Dorian the Everlasting, the last Emperor of Tell’Dora.

A chronological compendium of the recovered journals of Dorian I, known variously as Dorian the Everlasting, Dorian the White Lion of Vel’Loren, and Dorian the Great Patriarch.

Compiled by Prof. Melfius Den’Ardo, Director of History, and Prof. Klia Ta’Los, Deputy Director of Historical Studies of Ancient Tell’Dora, New Harbor University of Enlightenment.

Edited and annotated by Prof. Kenji Sato, Director of Record Keeping, Institute of Historical Care.

Preface:

Among the many unresolved questions surrounding the Tell’Doran Empire, none has been more persistent or more contentious than the identity of its first emperor. References to a ruler, named Dorian, appear repeatedly throughout Tell’Doran history, often accompanied by claims that strain conventional understanding.

Until only a few years ago, historians and archaeologists regarded the notion of an immortal Emperor of the Tell’Doran Empire as little more than myth. The existence of emperors bearing the name Dorian is not disputed; surviving records clearly attest to multiple rulers known by that name across different periods. What has remained firmly contested is the assertion that these accounts refer not to a succession of men, but to a single individual, who ruled continuously for more than a thousand and three hundred years.

Such a conclusion had been, understandably, rejected outright. Even under ideal conditions, human lifespans fall far short of such extremes. During the height of the Tell’Doran Empire, the average life expectancy is estimated to have been in the mid-fifties. Compounding the improbability, historical accounts also describe numerous vassals and nobles, who appear to have lived for several centuries—claims that have been long treated as exaggeration or allegory, rather than fact.

Faced with this evidence, the scholarly consensus has settled on two possibilities. Either a class of immortal men and women had existed two millennia ago and vanished without leaving any trace, or the Tell’Doran Empire had employed a convention by which successive rulers adopt a single regnal name, regardless of lineage. This latter theory, while widely accepted, carries its own difficulties. No two known sets of remains, associated with the ruling class, have ever shared the same attributed name. Some propose that rulers had been posthumously recorded under their birth names, but the suggestion that such a system would be consistently maintained across centuries has never been fully convincing.

To date, only sixty-eight sets of physical remains associated with the Tell’Doran ruling class have been recovered—a remarkably small number, given accounts describing hundreds of vassals governing more than a dozen kingdoms under Dorian’s authority. Entire volumes have been written debating the mythology surrounding Dorian the Everlasting, and the true nature of his reign. That debate had shifted dramatically in the year 2044 AE, when construction workers uncovered a vast subterranean ruin during excavation for the new terminal at Ludinon Airport.

What has been discovered there, irrevocably ,alters the historical understanding of the first—and only—Emperor of the Tell’Doran Empire. Within a sealed and remarkably sophisticated vault, one thousand seven hundred and ninety-two journals have been found in near-perfect condition. Experts agree these writings date to the height of the Tell’Doran Empire, and the prevailing consensus is that they had been authored by Dorian himself. Much of what had been previously believed about the Emperor, the Empire, and its fall has since been reconsidered.

The written account that follows is a translated account of Dorian I, the Everlasting edited for the casual reader and excluding the censorship of other works attempting to cover the same material.

Warning: This account contains graphic content, and is intended for mature audiences.

Chapter 1: Part 1 – Upbringing

My name is Dorian. I have carried many titles in my lifetime. Emperor of the Tol’Daran Empire. The Everlasting. The White Lion of Vel’Loren. Great Patriarch and Protector of the Realm. These are the names my loyal subjects speak with reverence. My enemies prefer others. To them, I am the Tyrant, the White Beast, and, most amusing of all, the Queen Stealer.

The first title ever given to me was far less grand. My father named me Kinslayer.

Earl Garler the Sixth spoke the word with such bitterness that I would remember it more clearly than many happier moments of my youth. My mother died bringing me into the world. For a brief time, he rejoiced in the birth of a son, especially one born with the white mane that marked me as Lion Born. That joy vanished when my mother, Andrena the Second, drew her final breath.

