《Isekai'D Shoggoth》


 Chapter 1. Let’s Take A Stock

    Well, now... That. Is a situation.


    Thankfully, I am alone, so I may afford to sort out my thoughts and prepare a plan of action. So... salient points.


    Primo. This is isekai. I remember my previous life, so to speak, with crystal clarity. Up to and including a very abrupt death to a random drunkard side-swiping me with his car right into the curb head-first. Owie.


    Secundo. This is otome isekai, with me taking the part of the villainess. A game I remember vaguely well. All the classic points being hit - a plucky commoner protagonist, seven (Seven? Isn''t the usual a bit less? Like four or three?) capture targets, if we count two secret ones (Ah. Secret routes. Gotcha.) and some kind of... combat system that was based on ikebanas of all things. Something about ikebanas being the base skill for magicians composing spells.


    Secundo insuper - magic! Real, accessible, and by all accounts (Including my own memories, natch.) something I''m reasonably apt with. Though the actual system is inane and I''m already having designs on it.


    Tertio. I''m not, in any way, shape or form inclined to actually play the role of the villainess. If memory serves correct, Alyssa Gillespie (WAIT, WHAT!? This is a very ominous Silent Hill reference. Thankfully, mother''s name is not Dahlia, or I''d be planning my country exit strategy about now.), who is, by the way, me, is the firstborn daughter of count Gerard Gillespie and countess Elene Gillespie nee Bradford (XCOM? Or just coincidence? Getting vigsome vibes here, to plagiarize a Buffy.) is supposed to be betrothed to Edward Cullen (OH HELL NAW. No way. Nuh-huh. That guy is tainted simply for having the name. Tainted. Nothing going. And yes, if the alternative is french-style revolution, I WILL. Because this is TAINTED.), the third prince. Or, as commonly referred to, the spare prince. Whom will be lured away by Protagonist, simultaneously having Alyssa exiled to Gillespie estates because of course firstborn of county wouldn''t take well losing her fiancee to a jumped-up commoner.... And that is one of the better outcomes for Alyssa, really.


    In the event of Protagonist going for the prince''s best friend instead, Alyssa is supposed to be lusting after the same friend and gets forcibly indicted into the convent when things come out. Because prince breaking the engagement is one thing and prince''s potential fiancee being found out "cheating" is quite another. Other storylines vary, but the outcomes are... less than desired. Murdered in both secret routes (By foreign spy in one and by protagonist herself in other, go figure.), exiled again, this time over political power struggle when the target is prime minister''s son, and the last two... some kind of "languished in obscurity after being abandoned by prince". Prince ending up marrying foreign princess in those cases.


    Realistically speaking, the cases where both prince and Protagonist marry up into neighboring kingdom is preferable version, Alyssa (Me.) being simply "set aside" in favor of more politically beneficial match and becoming an old maid because of this. Also, the pair of routes where Alyssa and Protagonist are on... passably speaking terms, at least.


    Finally, quatro. Most jarring and... original part of it, let''s say. Gillespies and Bradfords are actually closely related and intermarry at least once per two generations. And this had left both families significantly inbred. Not enough to court a hereditary disease like hemophilia or create a stable deformity inherent to the bloodline just yet, but... close enough to cause a number of fertility issues. I''m actually the fourth daughter, in spite of being firstborn. My three potential elder sisters were all stillborn. Thankfully, the problem seems to be tied to X chromosome on Father''s side, so I do have two little brothers. But therein lies another problem. Alyssa Gillespie was not conceived. Instead, Elene and Gerard had hired an infamous "Blood Wizard" (Indirect clues indicate he is a bastard brother of the current king, by the way, lacking an ambition to take the throne due to his overwhelming passion for biomancy.) to ensure Elene carries to term next time. Blood Wizard made the problem moot by shoving a shoggoth seed into mommy dearest and putting a teaching spell on top of that.


    So, yeah, actually I''m a stupidly overpowered shoggoth who had evolved into full sentience, grasped magic and can flawlessly shapeshift. My little brothers, thankfully, are entirely ordinary boys. But, back to our muttons - my shoggothdom means I really have no particular interest in marriage, let alone have a fixation on Edward that game version of Alyssa seemed to have.


    Next. Time. What time do I have at my disposal? The setting is a Magic Academy. Which is a location I''m curious about, because ikebana-based magic means they have greenhouses with flower variety. If memories serve right, a number of spices are not known here as spices, but are available as flowers and herbs. If this works out, I might get some money going on, and money is a sort of convenient power for me. It is effectively faceless, unlike the favors trading system the nobles seem to have going on. It is early summer, however. I am yet to be entering the Academy. I am already enrolled, of course, the enrollment is an automatic process for anyone from the noble family. Really, the enrollment is for everyone having demonstrable magic... Which, ostensibly, is every last person out there, but in practice only expressly gifted commoners are being offered enrollment, while in case of nobles, it is assumed their talents will not lose to commoner. Which, well, is the reason why commoners entering the school tend to be stupidly overpowered in comparison to your average noble attending. Inconvenient, but maybe useful.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    More on topic, it is half to six in the morning, and I''m lounging in bed. It''s not time get up yet, and won''t be for a good while. Meaning I can afford to plan and remember things without having to scramble for explanations to parents or servants. Good.


    Right. Might as well take a look around. Slithering out of bed in five, four... Heh, just kidding. Already up. Well, that''s really convenient I can, in a pinch, just shapeshift a "dress" on me. But for now, let''s not. The last thing I want is servants trying to undress me when I''m technically naked.... Wait. WAIT. Where the fuck are all the dresses? Why this dresser has only underwear inside? Good grief, there are no good elastics yet. Meaning everything is held on ties. Joy everlasting. Because I just KNOW I will sprout a bunch of tentacles to tie something up in the least convenient moment ever. Gotta work on that. Maybe internal velcro-like surfaces to.. Ah, yeah, that works. Gotta be careful with this, but fuck wardrobe malfunctions. I refuse to permit such base cliche. Hear me, universe? Such templates are forbidden.


    So. Dresses. Apparently, there is a dedicated wardrobe room across the hall from my bedroom. I know I''m supposed to call servants, but... Actually, aside from being up way too early, why not? Let''s not cause too much of a jarring departure from standard MO just yet, shall we? Pulling on the bell string produces tingling somewhere down the hall. Here''s hoping they are in the habit of waking up early to do morning chores. It''d be awkward to see a servant obviously roused from bed otherwise. Actually, come to think of it, do I know anything about maids?... Hm, yes. The old one is Marie, and she''s... apparently used to be dad''s wet-nurse. Heh. And my wet-nurse. Weird. But whatever. I''d be worried if she were also mom''s wet-nurse, but that is not a thing. Because little me asked. Parents were mondo bemused by my theory of universal wet-nurses.


    Other three are, hm... Sally, Louise and Bridgit and they are effectively interchangeable other than Bridgit having a kraut accent. And no, that''s not a slur. Apparently, the neighboring kingdom is literally Kraut Kingdom, and that''s the place she was born and raised in. I seem to vaguely remember she has a tragic backstory explaining how she ended up a maid at Gillespie Estates. Something about her father being a successful merchant getting murdered by ostensibly highway bandits, but not really. One of the game sub-plots was to collect info on Baumhoffs and use it to blackmail Bridgit into spying on Alyssa. Which, depending on how you go at it, had far-reaching consequences. Because if you as Protagonist lie to Bridgit about Gillespies being responsible for Christoff Baumhoff''s demise, she would stab Elena and make Alyssa go nuts and almost nuke magical academy with uncontrollable magic. That gets Alyssa an exile to Gillespie estates without right to leave, Protagonist gets dumped by Hiram Hohenzollern (Kraut prince, capture target. Honorable to a fault. Horrible, horrible fault.) and ends up being consoled by Kraut spymaster we only ever know as Klaus. Or as his codename goes, Morgenstern. Downright nasty bastard, the "my country right or wrong" variety. He is willing to do anything for the sake of Kraut kingdom. Including seeing up his prince to take the fall for his shenanigans. Oh, and then he ties up the loose ends by murdering Alyssa. Really, that one is one of the worse endings in general.


    So, avoiding THAT is going to be a priority. Because if Protagonist gets to Bridgit and lies about Gillespies being involved, the end outcome will be an invasion by krauts, which will end with Cullens "voluntarily abdicating" and getting confined to an island exile as a family unit, Protagonist becoming a very twisted bitch in a very twisted relationship with twisted bastard Klaus and Hiram (The only decent kraut in this.) becoming figurehead viceroy of Champagne (Seriously? Kraut and Champagne? With english names? What is this, normans got owned timeline? What?!) and very unhappy person, because when all is said and done, he is genuinely in love with Protagonist and is forced to watch her becoming a monster to match Klaus. And Klaus would do his best to kill me, which, admittedly, is going to fail because I''m a shoggoth, but he would still try and I''ll probably end up showing off too much because he is the kind of bastard that just won''t quit, and killing him in return... Yeah, well. Actually, maybe it''s good idea to preemptively murder Klaus because he will cause chaos in any route. Sometimes more, sometimes less.


    Hm, now the other option? If Protagonist tells Bridgit the truth, that her father was murdered because he was getting a little TOO successful for the tastes of his peers, Bridgit goes to Girard, admits to spying on Alyssa and asks to be relieved of duties out of guilt. And then she drops out of picture and Alyssa (Aka, me.) gets reasonably gently "set aside" when Protagonist ends up married to Hiram Hohenzollern and on the heels of that, Edward gets betrothed to Hiram''s little sister Katherine. Both of which would turn out to be happy and successful couples, lead on a grand alliance between two kingdoms, usher in an age of economic growth and generally create the rosy future. This is, by far, the best outcome for everyone. Even Alyssa, who simply ends up as an old maid famous for her cats.

 Chapter 2. Cute Maids And Basic Alchemy (Also, Lots Of Lies)

    Actually, while we are on the topic, I just figured out an interesting little tidbit. The reason why Alyssa does not end up married to some schmuck in at least one of the routes? Closet lesbian. Not really aware of the concept prior to me hopping in, but very distinctly finding females way more appealing than males. With subtle beginnings of something I''m not even sure how to explain, because the closest I can think of is Electra complex, but this is aimed at MOTHER. Which is sufficiently fucked up to explain why Alyssa remained an old maid even in cases where she got off scot-free.


    The reason why I figured that out? Bridgit is here and she''s ADORABLE and I want to pinch her cheeks and kiss her forehead and tell her sweet nothings. Hnng. Asking for "a simple dress, suitable for taking a long walk later" is apparently within the "lord''s daughter woke up in odd mood today", because she fetches something in dark blue and assists me without any significant complaint. Though the bewildered look when I ruffled her hair and told her to keep up the good work was GOOOOD.


    It is going to take at least two more hours until breakfast is there. Which is at eight. Bridgit got instructions NOT to hurry it on my account, justified as "I desire to eat with my parents today", which, again, is not too off. Now, let''s see what is available in the neighborhood. Most of the things I have a mind on making are... not quite quick to make. Not in two hours, at least. So... what can I assemble? Because my plan is, to put it crudely, is to claim I had a dream vision about lands "beyond the horizons" and use it as an excuse for all the new crap I''m going to introduce and get rich on. Because money is the most flexible kind of power.


    Hm. Actually... Actually. On the results of a quick survey. I have an hour. There are some basic workshop facilities, mostly basic woodworks and metalworks, probably in support of a stable and carriage in the shed nearby. There is a handcranked milling stone, though it doesn''t seem to have had been in use lately. The leftover residue is... wheat. I don''t know what I was expecting. Nothing immediately groundbreaking. I suppose I can use some of the flowers to pretend I learned new magic (Not flowerless casting, though. There are legends about babysnatching monsters capable of that. Wouldn''t want parental units to freak out.), but that is lackluster... Hey. HEY. Is that mint?


    Well, mint get! And if I recall right, no one bothers with it, it''s just "a herb with pleasant smell". Seriously, what''s wrong with people? Why so many things are passed up...? aAH! PEPPERMINT! Emphasis on pepper! Good grief, that''s strong. OK, so... I have a good idea WHY people didn''t think it was a good idea to eat this now. Is the rest of potential spices so concentrated, too? But here is my good plan. It''s early summer, and parents are nursing leftover colds from the spring. Note to self, look into inventing central heating, the house is seriously cold in the winter months. We''re northern province, apparently.


    ... Hm. Well, getting that jar of honey off the chef was a bit of an effort. Thankfully, he did buy the "need it for alchemy" excuse. Because if I honestly admitted it was for cooking, he would''ve kept on yammering about how it''s "beneath ojou-sama" to cook. (Japanese honorifics? Damn. DAMN. DAMN! This means things are going to get stupidly formal at some points. Otomes merge orient and occident in... awkward mix.) So, here is ouzo, here is honey, here is mint. Let''s get cracking... Bleh, some flowers to distract the eye. Red tulips to be "furnace", some chamomiles to be "philter" and a regular old earthenware bowl to actually do this in. Heat honey until completely liquid, stir in ouzo (Surprised it already exists. Anise should be overwhelmingly sharp if mint is of any indication. Unless they use one seed per barrel or something. Note to self - look into ouzo making later.), use superheated steam to pull out essential oils from mint (Magic is stupidly convenient. Especially if you don''t have an "if only I had an appropriate flower" mental block in action. Note to self - figure out some palliatives to explain my lack of dependence on flowers.), mix again. Sample.


    Hm. Well.... WOO. This is sweet. And leaves you feeling like you just had your nose rinsed inside-out with a firehose. Cold cure get! (If this works, this is going to make me a mint. No pun intended. Adding generic "get well soon" magic into the mix was an inspired piece of conceptual bullshit, something no one here even thought about before. Score one for being sufficiently advanced alien, heh.) And just in time, too. I have, at best, a few more minutes to neaten things up. Not that there is much left to neaten. Just an empty bottle to return to the kitchen, actually. I might need a proper jar to decant the cure into later, but for now, presenting it in the bowl is going to work. Onwards to breakfast... And I''m first. Figures, everyone else has a stuffy nose and is not in any way appreciative of early morning chills.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Morning, father." - I offered languidly as count Gillespie stumbles into the room sleepily. He is well presentable, but it is obvious he is not feeling keen at the moment. Stifling a yawn, he returns the glance and nods. "Alyssa." - he proffers - "Marie told me you''ve been awake earlier than usual. Everything alright?"


    Shrugging, I gestured towards the table vaguely. "Nothing to worry about. I''ve had some odd dreams and woke up earlier than usual, that''s all." - I offer to him, as I start pouring myself a cup of tea (Note to self - Coffee! Find. Establish stable trading route. Conquer the equatorial counties if no trading options exist. Destroy the world and remake it in your own image if no coffee exists.) - "I have dreamt of lands beyond the horizon, full of odd things and strange buildings. Couldn''t go back to sleep when I woke up, was too busy thinking about everything I dreamed about."


    He chuckled and sat down heavily, reaching out for a slice of ham. "Odd things, you say?" - he inquires - "Oh, good morning, darling. Hello, boys. Come have seats, Alyssa is telling me about an odd dream she saw tonight." Exchanging a smile and glance with mother was oddly touching. I really shouldn''t have been reacting so much, but... In my first life, my mother died when I was not even a teen yet, and I will readily admit having a mother I could talk to again was rather.. novel.


    "Odd dreams?" - Elene proffered, as she deftly deployed a scone on her platter and started cutting it apart with economic movements - "Nothing frightening, I hope? Our family never had much of seer blood, but some portents are..." She trailed off, peering at her platter. "A fourscore for a daughter" was a bit of a family tale. On her wedding night, mom had a dream that she couldn''t remember aside from a singular phrase "A fourscore for a daughter". Which, in the wake of three stillbirths and my appearance had taken rather.. ominous sound. So, yes. Mother has a thing about prophetic dreams, and fears them.


    "Nothing of the sort, mother." - I hastened to reassure - "I have dreamt of far lands beyond the horizon and the oddments they have. I have actually dreamt myself to be an alchemist, concocting a cure for cold." Suddenly, all the focus was on me. Mother, father, boys, even the maid - all of them stared at me with wide eyes and bated breath. Louise breathed nearly silently - "...honey...!"


    Yes, the stage was well and truly set. Perfect. Tickles my drama sense nicely. With a flourish, I pulled off the lid from my bowl, letting the weft of mint and anise drift across the room. "Now, I''m not sure if it actually cures the cold or not, since I don''t have one." - I began - "But if nothing else, it is a pleasant treat. Just don''t take too much. A teaspoon should be just right not to overpower." Mother and father exchanged glances.


    "Have you sampled it already, Alyssa?" - asked mom after a bit. Well, duh. "Quite so. I couldn''t possibly offer for tasting something I wasn''t confident in, now could I? Go ahead, try it." - I cajoled, giving an example by scooping a bit out of a bowl with my teaspoon and licking it off. WOOOOOH, that''s a rush. Oh, and here goes dad. Nice!


    "...WHHHHHOOOOOOAHHHH!... Oooh. Ooh gods and stars, that''s strong!" - he proffered a moment later, eyeing my cure with wary respect. And then it hit him. He sniffed once, twice... And broke into a wide grin - "Go ahead, darling. It''s a marvel. Alyssa, what goes into this? Is it expensive?" His grin grew even wider as he saw me shaking head.


    "Honey, ouso and mint, that''s all it takes." - I told him, keeping my eye on the mother. Who, very wary, sampled a little lick off the tip of the spoon. Blinked. Sampled again. Frowned. Licked the spoon clean, and.... "WHHHHOOOOAH! Haaaah! Oh my!" Hah. Well, the cure is a success, it seems like. "HOHOOOOH!" "PFFFFHAAAAOH!" Silly boys, you don''t try to swallow that rush, it just blasts out of your nose harder.


