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Authors note: This is my first erotic piece of fiction, and I hope you enjoy.A forewarning, this story will have a scope beyond the sexual encounters within, involving political intrigue and world building.That she was opening his shirt, and exposing his vulnerability to the unfeeling air.

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The bodies strewn across the field before him lay as a testament to that.

He turned, the faintest trace of surprise flickering in his eyes, as the sound of an airship signaled in the distance.

The Legate's procession was expected to arrive more than an hour later.

Magnus quickly moved toward the front of the camp with a select few of his men following behind, while the rest formed into disciplined lines to welcome a procession.

The cloak marked him as a Praetor, and under many others circumstances, he would scorn the vanity of wearing it so recklessly in the open, where any particularly cunning sniper might strike. Unlike some of his more negligent peers, Magnus was not inclined to turn his back on a wounded tiger, and he would tell them so today.

Today such concessions were necessary, with the imminent arrival of several other generals and a legate. Illythiel had battled fiercely, but it would take it's place within the Imperial command, even if he had to single-handedly squeeze it's life force to the very breaking point.He lifted his gaze against the light, and met eyes the color of a summer sky.They were set in a heart shaped face, wreathed by a sunlit cloud of Botticelli curls.There were signs of exhaustion about her eyes and the tightness of shock and stress in the set of her lips, but all of this it did little to mar her beauty.He studied every feature in that moment of clarity, recording her face to memory.His ballistic armor was black, like that of most his men, and snugly fitting.