Chapter 143: Massaged, Fed, and Sent Back to Work
"You did well," Kaelith said as his hands skillfully worked Mirabelle’s shoulders.
"Yes. You handled it exceptionally well," Lucien agreed from the other end of the bench, gently massaging her feet.
Mirabelle had practically melted into the park bench between them.
Her legs were stretched out in front of her, her back resting against the wooden backrest while both elbows were propped lazily along its edge.
She had just finished telling her two remaining males everything that had happened during her meeting with the Elders.
And she was satisfied. Very satisfied, actually. She also felt completely drained.
The thought that she still had to meet with the military afterward made her want to slide off the bench and disappear into the grass.
Unfortunately, that was exactly how the day had been planned.
Kaelith’s fingers pressed firmly into the tense muscles along the back of her neck before moving down toward her shoulders.
Mirabelle released a long breath through her nose.
The air smelled of sun-warmed grass and flowers. Somewhere nearby, wild bees hummed lazily between the blossoms, occasionally joined by the flutter of wings or the distant call of a bird.
A warm breeze brushed over her skin and carried the faint sweetness of the gardens with it.
Kaelith reached toward the small plate sitting beside her on the bench. He picked up one of the little fluffy-looking biscuits and held it to Mirabelle’s lips.
Without even opening her eyes, she accepted it. The biscuit crumbled softly between her teeth, buttery and slightly sweet.
She chewed.
Swallowed.
And decided that being hand-fed while receiving two simultaneous massages was something she could get used to quickly.
"You’re almost done," Kaelith murmured.
Then his thumb found a particularly stubborn knot beneath her shoulder.
Mirabelle groaned.
"Ohhh..."
His thumb pressed deeper.
The tight muscle slowly surrendered beneath the steady pressure, sending a pleasant warmth spreading down her back.
She honestly wasn’t quite sure how she’d ended up like this.
Well.
That wasn’t entirely true.
She knew exactly how she’d ended up here.
After leaving the Elders, she’d desperately needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere without questions. Without politics. Without people staring at her and expecting intelligent answers.
The gardens had seemed perfect.
Flowers.
Fresh air.
The soft buzzing of wild bees.
Leaves rustling overhead.
The earthy scent rising from the shaded ground beneath the trees.
Exactly the kind of peaceful sensory background her exhausted brain had been craving.
Apparently, her males had taken one look at her and decided that simply sitting in the garden wasn’t enough.
Somehow...
That had turned into this.
Kaelith kneading the tension from her shoulders while Lucien’s thumbs slowly worked along the soles of her feet.
He knelt before her, completely unconcerned about the dust settling on his trousers, and spent the entire time gazing up at her with something close to adoration.
Mirabelle let her head fall back. Another breeze moved through the garden, cool against the slight dampness along her hairline.
A bee buzzed past somewhere to her left.
Lucien’s fingers pressed into another wonderfully sore spot.
Kaelith’s hands remained warm and firm against her shoulders.
Mirabelle’s eyes drifted shut.
Alright.
She had to admit it.
This was helping.
A lot.
This was exactly why a Duchess needed mates.
______
Quite some time later, Mirabelle found herself standing at the military training grounds once again.
Only this time, the place looked very different.
The enormous rectangular field of pale sand stretched out before her beneath the merciless summer sun. Years of relentless training had packed the ground firm, leaving only the uppermost layer loose enough for the occasional gust of hot wind to send thin streams of sand skittering across its surface.
The familiar training equipment had been pushed into the background today.
Rows of battered wooden dummies still stood along one section of the grounds, their frames scarred by countless claws.
Beyond them were the thick rope-wrapped posts used for practicing punches and kicks, several cracked from impacts powerful enough that Mirabelle still didn’t particularly want to imagine what they would have done to a human body.
Farther back stretched the archery lanes, their straw targets waiting at increasing distances.
Along another edge of the field stood the weapon racks, filled almost exclusively with long spears and the enormous layered bows favored by Beastmen.
The instructors’ pavilion remained where it had always been, its broad roof offering precious shade from the summer heat.
The two wooden grandstands stood opposite it.
But something new had been added.
Directly across from those familiar structures, on the previously empty short side of the training grounds, a raised platform had been constructed specifically for today’s occasion.