As I understood, what was once a loving and cheerful home was transformed into a cold castle of quiet resentment that shaped the early years of my life.

It is not a time of life I will revisit in detail in these memoirs. What is told of this period, is only to provide context for what comes after.

I was born Dorian of House To’Riken, son and heir to the Earl of Vel’Loren. Though ours was not counted among the great houses, our name was old and established. I was raised in Harvest Hold, an ancient keep at the heart of the earldom.

I was provided with every advantage my station allowed. Tutors filled my days with letters and history. Masters of arms drilled me in sword, shield, and bow, until my muscles ached. When lessons ended, I followed the stewards through our estates and learned how to manage the true currencies of power— coin, trade, information and people.

My father never remarried, leaving me as his sole heir and the future of House To’Riken. This was uncommon within the kingdom, and quietly dangerous to our house’s continued existence. In Del’Mar, noble families were expected to produce many children. The number of legitimate sons and daughters a house could offer for marriage was a direct measure of its influence and leverage. Marriage between houses formed the very foundation of Del’Mari society, standing at the heart of nearly every trade accord, peace settlement, and political alliance.

This expectation carried even greater weight than in neighboring realms, for the nobility of Del’Mar practiced a distinct and highly structured form of stratified polygamy. One’s rank within the noble order loosely dictated, not only the number of spouses one was expected to take, but also the concubines maintained within the household. Through such unions, power was secured, alliances were reinforced, and the future of a house was made resilient against misfortune.

The customs of Del’Mari marriage are vast and entangled in law and ceremony. For the sake of both my own restraint and the reader’s patience, I will leave their fuller discussion for when they become relevant.

For centuries, my family governed Vel’Loren. Our lands were fertile and well-tended, and while we held little influence beyond our borders, we wanted for nothing. We owed fealty to House Tur’Ael, whose ducal seat stood in Val’Talor, capital of the Tor’Ruk Valley Duchy and the breadbasket of the Del’Mari Kingdom.

House To’Riken traced its lineage directly to House Tur’Ael, a fact written plainly in our features. Many of our kin bore olive skin, silver hair, and pale blue eyes, the visible signs of what was called the Blood of the Lion or Lion Born. The Tur’Ael bloodline was said to have been strengthened long ago by a ritual performed in the Tor’Ruk Mountains, at the edge of my father’s lands. As a boy, I dismissed such stories as noble vanity, a convenient legend used to flatter allies and impress rivals.

I would later learn how incomplete that judgment had been.

The customs of Del’Mar differed greatly from those of the eastern kingdoms. Inheritance did not favor one gender over another. Men and women could rule alike, and both were free to take multiple spouses and concubines, according to their rank and mean. For the nobility, this was not merely an indulgence, but an expectation. A lord’s household was a measure of status and influence, and harmony within it was considered a political necessity.

It is easy to gather wives and concubines. It is far harder to keep them loyal and content. A fractured household breeds stress, and stress erodes judgment faster than any blade. A noble surrounded by resentful partners, courts ruin as surely as if he invites enemies into his hall.

My father understood this, even if he refused to take another wife or any concubines. Soon after I came of age, he introduced me to Mistress Casandra, a pale, dark-haired woman, whose beauty was matched by a keen and patient intelligence. She was appointed as my tutor in the arts of pleasure. Under her guidance, I learned that intimacy began long before the bedchamber. She taught me conversation that stirred the mind, romance that awakened the heart, poetry, music, and the subtle languages of affection. Only after these lessons, did she lead me to the final and most obvious pleasures of the flesh.

As a wealthy noble house, we could afford the most exotic of courtesans. These women, often commoners by birth or the daughters of wealthy merchants, were not just common whores who exchanged sex for money, they were women who dedicated their lives to training the young men of noble houses within Del’Mar.

The most accomplished among these desirable women often rose to serve in the position of Mistress of a noble household, entrusted with overseeing the harem and guiding the instruction of newly come-of-age heirs. These positions carried both respect and generous compensation, and they were fiercely sought after within the courtesan community.

I would fondly remember the first of my courtesans.