    There is still more than enough in the bowl, so after breakfast, I tasked Louise with summoning all the servants. I''d ask her to collect ones with cold, but that might cause some to conceal their condition out of fear they would be dismissed for it. Not the optimal outcome, so all of them are to be called in instead. Less of a chance someone slips the net.


    "Hello, everyone." - I offer to them, taking a look over the amassed servants. Four maids, majordomo slash secretary, chef and his two apprentices, two stablehands, coach driver, gardener, seven footmen... Why so many foot... ah, they handle all the external supply questions. Firewood, food, miscellaneous purchases... porters, essentially. Nineteen people in total. I have more than enough cure for them all. Screw diagnosing, we''re doing preventive care.


    "Some of you may have already heard I made cure for cold." - I open the speech - "It is true, by the way. And since I don''t want any sick people working in the house, all of you are getting the cure. Line up, people." Huh. That''s... interesting expressions. I''m guessing preemptively treating your servants is a bit out of normal for average noble. Well, screw the preconceptions. Also, the reactions are hilarious. The initial "oh gods why", the subsequent nose sniffing and the grin to cap all of it. Heh. Of course, I made a point to have a bowl of water to wash spoon off inbetween patients. Wouldn''t do to cross-contaminate here.

 Chapter 3. Getting A Dwarf On Board

    It had taken me two days to take stock of all options available at home and nearby. Now I can finally venture to the town nearby. I have a project in mind, while at it - collect as many different seeds as possible. Flower-growing is a big thing in this kingdom, given that ikebanas are the base of magic, but they''re surprisingly behind on finding gastronomic and pharmaceutic uses for the herbs. Which I''m going to ruthlessly capitalize on. There is not much of note in the town, admittedly. Blacksmith, inn, bazaar. That''s about it. Merchants are all based in or around the bazaar, which makes sense because why won''t you live next to your job if you can swing it? Inn is facing the bazaar for much the same reasons. A number of more established shops all face the square bazaar is on, and the surrounding quarters are all residential. Blacksmith is on the outskirts, and well away from other buildings. Fire precautions, I guess. If the ledgers are right, the tannery is further along the river, downstream thankfully. Not really looking for leatherworking right now, though.


    The big question is, where is the mill? We have a river nearby, and there is no shortage of wind either, so why I''m unable to find anything bigger than personal millstones? Do NOT tell me that a civilization that is by all the looks approaching Renaissance advancement had somehow failed to consider a centralized mill. Please. The place is enough of schizotech as is.


    Actually, while we are at it, do we have a quarry? I mean, I am ironclad-sure quarries are a thing in this world, because the estate is good masonry, but... Later. (Note to self - bug father for ALL economic assets the province has. We are supposed to be a pretty rich province, I have to see what we are rich in, and what I can multiply with some finagling and clever hints.) For now, let''s see what a blacksmith can do. Oh. Wow. That dude is a dwarf?... Wait, what!? REALLY? Dwarves are a... oh. Oh shit. Oh, that''s nasty. On the other hand... Refugees? I''m reasonably sure I can kickstart dwarven civilization again, and having them think of me as a mother of the nation is going to be good politically.


    "Good morning to you." - no reason not to talk a bit, right? He does not look particularly busy - "In case people haven''t pointed it out to you yet, I''m Alyssa Gillespie. Can I have a suitable name for you to address you with?" Dwarves are particular about true names. Asking for a suitable one here is polite, it implies I acknowledge his true name privacy and ask for publicly acceptable token. A lot of friction with dwarves is because people tend to demand true names out of them, not minding the fact it''s about as polite as demanding to see their wives'' knickers. I am not actually sure why, there has to be some reason for this, because the usual dwarven answer for such demand is a fist to the face, and yet people provoke them like this with depressing regularity. Oho, that''s one interesting expression.


    "Why, top''o''the''morn to ya, lass." - he rumbles back - "Mah trade name be Rory. What can I do for ya?" Nice. I would like to say he''s well adjusted, but wariness is obvious, even though he hides it. But that hasn''t become depression, paranoia or defiance yet. Meaning if I set an example, he''s bound to develop some loyalty to me. Maybe attract other dwarven refugees. Must be a lot of them poking around after that eruption.


    "I''m familiarizing myself with available artisans." - I offer to him - "People claim you are a competent blacksmith, but no one knows how good are you with detail work, so I came to ask." His brow creases as he considers my sketches. I have a number of little things I want to be made for my personal use and for house improvement. Pepper mill, in particular.


    "Moity fine me-ka-nisms there, lass." - he finally retorts - "Might take me a bit of practice to get it right. Fine work takes patience. If yer willin'' ta wait a week or so, I might construct those. Provided me iron shipment comes through. I''m a little low right now, with darn apprentice turning out a batch of pig iron and all."


    Pig iron? Hm. He speaks as if it''s worthless. Could it be that steelmaking is comparably hampered? Hm. "Let me see this pig iron." - I request - "I have read about a way to recover metal from a failed smelting before, it might work." This is, strictly speaking, a lie - it''s not a failed smelting. But coming out and teaching blacksmith a whole new method of steelmaking without any background to justify it? People are gonna talk about it. I don''t really want a reputation for "divinely touched" or something similarly... inviting of presumptions and expectations.


    Dwarf grumbles a bit, but eventually brings out a bunch of slag. On poking some of the pieces (And discreetly eating a snap for in-situ chemical analysis, shoggoth bullshit biology for the win!), I do determine that this is in fact suitable for pattern-welded steel. Provided he has some low-carbon steel to use as the other half of equation. "Right. You have any steel ingots?" - I inquire, getting a nod back for my trouble - "Good. Here is what you do - you put this into furnace until it''s yellow like the sun. Put an ingot of steel next to it, pull them both out in the same time, hammer them together flat, fold in on itself, hammer more. Repeat until the lines of dark and light are hair thick. It''s going to be a hard task, but in the end you will have very good steel, if what I read is right." He looks skeptical, so I bring out the ultimate persuasion. Gold. "I know it sounds odd, but I will pay you to attempt it, regardless of outcome. If it works, make me that little mill from the steel you get, if it doesn''t, well, then make my mill when you get more iron. I''ll wait. When you have it, visit the estate."


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    With any luck, he will end up with some sort of passably working pattern-welded steel and it will be both fancy and durable. Not holding my breath for actual Damascus steel, that would be ridiculous. Might ask him if he does any magic while working if it pans out. Doubt he''ll give me a straight answer right now, but the well-tiled flower bed outside the smithy does imply gladioli do something for him.


    ___


    Well, that is.. interesting. Rory''s here, and agitated. Excited. Nervous. Interesting mix. And, of course, father invited himself over for this conversation because me chatting up people in the village randomly is one thing, and a man coming to visit ME in the estate is quite another. Proprieties and all that. But to wit, I''ve never expected to see a dwarf hovering with nerves. What it''s all about, I wonder? It''s been just two days, after all.


    Oh, and here he brings out the pepper mill. Nice. Guess my hunch paid off, given the steel pattern. Huh, what''s with the reaction? Why father is so excited over it?


    "Yer lordship, yer ladyness." - well, that''s an interesting way to start. Rory swallowed and continued - "Yer lordship, I have to ask. Do you, perchance, have any dwarven manuscripts in your library? For this here is ripple steel and I was plumb certain these secrets perished when the Red Mountain erupted."


    Father shook his head slowly. "Not that I know of." - he replied - "Alyssa, did you find something I have had forgotten about?"


    Welp. Apparently, pattern-welded steels are lost dwarven secret. That I accidentally rediscovered. Thankfully, the bit about reading is not quite a lie. I even remember which... Aha. Here it is. Pulling off a thick volume, I crack it open. "The myths and legends of the ancient era." - I read out to them - "It is a well known work, actually. The legend we want is the story about Throm the dragonslayer... Ah, here. Let me read this excerpt. ''...For no man''s steel was ever strong enough to pierce dragon''s hide. He sat there for three days and four nights as the dwarven forgemaster folded the steel again and again, beating it with the great hammer until the ripple revealed itself out of sun''s shine...''. This, of course, refers to the forging of ripple steel. The folding is mentioned as is. Sun''s shine is obviously heating the steel until it is bright yellow. The bit about using dark and light pieces of iron is just my guess, but given the mill, I presume my hunch paid off, isn''t it so?"


    ...And Rory looks like he just received divine revelation. Father, meanwhile, is grinning again. Profit, profit, here we come. "Lass, yer the greatest scholar I have ever had the honor of talkin'' ta." - smith managed finally, his eyes full of wonder as he looked at the mill again - "The lost secrets..."


    Winking to father to let him know I have a cunning plan, I offer - "I was going to breach the topic later, but... Rory. Would you be willing to spread the word to your compatriots discreetly? We are interested in financing a construction of a new forge hall, provided you can get together enough of your people to work it. I imagine being able to forge ripple steel again will quickly pay off on that investment. I might have other ideas about forging you might explore, if that takes off the ground." And now both of them are staring at me in awed befuddlement.


    Father comes to his senses first. "A capital plan, Alyssa!" - he gushes - "Rory, I will pledge to feed and shelter your people if they are willing to come live at my county and work the new forge hall."


    And now the smith looks like he''s about to go pop with excitement. "Ye have mah hammer, yer lordship!" - he bellows - "I shall spread the word immediately. There are four of my clansmen I know of that live in the city. They will be willing to travel and collect our people once they see the ripple steel for themselves."


    As he proffers hurried farewells and skips out of the door (Is that so much of a big deal? To make a grown dwarf skip like a little girl?), father turns to me. "That, my daughter, was an inspired move." - he offers happily - "I was wondering about gathering more of the dwarves here myself, as we have many lodes of iron in the mountains, but ripple steel? That will have them come running from all four corners of the earth. First a cure for cold, and now this? You seem to have gotten a revelation, Alyssa. Be sure to let me know of any other secrets you might think of. This is pure gold. We just might become ducal house if it is us who brings the ripple steel back into the kingdom."


    I grin at him. "Ah. Funny you mention that... I had some ideas I wanted your input on." - I offer, and his grin grows to match mine. Well, that is going to be interesting.

 Chapter 4. Family Time And Sweet Time

    Time slips away like it''s greased. Admittedly, for the given tech level, I''m actually making pretty good progress. Dwarves are beginning to arrive. There''s nineteen of them now, and they''ve finally produced a list of things they think they will require set up. Apparently, they intend to use a number of puddling furnaces. By contemporary standards, it is a modern method, even. But for my plans this is insufficient. Oh, I will permit them to set... hm. Two furnaces will be sufficient. But for major works, I''m going to introduce them to Vagran furnace. I was considering construction of Marten furnace, but there''s a hundred and one things I need to introduce first. Starting with properly heat-resistant bricks. Complicated.


    Farming is a little easier by comparison. I''ve used the funds father rather gleefully dispensed to my discretion to set up a number of herbal fields. Mint, rosemary, cumin... Unfortunately, I have to limit myself to herbs that can tolerate a cool climate until I have enough of glassworking in place to construct some greenhouses. Apparently, herbs I''m interested in are known and used as mostly decorative specimens, due to alkaloid intensity. This is an interesting data point, by the way. By my rough estimate, plants tend to have about an order of magnitude on alkaloid concentration versus what I''m used to. Consequences of widespread magic use?


    Discussing things with merchants. Requested samples of everything "exotic" they can get their mitts on. Greedy bastards. I''d need to look into establishing our own merchant guild, I think. Some regulation would do wonders for the economics here. Logistics are a horror on a stick. The best (and pretty much ONLY) cargo option over the land is horse-drawn carriages. The effects of this are widespread and less than pleasing. Trade primarily revolves around luxury goods and other things with the high price to volume ratio. Bulk shipments are... well. I shudder to think of possible famine - transporting lots of food across the land would be ruinously expensive, in time, in manpower and in upkeep. If I were to, for example, attempt to send humanitarian aid of grain to the Red Mountain (About seven hundred miles to the southeast, give or take.) a full quarter of the grain would be eaten by the porters in process, and it would take until winter to get there, given that the most economic option for that kind of ferry would be oxen-pulled wagons.


    Provinces all have to be mostly self-sufficient, and that finds ready reflection in politics. Feudalism. King is nominally in charge of a country, but in practice has absolute authority only within royal holdings in and around the capital. Armies are collected by calling a levy out of provinces closest to the intended conflict, stiffened by core teams of private armies that double as police in peacetime. The big trump king has over the rest of feudals is the knight order, which is the only organization of career military men. Knights are third and fourth sons, illegitimate bastards and otherwise relatives of lords that don''t stand much of a chance to inherit land. I''d expect there to be several dynasties of knights, but apparently king''s policy is to award some kind of land to any firstborn serving as a knight as a retirement gift. That is, if one of the high lords didn''t make an offer before that. Unstable job market in that regard, apparently losing your land is as easy as being absent from it for longer than three months. Or being caught committing treason. Or being conquered in the border skirmish. The last one is amusing - the kingdom will usually conduct an operation to retake the lands, but they won''t be returned to the conquered landlord. Instead, land that had to be reconquered by the kingdom is reverted to king''s "fund" of retirement parcels. The border between Kraut and Champagne is fairly static, but the borders with southern Oija Sultanate change practically daily.


    Back to our muttons. I''ve hired several young girls to produce cold medicine. Well, mixing it. I do the final enchantment, they were... skeptical about my insistence they should be able to learn to do so quickly. Still, they do the exercises I''ve prescribed to them daily, and show some improvement. Insofar, about one tenth of medicine is enchanted by their collective efforts. I''m experimenting with the mix, while at it. Packaging it into wooden cups with stoppers is fine for short-range distribution, but not particularly convenient for travels or selling the stuff further than next provinces. There are sizable corn fields in the farmland just a little way out of the city, experimenting with corn starch to maybe fashion the mix into some sort of candy drops. Need to figure out something about wrappers. Honey is not a problem, thankfully, but that is simply my luck that the province I was born into has a long tradition of apiary production. Northern honey is apparently praised for it''s aroma and sweetness.


    Messing with roses. Rose oil would be a big seller, it has lots of cosmetic and culinary uses, but I''m not sure roses available are suitable. I''ve been able to extract rosewater, but reducing it to essential oils is problematic. Mother loves it, had been adding it to her tea every time she has a cup. Mixed the oils with rectified grain alcohol, made primitive perfume. Got hugs for it. Father sampled rectified alcohol, went coughing and called it a "challenge to all men". Had to take off two days and commission Rory to construct a proper still. Hired two boys to work it. Two barrels so far, racking up quickly. Grain vodka is cheap, apparently it''s THE hard liquor available. Ouzo is simply that plus a handful of anise seeds into a barrel and a couple months of waiting. Primitive.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Introduced rectified alcohol cut with honey, called it "knight mead". Got the whole tavern pig-squealingly drunk by accident. More hires, tavern now offers knight mead as a standard beverage. Dwarves challenge each other to down a mug of unflavored rectified alcohol. Two went down with mild alcohol poisoning, practiced healing magic. Getting injured visitors now. Annoying. Complicated. Have reputation, overheard girls in the village gossiping about "Miracle Lady". Damn. This... is not to plan. People, what the hell. Society can not be this static, why does every single thing come across as divine revelation? If I keep up at it, I''m going to attract royal attention. Father''s talking about presenting the king with ripple steel. Not yet. Maybe end of summer, I have to depart for Magic Academy anyways. Might as well. Hasslesome. Busy, very busy. A hundred and one things to do to do a hundred and two things to get a hundred and three things I want. NO COFFEE! Hear rumors about cava bean, apparently costs it''s weight in gold to import from Sultanate. Literally, they weigh beans against coins. Ordered some purchased anyway, but not sure how soon I will have it. Best case, end of summer just before I depart for Academy. Fuck.


    ___


    If I were not an eldritch abomination, I would have a migraine right now. Calculating the investments I''d need to make to get some fucking coffee. Not feasible to buy it at gold''s weight constantly. Wonder if I can produce something Sultanate would want to buy badly enough to consent exchanging cava for it. Setting a quill into an inkwell, I sign and rub my forehead. So tiresome.


    "Ah, Alyssa, here you are." - mother has impeccable timing. I could use a distraction. "Come, leave the dusty parchments for a while." - she admonishes, nudging my side. Sighing, I follow her outside to the gazebo. Yep, we have a gazebo. One of the things I did not have to invent, thankfully. It''s already set for tea.


    "You really should slow down, dear. At this rate, I fear you''ll enter Academy blind from all the writing and faint from all the work you do." - Elene continues, her face worried - "No need to work yourself to the bone like that. Gods witness you have already done more for our domain then some lords do in their whole life for theirs. Cures, spirits, steel, all those herbs... Gerard had to order a new chest yesterday, even."


    I''m a bit taken back. A chest? What''s THAT about? So I do the obvious thing and ask - "Chest? What for?"


    Mother giggles. "For coin, Alyssa! With all those things going on you''ve been bringing so much profit it won''t fit in his usual chest. Goodness, at your age you should be spending, not earning." - she proffers - "Slow down a little, give Gerard some time to get used to things. At this rate, the things we sell across the kingdom will double before long." She pauses and then inquires - "Actually, I have to ask something. Why were you so interested in those beets lately? Herbs, I understand, but what good a beet is? They''re too hard to eat, unless you''re a horse."


    Ah. Well, that''s one of the things that went right. We do have plenty of sugar beet. The thing is, it is used as food for livestock and not much else. Sugar is not a thing that this kingdom knows. Yet. The best we get is sugarcane that is imported through Kraut kingdom from far south. Maybe Sultanate also has some, but they don''t seem to offer that for sale here. "Ah, that." - I offer, standing up - "Let me show you... Oh, have someone fetch buns and butter from the kitchen, alright?"