It wasn’t particularly elaborate.
But it was impossible to mistake its purpose.
Several wide steps led up to a wooden platform high enough to overlook almost the entire training field. Tall posts rose from each corner, supporting broad lengths of pale fabric stretched overhead.
The cloth shifted lazily whenever the wind caught it, creating a blessed island of shade beneath the brutal summer sun.
And Mirabelle was extremely grateful for it.
Because beyond that shade...
The training grounds burned.
Heat shimmered above the pale sand.
The sun beat down so fiercely that the distant edges of the field seemed to tremble beneath it. And standing in the middle of all of it were Luchsenstein’s soldiers.
Hundreds of them.
Mirabelle had seen soldiers training before.
She had watched them spar. She had seen them laugh, sweat, curse, wrestle, and occasionally send one another flying through the air.
But she had never seen them like this.
Organized.
Silent.
Waiting for her.
They stood in formation across the training grounds. Row after row after row.
Perfect blocks of one hundred Beastmen, arranged ten across and ten deep.
Wolves stood beside boars.
Stags beside lynxes.
Bears beside foxes.
Hawks, badgers, wildcats, rams, and countless other lineages filled the formations.
Some were enormous.
Others surprisingly lean.
Horns rose above heads.
Tails hung motionless behind legs.
Feathers stirred occasionally in the hot breeze.
The sunlight gleamed on sweat-damp skin and caught on claws, tusks, and the occasional polished piece of armor.
Yet despite all those differences...
From up here, they looked like one thing.
An army.
At the head of every hundred-man formation stood a single Captain. Unlike the soldiers behind them, they were positioned several steps forward, creating a clear line of officers between Mirabelle and the assembled troops.
Not one of them moved unnecessarily.
Not one spoke.
Hundreds upon hundreds of eyes were directed toward the newly constructed platform.
Toward her.
Mirabelle swallowed.
Suddenly, the meeting with four elderly Beastwomen didn’t seem quite so intimidating anymore.
Beside her stood her mother.
Kaelith and Lucien remained nearby, both unusually quiet as they surveyed the assembled soldiers below.
And on Mirabelle’s other side stood the highest-ranking military officer in Luchsenstein.
The General.
He stood close enough that she could feel his presence without looking at him, his posture rigid as he surveyed the formations with the practiced eye of someone who could probably notice a single misplaced foot among hundreds of soldiers.
Mirabelle rested her hands lightly against the wooden railing at the front of the platform. The wood was warm beneath her palms despite the shade.
Beyond it, the pale training grounds stretched before her.
The familiar central fighting ring was barely recognizable now, swallowed by formation after formation of soldiers.
The usual sounds were gone.
No fists striking rope-wrapped posts.
No arrows thudding into straw.
No shouted instructions.
No laughter.
Only the faint rustling of the fabric overhead.
The occasional scrape of a boot against sand.
The distant creak of wood warmed beneath the sun.
And the breathing of hundreds of Beastmen waiting below.
Even the smells were different.
Hot sand. Sweat. Leather. Sun-warmed wood. And beneath it all, the dense, almost wild scent of hundreds of Beastmen gathered in one place.
Mirabelle slowly let her gaze travel across them.
These weren’t merely soldiers.
They were her soldiers.
Or...
They would be.
If today went well.
Every single face was turned toward her.
Waiting to hear what kind of Duchess she intended to become.
Mirabelle drew a slow breath.
Well.
No pressure.
The General stepped up beside her. He was a boar Beastman, and Mirabelle could practically feel the power radiating from him.
She didn’t even need to look at his neck to know that he, too, had reached the sixth stage of cultivation.
Which, once again, put into perspective just how impressive her own mate was for having reached the same stage at such a young age. Although she knew it was easier to advance one’s cultivation in Zasar.
"Impressive, isn’t it?"
The General’s deep voice pulled her attention back to the training grounds.
Mirabelle had the distinct impression that several hundred soldiers somehow managed to stand even straighter when they noticed him move to her side.
"Very."
Her gaze swept across the formations once more.
"Although I have to admit, I’m a little worried about making them stand out there in this heat."
A deep laugh suddenly boomed beside her.
The sound was so unexpected that Mirabelle looked up at him in surprise.