? He knows I am not bluffing. They will come back with the signatures."
"And if they don't?" Vicky asked, her crimson eyes calculating.
"Then we get to have some fun," I grinned, a purely predatory expression. "Besides, I have a feeling they will agree. Desperate men do desperate things. And that old priest, Solarius... he looked like he was about to have a religious revelation of a very messy, explosive kind right there at the table."
We laughed.
My thoughts, however, were already miles away, back to my lovely prisoners.
"I'll be heading back," I announced, my Valkyrie form already beginning to dissolve, the holy light receding back into my body. "Keep an eye on things here. I have a certain Grandmaster to attend to. His lessons are not quite complete yet."