NTR: Barbarian Harem Conquest

”Bring my ribbon back this instant, you winged nuisance!” Misha called out, her hands glowing with soft wind magic as she tried to corner the fluttering creature.

”Leave the poor angel alone since she obviously has good taste in fashion!” Thora laughed, leaping up onto a sturdy table to block Misha’s levitation path with her wooden spear.

”You have enough ribbons in your wardrobe anyway!”

”That was a gift from my husband, you barbarian!”

”Then ask him to buy you another one with all the tax money he just squeezed out of the merchants!”

Watching his two most capable advisors bicker over a stolen tassel while his accountant casually tallied up daily profits, Kane took another long sip of his tea and let the chaos unfold around him.

”Should I intervene before they destroy the armory?” Kane asked, leaning casually against Firlia’s stack of crates.

”Only if you want to pay for the property damage out of your personal allowance,” Firlia warned without missing a beat, turning a page in her ledger.

”Otherwise, I suggest letting them tire themselves out so we can finalize the budget for the Sylvander campaign in peace.”

”You truly have a heart of stone, Firlia.”

”A heart of stone keeps the treasury full, Commander. Now stand still so I can use your shoulder to balance this inkpot.”

”You are treating your Warlord like a piece of furniture.”

”You are the most stable thing in this room right now, so stop moving unless you want blue ink all over your favorite tunic.”

The argument in the armory dissolved into chaos the exact moment Griselda dropped the stolen silver tassel directly onto Thora’s head.

Bam.

Spitting out a mouthful of shiny thread, the warrior snarled playfully and leaped onto a reinforced weapon rack, determined to catch the fluttering troublemaker.

Misha immediately joined the pursuit from the air, lifting herself off the stone floor with a surge of wind magic to block the creature’s high escape routes.

’How is Misha doing this?’ Kane thought.

Within seconds, the two most dangerous women in Menual had turned the active military armory into their own personal playground.

Rather than stepping in to halt the madness, Kane leaned his back against Firlia’s stack of wooden crates, taking a long, relaxed sip from his teacup while watching his elite commanders trip over discarded shields and shout insults at one another.

”Catch her by the wings, Thora!” Misha commanded from mid-air, sweeping her hands upward to send a localized gust of wind toward the ceiling, forcing the squawking creature lower.

”If she eats another silk ribbon, I am turning her into a pair of winter gloves!”

”Stop blowing the dust into my eyes, and I might actually grab her!” Thora yelled back, lunging across a wide table of half-finished mail shirts with surprising agility, sending iron rings clattering across the floor.

”You are just jealous because the little angel prefers my hair over yours!”

”She prefers shiny things, you simpleton! Your armor is practically blinding!”

”It is polished steel, not my fault you dress like a wandering apothecary!”

”I am wearing imported southern silk!”

’They are supposedly elite soldiers preparing to conquer an ancient Elven kingdom,’ Kane mused, hiding a grin behind the rim of his teacup as Thora missed a diving grab by mere inches.

’Yet they are currently being outmaneuvered by a creature smaller than a breadbasket. Truly, my vanguard is terrifying.’

Griselda executed a flawless aerial spin to dodge a stream of Misha’s wind, chirping a taunting melody before diving straight down toward the Warlord.

Tiring of the game, she fluttered past Thora’s outstretched hand and landed squarely on Kane’s shoulder.

She curled her warm body against his neck, letting out a loud, content purring hum as she began preening her feathers against his collar.

Both women halted their pursuit instantly.

”I didn’t do anything,” Kane said.

Thora stood balanced on the edge of a blacksmith’s workbench, her chest heaving as she wiped sweat from her brow.

Misha slowly descended back to the stone floorplates, her silver hair wildly disheveled and her silk sleeves slightly rumpled.

The room fell silent save for the rhythmic scratching of Firlia’s quill in the corner and Griselda’s purring.

Exchanging a quick, silent look across the room, the oracle and the warrior seemed to realize exactly how foolish they looked.

A shared understanding passed between them, their rivalry melting away into a synchronized, predatory smirk directed entirely at the man lounging against the supply crates.

Marching over together, they effectively trapped him against the wood.

”It seems our warlord is harboring a fugitive,” Thora declared, resting her hands firmly on her hips as she stepped up to block his escape to the left.

”I believe that warrants an immediate confiscation of his afternoon schedule.”

”For once, I agree with the barbarian,” Misha chimed in, closing the gap on his right and linking her arm securely through his elbow, pressing herself close.

”You let us chase that nuisance across the entire armory while you stood here drinking tea. You owe us both a proper apology.”

”I was simply observing tactical coordination,” Kane defended himself smoothly, offering a charming smile as Griselda nibbled gently on the edge of his linen collar.

”And I must say, your teamwork needs a little refinement before we attack Sylvander. Your flanking maneuvers were entirely out of sync.”

”Our teamwork is exceptional when we share a common goal,” Misha purred, resting her chin on his shoulder right next to the slumbering angel.

”And right now, our goal is keeping you away from your paperwork until sunset.”

”We can practice our formation techniques in the training ring together,” Thora suggested, her grin widening as she reached out to tap the hilt of his sword.

”Or perhaps in the upper gardens where the guards cannot spy on us. You have too much stamina saved up, Commander, and leaving it unused is a waste of resources.”

”I surrender unconditionally to both of my commanders,” Kane offered, setting his empty teacup down onto the crate behind him.

”Though I expect gentle treatment from my vanguard and exceptional predictions from my oracle if I am dedicating my entire afternoon to your entertainment.”