    Leaving intrigued Elene behind, I quickly enter my laboratory/workshop/spare room and pick up a cask of crystal sugar. Refining that took a while, but I''m happy with the results. As I come back, the buns and the butter are already there. And all three younger maids are hovering nearby goosenecking. I may have had taken to use them as go-to taste-testers lately. Thankfully, they don''t mind. Actually, all of them are acutely interested in things I make. I suppose sweets of any sort are a rarity. For now.


    With a thump, I set the cask down on the table and pop the lid. "This is sugar. Zuker, if you want to use Kraut term. The part that makes zukerrohr sweet without the rest of plant." - I offer an explanation, grinning as I see four jaws fall slack as one - "Yep, it can be extracted from the white beets." Casting a gimlet eye on the maids, I continue - "I''ll keep the details of extraction a secret for now. Kindly don''t go spreading this around, girls." All of the maids nod spastically, their eyes practically glued to the cask. Taking a bun, I slice it into quarters, slather some butter on top and generously sprinkle them with sugar, passing the plate around then. Mother first, obviously.


    ...Yeah, well, OK. Moaning is amusing but probably overacting. Seriously. This is just sugar, not powdered orgasm. Have some decorum.


    "Let me guess." - Elene inquires, her tone half-wonderous and half-wry - "This is actually very cheap to make, but we''ll be able to charge good gold for it simply because no one else knows you can get zukerrohr from beats."


    "Just zuker, mom. Rohr part only grows in the far south, I can''t make it here. Not without some seriously expensive measures, at least. But then again, sugar is the valuable part of both. Take that away, and remainder is really only good for feeding horses." - I offer in return - "Yes, yes, you can try pure sugar, if you want to, but no more than a teaspoon at once. Eating too much will just overwhelm your tastes." Four spoons sink into the cask before I even finish talking.

 Chapter 5. Dwarves, Meet Rocksaw. Hey What Do You Mean, Sent By Divines?!

    It''s been almost a month. We have sixty-seven dwarves now, in total. Of course, only forty of them are work-capable men, the rest are mostly women, four children and one venerable elder making up the difference. Venerable elder is... interesting. This is what happens to dwarves once they cross out second century. Most live for, at best, a hundred and forty, so venerable elders are something like centenarians for humans. On the other hand, apparently dwarves are not out of puberty until thirty, so... This also explains the occasional bawdy rumor about them partying hard. Admittedly, they were busy the whole month. Two furnaces are ready. They''re using some of the local stone for construction, which is passable for puddling smelting. Barely. Apparently, the selection process involves roasting the stones in a pit kiln to filter out weaker boulders and leave only those that can take a full day of coal-fired heat and not crack.


    The construction of actual hall is problematic. Timber is available, that''s not a problem, but the vast majority of building has to be masonry for fire safety reasons, and all they have for quarrying is rockpicks and ropes and iron dowels to roll the quarried slabs on. I''ve put a hold on that until they produce the first batch of iron. I have an idea, but that is contingent on them being able to produce a wire. The slag from the smelting is thankfully nickel and corundum slag, just what I need for some abrasives.


    Had a bit of a snag lately, apparently wanting a large amount of bones is an alarming sign. I''ve actually had to resort to inviting a priest to oversee the whole glue-boiling process in order to assuage the worries of populace. I wish I could make do with the starch-derived adhesive, but it''s just not strong enough to withstand the friction, and gummiarabic is not really an option in this climate.


    So far, I had to resort to hand-crafting the sample equipment. My goal? A rocksaw. Wire dipped in adhesive and then into powdered nickel-corundum slag, a loop of it running over two pulleys, a handcrank attached to one of them via gear multiplicator and a barrel of water to pour into the cut to cool and wash out the rock dust. This sample is not big, it should be able to handle cuts about two meters long, no more. Still, right now I''m demonstrating the thing. Four of the dwarves are taking turns cranking the pulleys, two more are handling the water pouring, and four more are slowly pushing the slab of rock against the whirling wiresaw. Given their expressions... this is gonna go well. The whole thing is overseen by me, father and Geoff - the aforementioned venerable elder, who is apparently an authority on quarrying among dwarves. He watches the wire biting into the rock, his eyebrows slowly raising.


    "Faster than I thought." - he mutters. It had taken dwarves about ten minutes to cut through the rock slab about... a meter thick. Wire is going to be useless after that, it will need another dip into glue and abrasive. Thankfully, I have prepared ten loops, so they can test the thing properly. If this pans out, we''re going to have to hire more people to operate the glue-boiling setup on a consistent basis.


    The castoff rock clatters to the ground as the saw grinds through the last of rock, and the dwarves all slacken off and shake their hands. Intense work, I get it. Still... Geoff approaches and runs his fingers over the smooth surface. I can see tremors in his hand. He''s seriously old, I should probably see about getting some kind of portable chair for him if he is going to oversee the quarrying each day.


    "A fine cut." - he mutters - "Very fine." At his gesture, one of the younger dwarves fetches him a hammer with a round nose. And he smacks the round nose against the edge of the slab. Well, damn. Old he might be, but that didn''t hamper his swing much. A flake of stone breaks off, the hammer leaving a notable indent. He frowns. Hammers again. And again. It takes him six strikes to force a notable chunk to crack out of the side, and he gives the hammer back with a sigh. Insufficient durability, maybe? I''m not sure how to improve on that other than getting more people to prospect for harder rock variety.


    "Yer lordship." - he rasps loudly - "How much glue can we get within a week?" Gerard has a far-off expression as he thinks back to the glue... "Half a barrel might be feasible." - he finally offers cautiously. Geoff nods. "Kin! Everyone who can hold the pickaxe is to quarry! Cut slabs as big as we can shift!" Nevermind, apparently he deems slabs sufficient. And then he turns to me - "Iffen not ye do more than this, I would have called ye the chosen of Argul. But as ye are, all of the gods must have pitched in." Argul, huh? Isn''t that the primary deity dwarves worship? The god of crafts and forge?


    "That''s flattering, venerable elder." - I offer to him neutrally - "You seem to approve of cut stone as construction material. Any guesses how quickly the hall can be erected?" I have, in other news, introduced primitive cranes to aid with the foundation excavation.


    Geoff chews his lips as he considers the answer. "Ah''s say four to six months, blessed by Argul as we are." - he finally offers. So... winter. That''s actually not so bad. I was worried it would take more, but thankfully they saw the wisdom of creating the industry quarter in the vicinity of the quarry.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    "Very well." - father concludes - "This will be a beginning of a profitable endeavor, venerable elder. I pledge to support your kin with food and fabric and spirits so that you could concentrate your efforts on the construction. Forge hall is important, but as a favor to me and Alyssa, I ask that you concentrate your efforts on raising the living quarters first." And this is important. So far, the newcomers are mostly living out of tents. This is suitable for summer, but they would face heavy attrition in winter colds. Everyone present is well cognizant of the fact that focusing on constructing dwellings first will push back the beginning of large scale steel production by at least two months - and also serves as very solid proof that we intend to keep and expand dwarven populace. Eventually, as my plans are laid out, dwarves would have their own town here. One that would be the heart of my industrial empire. Muahahahaha, oh I love it when a plan comes together.


    ___


    Middle of summer. Since dwarves are having matters well at hand, I''m focusing my attention elsewhere. Taking my time to experiment with local magic more fully. And, on a more secretive note, a time to experiment with my own innate abilities as a shoggoth. I have to say, having an instinctual feel for production is probably the greatest efficiency multiplicator I have currently. I''d be hardpressed to explain how, but I do have an innate sense of how to adjust production in the most efficient manner. This drastically cuts down the time I have to spend experimenting with innovations, mostly because I tend to get them just right on, at most, a third attempt. Speaking of which. I have commissioned a number of millstones from dwarves. A waterwheel driven mill is being constructed on my orders. Apparently, the custom is for every single household to just purchase grain and mill it in small quantities. Well, I say mill, but many households don''t even have mills, those are... WERE too complicated to create with just a hammer and chisel for stonecutting. The strange idiosyncrasies of this world are getting to me. Apparently, pretty much everyone subconsciously reinforces themselves with magic to make up for the primitivism of tools and techniques. Which is not something people are conscious of. Ridiculous.


    I already have a two-person mill that can be also operated by having a horse draw the crank instead. Emplacing it in the town square next to the bazaar was, perhaps, a bit of a mistake, because people are cranking it day and night. Literally. Father had to assign guards to the whole thing to prevent brawls for the right to use it. And then had to hire a person charged exclusively with preparing torches solely so that the mill could be cranked at night. Apparently, merchants had very quickly caught up on the fact that flour keeps just as well as grain, but takes much less space. As such, from sunrise to sunset, the mill is opened to the city dwellers. At night, merchants have their hirelings grind their grain supplies into flour. Hopefully, the waterwheel mill will alleviate the bottleneck enough to make people stop the nighttime grinding, at least.


    I... fucked up. There''s just no way to hush the rumors now, all I can really do is to embrace the "Miracle Lady" moniker and run with it as far as I can go. To aid in this, I''m researching the effects of spell placebo. I have a book created out of layered linen, each layer embroidered with a different assortment of flowers. It''s all but useless to ME, since I don''t need flowers to do magic, but to people who believe flowers are an integral part of it, the thing is yet another "divine revelation". Mainly because simply by having the thing and opening the "page" with the requisite flower image permits one to have unparalleled flexibility with spells. It''s awkward, clumsy and generally unsuitable for specialized work, but apparently is considered a superb teaching aid for getting kids used to magic. Of course, since the prevailing opinion is that facsimile is much weaker focus, coupled with widespread belief commoners are weaker in magic leads to most of what can be learned out of such book be essentially cantrips...


    But I digress. I''ve introduced a concept of "professional bracers" - a set of arm-sleeves embroidered with a selection of flowers thought to be best for the elected profession. First five sets were made by me personally and had reeds and ivy on them - which are the flowers commonly believed to be most aligned with "womanly crafts". Namely, embroidery. Hiring all available old maids to churn out all sorts of professional bracers was an inspired solution, if I do say so myself. The demand is through the roof, and that is in spite of the fact I have no less than a hundred and seventy women across the hold doing nothing but embroidering the things from sunrise to sunset. I had thought people would scoff at "fakes", but apparently someone figured out really early that you can simply tuck your preferred flower into an armband and have both the full expected range of professional magic AND the flexibility of invoking secondary flowers for ancillary needs as needs demand. At this point people nearly mobbed my five initial embroiderers and I had to scramble to hire more. I made a point of employing old maids, elderly and injured women, as this is something that can be handled by practically everyone. (Embroidery is considered one of the core things a woman can do to pass the time, and every single female from lowest pissant to crownprincess herself is taught the basics of it.) No reason to deplete the farming workforce if I can utilize the people normally perceived as not work-suitable. The fact all of them enjoy a better quality of life as a tradeoff is appreciated.


    A wagon trundles by as I stroll down the street. It''s full to the brim with millstones. Apparently, every town wants a horse-driven one at least. As soon as the waterwheel proves itself, I am going to construct a windmill and go through upgrading horse-driven ones to windmills. I have better ideas for horse usage, but for now, it will do.

 Chapter 6. Tar Pit And Tar Road (If The Dwarves Won`t Eat It First)

    We have a tarpit. TAR. PIT. Pretty much pure asphalt pitch. It looks like a series of interconnected caves all very slowly flooded from beneath by pitch, forming several "puddles" on the surface. Locals don''t see any use in the "tar pits" and avoid the whole area. Obviously, no one bothered to tell me that there is such an area, not until I realized people avoided going in that direction and started asking questions. At my direction, ten men with pickaxes and shovels break off pitch chunks and collect them into baskets. They seem to think this is "lady''s wild fancy", but the combo of me paying good money for work and having a reputation for squeezing gold out of garbage keeps them from muttering.


    Dwarves are way more curious about it. Granted, I just asked them to prepare a couple tons worth of pebbles, heavy steel rollers and a huge steel pot. Of course they want to know what it''s all about. Father had people clear out and grade the road to the quarry and future dwarven settlement already, but so far it''s just a gravel bed, not really any better than regular road.


    ...OOkay, note to myself - be cautious with dwarven cuisine. Apparently, the smell of melting asphalt is reminiscent of some kind of dwarven delicacy. Weird. I heard about tar being used as medicine before, but as food? Huh. Anyways, explanations. Given the lack of proper mixing machines just yet, we''re doing the layered tarmac. Drizzle asphalt, lay a layer of pebbles, drizzle more asphalt. Repeat five times, then roll the thing down with rollers. Father promised some kind of "workforce to work to the bone" for further effort, dwarves are just going to detail two men for overseeing the process. The rest are busy quarrying and cutting stone. They''re REALLY going at it, there are four rocksaws being in use simultaneously now, and they expanded the size of the slab. Apparently, Geoff did the numbers and decided that a slab of toise by demitoise by pied is the optimal building block, with halves and quarters and eights available for detail work. That translates to roughly two by one by one third meters dimensions. Hefty.


    ...And, apparently, some of the father''s subordinate lords are inquiring about getting some of those goodies. Who''d have thought simple rock slabs are such a sensation? Pitched the idea to dwarves about downsized rocksaw. Basically, pedal-driven jobbie for producing rock slats and such, more of an attachment to worktable than a workplace in itself. Apparently, they tried already and the wire loop turned out to be too finicky for such a small setup. Hinting them to simply make an iron wheel and treat the edge the same way as wire may have been... a bit of a revelation. Because now we''re also SELLING rock adjustment workplaces. Which is basically a sturdy table with a pedal and gear setup built into the support. Because, apparently, this primitive tool is still head and shoulders over any other option they have. Said options being pickaxe and lot of luck, hammer&chisel and lot of effort or sand, rags, and inhumane amounts of patience. The rock-cutting disks being classed as county secret AND dwarven craft secret. And dwarves are, for all intents and purposes, persuaded I AM the salvation of their people that had been prophesied by Argyl''s head priest on deathbed right after the Red Mountain erupted. He claimed, quote - "Seven dark years will be endured by sons of Dorn, and much will be lost. Our salvation comes from the land of long nights and long snow. The secrets will be revealed, the kin will be gathered and the city will be built. A city that will eclipse the sky and straddle the earth, a city where rivers of metal will run on the shores of clay."


    Shit. Fuck. Shit. FUUUCKING SHIT! This realm has goddamn destiny. I already had an inkling of this due to whole prophetic dream thing with mother, but this? A prophecy that straight up lines with my plans and generally does not call for anything I wouldn''t have done?... I need to look into things more. What other prophecies I might fulfill? Clues about future? Gimme. Pound of salt already included, of course, self-fulfillment is always a danger with prophecies.


    Anyway, asphalt road. It will take a week for the workforce (Convicts, as it turns out. A group of bandits have been captured on the highway to the capital by our guardsmen recently. Leaders were hanged, the rest were pressed into indentured service to the county for ten years. Which, ironically enough, some of them confessed to be better terms than what they had in the gang.) to extend the road all the way from dwarven settlement to the current town. Two more weeks to pave main streets and extend spurs towards the estate, tannery and tarpit. Rory had, with father''s permission, the whole blacksmith moved to the settlement, leaving behind only a small shop where locals can go to have their horses shoed or knives sharpened. Dwarves apparently now take turns manning the store, because Rory is too busy running the smelting team to do it personally. They, uh... were more than a little surprised by my suggestion to let their women handle this. They were much more surprised when it worked out. Apparently, they never made the connection between "taught the basics of craft traditionally" and "might actually fill in for apprentice-level jobs".


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Girls are also grateful, more job opportunities for them means less time to get stir-crazy. Which, apparently, is an issue among dwarves which they call "uterus madness" and believe the cure is to "do spousal duties more vigorously". I''m... Going to VERY slowly soft-pedal this on the "there''s so little of you and so much to do" grounds to try and get girls as many jobs they "have been doing" as possible. Because I''m just not confident I could expressly forbid this kind of chauvinism without alienating the dwarves in process, "divinely inspired" or not. They''re notoriously prickly about people looking into "households". I''m hoping that by the time they hit enough of populace to invalidate the excuse, women doing customer service roles would be the new tradition. Because fuck that chauvinist shit with rusty pitchfork. Really.


    Speaking of horrible racial traditions. Elves. They exist. Somewhere deep in the forests. No actual dialogue with them, they avoid showing up in cities and generally don''t permit people to enter their holdings either. And by not permit, I mean "get sniped in the eye with an arrow" kind of not permit. I''m not actually sure what their deal is, info on them is scarce and disjointed. Most sources agree however that they are arrogant and hold the other thinking races as barbarians beneath their level. Not sure how much truth is in the statement, but they certainly believe in it. Even though the more I learn about them, the more I come to believe they''re belligerently hidebound luddites. Or at least their leadership is. I''ll withhold passing judgment on individuals until I get to talk to them at least.


    ___


    One month till academy. Rory, Geoff, and a bunch of other dwarves just left. Father is poking around through the things they brought in. Several assorted swords and daggers in ripple steel, a bunch of smaller things in silver and gold, like hairpins, lapel pins, cufflinks and other assorted sundries. A pepper mill much like my own, in very finely folded ripple steel. This one is at my suggestion, I''m going to fill it up with herbal mix. Should be nice to crank a time or two into steeping pot. Why is tea so prevalent? Question for later, neither books nor father nor mother could tell me much more than "that''s how it always was".


