“Time for court, love,” Mikki whispered in Sirijunga’s ear. He groaned sleepily as Mikki kissed his ear, trying to pull pillows over his head she gently took away. Morning light streaked through the windows up the walls in the royal bedroom, throwing a gentle glow on the mud red carvings.
Sirijunga grunted as he shifted under her attention. He was bare under the covers and hard with the morning, and Mikki hummed appreciatively as he ran a hand up her thigh under her saree. Then she wriggled away with another playful kiss. “Court first,” she said as Sirijunga groaned through his nose. Not content with the explosion they’d made in his first royal court, Mikki had begun holding sessions in the royal bedroom, forcing the Hill Lords to air their stupid squabbles right in front of Sirijunga’s morning ablutions. He had to admit the awkward stares were pretty funny, and it had led to generally shorter meetings.
“I’ve got better uses for this than court,” he grumbled, sweeping the covers away and his prick standing at attention.
Mikki raised an eyebrow as Indha filled a tea cup. “Actually, I think it suits you,” she said. “It will drive Pathong crazy, at the very least.”
“And think of the look on their faces when one of their petitions wilts the royal prick,” Indha added with a snort. The royal couple broke out laughing as Indha handed them their tea cups with a sharp eyebrow. Sirijunga sat back against the wall, sipping his tea as footsteps sounded behind the curtain. Mikki settled in next to him with a stack of scrolls nearby and flicking his bare thigh playfully.
Tangsep was the first to enter, as if she wasn’t the Hill Lord most capable of killing them all anyway. Her lone eye swept wryly over Sirijunga as he toasted her with his tea. She wore a simple black saree, and the moon had come and gone without another solicitation from his mad marshal, a note that didn’t help his prick go down as he surveyed her scarred midriff. She was shortly followed by Pathong, who glared at Sirinjunga with undisguised loathing. Yeah. Loathing. Sirijunga blew a kiss to his chancellor with a slight wiggle of his stiff shaft, to a snicker from Tangsep and an angry growl from Pathong. Namyam slid in next with an appreciative nod at his stiff royalty; as far as Sirijunga could tell, she showed up to the sessions to leer, which was fine by him.
Mikki puffed her cheeks at the next two Hill Lords, who stomped through the curtains glaring at each other like they’d briefly paused their shouting and were preparing to start anew. Suyem's eyes were sharp and narrow under a simple violet head wrap, her saree dark and bare of patterns. Ichap was even more sullen and restrained, wearing a coarse navy kaftan and his hair short and unadorned. At some point in the forgotten past, the two Hill Lords' common ancestor had come into possession of a priceless box of Chongguo silkworms. His respective descendants had parlayed that into a small but thriving silk trade with their Bangali neighbors. They were wealthy beyond reason, and either could likely buy all of Limbuwan if he or she were so inclined.
So of course they both lived like impoverished misers and spent all their time feuding over their borders.
"Gracious Lords," Sirijunga said with a barely restrained sigh. "What delightful petition awaits my wisdom at this early hour?"
Pathong’s jaw clenched so hard Sirijunga could swear he heard Pathong’s teeth grind. “My Hang,” he said with a strained smile. “Hill Lords Suyem and Ichap are unable to resolve their standing property dispute. I am quite flummoxed myself, and leave it to your generous wisdom.”
Sirijunga nodded wearily as another servant with a second tea tray pushed into the room, sparing him from responding for a few precious moments. Based on past experiences, they expected to yell at each other for a solid soul-crushing thirty minutes, made all the more annoying by his prick only tightening at the appraising, awkward, flushed looks. He rose to his feet as Indha returned with a steaming pot and stack of cloths, handing off his teacup and stretching with a yawn.
“All right, get on with it,” he said. Indha snorted softly beside him as she dampened a warm, scented pink cloth, and began massaging his calves as she bathed him. Ichap snorted angrily at Sirijunga’s impatient gesture to proceed.
“Great Hang, such mockery of this serious injustice does not serve anyone,” Ichap huffed. “My esteemed cousin has illegally occupied the mills at my hill streams! I cannot produce a single bolt of silk when my painstaking labor is stolen!”
Ah, yes: There was only one stream going through both their hills, and it really could only turn a handful of mills. So they had built and rebuilt around each other, endlessly diverting the stream and impoverishing countless nearby farmers, until, allegedly, Suyem had simply seized the only working mills left.
Suyem thrust an angry finger in Ichap’s face. “My cherished relative speaks naught but lies! My ancestral rights clearly state that fork is mine, and what’s more he still farms my southern hectare!”
Ah, of course: There were, apparently, only four fields where the Chongguo worm could grow. And they dare not waste their precious worms on sub-standard ground, so they also stole and raided each others’ worms and fields. Apparently Ichap currently had the upper hand in that front.
Sirijunga yawned as they devolved into incoherent shouting yet again. He closed his eyes, forgotten by his bickering vassals, and focused on Indha’s hands expertly kneading his thighs, working the warm cloth across his flesh. And of course, that didn’t help his prick at all. Sirijunga clenched his jaw, impatiently rooting through the words flying back and forth in his bedroom. There had to be some way to shut them up, or barring that, to at least take care of his aching prick.
His eyes suddenly opened wide as an idea occurred to him. He glanced at Mikki, who was wearily noting the squabble without any intent of touching her quill or scroll. Sirijunga cleared his throat softly, and caught her eye. He winked at her puzzled look, and strode right out of Indha’s hands.
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