People often confused him with a foreigner.
With the likeness of people from Zhuong and thick curly hair, he had the appearance of a foreigner simply because of what had to be his rotten luck. His mother told him it wasn't unnatural for people of their Empire to look like him, but it was certainly rare. Oftentimes, he tried to find ways to prove his personhood as a citizen of his Empire. Then, the plague wiped his entire family out--his brother, his brother's wife, his nieces and nephews, his father, his mother, his uncle, and his younger sister. While out on errands, he had been sent missives that they had all gotten ill, one by one, but their deaths were not from illness. Their house had been burned down while they were trapped inside.
And now, everyone was dead.
The debt they left behind from the land, the burned ashes of the former houses, and their shoe store's deeds all fell solely on his shoulders. They were never a wealthy family but whatever hope he had to make something of himself was stolen away from him in a few short weeks after their deaths.
He roamed the county for work, relying on unskilled labor and his youthful stamina. After hearing word about an event between soldiers and knights, he took up his three coins and shoved into the stands and listened as the Emperor expunged his greatness. And then, he spoke of the church.
He had never been a true Rüschenist, like his family, as most were, but he remembered a few things about it. Perhaps it was nostalgia or wanting to reconnect with his buried family, but the day he heard Pastor Cordero speak on the altar--it was powerful. Varying degrees of color split through the church windows, displaying the triumvirate gods: Ocellus, Sinciput, and Agilitas. Rich burgundy carpets like wine paved the path to Pastor Cordero's platform, and stone walls, floors with bricks smoother than a castle stood firm. The raised wooden platform, unlike the devouts' sectionals, was covered in rough carpeting with the blindfolded figure of justice standing at the back of the wall, standing over the Pastor as he spoke.
In the church, he made a poor alpha man such as himself feel as though he were greater than himself. A greater man than he could ever be. Someone like the great Clement III.
"What did the Great Lord Sinciput tell us in his teachings on his pilgrimage to find the height of the Sun?" Pastor Cordero said, wearing his blue and red Archbishop attire. He refused to call himself a pastor even as he gained his ranks and titles. He was a man of the local church, wherever that may be, among the people and politics; he was the Archbishop of their region. "The Sun may be far, my legs heavy, and my throat dry, but I am the mind of the fierce spirit. I will not be broken by the Earth."
His sermons were mainly on Sinciput, the idol of all alphas, as was Ocellus, the idol of all omegas. Sinciput was the hero, the savior, and Ocellus was the follower who stood at his beck, supporting his endeavors.
It was their place.
With little to his name, he left that sermon a changed man. He knew there was nothing he could do in the Empire without making a name for himself and achievements to prove his natural value as an alpha. Roaming the land wasn't good enough.
And so, he enlisted in the Campgrounds of Sonhrai, where he trained quietly among the recruits in the barracks under the humid sun and did nothing but wait.
The barrack showers were down the hovel from the barracks in a round dirt pit with a canvas hood and buckets for filling with water and folded washcloths for their use. For someone used to living in the dirt and starving during the day, he felt like a prince. He was no longer a skinny waif, but there were surely bigger, more muscular soldiers than him, like the Commander's son.
The washcloth was cool on his skin as he scrubbed the grime of the day off with the limestone soaps they shipped in from the mainland. There was a bit of pulled water still ready for him to use for the night. His hands twisted over the knob and filled his bucket fully with water. A smile stretched across his face as he began his nightly bathing ritual, cupping the water in hand and splashing it on his face.
People here didn't appreciate how great it was to have fresh, clean, cool water, and then began scrubbing himself a cursory second cycle. He winced as he stretched his back and groaned as he cricked his neck, but his shoulders eased up.
He finished and felt cleaner than he'd ever felt before. Although he had taken longer than usual to do so, he could tell by the bluish clouds in the sky and the height of the moon above him. It was eerily quiet as his sandals snapped on the sand underfoot. His ears perked up at every pebble that rolled and bug that snickered. The cool breeze dried the water on his skin, but as he turned around the corner, he found one of the more remote barracks in the camp making noises. He could barely hear it, but the closer he walked, he heard the sounds of shuffling and muffled arguing.
"I didn't do it."
"Look at him, if they see him tomorrow--"
"They won't, and by then, whatever's wrong with him, it won't be our problem."
