Newcomers (2)
"What's going on?"
But Marim shook her head violently, as if she'd seen something she shouldn't have, and bolted outside. Wondering what the hell could have happened, I hurried upstairs to Idwild's room.
"What? What is it?"
As I burst into the room, Idwild—who was in her panties—flustered and plopped down on the bed.
"Bertrand... hehe..."
"Marim just screamed and ran off. Were you changing clothes?"
"Uh... yeah..."
Idwild gave an awkward smile, lifting her hips and spreading the bedsheet to cover herself as she sat. Looking closer, the sheet was darkened, soaked through like it'd been drenched in water. And right next to it was Della's massage orb...
"Hey, you cow. Jerking off in your room in the middle of the day... Jesus..."
"Hehe... I thought no one would come in... There's usually no staff on the third floor during the day anyway..."
"We gotta confiscate that thing."
"Nooo...! Then what about me and Della..."
Her words made the back of my neck throb, and I rubbed it with a groan.
"Aigoo..."
"But why was Marim here...? She looked like she had something to tell me..."
"It's delivery day to Lenditofte, so I told her to go with you. But... never mind. Forget it. I'll go myself. Finish up what you were doing."
At that, Idwild grinned dopily and slipped off her panties again, casually spreading her legs.
"I'm already in the mood to go right now..."
"Hah... Not only do you not appreciate me letting you slack off on the clock... I'm docking your pay."
"Eeeeeek...! Nooo...!"
"Then hurry up and finish, or come downstairs right now."
Idwild insisted she'd be quick and pulled the blanket over herself, so I let out a sigh that could have sunk the floor and headed out. Thanks to my sharp hearing, the lewd sounds from behind me hit crystal clear.
How the hell do I deal with this dumb cow...
Marim looked relieved when I said I'd go with her. While loading the heavy sacks of ingredients Pelle had packed onto the hell horse, Marim chattered nonstop beside me.
"No, listen, boss. Idwild sis—she looked like a huge raw chicken sprawled on the bed at first!"
"Raw chicken? Haha."
"Legs spread wide like, huh? Pissing all over... huh? Ugh, for real. I've seen it all now."
Even as she climbed into the saddle, she kept vividly recounting the scene, still shell-shocked.
"Idwild sis has put on some weight, right? Thighs this thick, ass huge. Breasts go without saying. But get this—funny part is her ankles and arms are still skinny."
"Idwild's got a standout figure, yeah."
"Right? Even with that belly roll, they say that's the body guys go crazy for?"
"Who says?"
"Heard it from city folk and inn guests gossiping. Dumb and curvy, perfect for popping out kids and doing whatever."
I chuckled and stroked Marim's red hair.
"Next time you hear that shit, tell me."
"Whatcha gonna do?"
"Dump 'em in the wagon lot without an ID card and lock the gate."
"They'd get beat senseless by the Bertrand statue. ExtremeX."
"You little psycho!"
Where the hell does this pint-sized brat pick up this crap...?! I flicked her forehead hard, and Marim yelped, pouting angrily.
"So pick your pretty words. Half-elves already get dirty looks—wanna make it worse with filthy language?"
"Filthy? Excuse me, Mr. Balder. Were the words Francois was moaning while banging you 'clean' ones?"
"What...?! You little shit...!"
I went for a second flick, but the sharp-eyed brat dodged my fist at lightning speed.
"Think I haven't picked pockets for years? Living together, you think I don't know?"
"Aigoo... Aigoo... Never adopt a black-haired beast..."
"Mine's red?"
She dodged again with a smirk.
"Anyway, listen. Idwild sis sweats buckets anyway, but she was glistening like she'd fallen in a river. And that hair—why does it grow so fast? Soaked in sweat, sticking to her tits and collarbone like seaweed..."
Marim's mouth didn't stop until the hell horse left Rosens behind. Her blow-by-blow of Idwild's self-love session was so detailed, it played out right in front of my eyes. I had to pull my hips way back so my hardening dick wouldn't brush her—god forbid it did, she'd foam at the mouth and lose it. No way I could handle that gremlin meltdown.
It didn't take long to reach Lenditofte. I knew the forest paths well from monthly visits, guiding us straight to the half-elf settlement. The first time, thick foliage blocked everything; now in early winter, bare branches revealed their huts clearly in the distance.
"Feels colder in the woods."
My breath fogged, and Marim replied.
"Yeah. Brutal in winter. We'd huddle in one hut, hugging to not freeze."
"Must've sucked."
"Nah. Better than city life. Same cold on the streets there, plus beatings. Woods win."
I knew half-elves faced discrimination, but it'd always been abstract—no front-row seat till now. My backwater hometown had none, and post-Holy Sword, I'd been hero-busy, always on the move. Plus, they avoid eyes—beating, scams, exploitation, like Marim said.
What sin did elf-human kids commit? Even same mix, maternal vs. paternal's worlds apart. Elves are hardcore matriarchal—women-only communities, males wander post-maturity, seeding and leaving. Maternal half-elf? Raised equal to purebloods. Marim's paternal—elves reject dad-sired mixes. Humans finger-point 'whore spawn,' discriminate the 'filthy byproduct.' Elves bail, human moms dump kids from shame. Innocent half-elves, born sinners.
Half-elves poured from huts at our arrival.
"Uncle boss!"
Kids bypassed hugging-ready Marim, mobbing me. Ages varied—teens near-adult, tinier than Aterugar. Not all kids; adults like Marim were out on sewer/chimney grunt work.
"You all good?"
"Where's that flower pig sis from last time?"
"Flower pig...? Black hair, big tits?"
"Yeah!"
Flower pig... Cute and plump fits.
"Not happy to see me?"
Ignored Marim finally approached; siblings piled on. Redhead chaos—quite the sight. Leaving them, I unpacked at the central firepit for 'soupe à l'oignon'—perfect winter soup.
Simple: Fry onions in butter till golden-brown. Sweet aroma... Add Francois's beef stock, white wine, simmer. Pour into round bread bowls; bread soaks, softens. Grate cheese thickly on top. Done. Gooey cheese, moist bread, rich broth—heaven. Easy bulk, warms deep. Tasted before kids—damn good, though not Francois-level. Forest chill made anything delicious. Numb ears, runny nose—perfection.
Half-elves grabbed bowls, scattering to huts—too cold to share now. I took mine to Marim's old hut with her. Inside: Cozy beyond winter twig expectations. Corner pit flickered fireless—Aterugar's flame. Recently kicked her butt here, one per hut as cold hit.
"Red lizard punk's useful here and there."
"Minus the shitty attitude, tolerable."
"Funny hearing that from you."
Siblings—not blood—ignored us, faces in bowls. Marim cooed fondly.
"Eat up, kids. Uncle's decent cook."
Footsteps outside—multiple.
"Marim. Someone's here. Who comes this hour?"
"Dunno? Workers...? But they return evening..."
"Stay put. Don't come out."
I set down my bowl and stepped outside.