    "Well then. This should round out our presents very nicely." - he proffers happily, closing the chest - "You should finish up any outstanding business within the week, Alessa, we can not afford to tarry longer than that if we are to reach the capital before the autumn starts."


    Annoying, but I counted on this - "I should be ready to depart in two days, actually. Started wrapping things up as soon as Rory showed off the sword. Leaving a number of long-termed experiments to run through, but I have had discussed them extensively with mother and left her detailed notes on what is supposed to happen, what might happen and what is to be done. She''s been very interested in the perfume line, and I think she might want to take over that research entirely."


    Gerard sniffs curiously - "Is that the new scent, actually?"


    I had to nod - "Lilac, yes. Mother''s idea, she took the notes on roses and experimented on... I think a dozen flowers already."


    He snorts - "I''m already getting inquiries from pretty much everywhere in the kingdom about this. Your mother had a truly outrageous idea, you know? Send a gold coin with pigeon and a note on your preferred flower, get back a finger-vial of that perfume. I, uh... Let''s just say we''re getting a new pigeon coop built to handle the volume."


    Good job, mom. Mail-order perfume at this age? I couldn''t think of better way to make absolutely everyone want to cozy up to us even if I tried. Everyone knows that happy wife equals happy life and all that. And the wives are all over the ''eau fleurie du nord''. Which, while we''re at it, is a very curious datapoint, because apparently French-like language is considered "old tongue" while English-like speech I''m using currently is "new tongue". Apparently, the kingdom of Champagne had been conquered by Albic Dominion, who had consequently abandoned Albic Dominion in favor of calling themselves kingdom of Champagne. Which, is seriously weird, because apparently this world had alt-England apparently outright conquer alt-France only to turn around and adopt the name and a huge deal of tradition. And apparently alt-England was actually alt-Vikings who ended up dissolving their small but fierce community in a much larger pool of alt-Europe. Trippy alt-history.

 Chapter 7. The Trip And It`s Little Adventures (Also, The Scary List)

    Well, that was.... hasslesome. I didn''t expect mom to actually start crying over me going to Academy. I mean, it''s been known for years, why... No, nevermind. Moms gotta mom, that''s the law of nature. Better just appreciate it for what it''s worth. Father has to be in the capital to actually present all the new stuff to the king, get things recorded and licensed, settle new taxes, and while at it, maybe advertise the new and fancy things we''re putting on the market. Oh, and if some of our neighboring lords are in the capital, maybe do some preliminary negotiations about expanding tar roads into their provinces. I will always think of the roads as asphalt, but for some reason that word didn''t occur here, so people just call them earth tar roads or just tar roads. I mentioned tarmac, but couldn''t properly explain what mac should mean and it didn''t take off. Bother. My latest attempt was to simply call the roads blacktop, which did gain some traction, but tar road still remains the most popular.


    Amusingly enough, we WERE visited by viscount DeGaulle (Seriously? Why so many familiar names pop up in unusual places.) who raved about the apparent quality of tar road, made inquiries if we were amenable to loaning him the expertise (We were, though he was notably flabbergasted on seeing how the process worked. According to him it is "so simple, yet so beyond convention".) and lamented I wasn''t free to betroth to one of his sons. I''m not sure if he was jesting or not on the last one, but I am glad the betrothal with prince Ed is a thing right now. Otherwise, things would get hinky real quick.


    Anyway, sitting in the carriage now. I had the foresight to pack portable table and writing materials, though apparently I''m somewhat bothering dad with my workbee tendencies. He had, by the looks of it, expected to lounge around. "What are you writing, Alyssa?" - he quips, apparently as comfortable as he can bring himself to be - "Also, I want one of those tables too. Writing in the carriage, why, merchants would turn their purses inside out for that kind of convenience."


    "I''m summing up what I have achieved so far, so I could plan ahead. And writing down what I want to achieve but haven''t been able to, so far." - I offer to him, corking the ink bottle securely, and wiping the quill tip. I really need to invent a biro. "Do you want to hear the list?"


    He hums - "Actually, yes, it does sound like something I should hear. And we have plenty of time for that right now."


    So I read out the list to him. It is as follows...


    1) Metallurgy.


    a) Dwarves - obtained, in process. Ensure they repopulate, collect as many stray refugees as possible. Community should be enough draw by itself, good living conditions and your own kin should sound like a safe harbor. And the only harbor, given everyone else seems to be less than inclined to let dwarves band together.


    b) Forge Hall - in progress.


    c) Quarry - Rocksaw V1 introduced. Allow for development of proper wire-drawing machinery before going for V2.


    d) Mechanization - minimal, so far. Crank-driven bellows introduced. Points of interest to introduce - Vagran furnace, steel converter, better alloys. Explore availability of other metals and minerals. Steam later.


    e) ???


    f) Profit!


    2) Glassworks.


    a) Sand! No good sources! Stalled! Looking for places that could be tapped for that.


    b) Bottles. Easy enough to import, but not sufficient for latter stage plans.


    3) Agriculture.


    a) Herbs. In progress. Seeking variety, attempting combinations and extractions.


    b) Flowers. Perfume line relegated to mother''s care.


    c) Crops. In project - improve on selection practices, procure more divergent samples. To develop: Cold-resistant, fast-ripening, recuperative with acceptable yield, winter crops.


    d) Tubers! Source more variety. Kartoffel is promising.


    e) Mushroom farms?


    f) Mechanization.


    g) Cotton?


    h) Hothouses?


    i) Cava. MUST HAVE.


    4) Magic.


    a) Artificial flowers - in progress. Craft sleeves entered mass production. Consider accessories with floral motif to aid with the most commonly used magics. Rings, bracelets, cufflinks, pins.


    b) Spell research. Scope capital merchants for rare tome availability.


    c) Alchemy - investigate in-depth, source rare ingredients for further experimentation. Estate library exhausted.


    d) Enchantments - the country is not swimming in magic trinkets. Why? Investigate possible means of mass-producing magic trinkets and foci.


    e) Natural law interjection - in progress. Do not overdo!


    5) Logistics.


    a) Roads - in progress. Mineral tar fused crumbled rock surfaces success, layering method slow but reliable. Develop mixing machines to speed up the process once better forging options become available.


    b) River transport - in progress. Barely. Need to investigate available boat structures and use feasibility.


    c) Sea trade - on hold until suitable port facilities are available.


    d) Better carriages - introduce shock springs. Done on a personal basis, large scale integration pending.


    He chuckles as I get to springs and thumps his fist on the bench. "That alone made this journey twice as tolerable." - he offers - "You can actually relax in the carriage now." The list is still far from over and I am about to continue, when an arrow enters into the open window and sticks into the upholstery. It is obvious that the carriage is being stopped, given the displeased neighing of horses and panicked shouts of the stagecoach. The hell? Who is so stupid as to attack a carriage with a clearly displayed lord of the land emblem?


    It''s obvious father is not keen on me stepping out along with him, but he is cognizant of the fact staying in the carriage won''t gain me anything. As he opens his mouth to demand explanations... I step in front of him, lifting my hand to cover his face. Another arrow enters my palm, goes through and halts half-way through. This is NOT robbery, this is murder disguised as robbery, and that realization fills me with towering rage the likes of which I haven''t felt since the transmigration. Snorting, I STOMP on the ground, channeling magic through the soil. The archer across the road barely has time to round his eyes in surprise before the tip of rapidly hardening rock spike rams into his crotch. He lets out a gurgling yelp of pain, as the stone pole abruptly passes through his abdominal cavity, shredding intestines and stomach on it''s way in, rips the heart in halves and emerges out of his esophagus only to sink into the roof of his mouth and burst out of the top of the skull.


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    I don''t let the other attacker time to do more than gape, as I pass by him, exhaling an incandescent cloud of metal dust into his face. He clutches his face and crumbles to the floor, howling as superheated metal dust cooks his eyes and most of facial muscle. He pulls his hand away and most of his nose comes off with it, drips of liquid copper sliding down his sleeve, searing its way downwards. Dead in fifteen, give or take a minute, a faceful of metal dust at two thousand kelvin wrecked his lungs for good.


    The third one in front of me is notably smarter than his fellows. He throws away the knife he had in his hand and drops on his knees as soon as I turn my eyes in his direction, hands raised above his head as he bows submissively. Four other fellows are frozen in indecision. Me leaving the surrendering guy unmolested in favor of taking another step towards them tilts the scales and they throw their weapons down, kneeling as quickly as they can without harming themselves. I''m still homicidally angry, but not enough to go with summary executions. Just yet.


    "I am Alyssa Gillespie, and this is my father, count Gerard Gillespie." - strange, but the would-be assassins pale further as they hear that.


    "<dfn title="Mercy, madam! We were lied to! We never wanted to attack our lord!">Mis¨¦ricorde, madame! On nous a menti! Nous n''avons jamais voulu attaquer notre seigneur!</dfn>" - hm. What are they saying? A case of mistaken identity? I do understand ¡®misericorde¡¯, at least. Goodness, the old tongue from the sticks and the old tongue from the palace might as well be two different languages by now.


    Thankfully, dad is more on the ball with diplomacy than I am. "<dfn title="I accept your surrender. Who hired you?">J''accepte votre reddition. Qui vous a engag¨¦?</dfn>" - he proffers, towering over the cowering men.


    "<dfn title="We do not know. Our boss negotiated this job and my lady, you just burned his face. I can tell you that he spoke with someone from the Kraut Kingdom but that''s all we know. Our leader never allowed us to approach when negotiating the job.">Nous ne savons pas. Notre chef a n¨¦goci¨¦ ce travail et ma dame, vous venez de lui br?ler le visage. Je peux vous dire qu''il a parl¨¦ avec quelqu''un du royaume de Kraut mais c''est tout ce que nous savons. Notre chef ne nous a jamais permis de nous rapprocher lorsqu''il a n¨¦goci¨¦ le travail.</dfn>" - the man volunteers. Krauts, huh? Klaus. Has to be. Bastard keeps sticking his oar everywhere. Gonna sit on this, though. Thankfully, I have already arranged for Bridgit to follow me with the rest of my luggage from home later. As my personal maid, on the surface. Well, she will actually do the job fine, but that''s not the only reason I want her along.


    It takes a little while for me and father to decide what to do with the men in question. He borrows my table and quickly jots down a note, while I wreck my brain for what little bits of french I still remember.


    "<dfn title="You, robbers, will go to our county land and beg to be handed over to the captain of the guards. My father''s letter will let them know your crime and your punishment. Don''t arrive on time and in order, and the magic will happen.">Vous, les brigands, irez sur notre terre de comt¨¦ et prierez d''¨ºtre remis au capitaine des gardiens. La lettre de mon p¨¨re leur fera conna?tre votre crime et votre punition. N''arrivez pas ¨¤ temps et dans l''ordre, et la magie sera mise en action.</dfn>" - I tell them slowly, cherry-picking my mental vocabulary on the proper words. They seem to notice how I struggle to speak french, but are still more than a little fearful. In order to reinforce this, I stick my finger in the direction of a particularly dense bush and reiterate "<dfn title="The magic will happen.">La magie entre en action.</dfn>", simultaneously channeling a burst of heat into the bush. As it bursts into flames, a figure of man rises from the bush, shrieking as he tries to run away. He is dressed much like brigands, and probably was associated with them, given that he neglected to surrender or offer help in this altercation. Unfortunately for him, I have used the version that spikes temperature up to six thousand kelvins for about twenty microseconds, more than enough for anything flammable to ignite. His clothes certainly qualify, but even worse for him, so does subdermal fat, which flash-liquifies and soaks into his clothes, turning them into a giant wick, and he goes up like a man-shaped candle, still howling as his movements slow down and taper off along with the sound. Two minutes later, we have a roasting corpse and two of the five surrendering brigands had lost control of their bladders. The remaining three are not in much better shape.


    "<dfn title="Four days. If you''re not on the chain gang by the fourth day sunset, ignition. Run.">Quatre jours. Si vous n''¨ºtes pas sur le gang des cha?nes au coucher du soleil du quatri¨¨me jour, allumez. Courir.</dfn>" - I offer to them, as father tosses finished note to the one who surrendered first. He grasps it with both hands, holding it like it''s his firstborn and crawls backwards on his knees, not daring to face away. I stop paying attention to them. That arrow in my hand... Thankfully, I had the foresight to imitate bleeding when it went in. Now, I snap off the shaft of the arrow, toss away the feathering, then finish pulling the remains of the shaft through the wound. A moment''s concentration with healing spell closes the wound off entirely, much to the relief of father and further terror of brigands, who by now have had crawled a significant distance away. Casting a disinterested glance towards them, I quip - "<dfn title="I believe I said run.">Je crois que j''ai dit courir.</dfn>" Oh. Wow. I was not aware it''s actually possible to kick off a dust cloud by running away until now.


    "How did you know there was a spy in the bush?" - dad asks in a low voice, as the driver calms the horses and repositions the carriage on the road properly.


    "I didn''t." - I give him a truthful answer - "I just looked for densest bush to set on fire to scare them. The fact that the spy was hiding under it was just lucky coincidence."


    He snorts. "Well, they are definitely scared, I''ll give you that. Terrified to the depths of their souls." - he comments, growing serious - "And honestly, I''m a little scared too. How did you end up learning battle magic?"


    "I didn''t? I mean, all of those are various spells I cribbed from dwarves. Metalworking, stoneworking..." - and I''m not selling it, given his expression. OK, explaining more in depths - "First spell? Simple shaping and hardening, it was meant to strengthen the earthwork ditches initially. I just overpowered it and made it push more and more hardened soil upwards in a spike instead of flattening the effect over the ground. Second is just me conjuring some copper dust, and sending it flying with a mix of fire and air. Third is straight up fire magic, drastically overpowered fire-starting spell. You used that one last night to light up the torch, actually."


    He blinks. Thinks about it. Opens mouth. Closes mouth. Raises finger. Opens mouth again. Closes it again. Sighs. Coughs. "...Very well." - he finally manages - "I''d ask how you focused, but I''ve seen you running experiments with your embroideries before." I smirk at him and brush off the hems of my embroidered sleeves surreptitiously. He subconsciously tugs on his own, less extensive but still quite present embroidery. It''s been a hard sell initially to persuade my family not to bother with fresh flowers for every single thing, but they did see the value of facsimiles for day-to-day application. Eventually. After I disseminated "work sleeves" to all of the house servants and made it a point to teach all of them utility spells that come in handy for their jobs.


    He looks at me with a sober expression. "Alyssa." - he begins, groans, then forges on - "I really don''t want to ask you to curb your enthusiasm for magic, but please be careful about what you show to people outside our family. Anyone not familiar with you would come away from this scene fully certain you must be an experienced war witch. Try not to do that in the capital, alright? I know you''re capable of subtleties and I''m certain there won''t be an immediate danger like this one. Not in public, at least. And not without at least pretending you need fresh flowers for that. Because channeling enough fire to burn a man to death through an embroidered flower is simply preposterous. You are very likely the strongest magician in the world by far."


    Oh dear. If only you knew... "I''ll hold you to that." - I retort with a smirk. If what I remember and suspect is correct, there is at least one confrontation on the level above that in the works, because I''m going to roast Klaus over a slow fire and eat his liver with fava beans and chianti. (Note to self - try to find chianti and fava beans to truly recreate this scene.)

 Chapter 8. Capital And Long-Awaited Coffee (Also, I Accidentally Maid)

    We have arrived to the capital without any further ado. The manor our family owns in the capital is rather modest compared to some of the lords who tend to live in the capital and steer their domains via messengers and pigeon mail, but has an extensive garden to make up for it. Which suits me just fine, because I''m not really planning on throwing any balls or otherwise host social gatherings. In fact, I wouldn''t even be living in the manor save for unexpected situations - Academy attendants are expected to live in the dorms. Exceptions could be made, of course, but... let''s hold off asking for exceptions until I verify things and decide if it''s worth the effort to begin with.


    But until I am formally entering Academy, this manor will serve as my domicile. On a side note, we have had arrived two whole weeks ahead of the projected time. Which, according to the father, is because of the carriage being fitted with shocks. Which is ridiculous. Engine, I could understand, but SHOCKS? Father claims that without shocks, no one could sustain more than four hours of riding before needing to disembark and walk for a while or settle down for a rest stop. Because getting butthurt is a very real danger while traveling in this world. There, I thought it. For crying out loud, world, WHY ARE YOU SO RIDICULOUS!? Are you buttering me up for inevitable bouts of stupidly angsty happenings later? What the hell. Gaaah!


    Alright, I''m no longer mentally screaming. Really. I''m not. Ranting maybe, not screaming. Agh!


    ...Oh. A distraction. How welcome. Bridgit had arrived two days after us, wide-eyed and bedazzled at the speed of the journey. Thankfully, at least carriage drivers are set to take advantage of improved mobility, if not the passengers. So, anyway, I have a maid, and I promptly sent her out with a purse of gold to buy me some cava beans. And here she comes back. With a bag that... is bigger than the purse she left with. By far. SCORE.


    ...OOk, it actually IS coffee. Green coffee, to be exact. Given the remains of coffee fruit on the beans, I estimate that their method of producing coffee is to dry the fruits and then have people manually crack them open and extract beans. Explains the high price, it''s going to be tedious and time-consuming. Huh, Bridgit is eyeing the beans.


    "Interested in cava?" - I inquire casually, as I poke at the beans. I need to roast them, green coffee is not among my favorites. Or, more precisely, I don''t hate it, but what I REALLY want right now is a nice medium roast. Plenty of flavor, plenty of caffeine, little sugar. She nods slightly - "I.. have tasted cava before. Once. With, um... father."