Her name was Liana. She came from the South Islands and would, in time, become a familiar favorite of mine. When she entered my chamber, she wore only a light robe. Her dark burgundy hair framed a striking face— bright green eyes set above high cheekbones and full lips curved in a knowing smile. I would not forget the warmth rising to my face when she greeted me softly.

“Good evening, my lord. My name is Liana, and I am here to instruct you.”

I answered with more nerves than dignity, repeating the formal words expected of me. “I am honored to meet you, Liana. I am here to learn.”

She returned my smile and shrugged off her robe. Her golden-bronze skin flowed unchanging over her large and firm breasts, taut stomach, wide and firm hips, and well-defined legs. Swaying her hips, she languished towards the bed, her eyes never leaving mine. I would remember standing up nervously, pulling my hands up to undo my buttons, only for her to gently grasp my hand as she leaned over, and whispered, “Let me, my lord.”

Seductively, she undid the buttons of my shirt and, with seductive allure, continued my lesson. “As a lord, especially one as handsome as you, must project confidence. You are not the hound that chases the hare, but rather a proud lion whose mates bring forth its meal.”

She pulled apart my tunic, revealing a strong, well-defined physique. She traced her delicate fingers over the lines of my chest and looked up at me. “You are strong, powerful and Lion Born. I sense your desire to take me… to dominate as you do in the courtyard, when sparring. This is a path to pleasure for many women.”

She stroked her fingers over my chest and underneath my shirt, pushing it over my shoulders and caressing my arms. Shivers raced up my spine at her soft touch.

Never breaking her luscious stare, she continued, “To be one in command in the bedroom, it requires a strong will and more importantly, a willingness to be dominant.”

She leaned in and kissed my left nipple, teasing it gently with her tongue. “This does not mean harshness or control, although there is a place for this,” she said, with a glint of mischief, before continuing, “but most will want leadership and trust.”

Her hand lifted and stroked my chin. ““The Mistress has informed me that your lordship is a fast learner and especially a talented kisser.”

I smiled, looking towards the dark figure sitting in the corner of my chamber. The beautiful face of my Mistress of Pleasures was not so dark that I could not see the knowing smile cross her face.

“So I have been told,” I said, with a smirk before looking back to Liana.

She smirked, “Then, my lord, please show me.”

With much of my earlier hesitation already faded, my hand reached up to her jaw, my palm cupping her face with a gentle but commanding pressure, angling her face up towards mine, as I leaned in. Our lips met, her hot breath mixing with my own as her tongue welcomed mine.

What Mistress Casandra had shared about me was no idle boast; I enjoyed kissing and relished my practice sessions with her. Although I had not yet lain with Casandra, she had instructed me in the other arts of pleasure. By the time I had my first night with Liana, I had already grown quite skilled in the art of kissing.

As we kissed, I felt her building arousal through the soft moans, as my other hand cupped her left breast, my thumb stroking gently over her swollen nipple. By the time we broke our kiss, she exhaled in an excited giggle. “My lord, the Mistress was indeed correct.” She looked at my lips. “I wonder, is my lord as talented in other places?”

I stroked her full lower lip and replied with as much cocky charm as I could muster. “My current understanding is rather theoretical, but I relish the opportunity to put my lessons to practice.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Indeed. But before that, let us continue our lesson. Your kiss was strong, passionate and commanding. The desire of your future women will be determined by your voice before your touch.”

She looked into my eyes. “Make me want to get on my knees.”

My youthful and inexperienced heart beat wildly at the thought of this beautiful woman kneeling before my raging erection. I resisted the urge to order her to lean on my personal position of power and privilege but instead remembered my training.

I deliberately looked at her full lips before deliberately returning my stare to hers. “You are an exquisite creature.” My fingers carefully traced over her lips. “I ache to devour you, to savor your exotic flavor…” I leaned into her ear, and whispered, “…to make you scream my name.”

She shuddered, “Mmmm, I cannot deny the thought of that talented mouth on my quim… I grow wet just thinking about it.”