The two muffled voices hissed as they said more between them before he heard their footsteps running. He waited until the footsteps were quiet before he peered around the corner and found the open barracks of the lower rooms. Housing for recruits who were from the servant classes and wouldn't be allowed much higher promotion than General, if that. His curiosity pulled at him, and the cool bathing refreshed his mind, where he didn't mind the distraction. Sliding his feet as quietly as he could, he crept towards the open door, peering around the lower path and upper path nearby to make sure there was no one else. He reached the inside of the barracks but couldn't find anyone.
Instead, he found five rickety wooden beds with ripped cushions for bedding. The nicest thing about these barracks was the roughly carved tables and the building itself. He closed the door behind him in case the other two brought trouble; he would have a head start through the barrack openings. He crept around, searching by the beds and under the tables, listening for where someone might be.
That's when he heard it, the scritching of nails on wood. He followed the sound closest to the bed on the furthest end and could hear the scritching get louder until he could hear the muffled, barely audible sounds as he reached around the bed.
He found a recruit with cloth wrapped around his mouth in several layers, hands tied to the post of the bed, and in little to no clothing. He was wearing a rough cotton tunic that stretched below his knees, but there was something wrong with him as his forehead dripped with sweat, and the tunic stuck to his chest in a way that he knew he must have been sweating for hours. It drenched through the now translucent cloth. His chest and shoulders poked through. As his hands reached close to the younger man, half his size, lithe with dark hair, those dark green eyes flashed open when his hand hovered above the younger man's ties.
"Are you--?"
The recruit recoiled and whipped out his tied legs, stuck together but not stuck to any post. He caught the thigh of his flinging limbs in his hand and yanked his leg back to the floor as the recruit began muffled shouting.
"I'm trying to help you," he hissed and then used his other hand to yank the recruit's limbs to the ground. "Do you need a physician? Medicine? My name's Lothar, son of--"
Whatever energy propelled the recruit ended as the recruit twisted on his side and curled into himself. He breathed out as his hands rested over the recruit's body again, and he could feel a wave of warmth emanating from his body, but it was unlike a fever. The recruit began making noises, and he reached over to remove the cloth covering his mouth, layer by layer, until finally, the recruit's mouth was free.
Instead of words of kindness, he heard, "You need to leave. Now." in panting pauses, and he tried kicking him again, but his legs stayed held down by his other hand.
"Leave me!" The recruit hissed again. "Go away!"
His hand must've only moved an inch, and when the recruit shivered and then groaned. Something in the air shifted. He could smell the scent of cleaning powder and flowers. His nose, as if it had a mind of its own, pulled his body towards the recruit's oddly swollen mark on the back of his neck. He breathed in the powdery flower smell and sighed.
It almost smelled like--"You couldn't be."
"I couldn't be, what?" The recruit hissed. "What did you do? There's something you--!"
The recruit's body writhed when his hand moved from his thigh but quieted when he put it back. His sweat drenched the tunic further until he could see the outline of his cock twitching beneath the shirt. And his hands, much like his nose, slid up to the bunched up cloth and tucked his hand under his cock. The recruit twisted, his head swung back and forth as his hand rubbed underneath his sack, and he felt the mythological slick he heard only omegas could make.
"How did an omega make their way into the military?" He said more to himself than the recruit. Of course, the omega sighed in pleasure as his hands continued to rub, his legs twisting and rubbing his hand tightly.
"You're lucky those two soldiers left when they did."
And so was I. Lothar thought and could feel his cock slightly raise to attention.
"I'll deal with them later," the recruit hissed, and he could hear an edge of hatred in his voice. "I don't know you, and we've never walked the same guilds or paths."
"What is or is not my path is up to me. Look here," Lothar said and grabbed his hardening cock. "We're in the same place, aren't we?"
"No, we're not." The recruit gritted his teeth. "You can leave!"
He lifted his hand from his thigh, and, once again, the reaction was the recruit furrowing in pain, writhing into tears before he dropped his hand back. "It seems like you're right. I could leave--right now. And I can rub one out, go to bed, and be like nothing ever happened. But you--?"
"What are you doing?" the recruit cried. "I need it to stop. Please."
His head reached over to loosen the recruit's bindings on the bed but then paused. It was tied to bind his hands, but he was not bound to the post. He wasn't required to cut the bonds to free him from the post. He leaned over to the recruit and said,
"Get on your knees--so I can lift the binds."