    Oh. Yeah, way to go, Bridgit. I need to make inquiries before Klaus decides to use you as a way to get at me. Actually, why is he interested so early? Thinks I''m a threat to Krauts with my newfangled inventions? More questions to answer. But anyway, oh... right. Bridget and cava. Which, apparently, had been given to her by her father before.


    "I''m going to use an exotic method for it, Bridgit." - I suggest - "It will taste very differently. If that does not scare you, I can spare you a cup or two." She nods eagerly and follows me to the kitchen. Since the house is used rarely, the only person we keep on payroll in capital is the groundskeeper. The rest of staff is brought in from the estate. In this particular case, Bridgit will live in the city, either with me at the dorm or if there are no suitable accommodations, in the manor here, and tend to my needs. Dressing, hair care, food... Hm. I''m guessing she''s going to be my personal maid at this rate. I''m actually fine with the idea, though I expect Sally and Louise back home are rather offput about losing their taste-testing privileges. Then again, mother have had been using them lately as walking advertisements for perfume. Lose some, gain some?


    Roasting the beans takes some time and I''m actually pretty glad Bridgit is watching the proceedings wide-eyed. With any luck, I will be able to farm out that menial task to her in the future. Stuffing my handmill with freshly roasted beans, I grind them down gleefully. Soon, the first pot of coffee is ready. Bridgit stares at it in wonderment. "...So black..." - she murmurs. Green coffee produces a whitish-green beverage when brewed. Spooning some sugar in, I set the cup towards Bridgit. Mine comes straight. She notices. "Mistress, why!? I can''t partake in sugar if you aren''t!" - she yelps.


    "It is bitter." - I explain simply - "I like the aroma, but you won''t enjoy it. Remember your reaction to dandelion brew?" Given her flinch, she does. I did end up substituting coffee with dried dandelion root while back at the county. It''s not coffee, but close enough to it to fool me. Chicory would work better, but it is only cultivated by fishmongers for some reason, and it is rare in the wild up north. I did set up the field of it, but it wasn''t ready to be used in any way by the time I had to depart. Anyway, apparently I''m the only one who actually likes dandelion brew without sugar. Family and servants were united on that matter - "Too bitter!".


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    She sips the sugared coffee slowly, and the most peculiar expression spreads over her face as she smacks her lips. "Mistress. This is the weirdest thing you let me try, so far." - she finally opines - "Why does it feel like my heart is beating faster?" Oh. OK, yeah, maybe I should have expected cava to have concentrated caffeine, given my previous experiences with spices. ...Oh SHI... "Bridgit, no!" - but she already downed the cup in one go.


    "...oooooooh!" - is her opinion as she shoots to her feet, her eyes wide, and I SEE the vibrations going over her body. For the next few hours, I''m treated to a sight of maid frantically overhauling the house from stem to stern. She carries out what equals to a fully-blown spring cleaning, and then crashes so hard I have to physically haul her to bed. ..Well, fuck, that was.... irresponsible of me.


    Father comes in in the middle of that, inquires upon Bridgit''s condition, cautiously sips the coffee and declares it "a potion of haste masquerading as a beverage". He is... more than a little sardonic about me having to put the maid to bed. He is even more sardonic when I elect to cook dinner instead of going out to the tavern as he suggested. His opinion mellows out significantly after a bowl of nice stew, thankfully. Apparently, while he is proud I''m willing to step up and make up for mistakes, it is "uncouth" for a lady like me to actually do any cooking. I counter with the suggestion that my cooking is reserved only for those I would call family, which he agrees with but still advises to exercise decorum. Fair enough.


    ___


    Holy shit, Bridgit is wrecked. I''m glad I decided to set up an alarm spell, because I ended up literally catching her as she was about to faceplant on the floor just trying to get up from the bed. And now, I think, she''s more than a little bit embarrassed because I went ahead and gave her a bath. At least she''s mostly coherent now, if not exactly up to doing much. Oh, and hellishly mortified because apparently "proper ladies" don''t take care of their servants when "proper ladies" accidentally fuck them up. No, "proper ladies" are apparently to leave their servants to sink or swim. Well, nuts to that. Dad is torn between bemusement, pride and embarrassment, I think. He finds my preoccupation bemusing, is proud of me taking care of Bridgit and finds it embarrassing that I am so unabashedly straightforward about it. Pride is winning by a large margin, if I''m getting this right. Thanks, dad.


    Goodness, Bridgit seems ready to implode from shame. Apparently, giving her a meal in bed was WAY too much. Had to sit down and reassure her that all of that is a family secret, not a public mocking of her maidly honor. On the flip side, I think I just got her undying loyalty. Or at least foundation for it. The rest will follow once I get some concrete info on her family. Which shouldn''t be too hard, if I recall the game right, but would need to wait till the start of Academy.


    Anyway, Bridgit is reasonably well enough to fend for herself till evening, and I have to get ready for a royal audience. Which should be low-key, because it''s mostly dad updating his majesty Abraham Cullen on our new products and me, ugh, resuming my acquittance with my current fiancee prince Ed the unfortunately named. Oh, and in a bit of unplanned pleasantries, passing on a vial of citrus-flavored perfume to the queen, Monika Cullen. (...The names make no sense. Too modern. Too CASUAL, you don''t refer to the royal family by name and surname. What is going on? Is it a token to the fact king is more of an arbitrator and mediator than absolute despot, or something weirder is going on? Note to self- note this.)


    I have no idea what I''m going to do with Ed. He had been a flat character even in the game. The default route, so to speak. And, if memory serves, having pre-existing prejudice against his fianc¨¦e. Aka me. I''m not exactly SURE what is the basis of prejudice even, because in the game he was never asked to elaborate, nor did the issue come up in some other way. Honestly, the actual reason was "Ed dislikes Alyssa because Protagonist dislikes Alyssa", but that does not work because Ed is not even introduced to the Protagonist yet. Who might or might not commandeer his undying loyalty from the first glance.


    Oh well. I''m definitely not interested in Ed in any way, so maintaining cordial distance until he figures out whom he really marries would be fairly painless. I hope. I... Fuck. No way it''s going to be this simple. This is fucking otome. This is the start of FOOKING NONSENSE. With blackjack and hookers. Wait, is blackjack a thing? I mean, hookers are definitely a thing, I refuse to believe even a world as weird as this failed to develop the oldest profession... I need to find if any of the local brothels cater to women liking other women at some point. Because I might need some kind of stress relief down the line. Or a source of convenient scandal, for that matter.


    Ok. I''m fine. I''m cool. Plan? Keep things cordial with Ed, but make it clear to him he is not considered bound to follow through on the engagement. After all, it''s not like either of you were asked if you wanted this to begin with. Maybe best not promise or suggest anything specific. I''m tempted to tell him he''s free to "sample the wares" if I get the same consideration, but this is... complicated. The royal family does do the whole "display the bloody sheet after the wedding night" thing. And while handling that much is not a problem for me, it won''t sound true if it''s common knowledge... Actually, hold on to that thought for a moment. I''m actually interested in girls first and foremost, what the local opinions on lesbians even are? I mean, I''ve yet to hear the concept mentioned. And it would suck if I''m the one who trailblazes the concept. Probably not, though, homosexual relationships have had been known in one form or another since times immemorial. Would Ed even consider it to be cheating if I have some fun with another girl? I certainly wouldn''t care if he elected to bed another boy. Or girl, for that matter. But that''s me. I''m an outlier in this model.

 Chapter 9. Palace, King And Choice Idiots

    While I was ruminating on those issues, palace had snuck up around me. Honestly, I didn''t even notice the transition from carriage to the audience hall, utterly preoccupied with my worries. Thankfully, courteous behavior is pretty much my default autopilot setting, so no harm nor foul. It seems that the king is... more than a little surprised by being gifted ripple steel. The swords could be mistaken for old supplies, but the handmill is definitely new, given it''s my design and all. He actually requests a demonstration, and a sizable pot of steaming tea is brought out on my request. OOh, nice, genuine china. Considering the size of the steeping pot, I give the mill three cranks (It''s full of mixed mint and rosemary.) and announce five minute waiting time. King wastes no time questioning ME about the steel. Apparently either dad boasted already, or the rumors are much speedier than I estimated, because good old Abe seems to be certain it was me who tipped off dwarves about the proper method of pattern-welded forging.


    I softpedal the issue. Deflecting the whole thing into "I just lucked out to read the right myth at the right time" direction works, in no small part because studying mythos is one of the "appropriate" occupations for a noble maiden. Ed''s not present. Thankfully. Which means they''re going to send me off after tea tasting so I could "get reacquainted and exchange pleasantries" while dad and king work out what cut the kingdom gets from the new wares. Ooh, tea is ready. ...What''s with the faces? For crying out loud, why do you look like you just had a revelation? ...Aaaand of course that''s when dad is gonna pull out the sugar. He certainly knows his presentations, but goodness golly gracious, he is totally putting ME on the spot.


    Sugar takes a bit of time to explain. The "it''s alchemically extracted sweetness of zukerrohr" part goes over easy, alchemical extracts are nothing new. But when the king wants to know how do we handle the sugarcane supply part of it? Yeah. Well. Suffice to say my suggestion to have everyone sent out of the room didn''t go over... well. Some cries over "do you not trust the honor of". Sorely tempted to retort that any honor is for sale, so long as the price is right, but that would probably lead to people wanting to duel. And not with ME, either, because I''d go for it, but with father. Side note, duels are legal, though only to the first blood. Surrender and humiliation are also viable winning conditions. Humiliation, in this case, being subdued or exhausted into inability to stand without any drawn blood. King can sanction a duel to the death, but generally does not. Thankfully.


    Father, of course, is very much for the secrecy. No brainer, really, given that several other people present at the audience for one reason or another are barely concealing their avarice at this point. So, in order to avoid making things way too awkward, I offer to submit the explanation to the king in writing, with the caveat that it will be his decision on who will be privy to the information henceforth. Aaaand of course he wants it now. So here I am, writing down the basics of beet to sugar. And doing my best to ignore the abominable moron that volunteered to "escort" me. He is currently nursing a broken nose in the next room, fussed over by a number of maids. No, I did not punch him. No, he is not even aware I''m the cause of this. He simply stumbled and landed nose-first into a standing armor. Fist, meet nose. Crunch. Delightful. Pro-tip - don''t annoy freeform shapeshifter with your obvious attempts to spy.


    Thankfully, the actual escort, that being two knights from the palace detail, seem to be grasping the idea of secrecy better, since they stayed out of the room while I wrote. Ok, time to go back... What, no, I''m NOT handing over the missive to mister SmashNose, no way. Why would I want to? Oh, he does not like that. Not at all. Really, continuing the argument as we enter the audience hall? Talk about stupid. Oh, and here we go, the "your highness, I suffered an unjust injury, I must be given this secret in compensation" spiel. Really? King Abraham catches my eyes. Nods to the guy. Sighs. Calls forth the knights who happily confirm mister SmashNose had smashed his nose entirely of his own volition. Case closed... No? What? Seriously? Duel? With father? Over... "impugned honor"? FUCK IT.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    ___


    "Lady Gillespie, are you entirely certain you want to fight personally?" - goodness, the master of ceremonies is sure fussing.


    "Yes. I am entirely certain. This man had falsely accused ME of giving him an injury. It stands to reason I must make his words true if he is to remain a nobleman. After all, no noble would stoop as low as to lie in the presence of the king, no?" - I offer back, grinning tightly. A moment later, and I add sotto voice just for the master of ceremonies - "Would you be so kind to fetch bruise ointment? He WILL need it once I am done." Old guy is dubious but apparently my unflappable confidence is sufficient for him to surmise I have some kind of plan.


    "Lord Ambercrombe, you are fighting personally as well?" - he inquires.


    The ponce preens - "Of course! I mean, I would have sent my maid in my stead, but I fear none of them will be able to restrain their strength sufficiently." Oh dear. He thinks he has a chance. As we meet in the center of the ring, he hisses at me - "You should have known better than to object to your betters, woman. Such arrogance, I shall enjoy disciplining you on proper deference to men." Seriously, how clich¨¦ you can get? This is just... over the top. Ridiculously. Now I''m going to humiliate the hell out of him and he''s going to be a reoccurring pain in the ass. Except that should be Protagonist''s problem. I wonder, how will that work out? Will this guy suddenly end up being a paragon of virtue being unjustly oppressed, or the narration is going to be "too vile even for a villain of the story"?


    As he receives a freshly cut lily from the attendant, I take a tulip from mine. Unfortunately, there is simply no way I could have refused the flower at this point without tipping everyone off. Still, I can make it a part of the gesture. A whole royal family is here, after all. Even Ed. There he is, sitting right next to his little sister. Who, in a fit of plot contrivance I''m sure will pop up later is the only one not to bear the name Cullen in the royal family. As the ponce in front of me sketches a bow to the master of ceremonies and begins to chant something about petals, I toss the tulip into Ed''s general direction. He has the ABSOLUTE GALL to dodge it and let it fall on his sister''s lap instead. Well, fuck you too Ed. Fuck you too.


    Next moment my bevy of combat spells kicks in. Haste, body strengthening, heightened perceptions, boosted reflexes... The distance between us shrinks abruptly as I flicker across the floor, planting my fist into the fucker''s solar plexus. Have to manage the impact carefully, I want him to be humorously bounced off the arena barrier, not punch straight through his body. "Heeeeh..." - he offers as the air leaves his lungs forcibly, folding around my fist for a moment before it disconnects and he begins his flight towards the barrier. I flicker forth again, passing him by as he sloooowly (in my perception) transitions from upright into horizontal. As I speed by, my right hand grasps his face and drags him forward and downward faster. Change of plans, let''s plant this fucker upside down. "...EEEH!" - he finishes against my palm as I drive his skull into the floor, surreptitiously reinforcing his body and weakening the structure of stone in order for him to actually be planted. Stone dust blooms as I ram his head through the floor, leaving him awkwardly arched with his head in the rock upside down to the chin.


    "Aaaaaah! AAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" - well... his lungs are fine.


    "Would you shut up already?" - I grumble, giving him a kick in the ass. Not powered. He keeps screaming, and I see the dark spot quickly spreading over the front of his pants. Why are people such scaredy-cats in this world?


    And now the master of ceremonies makes a sound that is oddly reminiscent of bellows drawing air in. "...Hiaaa!... Lady Gillespie wins by humiliation!" - he shouts, looking like he is hurrying to... what? The terrified looks all around gradually change to relieved ones as the ponce''s screaming taps off into terrified sobs. They didn''t think I''d actually kill him, I hope? Because I''m not going to without the king''s sanction, at least. Or blood feud officially declared. Which is a thing I can do, actually. Declare blood feud and murder the hell out of their bloodline. Let''s save that for more... problematic fellows, let''s say. Because Ambercrombe for all his bluster wasn''t even an entertainment. I pick up the lily he dropped, and throw it, this time deliberately towards Lily-Anne, rather than Ed. She catches it, showing more deftness than I expected and waves her fists in the air victoriously, tulip and lily swaying madly as she cheers. I wonder why. Is Ambercrombe an ass to her too? She''s a princess, and the ONLY princess at that, but... yeah. Assholes are gonna asshole.

 Chapter 10. Royal Commission, Get! (I Accidentally Telephone)

    "Since lord Ambercrombe had been an offending party and offered no wager, it is up to lady Gillespie to determine what his penance should be." - the king announces, back in the audience hall. The ponce is back, though his face is still grey and his mouth is still twitching each time he accidentally looks in my direction. He looks like a baby who''s been spanked for the first time ever. Maybe that''s actually so, in his case. His pants, at least, are replaced with dry pair.


    "I will be satisfied with an oath not to approach me." - I offer back blandly. King''s brow raises.


    "An oath not to approach you?" - he repeats, his expression confused. Oh dear. I think I am going to invent a restraining order today.


    "Your highness, as we had witnessed, lord Ambercrombe is willing to claim falsitudes to secure gains. As such, I would be a fool to extend any trust to him for the second time." - I offer as an explanation - "Therefore, I ask that lord Ambercrombe swears an oath in front of king and witnesses that he will not speak to me first, nor seek my company, knowledge or business forevermore. So long as I''m spared of his further attention, I deem the matter to be sufficiently closed. And should he violate the oath, well then I ask that he be stripped of nobility for that affront."


    King chews on his lip thoughtfully. "The stripping of nobility is a heavy punishment..." - he begins thoughtfully - "But appropriate for an oathbreaker. But what do you mean by business?"


    "Any and all endeavors, your highness. Making sugar, for example? It''s business. Laying down roads? It''s business. Importing steel? Business. Anything that involves profit, be it profit for the hold or profit for the person, is business." - I explain, catching the ponce wince and shiver at the mention of sugar. Roads fail to evoke much of reaction, but he flinches again as the steel is mentioned. Superficial idiot.


    "Very well!" - Abraham booms authoritatively - "Lord Ambercrombe, you are hereby ordered by your sovereign to give an oath that you shall not speak to, nor seek company, profit or wisdom of lady Gillespie forevermore. Should you break this oath, then you shall be commoner henceforth."


    A little bit of bargainous and self-important braying from Ambercrombe later, the oath is given (through clenched teeth) and ponce vacates the premises with haste. Back to... sugar?


    Abraham sits down heavily and rests his head on his hand briefly. "Let me guess, he volunteered to escort you solely so that he could learn the secret of sugar, isn''t it so?" - he offers wearily - "Fools, at times I feel I''m surrounded by fools. Lord Gillespie, lady Gillespie, why aren''t you in the capital more often? I could use the intelligent company."


