Silverport's gates loomed ahead under a stormy afternoon sky, thunder rumbling like distant war drums. The convoy—now a small army—rolled through the streets with deliberate pomp. Eron rode at the head on a massive black stallion gifted by elven stables, Arianna at his right in full Legion regalia —now bearing a subtle new crest blending Veyron and moon elf symbols, Elara at his left in flowing silver robes that left little to imagination. Isabella's carriage followed, curtains open to display her flanked by Seraphine and Lyralei, all three women radiating power.
Citizens whispered as they passed. "That's Lady Veyron… with elves?"
"Who is the man riding like a king?"
"The Legion knights are saluting him…"
Word had already reached the Count through spies, but nothing prepared Reginald Veyron for the reality.
The Veyron manor gates swung open as they arrived. Servants lined the courtyard, uncertain. Count Reginald waited on the grand steps—an aging noble in his sixties, once handsome but now paunchy and pale, dressed in velvet finery. Flanked by his household guard captain and a pair of nervous mages.
Isabella descended the carriage first, gown clinging to every enhanced curve, eyes cold.
"My husband," she said sweetly. "I've returned… with guests."
The Count's face purpled. "Isabella! Explain this circus—at once! And who is this upstart riding beside you?"
Eron dismounted gracefully, aura shifting to maximum intimidation for males, maximum arousal for any hidden females. The household guards shifted uneasily; the two female maids behind the Count flushed and squirmed.
"I am Eron Vale," he announced, voice carrying effortlessly. "Lord of the Lust Dominion. Your wife's true master. And soon, master of this house."
Gasps rippled. The Count sputtered. "Guards! Seize him!"
But Arianna stepped forward, hand on sword. "Stand down. By order of Dame Arianna Blackthorn, acting commander of the Royal Legion detachment." Her six knights—now fully loyal—moved to block the household guard.
The Count paled. "You… traitor?"
Arianna's smile was icy. "I serve a higher crown now."
Eron ascended the steps slowly, women fanning out behind him like a royal court. Thunder cracked overhead.
Inside the grand hall, the confrontation escalated.
Count Reginald retreated behind his throne-like chair, mages raising wards. "You'll never take my house, boy. Blood wards protect—"
Isabella laughed, raising one hand. Moon elf magic from Elara's shared bond crackled around her fingers, shattering the wards like glass. "Old magic fails against new allegiance, dear husband."
Eron reached the dais. "You've hoarded wealth, title, and a goddess of a wife—yet gave her nothing. Now everything becomes mine."
The Count attempted one last desperate spell—a binding chain of dark energy.
Arianna moved faster, greatsword flashing. The blade stopped an inch from his throat.
"Yield," she said quietly. "Or die forgotten."
He dropped to his knees, defeated.
That night, House Veyron fell—not with blood, but with moans.
The Count was bound in his own dungeon, forced to watch through scrying mirrors as Eron claimed the manor room by room.
First, the female servants—dozens of maids, cooks, even the stern housekeeper—all succumbed to aura and direct command, stripping in the grand hall for a mass initiation. Eron fucked the most beautiful on the banquet table while the harem orchestrated the rest into writhing piles of pleasure.
Then the noble guests who had remained loyal—three visiting baronesses and a duchess—were "invited" to private audiences. All left the next morning glowing with new bonds, their territories pledged.
Finally, in the master bedroom—once the Count's sanctum—Eron took Isabella on the marital bed with special savagery. Arianna held her down, Elara sat on her face, Seraphine and Lyralei pinning limbs as he pounded her to screaming oblivion.
The NTR essence was exquisite:
Ding!
[Territorial Conquest: House Veyron. +6000 Essence.
Titles Gained: Lord of Silverport, Count Consort (de facto).
Skills: Noble Estate Management, Wealth Accumulation.
Harem Expanded: +18 minor members. Core Harem Ranks Up. Level Up: 85 → 110.]
By dawn, the manor flew new banners—black with a stylized silver moon and crimson heart.
Count Reginald, broken and cuckolded, was stripped of title and exiled penniless to a remote monastery—alive only because Isabella requested mercy.
Silverport woke to a new ruler.
Lord Eron Vale, Lust Sovereign, sat on the reclaimed throne in the grand hall, twelve core harem members arrayed around him like living jewels. Messengers already rode out—bearing offers of alliance to neighboring houses, backed by elven magic, Legion steel, and irresistible personal "diplomacy."
The city's most powerful women—guild mistresses, merchant queens, even the widowed Queen Regent's distant cousin—received sealed invitations to private audiences.
Eron's dominion had claimed its first city.
And the kingdom itself now lay within reach.