The recruit nodded quickly and then turned around on his knees, lifting his arms in the air so he could pull the bindings over the top and slide it off the wood. With wobbly knees, the recruit almost fell over, but he caught the bound hands before he could.
"Thank you," the recruit said as his eyes gazed up at him and then at his arms. "Cut me free."
He sighed, frowning, and said, "I think I know what can fix this."
The recruit's eyes tightened. "What do you mean?"
"It's my touch, isn't it--an alpha's touch. But what's better than just a temporary piece of me," Lothar shifted the hold in his bindings and then gestured to his cock. "Suck. Now. And then I'll think about breaking your bindings."
"You--!"
"Ah, so you want me to leave then?"
The recruit clenched his mouth shut before exhaling sharply and glaring at him from his kneeling position. His knees walked forward until his mouth reached Lothar's stomach. He lifted up his shirt for the omega to have easy access as his cock had already sprung free, poking at the recruit's cheek.
A tentative lick against his cock with disgust turned to long licks, stroking his cock, until the recruit's mouth sucked him wholly, twisting up and around the length of it. His hips thrust into his warm mouth, the cavern tightening around him as he held his arms up, preventing him from moving too far. He felt a hunger sweep over him as the omega moaned around his cock, slurping and sliding, drawing his cock deeper into his throat until his release filled his mouth, spilling over his lips.
But something about the omega's eyes changed then; there was a lack of consciousness and self-awareness in his gaze as if he were looking through him, not at him. The hazy fever warmth no longer wafted off the omega's body. His hand ripped a small tear in the bindings with his teeth and then ripped it entirely until the omega's arms were free, but he still didn't say a word. He only turned around, locking his hips over his cock, dragging Lothar's hands over his cock. Groaning and then glaring over his shoulder when his tunic blocked them.
He dragged up the tunic slightly, and the other slammed his hip over his cock, knocking the air out of Lothar's chest as he fell back on the table behind him. The omega bounced on his cock with loud groans, moaning as his cock burrowed in his heat. He leaned back on the table, eying the angle of the omega's hips as his hole sucked his cock in and out. A few more seconds later and his cock twitched before he felt his balls tighten up. He could feel it filling up before he released and stifled his pained groan as it shuddered through him.
Air gasped out of him as he breathed fast, as if he had just run down to port and back, but his cock was already hardening again. Briefly, he thought, what if it was contagious? Maybe there was something wrong with the omega?
The omega started bouncing on his cock again before Lothar said, "Stop. Wait a moment." and the omega froze, clutching his thighs, shaking as he sat right above his cock.
Lothar blinked as the omega only breathed softly, shivering as he waited, and then he said, "Turn around and face me before you keep on."
The omega slid down and then twisted around, crawling up the table, facing him, his lips still swollen from sucking on his cock earlier, before dropping on his cock again.
His head fell back against the table as he sighed. Unlike the others, he was never allowed the opportunity to use a relieving servant. Those were for soldiers who "went above and beyond" but they surely spoiled if this was their every day.
The omega's cock dripped on his stomach, and his fingers began rubbing over the omega's cock as he twisted over his length. It didn't take long for the omega to release and pull one out of him too. And with a moan, the omega slid down, laying on his chest with his cock still in him. Unsure where to put his hands, he began brushing his hand up and down the omega's back, feeling his sun-tanned but untextured skin beneath his fingers. From under his fringe, the omega peered up at him.
He said breathlessly while his head still sat on Lothar's chest, "I was an alpha. I was."
"What did you do?" and the words of Pastor Cordero rang in his ears.
"Being an alpha is a gift; perhaps, it can also be taken away when abused."
"I was--" the omega paused. "--I was returning favors with my mouth. I don't have the money to pay for the residency here or the food. Not even my salaries cover what I need to pay for weapon repair and armor repair. I thought--I thought it was harmless. Maybe it wasn't."
"Perhaps it wasn't."
"Could I ask a favor?"
A strong sense of overwhelming curiosity took over him. It was better that than the crushing loneliness that loomed overhead. He replied, "Yes, what do you need?"