I gently trailed my finger down to her lips, and true enough, I felt the moisture as soon as my digits slid over her entrance. “You are, indeed, wet for me.”

She gasped as I parted her wet pussy lips, teasing the entrance. “Mmm, oh fuck… take it, my lord, plunge inside me; I long for you.”

Looking deeply into her eyes, I replied, “Not yet.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “My lord?”

I smiled cockily. “You forget, my lady, that you had offered to undress me. Yet, here I stand, still with my pants on. I think you had better get on your knees and remedy the situation.”

She smiled back, her eyes signaling her approval. I had passed the test.

She giggled and traced her hands down my chest and stomach as she slowly lowered herself until she was kneeling before me. With deliberate care, and with her eyes never leaving mine, she undid the drawstrings on my breeches. It was only when she pulled down the article of clothing that her attention shifted.

Wide-eyed, she marveled at my massive cock springing free from its constraints and nearly slapping her in the face. 

With a deliberate slowness, she grasped my thick manhood, her delicate fingers not fully covering the circumference. 

With a trace of excitement, she said, “My lord! The rumors appear to be true for once.”

I smirked. “And which rumor would that be, my dear?”

She regained her poise and smiled at me devilishly. “My lord, since I arrived in your lands, many a scullery maid and tavern wench would gossip about the White Lion of Vel’Loren having a member to match his name.”

I laughed. “It appears the castle's maids have been gossiping,” I said, before cocking an eyebrow. “Well, my dear. While you are down there, you might as well have a taste.”

She looked at me with a playful accusation. “Tonight was to be your practical instruction in the art of cunnilingus,” she said, before looking back at my rock-hard member and licking her lips. “However, I do suppose you deserve a reward for your performance so far.”

She leaned in with a wicked grin and licked up the length of my base. “Let us then continue to test my lord’s sensual communication skills.”

I smiled at her dedication to my education. “That is a good idea. I was just thinking how beautiful you look, worshiping my cock. How does it taste?”

She giggled before taking a slow moaning lick of my bulbous head, her tongue lapping up the pre-cum that had started to leak from my tip. “Mmmm, it smells like the hot lust of a young lord, musky… manly… and with a bit of sweet-and-salty wetness,” she said, between wetting my shaft with her talented mouth.

I stroked her head. “That feels so good, Liana. Watching you worship my big cock… it drives me wild. Keep going, do a good job, and I will show you just how attentive a student I have been.”

She giggled. “I will hold you to that, my lord.”

“I am sure. Now be a good little slut, and open that beautiful mouth. I want your mouth to be the first hole I fill,” I said, with a growl of desire.

She bit her lip before wrapping her lips around my thick shaft. She moaned around it as her tongue trailed around my glans.

Stroking her hair, I groaned, “That’s it. Take me deeper. I want to feel your throat squeezing my big cock. You want me to eat that wet cunt? Then take me all the way.” My words were growing more depraved as my mind flooded with pleasure.

Her lust vibrated along my cock as she breathed a response, her lips sliding further down my shaft. Inch by inch, my thick, veiny shaft passed deeper into her eager throat until her mouth pressed unto my groin. I growled in desire and pleasure as I felt her passageway stretch over my girth, my bulbous cock head getting squeezed by her convulsing tunnel.

“Fuuuuuck!” I whispered in a throaty moan. I had to fight the urge to grip her head and fuck her face, so far was my desire.

Knowing her art well, and keeping with the focus of our session, she pulled off my cock with a knowing smile. “Now, with your desire and lust at its peak,” she paused to look at me, purposefully, “show me how you can control your urges and bring pleasure to a lady.”

Standing up, she trailed her finger over my chest and lay on the large four-poster bed. With a sultry smile, she spread her legs and with her delicate fingers, spread her wet pussy lips. “Well, my lord. Time to show me exactly how much of an attentive student you have been.”

I growled with repressed desire and moved to the bed, crawling towards her until her delicious quim was inches from my face. The smell of her sex was intoxicating. I wanted nothing more than to drive my savage manhood into her and claim her body as mine.

