Newcomers (1)
Not far from the castle sprawled a vast plain where what looked like an ant swarm stretched out to either side. But nowhere in the world did ants glitter like a lake surface under sunlight. And certainly not with banners fluttering here and there. The "ants" were none other than the kingdom's 8th Legion.
Their weapons and armor gleamed in the sun—they were fully equipped for pitched battle. One of the lords, peering through a telescope at the legion's uniforms, spoke gravely.
"They've really come with a vengeance... Judging by their armament, they're geared up for all-out war."
The lords passed the telescope around, taking turns to survey the legion's formation.
"They're already pitching field tents. They're planning a blockade."
"Makes sense. Crossing the border would be tantamount to a declaration of war on the Noble Council, so they're choking us out with a siege."
"Hmm... But blockading just this sector won't cut it. Our three territories are lined up one after another. Even if they're minor baronies and viscountcies, they can't cover everything."
At that, another lord replied with a grim expression.
"Viscount, that's not the full 8th Legion down there. That's about a third of their strength."
"What?! Then where's the rest...?"
"Probably swinging wide around the borders by now, sealing off every route..."
"Damn... This is trouble."
The three lords fell silent for a moment.
"No word from the Noble Council? Surely they'd take some action if they knew we were in this bind."
"Nothing yet. Maybe the messengers got nabbed by the legion midway, or perhaps they're ignoring us to avoid escalating things—since we refused the loyalty oath."
"Fuck. It's not just us barons and viscounts who balked... Those bastards in the capital. Counts and above are too big to touch, so they're making an example of easy prey like us."
Helpless, the lords could only watch the legion move with disciplined precision.
"For now... they won't charge in immediately, so let's head down and grab some lunch."
The lords descended from the ramparts and made for the castle's dining hall. But upon entering, they sensed something off. Normally, the luncheon table would be set by this hour, yet now it was bare.
"What the hell? That's weird. Hey, anyone there?!"
They shouted toward the kitchen, but no one emerged.
"Where the hell did they all go?"
One lord stepped into the kitchen. Moments later, a heavy thud echoed from something hitting the floor. The other two rushed in, startled.
"Gah!!"
Heads and bodies lay severed on the kitchen floor. The lords recoiled in horror—only to bump into something behind them. One glanced back just as his head tumbled to their feet. Before his body crumpled, the third lord's head was sliced clean off, spraying blood everywhere.
The assassin who beheaded all three in one go bowed low, wiping his blade on one of the lords' clothes. He glanced briefly at the heads on the floor, then hurled himself out the window.
With the inn closed for the day, the hall stood empty. The staff were resting in their rooms or out in town. But I couldn't relax. I was crunching numbers for the payroll due at month's end.
"Hmm... So by the end of this month... employee wages alone will run me nearly thirty gold coins..."
Fuck... Thirty gold coins? And that's excluding my girls—just the regular hires. Factor them in, and... ugh... it's no joke.
Business scales up, costs scale up. Cut expenses or you can't maximize profits. But I can't just fire essential staff or slash my pretty girls' pay. The regular employees are already at minimum wage; go lower and no one'll work here.
The elder dwarves are helping out temporarily, but they'll head back to the mines soon. Ukun doesn't care about money—just beer and work, and he's grinning like an idiot. Ammugar and Orkog cover their share selling souvenirs, so no worries there...
For now, this'll have to do. I'd love to bulldoze the half-built Grancis Merchant Company structure next door and slap up a hotel, but timing's off. Hotels aren't like inns; build blind and it'll sit vacant forever.
I could boss the girls around solo for the inn, but a hotel needs mid-level managers to handle dozens of grunts. My staff lack that experience—I do too. Hit up Marquis Kekers for know-how, train the girls up.
Hiring pros might work, but it'd screw over my crew. They busted ass with me to build this place—they deserve those spots.
"Bertrand. Busy?"
François descended to the hall and approached quietly.
"Nah. What's up?"
"Then come to the kitchen a sec?"
What the...? In the kitchen, she'd already hiked up her skirt, dropped her panties, and braced her ass toward me over the counter.
"Uh... what're you...?"
"It's... been a while for us, right...?"
"Yeah. Since the royal funeral—the first and last time."
"So... no kids around... care to, Master...?"
Her sudden formal tone surged blood to certain parts. Right—her kink.
"You hypocritical noble bitch, pretending to be so prim."
"Y-yes... that's it... punish me..."
"Better brace yourself today, you two-faced bitch."
"Hurry... Master... until it goes limp..."
Damn... nobles and their tastes. François and I "cooked" relentlessly until the hall clock chimed countless times.
Lots happened after Elua left. First, Rosens got an "encouragement budget"—a ludicrous sum befitting royal prestige. Hildeva funneled some to the guard, and Lambert showed up thrilled.
"Money's yours—make armor and swords."
"The fuck, asshole?! Think we're merchants?! Scram!"
Lambert fled as Ukun and the elder dwarves pelted him with beer mugs.
Nuns arrived to assist Celereja at the temple. Nuns are female clergy without holy power—ranked below saintesses. Celereja could've never been a city priestess as a fledgling saintess. But considering her past, the cardinal skipped sending high priests.
"Once the nuns arrive, I can't stay at the inn anymore..."
Celereja fiddled with my shirt buttons, sniffling.
"Gotta manage them... live at the temple full-time. Can't leave them and come alone..."
"Got it, Saintess. No biggie. You never paid anyway."
She giggled at my joke, then asked:
"One last... time...?"
"Huh?"
"Male function treatment... with holy power..."
"Ah... sure. But it's not like we'll never meet again—why 'last'?"
"Can't do it in the temple chapel center, biting my lip so the nuns don't hear..."
Hmm... sounds like she wants exactly that. Anyway, treatment? Hell yeah. Celereja locked the door and warded the knob with holy power—just in case. That night, we held "worship" till dawn.
"Maaasteeeeer!!"
Marim streaked across the hall with a drawn-out wail.
"Ugh, shut it. What, you flaming redhead."
"Flaming redhead? Pfft, really."
She scoffed in disbelief, then fluttered her eyes coquettishly.
"Hehe... Maaasteeeeer..."
"Creepy. Spit it out before I hurl."
At my icy glare, she pounded her chest dramatically.
"Wah, poor me! Where's a flat-chested girl supposed to live?!"
"Pounding nothing won't make it grow. What?!"
"Visit the siblings with me. Payday."
Already? Marim sends every coin to her Lenditofte kin. Can't mail cash or bills— no address in the forest, and kids can't cash bills. Banks might scam young half-elves.
So monthly, me or Idi ride Hell Horse with her to deliver cash—and food from storage.
"I'm busy. Go with Idi."
"Even better. Bury my face in Big Sis Idi's boobs the whole way—pure bliss lol."
"Watch your mouth, grown-ass woman."
Marim cackled and blinked up the stairs. Moments later, she screamed and tumbled down like a rolling pin.