The omega leaned over and mumbled in his ear, "My legs are tired. Could you--do the rest of the work? With--this?" and then moved his hands to his hips. His eyes scrutinized his as if delving into his soul, but Lothar didn't have much to offer in return. It didn't matter as he lifted the omega and yanked him down as he thrust up.
"Oh," the omega hummed as he rolled his hips and leaned forward with his hands interlocking behind Lothar's neck. Neither one of them would be to detach without the other falling off the table. "How long have you been a recruit?"
"A little over a year," he said as he tightened his hold on the omega's hips and pushed up again before pulling him down, filling his heat as he sucked him in again. "Not long."
"I'm of the servant class," the omega said, his green eyes turned away. "If they find out, at best, I'll be a relieving servant, and at worst--"
"I understand," he said and then nodded. "No one has to know."
"You should have my name then," the omega leaned over his lips and said,
"Marcel of the Soriano-Orozco clan at your behest." before digging his tongue into his mouth, lips locking tight, sliding over the other.
He slid off the table, clutching the omega as he bounced him on his cock until his sack filled again and released inside the omega before loosening his grip on Marcel and pulling his cock out. Marcel patted his chest before his lips left his.
Lothar lifted his lower garment and straightened his uniform before leaving the servant class barracks. His feet pulled him up the stairs, and when he reached his housing, with beds lined up against the wall but solid wood with well-knitted beddings and tables atop trunks to hold their things, he fell into his bed and joined the others in sleep.
When he awoke, he started on their typical errands for recruits: eat bread and fruit for breakfast, pull water for the bathing area from the roads a few hour's walk away from the grounds, use the leftover water to scrub the barracks clean, help with laundry if it hasn't completed by midday, eat midday meal with meat, bread, and tea, finish all errands in an orderly fashion, then training.
They stood in rows as they swung at the hay-filled, human-shaped posts, practicing their three-point swings.
"Most of you recruits are new this season," Commander Berman growled as he ambled past each of them. "We may not be in a war now, but the winds are shifting, and the world is changing. What may not be today, may be tomorrow."
He practiced the three-point swing most of his travel on the way to the Campgrounds. Throughout the realm, they all knew that a soldier who couldn't master the three-point swing would be removed from under Commander Berman's watch and wouldn't be allowed to join again. As the Commander's distance lessened, he repeated the swings: shoulder bend, riposte, and swing. He could feel the fluidity in the movement as he swung, and the heaviness of the sword was oddly lighter than usual--it made the moves easier to act.
"And what's your name, recruit?"
Lothar held in his giddiness as he faced Commander Berman and then saluted him before he said, "Lothaire Lantbert, sir. Lothar, for short."
"Your three-point swings are good enough to join the soldiers. Make your way down the path with the rest, and make haste, soldier!" Commander Berman ordered him with a smirk and a heavy smack on his shoulder.
"Sir, of course, sir," Lothaire saluted before he broke the line and sped towards the next training arena, where he found the soldiers fighting one another instead of swinging at wooden posts. There was a decent crowd of soldiers watching as two generals tussled in a fight. He recognized Captain Boucher, but the other man, wearing the face of Sonhrai yet dressed in the regalia of a captain, was unfamiliar to him. He turns to the nearest soldier and asks, "Who's the other captain? With the Sonhrai beard?"
"Captain French, grandson of Clement III," the soldier said, wearing the shortened hair and beardless face of northerners, and then outstretched his hand, "Fellow soldier, then? The name's Pepin Anselmann, a pleasure to meet you."
"Lothaire Lantbert," he replied, as he returned the handshake.
The two generals swung wide swings with graceful dodges and laughter as if it were all fun.
He said under his breath, "One day. One day."
"You might be dreamin' if you think you'll reach anywhere near their height," Pepin laughed and swung a hand over his shoulder. "You should be content to be a soldier and take the salary. We're not at war, and the Emperor has us well-fed. What's there to worry about?"
"To be the best is to win."
Pepin shook his shoulders and laughed. "What's best is a good wench and a wet mouth around the cock, yeah? You been to the tavern by the port?"
He shook his head.
"I'll take you down later tonight," Pepin said and then laughed again. "A good drink will clear your damned senses."
Lothar's eyes searched over the crowd of soldiers but couldn't find the figure of Marcel anywhere. He broke away from Pepin and said, "I'll meet you back here when the sun's down."