My theoretical instruction with Mistress Casandra had been extensive; however, I was taught to anticipate these strong impulses. I could, of course, go ahead and give in to my base impulse; I was the lord’s son, after all. Fortunately, I was raised to respect the skilled people at my disposal.

Even though Liana was a courtesan and perfectly able to focus purely on my desires, it was not her purpose. She was here to help prepare me to be an excellent lover to my future wives and concubines—not to give me an easy release to my rock-hard cock. Pure vaginal penetration would never be enough for any woman of high standing, whom I would call wife or concubine. No, the art of pleasure was more than rutting like a wild beast. It could, of course, include that, but normally, it began slowly, being sensual and equitable. Unbridled fucking was, of course, possible, but only when a woman was well prepared and fully receptive, especially when a larger manhood was involved.   

I was also instructed that with any woman I was with; her desire would heighten my own and increase the shared pleasures of any union. In addition, bringing a woman to climax regularly would elevate my standing with her and assist in developing a mutually satisfactory relationship. As a future lord of my house, I would ensure their love with kindness and fairness. But the great pleasure I brought them, often would restrain their jealousy and keep them loyal.

That first night, I had made many mistakes; I went too quickly, then too slowly, and often in the wrong place. She taught me where to place my hands to support my questing tongue. Where to be hard and where to be gentle. At some point, her instructions became less detailed and blunter; this informed me, in no uncertain terms, that she was close. When her climax did arrive, her cunt flooded with juices as she gripped my head and arched her back in a desire-filled cry of pleasure.

And yes, once her passage was prepared, I fucked Liana; it was my first time inside a woman, and I did not last long. But I learned that I was quick to recover and soon I was plunging into her, over and over, and by the time I spilled my second load of seed all over her chest, we were both covered in sweat.

That was the first night of many nights with Liana, and over the three years to come, I spent nights with many different courtesans. All as beautiful as they were different. I explored dozens of different fetishes and kinks. My own, as well as those of the women. In each case, I was instructed and trained. 

Cassandra was a persistent and dedicated instructor. She would speak to me gently, guiding my hands, mouth, and cock; instructing me on the art of reading a woman’s body. To detect the oceans of need from the slightest shiver. I was tasked with finding the non-carnal erogenous zones of various women, trained to detect the slightest reactions and interpret them as either indifference, desire, or repulsion.

I soon built a reputation in my father’s land as a wondrous and vigorous lover. Many nights, I claimed three or even four of Casandra’s ‘instructors’. The endurance built up by hours upon hours of weapons training and my unquenching arousal allowed for such exertions. Many times, I left a pile of exhausted courtesans in my wake. A level of endurance and hunger that a future lord of a wealthy house would find advantageous when gathering a large harem of wives and concubines. Being able to please multiple women in one night would allow me to share my attention with my future partners and help to grow affection amongst them, as well. 

And so, my days were filled with education in writing, reading, fighting, leadership, administration, courtship; my nights with— fucking. It seemed the gods had blessed me with many talents, as I progressed steadily in all my pursuits.

I could often see my father smiling with pride, although thoughts of my dead mother would always keep the warmth from his eyes. Fortunately, that was the extent of my father’s pain. He had overcome his bitterness for the most part, at least in my adulthood. His wife had given him a son, one that was gifted and the envy of many lords. So, he found purpose in honing my considerable potential.

It was near my twenty-second name-day when I was informed as to who would be my future wife— Arla Tur’Ael. Tall and exquisite, with dark hair, the will of a dragon, the body of a goddess, and the heart of a queen. She was the sixth child of Duke Travian Tur’Ael, born to his third wife, and destined to marry one of the Duke’s vassals.

Had she been a daughter of the Duke’s first or even second wife, she would have been betrothed to a Duke’s son to secure an alliance or curry favor—perhaps, even put forward to be married into the Royal family.

On the other hand, she could have easily been given as a concubine to any high-ranking nobility as a gift. Fortunately for us both, she had distinguished herself amongst her peers, allowing her to excel in all the instruction she was given. Placing her in the perfect position to be a fitting wife to a wealthy earl’s heir. I would soon discover that her character and beauty, both, outstripped her ranking and blessed me with a woman made to be a queen. 

