Rozanica's Villainess Lady (2)
Yanes adapted to Rozanica's markets with astonishing speed. The city's conveniences, infused with even a hint of modern infrastructure, provided an abundantly rich environment for someone as sharp as her.
"Look at how perfectly it all fits together."
"It is efficient, I'll give it that."
The city's layout prioritized raw efficiency without a shred of concern for appearances. For Yanes, who despised noble extravagance, it was a downright comfortable place.
"The market structure is solid, but potions are still sorely lacking."
Places like forges and general stores were locked down tight by entrenched infrastructure, impossible to break into. Potions, however, remained underdeveloped. Who would come to this harsh frontier as a mage anyway? And even if one did, they'd head straight for a grand duchy estate rather than gang-infested Rozanica.
"This setup's good enough to really settle in here."
There was no need to expand into the North while they already had a solid base. This was just buildup for the Night Spirit anyway—no regrets beyond that. So they'd invested just enough to walk away without a second thought if it tanked.
"I doubt it'll make much money, though."
"Nah. My gut says otherwise. This land's got money-making potential written all over it."
"The land? Not the people?"
"Sh-shut up!"
Yanes yelled in flustered panic at Sophia's cool remark. Sophia smirked at her blushing face.
"Ahem. Just teach 'em the basic potion recipes and we can bounce."
"That shouldn't take more than three weeks."
"Exactly. We can pull some promising kids from Seria School too."
They weren't desperate for cash right now, and these were just low-grade stock potions—nothing tricky to make. Plus, with Valerius's contacts and Seria School students involved, recipe security wouldn't be an issue.
"Dungeon prep?"
"Gathering intel from the mercenary guild. No problems so far."
Everything was proceeding smoothly as planned. Sure, failing to snag that spirit was a real bummer, but...
Building ties with a war hero is way more profitable anyway.
Valerius was seen as a dangerous figure in high society. An orphan who'd killed nobles—the only one—and thick as thieves with Grant. In other words, a prime emperor faction asset.
If I can leverage that connection to Grant, the court mage and emperor's old teacher... perfect.
Her ultimate goal was cozying up to Grant, now a Ma Tower elder. His backing could rebuild House Valbasor from the ground up.
Till then, gotta play nice.
Valerius was useful networking in his own right, but reaching beyond him would be ideal.
It had been exactly two weeks since arriving in Rozanica.
"Heh. Damn."
Yanes's potion workshop had cemented its position in no time. The North was full of injuries, but proper potions were a pipe dream. Even in a major hub like Rozanica, they were a big deal—especially imports that cost a fortune.
"Congrats. Business is booming."
"Must be the medical needs. Never thought disinfectant potions would sell like hotcakes."
Starting with mercenaries and gang members, word spread, and folks stocked up while supplies lasted. At three times cheaper than imports, consumer psychology did the rest.
"Here, a gift. The best we can make right now."
"Nice. Mom'll love it."
"I made it for you... ah, whatever."
Handing a gift to someone only to regift it right in front of them. Yanes glared daggers, ready to nag, then shut her mouth. A Master wouldn't get much from mid-tier potions anyway.
"Even Masters shiver in the cold. Stock up on heating potions."
"...Got it!"
No clue why she was beaming, but happy was good enough. Valerius shrugged and dug into his meal. Mr. Phenicia's cooking had a strong pepper kick he quite liked.
"We leave in two hours. Shit any turds quick."
"Eek! Gross! You think I'd...? I'm eating!"
Yanes shrieked at Valerius's teasing. The big lug loved riling people up at random. Play along and he got bored; snap back like this, and he ate it up. Made her question if buddying up was smart.
"Heh heh. Anyway, see you in two. Bundle up—it's brutal out there."
Valerius finished eating, left Yanes and Sophia behind, and headed to see Seria.
"Mom. Heading out."
"Already? You eat?"
"Did. Leaving in two."
