César advanced with firm steps, flanked by his Pigman and Goblin warriors.
The group moved in silence across the rugged terrain leading to the highest peaks.
At first glance, their force seemed insufficient to subjugate a colony of Harpies in their own territory, but César did not rely on numbers—he relied on his father's innate ability.
Upon reaching the base of the cliff, César spotted the scouting group. There were no more than a dozen females in the air and a small group of males on the ground.
"Father, prepare yourself," César ordered.
Without a word, his father's body began to exude a dense pink smoke, thick and sweet-scented, quickly saturating the cold mountain air. A group of previously trained goblins used basic wind spells to guide the colored cloud toward the rocky ledges where the Harpies watched with disdain.
"Tsk… it's just a group of goblins and pigmen," a female voice screeched from above, filled with lethal arrogance. "Goblins may be lean, but pigmen taste slightly better."
Confident in their natural immunity to poisons, the Harpies made a fatal mistake—they descended to mock what they believed to be easy prey. They willingly plunged into the pink smoke. By the time the first one felt a burning heat spreading through her abdomen and thighs, it was already too late.
It wasn't poison.
It was an instinct catalyst.
Within seconds, their aerial formation collapsed. The Harpies, once fierce predators, fell to the ground, panting heavily. Their wings—once weapons of war—dragged across the dirt as their bodies writhed in a frenzied heat. Their disdain was replaced by an overwhelming biological urgency.
"Now!" César roared.
At the Sovereign's signal, spears and nets flew through the air. The few male Harpies tried to react but were instantly immobilized with arrows striking non-lethal points. Meanwhile, the females offered no resistance; they were far too consumed, begging for the touch of the impassive warriors surrounding them.
César walked among the fallen Harpies. His gaze settled on a young one with blue feathers, whose features resembled those of a Matriarch. She writhed at his feet, whispering between spasms:
"Please… take my first time…"
Ignoring the carnal pleas, César extended his hand. One by one, he activated his ability, engraving absolute loyalty into their minds, clouded as they were by desire.
As his Ether touched their foreheads, the pink haze of lust faded, replaced by a cold clarity and unwavering devotion to him.
The Harpies rose to their feet, shaking their feathers and adjusting their garments with calm, disciplined expressions.
They were no longer pests of the mountains.
They were soldiers of the Empire.
The male Harpies watched in absolute horror as their once-fierce companions knelt before the "insignificant goblin."
"Relax, you'll be next soon," a goblin joked playfully, drawing laughter from the Pigmen.
..
Back at the base, César sat in front of his residence, enjoying the breeze while Maris remained by his side. Both watched with a hint of amazement as the new members of the village soared through the sky. The Harpies glided with a natural agility that made the Butterfly women seem almost inferior; while Maris and her people flew in a slow, mystical manner, the Harpies' flight was swift, predatory, and precise.
At present, Maris was the woman who spent the most time with him. Although her work in alchemy was vital, the scarcity of higher-grade plants granted her moments of respite—time she used to stay close to her lord. The arrival of the Harpies had caused no real commotion in the village; the inhabitants were already accustomed to César returning from his expeditions with new races under his command.
Suddenly, a beautiful Harpy with vibrant feathers approached with determined steps and wrapped herself around César's arm possessively. She pressed against him, her pupils dilated, her expression filled with a deep, primal need.
"My lord… please, I can't hold back any longer. Let us mate," she pleaded, her voice trembling.
"Hey, why the rush? It seems like you're still under the effects of my father's ability," César said, though he made no move to push her away. On the contrary, his hands naturally settled along the curves of the winged woman.
She blushed, pressing herself even closer to his side. "That's not it… my mating cycle has begun. I was meant to join with the males of my nest, but now that I have seen your power and pledged myself to you, my instincts refuse to accept anyone but you."
César studied her with interest. He had not planted that idea in her mind through his ability—it was purely the nature of Harpy biology. As a young and healthy goblin, the thought of testing the resilience and fire of a woman of the skies began to stir his own desires.
Maris, witnessing the entire scene, felt no jealousy. Within the social structure César had built, the arrival of a new companion only meant a stronger lineage. Sensing the spark of desire in the air, Maris also moved closer, her hands trailing along César's muscular torso as she claimed her share of attention.
César looked at both of them—the softness of the Butterfly and the ferocity of the Harpy—and let out a confident laugh.
"It seems today I'll test the endurance of the famous Harpies."
Grasping both by the waist, the Sovereign guided them inside his residence, leaving behind the bustle of the village to once again secure the expansion of his dynasty.