On that notable day, I had ridden with my father and his knights for Reaper’s Rock—the mighty fort and home of Duke Travian. The ride into the imposing fort was always exciting. Its white stone walls had repelled many would-be invaders over the centuries, and were well kept by the riches of the bountiful lands of the duchy.

It was a brilliant sunny day; the impressive gates of the fort swung closed behind us as we rode into the vast courtyard, where the Duke’s chamberlain awaited us.

The venerable but spry older man stepped forward. "Good tidings, Lord Garler. Reaper’s Rock welcomes you and your son," the elderly man said with respect.

"And to you, Sir Torval," my father replied, dismounting from his horse with a visible strain that came with age.

Sir Torval's eyes appraised me. "Ah, young master Dorian. You've grown much since I last saw you," he said, a note of admiration in his voice.

I clasped his wrist, offering a firm handshake. "Thank you, Sir Torval. My father’s lessons and training in the yard have served me well."

"Well?" a booming voice echoed from the battlements above. "I hear your prowess with the sword is unmatched among the squires of your house. Some say even among the knights."

Both my father and I bowed our heads in unison. "My lord," we responded.

The Duke descended from the battlements with ease, his silver hair and pale blue eyes a clear reflection of our shared bloodline. Unlike my father, he carried his age well—tall, strong, and commanding. As he approached, he repeated his question, "So, boy, is it true? Are you already besting the hardened warriors of Vel’Loren?"

I knew courtly manners well, and humility was always wise in the presence of one’s superiors.

"My lord, my skills have indeed improved since our last meeting, but I still have much to learn. I would not presume myself worthy of a knight's pauldrons just yet," I replied with a bow.

The Duke studied me for a moment, then glanced at my father. "You’ve trained the boy well. We’ll need good lords to rule these lands. It’s clear you’ve done an adequate job preparing your heir—seeing as you only have one," he added, with a hint of irritation.

My father’s eyes did not waver as the Duke’s stern eyes returned to me. "I do hope you’ll be more diligent in securing your bloodline than your father. House Tor’Riken, rulers of Vel’Loren—the jewel of my domain! An earl of that stature should have no less than three wives and twice as many concubines." He jabbed a finger against my chest. "It’ll fall to you to fill the halls of Harvest Hold with sons and daughters. From what I hear, it won’t be an overly taxing responsibility for you," he added, with a wry smile.

I smiled back. "Not at all, my lord."

"Good!" he barked. "Torval, see our guests to their rooms. Tonight, we feast, and you’ll meet your future bride. I dare say you’ll be quite pleased."

After settling in, with daylight still lingering, I joined my father’s men in the training yard for our daily practice. It wasn’t long before we drew an audience. The heat of the summer sun had compelled me to shed my shirt, and the long hours spent training with sword, shield, and bow had sculpted my body into one strong and pleasing to the eye. I noticed the appreciative glances from several maids and onlookers, though they were quickly shooed away to attend to their tasks.

One set of feminine eyes, however, had no duties to fulfill. I spotted her on an ornately railed balcony overlooking the training grounds, as she was distinctly hard to miss. Her eyes were as blue as arctic waters, framed by a hauntingly beautiful face. Black waves of long hair framed an elegant and beautiful face. With a smooth jawline, high cheekbones and a refined nose, she was ever the noble beauty. Her mysterious smile highlighted her full red-painted lips. A face to be lost in.

The knight captain, Douglas, came to my side and whispered, “Stop eyeing the pretty ladies, lad. We are not done yet.”

I nodded but stole another glance at her before resuming my training.

During my many visits to Reaper’s Rock, I had only met Arla as a child. Much of her adult life was spent at the capital for her education. Yet, I knew instantly that this blue-eyed goddess was my future bride. She had looked at me with a discerning look, and whatever she saw in me that day in the training yard, she liked.

Little did I know how important she would be for my future.