"Then sit. Have some tea."
Seria welcomed Valerius warmly amid her textbook prep for the kids. She flatly refused his offer to brew and steeped her own dried flower tea.
"Ahem. Vali."
Valerius savored the aroma in silence, then tilted his head at Seria's sudden cough.
"That noble lady who came by."
"Yanes? Yeah, she's noble."
Fallen, sure, but noble on paper. Nobody treated her like one, though.
"And?"
"Such a fine girl. Pretty, capable. Her potion shop's thriving, right?"
"Yeah. More popular than expected."
"Indeed. And such a sweet personality. Polite to a cleric like me. Even brought gifts."
Valerius snorted. In this barbaric medieval dump, clerics got near-noble status. And Seria was Rozanica's mother to every street rat, the most respected intellectual around. Yanes kowtowing was obvious.
Villainess lady through and through.
Gifting spotless Seria too—right on the edge of bribery without crossing it, nailing her tastes. Seria rarely accepted anything; this showed real savvy. No wonder she was the little lady's right hand.
"Speaking of, you're not getting any younger."
"...True."
"Ahem. This mother wants to see a sturdy grandson like you and a pretty granddaughter like your wife."
Valerius scratched his head. He was about thirty-two now—prime marriage age had passed long ago. He wouldn't mind tying the knot, but...
No Eastern beauties around.
His tastes were ironclad. Objectively, Isolde and Yanes were stunners, but they sparked nothing.
"So, you want me to go for Yanes?"
"Ahem. Well, why not?"
"Mom. She's noble, even if fallen. Head of her house, solo."
Seria deflated at Valerius's words. Her pride and joy to her, but noble society saw him as a dud. Scarred and fierce-looking, huge build. Skilled, but prickly and treated nobles like stray dogs. Fine as a friend, dicey as a lover status-wise.
"Sigh. Should've shipped you off ten years ago."
Before army days. Back then, he'd had fans—big boss of Rozanica, idol of the gutter kids.
"Fate finds a way. And as a Master, I can knock up a wife at sixty, no prob."
"Sigh."
Seria sighed at Valerius's reassurance. Screw that—he'd outlive her by decades. She wanted grandkids, and his happy family was just the bonus.
"Gotta pack anyway. See ya."
Valerius stood to dodge another earful.
"Ah! Be careful, please."
"Heh heh. Me, a Master?"
Overkill, but the warm worry touched him. He grabbed his gear and headed to the rendezvous.
Yanes, huh.
In the original story, she was ambition incarnate. Marriage was a tool, not love. Valerius shook it off and approached the group checking gear—he'd arrived first.
"What, dressed to impress?"
"Y-yeah? It's trendy in the North Duchy."
"Hold up... Hmm. Thick enough not to freeze, and it suits you."
The fur-trimmed robe was North travel essential. Nobles, amirite? Yanes sported high-end white ice wolf skin—pricey even here—that matched her vibe perfectly.
"Oi. Your face is red. Coming down with something?"
"N-no way. Just got warm moving around."
"Warm? Underestimating the North much?"
Her flush worried him briefly, but her snappy tone said it was nothing. Sophia, eavesdropping, grinned for some reason.
"Alright, enough chit-chat. Let's roll."
"Yeah."
Valerius led them to the stables at Sophia's nudge.
"Raven. Let's go."
"Whoa! Coming!"
Raven bolted up from his rocking chair nap. He'd met the ladies already and bowed politely.
"Long road ahead."
"Got it, bro."
Raven lacked raw combat punch but had nimble hands and a sharp mind. With Topsol Kill Gang and Black Lion settled in Rozanica, he wasn't needed there. Perfect for coachman—and expert driver to the North Duchy. Post-blizzard, starving monsters lurked; a pro was essential.
"Alright. We're off."
Gear loaded tight, the group finally left Rozanica. Beyond the snowdrifts, the North's maw yawned like a beast's open jaws.