    Father chuckles - "Many pardons, your highness, but only a fool would abandon his domain to fend for itself for long." He and king exchange commiserating looks. Apparently, the problem of eminently stupid nobles is neither unknown, nor overlooked. Note to self - look into developing communication means. It''s a long way to phone via technology, but maybe I can kludge something together with magic... And technology... And... Hm... Hmmm... Actually... That looks pretty promising... The law of contagion should make this... Hm... Yes...


    And apparently, I drifted off enough during a royal audience to conjure several metal plates and start enchanting them right in front of everyone. Which, apparently bemused the king so much he talked shop with father for almost an hour watching me tinker. GAH. Embarrassing.


    On the other hand, magical phone prototype, get.


    "....An enchantment of communication?" - Abraham frowns, his brow furrowed as he considers a palm-sized slab of copper on his hand. Other is examined by father on the other side of the hall. There is an obvious button on either. Dad presses the button and says something into his part. His voice comes out of the piece held by the king, loud and clear - "Testing, testing! Your highness, do you hear me?" Abraham fumbles with the button, before retorting - "Hear you well! Come on back."


    "Lady Gillespie, I shall commission ten pairs of this enchantment for the good of the kingdom. Cost and materials are of no object." - he proclaims immediately, after finding out that conjured pairing will vanish soon, but an enchantment placed upon a physically existent slab of metal will last for as long as metal does. Which, is both true and misleading, because the enchantment eats metal for fuel. If I were to take slates of copper of ten by four by one centimeter, it would half itself within a year of non-stop use. Or couple hundred years in dormant mode waiting for incoming. The basic of enchantment is a piece of copper within that I essentially quantum-split. It exists in both places in the same time, so being subjected to vibrations from one location causes reciprocal vibrations in the other. Quantum Entanglement Comms, get. Is that how rolling a natural twenty on artificing attempt feels like?


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "...Certainly, your highness." - really, what else I could possibly say - "I believe I will need fifteen livres of pure copper, about a livre of powdered lapis lasuli and twenty spans of appropriate wood to set the enchanted plates into. I can''t imagine it being pleasant to press copper against the cheek for long. No need for artisans, I did pick up more than enough on smithing and engraving from dwarves."


    He peers at me. Father mirrors him. I sigh. "And a gold per pair for work. Don''t put too much weight on these, I am already considering a more robust system." - I offer - "It will take a while though. I already know how to connect up to eight pieces into the same conversation, but it will be all or nothing system. If one is spoken to, all seven others will sound off, no way to exclude the specific recipients. These will be half a livre of copper, an once of powdered lapis lasuli, a span of wood and two ecu per receiver. It is immaterial how many clusters you want to create, so long as none are bigger than eight. So if one were to, say, ask for ten receivers, you could have five pairs, or two trios and two pairs, or two quartets and one pair or two quintets... So on and so on. There is no specific difference, save for the fact that clusters have to be decided at the enchanting."


    King is clearly mulling it over, but then he waves his hand - "Let us go with the original order of ten pairs, lady Gillespie. I will need to consult with my advisers to decide which offices would benefit best from sharing connection." He seems to be deep in thought, and father offers him a bow - "Well then, with your permissions we shall retire for today, your highness. We are to be found in our manor, should you need us before Alyssa enters Academy."


    Abraham straightens up. Groans. Goes to say something, but then reconsiders and switches topic visibly. "Ah, yes. The Academy." - he agrees - "I would wish you best of luck for that, lady Gillespie, but I have a premonition you won''t find any scholarly difficulty there. Do know, however, that you have our full royal support, as your new inventions are of great interest and use to us as a nation. Should it be needed, I ask you to call upon me on any matter. I trust your discretion and common sense." He pauses, glances out of the window and blanches - "For now, however, I believe I shall let you retire and enjoy your badly deferred dinner. As well as find mine. Until we meet again."


    ___


    "Alyssa." - father quips as we ride back from the palace in our carriage - "Do you know how many nobles ever earn a royal commission before even entering the Academy?" All I can do for an answer is a shrug. "None. You are literally the first person ever to achieve this." - he continues merrily - "The very idea that someone could be so accomplished before Academy was considered preposterous until now. On one hand, I have to congratulate you. On the other, be on your guard. When you enter the Academy, every single person there will want to be your friend or to have your skin peeled off."


    "Speaking of friends." - I toss back - "What''s the matter with Edward? I believe I was supposed to meet him at some point, instead he ran off as soon as that irritating duel was over. Is he trying to get out of engagement?"


    Sighing, Gerard stroked his beard. He was clearly mulling the answer over. "To be fair, Alyssa, I don''t know." - he finally responds - "His highness did not mention anything about engagement at all. It might be because he expects no change there, or it might be because Edward had persuaded him to break it off, but upon seeing our new contributions, his highness decided that Edward''s decision was overly hasty. I do agree, though. Prince Edward''s behavior towards you was rather rude."


    "Honestly speaking? I don''t really mind if the engagement is broken off, he is not my type, but... You know. I don''t really want to be presented as ''the reason this engagement fell through'', it is all on him. I wish he had the testicular fortitude to tell me what the problem is to my face, instead of playing the evasion game." - I grouse, only to hear father burst into confused laughter.


    "..Testicular fortitude?... Goodness. Only you could say "have the balls to" and still sound like a scholar." - he finally manages - "For what it is worth, I agree. Still, he just might be having nerves or something equally trivial. You will see a lot of him in the Academy, try and give him a chance to fulfill his obligations? Should that prove to be untenable, however, be sure to notify me as quickly as possible and I will handle the legalities of engagement annulment. Try and make sure you don''t end up being accused of something unsavory to make it happen though, alright? Rising against the rightful king is expensive."


    Well, heh. Thanks. It was a little awkward, but it is pleasing to know father would consider an open rebellion to save me if needs be. Not that he''ll really need to, of course, but the thought really counts.

 Chapter 11. The Protagonist Is Here! (I Wasn’t Ready For This…)

    I''m glad to see Bridgit didn''t come to any lasting harm from her encounter with proper coffee. I''m also glad she''s not developing any phobia towards it. I''m also downright ecstatic she brewed me a fresh pot. And cooked a dinner. Because honestly, that audience took three times as long as initially planned and I''m sure father is ravenous by now. For that matter, I rather enjoy the food too, even if I''m not quite that dependent on it. It is rather convenient. I mean, I DO need to eat, but I can eat absolutely anything. Really, if I truly need to, I could simply consume patches of topsoil for sustenance and be entirely fine. Shoggoth bullshit is very bullshit. I''m a little surprised to learn my father intends to set off back to the county with the first rays of sun in the morning, but he did mean it when he said only fools leave their domains for long.


    Meanwhile, I am preparing for my entrance to Academy. As it turns out, there is no specific date to it. Or, rather, there is the "be here by this day or you''re not being enrolled this year" deadline, but apparently Academy allows students to occupy their dorm rooms pretty much any day in the summer. I suppose this is to help those students who are not rich enough to afford the private domicile in the capital, the prices here are notably higher than back in the county. Thankfully, we did explain the benefits of tar roads to the king in great detail, so father comes home with a grand commission to aid and guide the reconstruction of all major roads within the kingdom. Local tracts are under the jurisdiction of the respective lords, but it is the king who controls the highways. Of course, the road from our own county to the capital will get the first dibs. No one would expect anything less.


    Tomorrow, me and Bridgit will visit Academy dorms, determine what I need to supplement there to make my stay comfortable and procure the sundries I didn''t grab from home. I do remember there was some kind of kerfuffle with the dorm placements, so better stake my claims early. I really don''t care for engaging in teenage drama over which room goes to whom.


    ___


    My first opinion of the Academy is that it could easily double as flower shop. Seriously, flowers everywhere. I suppose it makes sense, given the dependence of mages on flowers to do anything, but honestly? I don''t need my domicile to contain seventeen planters. Negotiating the number to much more manageable six is harder than I expected, because the availability of planters seems to be directly connected to one''s social status in the Academy, and my preference to limit myself to six is seen as a very humble gesture by just about everyone who ended up talking to me about it. The really funny thing is that I can simply force the necessary flowers to mature within hours by judiciously applied magic, which is something no one ever does, because the necessary spells would expend more fresh flowers than could be expected to grow. Not a problem for me, obviously, but to everyone else? Meh.


    Other than that, things are pretty good. There is even a small bed for Bridgit to use when she''s staying over to tend to my needs. The desk they provide is... Yeah. Suffice to say I have sent Bridgit out to commission or buy two more at the bazaar just so I could have some decent amount of space to work on. There is a grand total of seven students present so far, all of them from far off domains that don''t seem to have any owned houses in the capital. I have taken my time to exchange pleasantries with all of them, but the general vibe they give me is that of wariness. It is to be expected, they''re mostly children of barons and viscounts, and the king had all but announced that father is being promoted to marquis. The actual awarding ceremony will happen in the winter, it''s a tradition to announce title promotions during the new year celebrations. Everyone already knows that it''s as good as written in stone. Unless I manage to rack up even more achievements here and get dad promoted all the way to duke at once. He asked me not to push that one too hard, though, apparently it is also common for freshly promoted to conduct a number of, ah... acquisitions to increase their domain. Better not rock the boat too hard, lest it capsizes.


    There is something odd here, however. Ed, as the only prince in attendance gets the royal suit, obviously, but the rooms reserved in my name are curiously as far from his as possible. I''m not too upset about it, because it means I''m going to live next door to Hiram, who is, by far, the most decent dude in the game. But it does imply Ed is less than thrilled about engagement and, more worrying, that he has the ear of the dean of Academy. Normally, betrothed are given neighboring rooms. This might be interpreted by student body as him trying to pawn me off to the Kraut Kingdom. Oh well, let''s see what comes out of it first. I''m honestly not concerned about keeping his engagement and the more he does to sabotage it without any provocation from me, the better my position would be during annulment.


    ___


    The tables are brought in and I am taking a stroll in the gardens while the servants install them properly. I could obviously do this faster and better, but as a noble lady, I am expected to let them handle the menial tasks. Oh well, Bridgit can oversee the proceedings. As I stroll around leisurely, someone runs out from behind the corner, rams into my breasts face-first and bounces off me in a way that could be called hilarious if I wasn''t worried about them being hurt. So I extend my hand, helping the girl in front of me stand up... Only to have her bat my hands aside irritably.


    "We are people, no worse than you!" - she exclaims pompously, standing up and brushing her dress off. OOkay?


    "You certainly are people, of that there is no doubt." - I offer sardonically - "I don''t believe we are acquainted. I am Alyssa Gillespie, the firstborn daughter of count Gillespie. Who might you be?"


    "Ah! Remember my name, and remember it well, because I will save everyone from your dastardly ways, lady Gillespie!" - she blusters - "I. AM. LADY! KNIGHT! SERENITY! DAYBREAKER! SELENE!"


    What in the dickens. This behavior strongly implies she is the Protagonist... No. This implies she is the transmigrating Protagonist. The Protagonist in the game was not nearly quite so bombastic. Or dismissive of decorum. Really, calling me dastardly, why that could be grounds for a duel right there. Not taking the bait, though. So instead, I smile and fold my arms behind me. "Lady Selene, then." - I offer, and she makes the funniest sound ever. It makes me think of walrus struggling to swallow a cupful of shaken cola. "Daybreaker is an achievement title, if I''m not mistaken?" - I continue placidly - "That''s impressive, having a prowess in light magic so great it warrants a title. Not sure if you know, but there are sunflowers planted over there by the second greenhouse. You might find them well matched to your magic."


    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    "...I, I... You will not get away with this!" - she yelps, before running away abruptly. What in the name of all that is sane was that? Is she trying to get a headstart on our supposed feud? Was it something I said? Sunflowers are really the strongest flower she could wield, if she''s light-aligned. And what''s with the chuuni name anyway?


    Lost in thoughts, I round the corner she ran out from, and knock down another girl. WHY, universe, WHY. I, of course, immediately kneel next to her and help her up, offering apologies as I do.


    "I''m sorry, that was inexcusable. I was lost in thought and didn''t look where I''m going." - I offer contritely, as I lift the girl up gently. She, unlike the rather stocky LADY! KNIGHT! Yada-yada is petite and... hnng. The words "ethereal beauty" do apply here in full. A quick glance at her ear confirms my hunch - she is an elf.


    "No, no, I really shouldn''t have been running around. It is all my fault." - she demurs, her voice doing rather funny things to my nonexistent innards.


    "Let us both agree that it was an unfortunate accident and seek no fault on either side then?" - I proffer, as I guide her to the bench - "I am Alessa Gillespie, firstborn of count Gillespie. May I please know your name?"


    "Ah. Well. I am called Moon Unit." - she returns, perching on the bench with an easy grace that makes me want to swoon. My own landing on the bench is nowhere near as impressive. I''m too busy blinking, though. This is... ridiculous. Weird. CRAZY! Why? Because this is the actual Protagonist. Who in the game is a sweet girl of elven descent who left the Evergreens because of an inheritance dispute. If I recall right, her father held three Conclave seats, but had four children, and Moon Unit had decided to bow out to let her siblings each claim a seat. The name is homage to Frank Zappa, and occurred as it is only in the original japanese version and fanslation. All official translations butchered it into... Selene. Shit. This is going to get very weird, I can feel it in my nonexistent bones. Weirder, because goodness golly gracious, I AM so claiming this deliciousness for my harem. Ed, you can suck it, she''s MINE. You can have the transmigrating tsunbaka.


    "May you find shelter in my grove one day." - I blurt out. This is a typically elven greeting, and... um. A proposition. Good going, Alyssa, open mouth insert all the feet. ALL OF THEM.


    She giggles. "I thank my sister for the shade." - she returns with a smile. Phew. No offense given, it seems like. She is, if anything, bemused by my awkward elfisms, offering - "You are not born of the tree, I believe, but you know the ways of my people. I am glad. Many have had told me that this Academy might be less than welcoming to my kind, and I am heartened to know it is not quite as dire as they feared."


    Back on somewhat familiar ground, I ruffle the back of my head sheepishly. "Evergreens does extend into father''s county, so I did learn the elven etiquette by the rote, to be honest." - I offer to her - "Sorry to say, but barring a few more students in the same position as me, the rest won''t be quite so familiar with the elven ways."


    "Even so, it is a good sign that my first meeting is with someone who beheld the leaves." - she agrees - "I am prepared to take the curiosity and ignorance in stride, if needs be."


    "You certainly are." - I have to agree - "Your Albish is impeccable. My apologies, but I won''t be able to return the favor. I know but a scant few words in elven, and all of them would get me slapped, I''m afraid."


    With a giggle, she nods. "I could tell." - she proffers amiably, - "You have accidentally used the greeting intended for an overture for courtship."


    Shit. Shit. SHIT. I can''t lie to her. I shouldn''t. Light magic alignment comes with ''sense lies'' cheat. Swallowing, I look aside. "I have spoken my mind without consideration." - I offer quietly - "In all honesty, I am currently bound by a promise that would preclude me from partaking even if you were interested, but I won''t hide I am sorely tempted."


    And now she''s hit with atomic blush. Oh dear. I guess I''m the kind to go big or go home when it comes to social fuckups. "Ah... Well." - she finally manages, averting her eyes - "I''m, ah... flattered, but you really shouldn''t break an oath because of this little one." PRAISE EVERY GOD EVER, SHE''S NOT PUT OFF. Now to salvage it.


    "My gratitude for your understanding." - I offer solemnly - "Should the stars align to render the oaths void, I shall ask again, but for the time being, let us be friends at least?" That gets me a kiss on the cheek.


    ...A kiss. On the cheek.


    ...A kiss!


    Oh by the ... of all the... I just... ARGH!


    Fighting the goofy grin off my face, I stand up and offer my arm. "Would you like to explore the gardens with me?" - I suggest to her and stifle down another wave of butterflies in my nonexistent stomach as she hooks her arm around my elbow. Elven waifu, GET. Mine. Ed, push off. Hiram, sorry, but nope. Klaus, go die in a fire. Everyone else, take a hike. MINE. Even if I''ll have to raze this kingdom to the ground to make this happen.


    ___


    Coming back from my totally not a date (even if we held hands and giggled like love-smitten schoolgirls), I am very pleased to learn Moon Unit is going to live in the same dorm. Not on the same floor, unfortunately, she has one of the smaller rooms on the ground floor while I occupy one of the bigger on the second, but still. Closer to me than to Ed, who lives in a different dorm building entirely. I''m even more chuffed to find out Tsunbaka is slated to move into a room across the hall from Ed. May you two find whatever happiness you can scrounge. Seriously. Just please, start dating and break off this stupid engagement so I could have my elven waifu.


    Bridgit notices. I won''t ask how, I''m probably emitting enough happy glow to double as a night light right now. The bane of being so magical. Still, she starts grilling on ''whom might the lucky gentleman be'' practically as soon as the servants clear off. Admitting that it''s an elven maiden does seem to affect more than a little surprise on Bridgit.


    "Mistress..." - she offers, her voice rife with commiseration - "I am very happy you were able to find a good friend here. Gods know you deserve one for all the hard work you''ve done for the county and kingdom." I''m not sure if she grasped the "I want to have hot lesbian sex" part of it, or simply assumes I''m that happy for finding another girl in my age and social bracket I can socialize with, but she''s certainly thinking it will be good for me.

 Chapter 12. Settling Into Academy (Also Doing Fluffy Happy Things)

    The dorms are filling up slowly. The earliest arrivals are, ironically, the people who live the furthest. I guess it makes sense, with the abysmal state of logistics in this world. Travel is unpredictable so they depart with a lot of spare time to account for possible mishaps along the way. Which translates to them entering the dorms first. Thankfully, the actual assignment of rooms is done by the staff on a preplanned basis, so that there are less conflicts between the students about who gets to live where. I say less because there is still a low-key struggle for better accommodations and available planters. Me tossing out eleven of them into the pool had created something of a commotion, with people rather busy batting their respective social standings against each other to score some for their own room.