"You bet your sorry ass, or I'll go on drinking without you," Pepin said as he leaned forward, content to watch the fight.
Lothar twisted around the corner back up the path before leading back down to the servant class barracks. He found the door, once again, wide open but didn't creep in this time. This time, he walked in and, with a quick survey, found Marcel on his knees around three alphas.
His plush, swollen mouth sucked in and out one of the alpha's cock with his delicate but callused fingers twisting around the other two alpha's cocks. From one cock to the next, his lips twisted around one with his tongue curving around the length.
Lothar nearly drew out of his skin as he clenched his fists, breathing in and out, in and out; the thought of the action enflamed his anger as blood dripped from his cut. The pain eased the fire as he focused on Marcel's lack of a focused gaze. He was lost, like yesterday. The alphas noticed him then and waved him over while the one whose cock was soaked and covered by Marcel's mouth groaned.
"We don't know what's wrong with him, but he's been sucking our cocks all day," one of the alphas said with a grin.
Another laughed and said, "Better this than training, any day, all day. We don't even have to leave."
"You can switch with me," the third alpha said as his hands clenched around Marcel's head, and he thrust into his mouth, in and out until he released with a shiver. "Gods, why is he so good at this?"
"You shouldn't speak the lords' names' in vain," Lothar said in reflex but winced at the other alphas' expression. "It's a bad habit to keep."
"Is it?"
The alpha shared a look with the other two, who smirked at the nod.
"You into that triumvirate nonsense?"
"Of course he is, he didn't come here to fuck Marcel. He's probably another alpha with disgusting tastes."
"I thought the alphas knew their place under the Church," one of the alphas said before shoving his chest. "You think because you're not here in these barracks that you're any better than me. You and me, soldier, are the same."
"That's not what I said," Lothar said placatingly but the other three alphas weren't hearing it as another alpha shoved him back. "I meant it was rude to--"
"We know what you meant."
He was pushed back within distance of the door and then warned them,
"I will fight back."
"Good."
The first alpha swung his fists right at his face when Lothar swung his elbow up, knocking the arm off course and popping out his fist straight into the alpha's nose. It was enough force to knock the alpha back as he clutched his nose with a groan. The other two alphas didn't wait as they both lunged, reached for his uniform to grab, and the other kicked out his leg. Lothar lunged into the wrestling alpha, using the force of kicking his feet into the other alpha's chest to push them forward. He rolled on the floor as the other alpha jabbed his knee into his chest, knocking the air out and momentarily stunning him.
But it was enough for the other three alphas to curse as they ran out of the barracks, clutching their injuries. Lothar slammed the door closed as he slid down the wooden holding.
As air finally eased back into his lungs, he breathed out as he walked over to Marcel's slumped form, writing in pain again.
He lifted the omega's tunic and could tell the alphas had been telling the truth. They still believed Marcel was an alpha and refused to do much more than what they had--which was already bad enough, in his eyes. Perhaps he wasn't much less of a monster as his hands grabbed Marcel's waist and slid his hole over his cock, like a sword to its sheath, and groaned against Marcel's back as his cock hardened to full staff wrapped in his heat.
His heat felt tight today as though his hole had shrunk overnight. With his cock piercing his heat over and over again, the omega came, struggling in his hold until he said, "I'm almost done." The omega deflated as his thrusts sped up until he felt his release yank from his body with the pain of a muscle spasm. He loosened his hold and his cock, until Marcel held his arms still.
"Keep going," the omega said and then swallowed. "I think--I think it's almost over."
He leaned over the omega and spread his arms apart as his body hung over his, as if shielding him, and thrust his cock in. The omega groaned, and it didn't take long before he rammed his cock, tightening his hold around the omega's chest as he yanked him on and off his cock, until he felt the omega leaking over, and his release pulled out again, sputtering inside of Marcel.
The omega patted his rear end and said, "I need to clean up, and, by the looks of it, so do you."
The fight between him and the alphas left his uniform in disarray, but his worry for the omega overtook his rational sense. He trembled again as a second release pulled out of him, and the omega sighed before pulling off his cock. Lothar leaned back on his haunches and watched as the omega gargled water, spitting it outside the cabin before sliding his tunic over his body.
"The bathing spot should be open by now," Marcel said with a tilted nod as he walked over and opened the door. "Hurry up."
The alpha wobbled over.