    In the same time, everyone and their dogs have been told just who put the extra planters out, and this created a curious push among higher-ranked students to "donate" one or more of their preassigned ones in order to... what, actually? Show that they''re no less humble than me? Goodness. People. Just... stop. You are vitally dependent on those flowers, you need the variety. You''re not me, you can''t casually violate the noocoactus that is imposed by the global belief that flowers are vital to magic. As the clamor in the main hall grows in volume, I... need to act. It grates on me. It makes me annoyed that people are so dismissive of their GROWTH and so overattentive to the momentary fame.


    Walking onto the table and releasing a bang of air (Minor cantrip, just use air magic to vibrate the air to make a sound. Everyone knows that one.) is sufficient to make everyone shut up and look at me.


    "Dear students." - I begin, - "I am Alyssa Gillespie, and I wish to address the situation with planters."


    And they''re still listening. Good. Very good.


    "It is true. I had requested a number of planters assigned to my room to be returned to common use." - I continue - "However, you should know that I did not do this for the sake of looking humble."


    And now the glances are turning calculating. They''re wondering about my motivations.


    "As many of you already know, I have had introduced a number of new products to the line of wares my father''s county offers. This is due to my interest in alchemy and crafts. I intend to focus on those disciplines first and foremost, as they are the subjects of study that I am both interested in and strong at. Therefore, I need LESS of a flower variety, because I have to work around the limitations of commoners who would be crafting my creations once I am done researching them properly. Conversely, I need more table space for all my experiments and research materials. It is this consideration that made me request a number of planters to be removed - I needed to make extra space for more tables. Since I already occupy one of the biggest rooms that are not reserved for royalty, this was really the only reasonable option I had to make my workspace truly comfortable for me." - and that is very literal truth I''m speaking, which, much to my amusement makes Tsunbaka in the background flinch and stare at me with wide eyes. Not to your expectations, shortstack? Well, I''m just getting started.


    "Therefore, I implore you not to hamper your own growth by trying to donate planters you will need if you have any aspirations for learning battle magic or intend to pursue scholarly matters. I also implore you to comport yourself with appropriate decorum and make sure the extra planters available are given to people who truly need them, rather than awarded to those who''s social standing is the firmest. Honestly speaking, the squabbling for an extra POT OF SOIL should be beneath anyone who dares call themselves a noble. Are we not the pillars of the nation? Are we not already respected and held as the exemplars everyone should strive to be? Would we not diminish ourselves by being petty over a piece of pottery and a sack of earth?" - fuck, getting a bit too fired up here. Time to cool it down. Let''s round it up nicely.


    "So, with that in mind... Please gauge your needs appropriately. Consider what is to be your focus, and what flower assortment and variety you will need for it. Assess the number of planters at your disposal critically. Is it enough? Is it lacking? Is it in excess? Make your consideration and adjust the number to fit your expectations. Ask the esteemed professors of the Academy for their opinions, they have been teaching here for years upon years and should have very good ideas on what number of planters should be optimal for your aspirations. Be the students the Academy should be rightfully proud of." - and that''s a wrap. I take a shallow bow and step off the table with - "That is all I wanted to say. Thank you for listening and considering my words."


    The hall is filled with thoughtful murmurs as I cut through the crowd, and I see a number of students already departing in the direction of professoratorium. It is a little early to be certain about it, but I do have a feeling that I rolled the dice on that speech check well. Now, however, I need people to internalize the notions I''ve espoused and give them some time to work through the discussion and rumor that will doubtlessly spring forth. And since there is little else for me to take care of right now, I elect to go look for Moon Unit and see if she''s amenable to a stroll through a city or something. Aaand, I''m being waylaid. Help.


    "What are you up to?" - well, hello to you too, sunshine. Really, what is Tsunbaka''s major malfunction? Does the word decorum mean anything to her? And this is happening just as I SEE Moon Unit, and she is well within the hearing range, too. Bother.


    "Pardon me?" - let''s make her spell it out. I honestly don''t feel like dealing with Tsunbaka right now.


    "What''s with the false humility? Why are you making everyone give their planters to commoners?" - she growls, her arms swinging around in agitation. There is a circle of people forming around us already. Bother bother bother BOTHER!


    "Lady Selene, I have no idea why are you so hostile, and frankly, I don''t even care. But to answer your question - I genuinely believe that Academy is the place to foster personal growth, not a place to peddle influence. This is the establishment we attend so we could be worthwhile assets to our domains. Furthermore, I do NOT advocate giving up planters willy-nilly. I advocate approaching your education with reason and common sense and partake in resources as would befit your growth best, without hoarding more than you can use or giving up what is critical for your own success. Each noble attending the Academy is my possible future ally and trade partner. What reason could I have for not wanting them to be able and strong? And each commoner attending the Academy is a future asset for my domain or one of my allied domains. Why wouldn''t I want them to be as capable as they can be?" - I return, easily slipping back into speech-making mode - "It is in my best interests to offer whatever advice and help that I can spare to see everyone grow. It''s common sense, really. Who does not want their future to be brighter?"


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    She chokes on her answer and looks lost. And angry. But mostly lost. As if she expected some kind of script to be fulfilled and was betrayed by her expectations. Oh well. I cast a look around, meeting the eyes of many a student. A lot of them look thoughtful AND appreciative. I guess the sentiments I espoused are not something commonly said, even if everyone understands this much on some level. "While on that note, everyone..." - I continue - "Should any of you have a desire to discuss alchemy or crafts with me, my door is always open for well-mannered visitors."


    I leave her standing there, still grasping for words, and stroll towards Moon Unit without looking back. Honestly, at this point there is literally nothing to be had from the conversation other than pointless and silly bickering, if she chooses to press the topic nonetheless. At least my elven waifu is looking appreciative of my words. "Hello there." - I offer to her, stopping at a respectable distance - "I was wondering if you''d like to go on a stroll with me. There are many places in the city I''ve yet to see and some company would be well appreciated."


    She smiles and steps closer, hooking her arm with mine. "I''d be delighted to, lady Gillespie." - she offers gently.


    "Ah, just call me Alyssa. We are friends, aren''t we?" - I offer to her as we leave the premises.


    ___


    The bazaar in the capital is pretty sizable. Unlike our county, where one plaza is sufficient to hold all of it, in the capital bazaar had to be subdivided into fourths, with shops and offices lining the perimeter of each densely. This naturally lead to subdivision of wares. There is Farmer Square, Craftsman Square, Merchant Square and People Square. Farmer Square is fairly obvious, this is where all sorts of food is being sold. In bulk or in detail. While we do take a quick stroll through it, I don''t expect to be shopping here much. This is going to be Bridgit''s job, I think. Craftsman Square is more interesting, it is the area where artisans set their booths. Smiths, woodcarvers, glassblowers, pharmacists, jewelers... Interesting to see, and I will likely be visiting here a lot.


    I allow myself an indulgence of buying a brooch for Moon Unit who accepts it in good graces. She is very interested in the cure for cold, which is being already sold here. It actually creates a bit of a kerfuffle as the pharmacist recognizes me and attempts to give me a report on the profits of the booth. I have to dissuade him from making a production out of it, but he thankfully accepts the "I''m just shopping, send all reports to father as usual" fairly quickly. Moon Unit leaves the stall with a six-pack of cures, though, and I can feel her burning curiosity as we depart.


    "...Yes, I invented this." - I finally break - "Yes, I will teach you how to. It''s not that complicated, really."


    "You''re a curious one, Alyssa." - she muses - "Could it be you are divinely inspired?"


    "...Maybe. Dwarves in my domain do believe I am the conduit of Argyl''s wisdom already." - I admit quietly - "Don''t take it too seriously, please. I''m certainly not intending to call myself god''s messenger, but I''m willing to help if they truly want to send a note through me every now and then." Pausing, I chuckle lightly - "But honestly, even if the gods speak through me, they didn''t care to let me know about it. I just try to make things better for everyone. It should be good enough, no?"


    She giggles, the tinkle of laughter making me swoon inwardly - "My, my. Would it be anyone else in your place, they''d trumpet it from the highest mountains. You really like your actions to speak for themselves, don''t you?"


    "Well, it does work, doesn''t it?" - I reply nonchalantly - "We will need to backtrack to Farmer Square for the ingredients, if you truly wish to learn today. Or I can send my maid to get them tomorrow, if you can constrain your interest until then."


    She looks at the pack she''s holding, then shakes her head - "Let''s continue our stroll, Alyssa. It would be uncouth of me to cut the outing short just because I''m excited about a new medicine."


    ___


    Merchant Square. The place where foreign merchants congregate. They sell all sorts of exotic wares here. While I''m just canvassing the market so far, I just have to give in and buy that satchel of pepper. The "sell at the weight of coin" thing is really prevalent here, they literally weigh the spices against the gold coins offered in payment. I suppose it does help with the edge shaving problem, at that. Moon Unit is intensely curious, but I can see her being.. less than enthused about the pricing. She is not rich, after all. That is to say, she DID depart from the Evergreens with sufficient nest egg in gold and jewels to live comfortably until she earns herself a standing commission from one of the lords, but compared to actual nobles like me, her means are modest. I honestly want to spoil her, but I have a feeling she would be offput by excessive generosity. So instead, I resolve to treat her to a nice peppered omelette once we get back from the walk.


    Other than spices, there are many trinkets and curios that I leave off for later. A cursory glance shows them to be mostly knick-knacks of no inherent value other than "came from lands far away", but some warrant further examination. Later. I have enough on my plate for now as is. I do, however, purchase an elaborate hookah and a sack of assorted molasses for it, arranging for it to be delivered to my dorm in the evening. Call me hedonist if you will, but hookah is one of the things I honestly did not expect to see, but not willing to miss on. Moon Unit expresses her curiosity about the contraption, and I have to extend an invitation for her to join me on trying it out. Honestly not sure how well she will take to smoking, but I''m game for it, if she is.


    And this is when we end up on People Square. Which, frankly speaking, is a mix of fairgrounds and flea market. There are games (mostly consisting of throwing various objects at the targets) and refreshments to be had. I am genuinely surprised by my companion gravitating towards dagger-throwing booth, and even more impressed when she deftly nails the furthest target three times in a row, coming off with an embroidered headband that she presents to me proudly. Obviously, I tie my hair with it immediately. Hnnng. SO CUTE. MUST HAVE.


    We sit down at the outdoors table of a surprisingly modern-looking teahouse. The tea is very well steeped, though I really think they could do even better once they learn to add mint or bergamot or... (Mental note, look into buying a teahouse or gaining partial ownership of one, if viable.) The sweets they offer are horrendously expensive, but that is to be expected for "genuine zukerrohr cakes". Which, on further examination are small cakes with filling made out of shredded apple, sugarcane juice and cinnamon. I feel glad for not letting Moon Unit know about the price, she''d be awkward about it and I''d be awkward right back.


    "You know?" - she offers pensively - "I have a complaint."


    "...Oh? What''s wrong?" - I inquire, doing my best to play it cool while panicking internally. What is wrong? What did I do wrong? Why? There were no signs of... Of... whatever it was. WHAT it was? Oh fuck''s sake, why I can''t have good things...


    "You see, I have had been asked out by men before and enjoyed it." - she muses with a coy smile - "But after this outing? Why, I fear you have had spoiled me for men forever."


    Oh thank heavens it''s a compliment. I... heave out a relieved sigh. Sorry. But... Just... Argh. She pats my hand comfortingly.


    "Sorry." - she offers, her smile growing - "But you really set the bar high. It might take a literal prince to match your gallantry."


    "Any man who deigned to treat you any less than a princess is a blind fool then." - I reply mustering all the smoothness I ever had. Judging by the ever so light blushing, my reciprocation hit the mark well.

 Chapter 13. Meeting The Squire (Also Teasing My Maid)

    The sun is close to the horizon when we finally return to the dorm. This is fine. Dorms don''t really have any set curfew right now, though that might change when the studies actually begin. The long outing had done wonders to my nerves. I am, in all honesty, happy right now. Which, of course, is the sign for the world to go ahead and try to spoil it. Because we run into one hunky fellow that I''m really having contradicting feelings about right now. On one hand, Alistair McGregor is a decent person, if overly fond of a good brawl. On the other, he is the best friend and closest confidante of Edward, which definitely means he is going to have exactly as much beef with me as Ed does. And given his expression, he''s here to make things... annoying. Though, once he takes a good look at my companion, his expression notably softens. Moon Unit is that nice, yes. Hands off, Alistair. MINE.


    "Lady Gillespie." - he offers with a short bow, then nods towards my companion - "I''m afraid we haven''t been introduced yet, milady."


    Suppressing a groan, I step in. "Hello, Alistair." - I offer simply. Unlike Ed, I have had intermittent contact with McGregor throughout most of my teens - as a page he had been all over our county while in tutelage from old sir Manfred. Sir Manfred, just so we''re clear, is an old knight in king''s service who had upon Alistair''s promotion to squire retired to his granted barony in father''s domain. Nodding towards Moon Unit, I offer - "Alistair, meet Moon Unit. She had left Evergreens recently to receive an education in Academy. I''d be grateful if you make a consideration of that. Moon Unit, this is squire Alistair McGregor, firstborn of sir McGregor. He is going to attend the Academy with us, unless something had drastically changed since last spring." He sketches a quick bow and kisses Moon Unit''s hand, making my irritation spike. MINE. Back off. Thankfully, he does not linger.


    "Lady Gillespie, prince Edward had expressed concerns over your absence. He thought you would inquire upon him as soon as he situated himself in the dorms." - he proffers - "Am I right to presume you have actually been out in the city since morning and had not been in fact aware of his arrival until now?"


    "Yes, indeed." - I retort - "I have had the good fortune to befriend my lovely companion yesterday and asked of her to accompany me to the bazaar. We had a lovely time together, and I am afraid I have somewhat excessively prevailed upon her time in my curiosity. Visitors from Evergreens are quite a rarity nowadays."


    He chuckles - "Yes, indeed. Entirely understandable. I do confess, I have had been told you went out with a companion, but for some reason it had been impressed upon me that it was a gentleman you were with. I do apologize for my hasty presumptions."


    Moon Unit snorts next to me, her eyebrow quirked. "No gentlemen here, good sir squire." - she quips - "Just us chaste maidens." Oh, yeah, she understands what he''s about. To his honor, Alistair does look quite bashful. Oh well, it was harmless enough.


    "Alistair, would you be so kind to inform prince Edward that he may call on me when he finds it convenient to talk?" - I offer - "He was not available for meeting the day before yesterday, even though I was supposed to meet with him while my father had an audience with the king."


    He frowns. Opens his mouth to say something, but reconsiders almost immediately. I can practically see him reassessing the situation in his head. "Ah. Again, my apologies. I was not aware of that either. In all honesty, I had been visiting sir Manfred in his domain and had only returned to the capital this morning. While we are at it, may I offer my compliments on the new roads? I was able to use a stretch of it heading towards the Parsee, and I was deeply impressed by the quality. To think that worthless tar could be put to such great use..."


    "Not to tout my horns, but yes, I''m quite pleased with the results. His highness expressed interest in the tar roads as well, you know? Should nothing go awry, we should be able to enjoy the tar-paved highways throughout the whole kingdom in two years or so. There is no lack of tar nor gravel in the mountains, after all." - I agree. I''m honestly pleased as a punch with those. Logistics are the lifeblood of the kingdom.


    He nods with a grin - "It would make travels easier. But, I do believe I''ve taken enough of your time. I shall depart and inform Edward that you are amenable to meeting at a convenient time. Good evening, ladies."


    Moon Unit snorts again, as he departs. "I''m beginning to see why you''re not enthused about the engagement." - she offers quietly - "Honestly, getting jealous about your fianc¨¦e having friends in your own gender?" I pat her shoulder wordlessly as I shake my head. Ed, pick something. Either you''re avoiding me or you''re hovering over me possessively. You can''t have it both ways, and drafting Alistair to do it for you is not making this any better.


    ___


    Since it is not quite close to bedtime yet, I invite Moon Unit to my room. Both to introduce her to Bridgit and to feed her a peppered omelette. The introduction goes really well, and I breach the subject of getting the honey and ouzo from the market, because I did promise a lesson on making a cure for cold, and Moon Unit of all people would take to it like duck to water, because healing magic is a subsection of light magic. Bridgit surprises me by bringing out both. The further surprises me by also bringing out a box of dry mint. The smirk is not really on her face, but I see it in her eyes clearly. Well played, Bridgit, well played.


    However, the food clearly must be had first, and I task Bridgit to put up eggs to fry. Normally, that would have required a visit to kitchens, but one of the first enchantment attempts I made is basically a hotplate. Yes, I am lazy and like to have things as convenient as they can be. Bridgit is, understandably, appreciative of this. Moon Unit, on the other hand, seems fascinated by the concept of utility enchantments and watches the hot plate intently as Bridgit cracks some eggs onto it. Meanwhile, I put a few pepper seeds into the handmill and grind them down. Much to my surprise, the taste of pepper is not overwhelming capsaicin as I have feared after my mint expressions. I''m guessing people had enough time to do a selection breeding on pepper to bring it down to useful levels.


    "Well, let us eat." - I proffer cheerfully, as Bridgit presents the plates. At my insistence, she gets her own share and sits at the table with us, something that makes her a little nervous at first. The fact Moon Unit does not object nor seems to be displeased calms her down soon enough. Omelettes are good. Very good. I missed pepper, I did.


    "Mistress, what was that herb? It really makes omelettes different." - Bridgit quips after working through her portion. She nearly chokes when I explain that it was pepper. "But! BUT!... Pepper!? The same pepper that is traded by gold in weight? Mistress, why are you wasting all those expensive spices on me!?" Yes, Bridgit is really cute when she fusses like this.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    "Why not?" - really, why not. "It''s not like I can''t afford it, you know?" - I quip - "Really, Bridgit, you should know better by now. Why don''t you set up some cava? Make sure to make a cup for yourself too. Maybe add milk to all cups except mine, it is rather late and I''d rather not make you or Moon Unit lay awake in bed all night."


    She huffs, mutters something vaguely sounding like "Oh, really." and busies herself with the beverage.


    "First pepper, and now cava? My, my, you''re really spoiling me here." - my elven waifu pitches in with a smile - "I don''t know how will I ever repay that."


    "Ah, just enjoy it. Your smile is all the payment I''ll ever need." - I toss back carelessly - "Now, while Bridgit is making our drinks, let''s talk about cure. It''s fundamentally simple, you simply dilute honey with ouzo until it''s thin enough to drip off the spoon, then stir in crumbled mint. The real secret is that you push in a little healing magic when it''s nice and even. Not any specific spell, just generic "feel better" notion. If you ever had the training for "Nicks and Cuts", it is the same thing, just pushed into the mix instead of in the nick."


    We pass time making more of the cure, Moon Unit grasping the concept with envious ease. "This is not just against the cold, is it?" - she muses, as she holds up the jar to the light - "This is literally a "feel better" in a jar. Why do we even put the herb into it? Honey is a base, I get that, and ouzo is a fine medium for holding enchantment, but I don''t see what mint has to do with anything."


    I simply smile and hold up a full spoon towards her. She rolls her eyes playfully, but dutifully laps it up. AAAAnd here we go. Oh, that face expression is priceless.


    "Well." - she offers after a few moments of silence - "It might be a cure, but it feels like a squall inside your nose. Oh, now I get it. The healing is just a part of it, the other part is blasting everything out of the stuffed nose with overwhelming force, isn''t it?"


    "That too. Also, it makes your breath fresh." - I add lazily - "Take a spoonful in the morning, and you will feel the difference all day." She eyes the cure appreciatively.


    "You know, that alone would make sure it sells well." - she admits - "You''re honestly amazing, Alyssa. Roads, cure, saving the dwarves..." She chuckles at my expression - "Yes, I heard about that. The whole kingdom probably did, by now. You and your father are doing a great thing for them, you know? You are making them people again. Not scattered refugees, as they were until now, but people with their own fate and place in the world. They will remember you for centuries for that alone, mark my words."


    ___


    Well... As much as I would have liked it otherwise, in the end I had to bid Moon Unit good night and let her return to her room. (Note to self - procure cuddles. Stat!) Bridgit is rather pensive when I return from the door. "Mistress." - she finally asks - "Is that an elf thing, or she''s just so pretty that even women want her?"


    She surprises me into a bout of a belly laugh. "The second, I''m afraid." - I offer in return - "Elves are generally pretty folk, but... Let''s just say that even among elves, the general consensus would be "She''s very very pretty". Why, did you also get the urge to pet her head and feed her grapes?"


    Bridgit finally realizes just what she blurted out and to whom and reddens so much it spreads all the way down her neck. In fact, I''m pretty sure even her breasts are blushing right now, though I obviously can not verify this. Not without really souring my relationship with my maid, at least.


    "I. i... I''m deeply sorry, mistress, I let my mouth run too much." - she stutters, fidgeting and wringing her hands - "I shouldn''t be thinking that kind of thoughts about students anyways, it''s... aah, improper."


    "You shouldn''t blurt them out in public." - I correct her - "But nothing prevents you from appreciating what you saw in private. I certainly don''t. On an entirely unrelated note, help me out of my dress?"


    Oh jeez. She''s going lilac. And stuttering. And wringing her hands. "Come on. I want to go to bed already. It''s been a long day." - I nudge her.


    "Mistress, you''re awful." - she bleats as she obediently comes over and starts undoing the numerous ties that hold my dress together from behind - "What would I do if you make me think about you like this, ah?"


    "I don''t really mind." - I reply honestly, rather distracted by the stubborn hook on the glove. The way she gasps does tell me I''ve just dropped another bomb on her already quite cratered mindscape.


    "...This is very improper, for a maid to lust after her mistress." - she finally offers, her voice small - "Please don''t encourage me, it is bad enough as it is."


    I give in to the urge. And pet her head. "Shh. Don''t worry about it so much. I won''t tease you... much. Take your time to work those feelings out, it''ll help you in the long run." - I offer to her before spinning her around to undo her dress.


    "Aaaah! Mistress, what, why, are you going to?!" - she yelps, trembling as I push the dress off her. Having fine work tentacles on demand is very convenient for quickly undoing all the ties.


    "I''m putting you to bed." - I breathe into her ear, making her squirm and hug herself around the waist - "Nothing more than that. I might be shameless, but I like to think I''m also considerate of my people. Ne?"


    She''s oddly quiet after that. I''m... on the fence about it. On one hand, I kinda sexually harassed my own maid, which is a dick move. On the other, she clearly finds the notion enticing, if not socially acceptable. On third, I did limit the teasing to just teasing and did not go further than would be generally expected of a noble lady and her personal maid. If some of the stories I heard are truthful, not even close. Oh, yeah, I have had been keeping an ear out for rumors and gossip whenever possible, and the information is promising. First of all, there is no religious bias against homosexualism. Second, there is no such word as "homosexualism". Instead, there are "sodomy" for men, and "skinship" for women. Which is very weird, because the world does not even HAVE the requisite religion and its associated mythos to explain the existence of the word "sodomy". Finally, the last thing is that it is generally expected AND socially acceptable for noble women to have skinship with their maids or companions. I''m not exactly certain on why, but so far the evidence points towards it being a natural development of conflicting needs to remain faithful to husband and of having to spend long stretches of time alone while husband is out and about gallivanting with armies. As such, "skinship" is not considered cheating, though it is generally expected to be kept "in-house" by keeping a cute maid or scholar. Going out to other noble ladies for this is... not unheard of, but generally uncommon. On the other hand, "sodomy" is VERY much considered cheating on the husband''s part. I have no idea why. It''s also rare, and people who practice it are generally known as very eccentric.


    I don''t really sleep. I definitely don''t dream. But I can sort of... go dormant. It''s not a true sleep, I''m still aware of my surroundings and can transition to action at a moment''s notice, but to the rest of the world, I appear to be deeply slumbering. I can also push it further, and then it would look like I died. Which is a horrible trick and I ended up inventing raspberry pie just to have a suitable treat to tender my apology to Sally and Louise who discovered my "corpse" that morning. But tonight? I am drifting off. Something is odd. I have grown used to not dreaming, so why this is happening now? Why it feels so odd?


    My dream... Is a municipal park near my first home. Not in this world, in my life prior to transmigrating. It''s pretty empty at best of times, in the dream it''s downright abandoned. I feel awkward standing in the middle of it in my shoggothy self. I don''t belong here. Not anymore. I would probably drive people insane with my mere appearance here. Gosh, what if someone shows up? I mean, it IS my dream, but I don''t dream normally! It''s an odd dream. Who knows what might happen, and I certainly do NOT want to see people going nuts. Thankfully, I am shoggoth. I have options. This particular time? I squish down and layer myself on top of an empty flowerbed, pretending I''m a shrubbery. It works out surprisingly well. I''m a shrubbery. With red menacing eyes peering from within. So very templates. Much clich¨¦.


    "...Alyssa!... Alyssa! Where are you?" - now, what in the name of all things odd and even is Moon Unit doing in my dream? Because, folks, this is genuine article. I don''t feel her as I feel the rest of everything here. She''s.. coming from outside. How ever so very curious.

 Chapter 14. There’s A Shoggoth In My Bath!

    Wracking my brains for an explanation... Match found. Dreamwalk. This is a magical ability inherent to elves. A capable mage is, theoretically, able to enter someone else''s dream and interact with the dreamer there. Normally, dreamer won''t realize it was anything more than a dream, unless dreamwalker elects to inform them otherwise. This ability is not really exposed in the original game much, and translation avoids the mention entirely. Considering Selene is not a full-blooded elf, but rather "of elven descent", it probably means that Selene is not capable of it. Moon Unit, on the other hand, both is, and likely was trained in it, like all members of Conclave. This ability is heavily featured in one of the DLC routes, however... and that makes me worried. DLC adds three new routes to the game, and if I were to sum them up laconically, I would term them as "very fucked up".


    Why fucked up? Well, all of the routes involve Protagonist becoming a very disturbed and monstrous individual, with only one out of three having any glimmer of redemption in the end. To sum it up, there is "elven route", which happens if Protagonist becomes a target of anti-elf racism. This is the one with dreamwalking being a big thing, and ends in nothing less than elves an mass embarking on genocidal conquest of Champagne (and possibly the rest of the world). This happens when racism becomes too much for Protagonist to handle and she decides that the only way for her to be happy and free is to eradicate humans. To do this, she abuses dreamwalking to take control of Conclave and essentially forces her own brother to become her consort. As I said, very fucked up and extremely incompatible with my plans for brighter future for everyone.


    One of the other two routes is "TransBalcan route", where Protagonist becomes a sadist reveling in bloodshed and eventually ends up being proposed to by "The Impaler", also known as Vlad Tepes, the king of Vallah. Yes, an expy of Drakula. Yes, he has a fetish for impaling people on pikes as a method of execution. Yes, he literally creates fields of impaled people in his quest to unite all of TransBalcan under one banner. Yes, this ends badly. In the end of the route, Vlad and his bloody queen perish together when united Champagne-Kraut army under the leadership of Hiram and Alistair crushes the Vallah forces and collapses the king''s castle by catapult bombardment and magic. No, they don''t even try to capture it, they are so terrified of the couple they just reduce the whole castle to rubble to get rid of them.


    The last one is an "Ork route" which involves abduction, a lot of rape and eventual descent into berzerking bloodlust. Ironically speaking, this is the only route with any kind of good outcome in the end, as after wholly exterminating the tribe that violated her, Protagonist is found by a different tribe, nursed back to health and ends up falling in love with the chieftain.


    On one hand, none of those routes are likely an option for Selene, because DLC was deemed too disturbing to translate. On the other, the very thought of Moon Unit going through any of this fills me with black rage. NO. Not fucking happening. NEVER. But, and I have to be honest about this, the route with dreamwalking is one I can do the least against. My best hope is simply not to allow Moon Unit be targeted by racists. Which should be eminently doable, as my status is on the steady rise and my physical abilities are so much out of scope I might as well be considered immutable for the purposes of combat.


    While I think and worry, my object of consideration comes into view. She''s wearing some sort of tunic, presumably her nightgown, and barefoot. Well... thanks. Now I have to deal with lust on top of worry. I don''t even HAVE a stomach as a shrubbery, and it''s still doing flips. Fuck. She''s not going to give up on this. I need to talk to her. But... Oh look, a distraction!


    Being in full control of my dream is certainly convenient. I cause a hefty branch to fall off one of the trees behind her with a crash and while she whirls around to investigate, I resume my human-shaped form. Sort of. Why my body is the hardest thing to control in the dream? Gah. I SQUISH the extra eyes, forcing them to my back and calves before she turns around.


    "OOh, here you are. I was looking all over this place for you." - she coos, narrowing the distance to hugging range as she does. And then she goes for a hug. Shiiiit! I BARELY manage to shift the eyes out of the way of her hands, concentrating on taking as human a shape as I could. It''s... An effort. It''s like my subconsciousness wants her to find out what I am. Wait... Oh fuckbaskets on a bloody stick, this is IT! The fucking light magic. The truth aura! In reality, it''s just making her sensitive to lies, in here everything is subject to it! My only saving grace is that I''m not trying to deceive her, just avoiding the whole truth.


    "Moon Unit. What are you doing in my dream?" - I inquire as blandly as I can manage, making her recoil and stare at me in befuddlement.


    "How!?" - she yelps, reddening and suddenly seeming very self-conscious of her attire.


    "I''m aware of dreamwalking. Not something I can pull off myself, for obvious reasons, but I am entirely lucid within my own dream." - I offer an explanation. Again, it is not a lie, but more of a misleading by omission. She seems to buy it.


    "...Ohh. Oh. Well. This is really awkward." - she offers, hiding her eyes - "I''m sorry. I... I just got so curious about you! I wanted to... to..."


    "To know what I''m dreaming about?" - I finish for her, shrugging - "Well, when I do dream, it is about you." I admit, I''m teasing a lot, but this, as far as I''m concerned, is an appropriate payback for getting into my dream without asking. As I wave my hand, the environs abruptly change. What was a park is now an onsen, complete with a gently steaming rock pool. "Since you are already here, let''s make the most of out it, shall we?" - I offer to her as she looks around in amazement.


    "But... this is a bathing house?" - she inquires, turning to look at me. And abruptly turning away, as I have had taken the advantage of her distraction to shift my body to nakedness.


    "Consider it a little payback for invasion of my privacy, m''dear." - I quip as I step into the pool and sink in to the neck. Ooh, yes. The water is nice. Also, because it keeps bubbling, I can relax a little more. Why, yes, I''m a cheating cheater who cheats her own subconsciousness by letting it exhibit myself in a way that precludes my companion from actually seeing anything odd. Now, I wonder, would I be able to... bwuh.


    She is blushing hard. I can clearly see this, because in spite of embarrassment, she sheds her tunic and steps into the pool, quickly sinking into the water to match my pose on the opposite side. It takes a little bit of silent soaking, but her expression gradually shifts from "I''m smiling to hide my discomfort" to much more natural and pleasant "ooh, this is actually really nice". Naturally, I can''t resist the urge to tickle her sole with a tentacle. She pulls her foot back with an embarrassed giggle.


    "Alyssa..." - she drawls, half-accusingly and half-playfully - "...yes, well. This was ill-considered of me, and I concede that your payback was both inspired and appropriate. A bit of privacy for a bit of privacy seems like a fair exchange. For what it''s worth, I''m sorry, I really should have asked permission first. But I just can''t help myself. The more I find about you, the more it seems to me that you are like.. like... like a mushroom."


    "Ehh?" - OK, that was pretty weird. Mushroom, really? Are you going to keep me in dark and feed me bullshit, honey?


    "I mean... I have this feeling, you know? That the lady Gillespie everyone can see is just a tip of someone really vast. Like a hand-tall mushroom is really just a tip of mycelia that spans half the forest." - she explains. Elves. Always thinking of things in plant terms. Heh.


    "I have a question for you." - I interject - "You are aware that you can sense lies, right?"


    She nods. "Well, yes. This is a common thing for those who''s alignment is light magic, no?"


    "Indeed it is. The bigger question is, are you aware that this sense expands enormously within a dream?" - I continue and she nods again, looking sheepish. I sigh. "Moon Unit. Please, don''t take this the wrong way, but you just did a horribly reckless thing. You are already sensing I''m more than I show, and if you press for answers further, you will have to be a part of my plans. A part of my life, even."


    She nods thoughtfully. "I understand that now. You''re not a human, are you?" - she offers - "I had thought you might be a talbot, but you just don''t show the malice they harbor against all living."


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Talbot, by the way, is the child-snatcher myth I have been wary of. They''re rumored to be capable of flowerless magic and replace newborn children, slowly feeding on the parents until they grow weak and die. Thankfully, talbots are fairly well understood, and barring very unusual circumstances, they are discovered and dispatched of early. Unfortunately, there is no way of recovering newborns that have already been replaced, because talbots consume them. Natural look for a talbot that is not imitating anyone is a spindly humanoid with gray rough skin. They have lamprey-like mouths. Disgusting creatures.


    "Out of curiosity, what would have happened if I was a talbot? I imagine getting into their dreams is not a good idea." - I quip. I''m actually curious, she had shown no worry on that front so I assume she has some way to deal with them.


    "Oh, they die the moment you try to walk into their dreams." - Moon Unit explains with a smile - "I have killed four ever since I left Evergreens. Dreamwalking is light magic, ultimately, and they can not bear a touch of light so deep."


    Hm. That... Actually meshes well. But raises more questions. "Wait a moment. If that''s how it goes, then you knew I couldn''t be talbot when I showed you how to make the cure for cold. It is also light magic, after all." - I offer thoughtfully - "Unless, you just threw this disgusting bit out as a distraction. So... what did you think I am when you decided to dreamwalk?"


    "Ah, well, that''s just it! I don''t know." - she offers - "You don''t quite fit any creature I can think of. Can you blame a girl for being curious about a potential paramour?"


    Oh. Huh. That''s really still on the table? Phew. "Fair enough." - I offer - "But, and this is important. I understand that in your heart you are a scholar, and therefore, you feel you must know. I... think I do not mind you knowing what I really am, but I have to warn you. It will be very hazardous for you. I can not guarantee you will come out of this dream sane if you push further than this."


    She sidles closer and puts her hand on my stomach. GAH! This is a forbidden move, you know! No taking advantage of lusting shoggoths, missy! No fair!


    "I''ll risk it." - she offers simply, her fingers stroking a circle around my navel - "I have a feeling you''re worth it."


    And that''s when I lose it, and let my real voice leak out.


    "TEKELI-LIIII!...."


    Oh fuck a duck. Did I just... mating call on her?! So. FUCKING. EMBARRASSING!


    Ok. Oh shit. OK. No panic. OK. I just let her hear me in full range! OK. Hold it together.... NO PANIC!


    Her eyes are glassen. She''s stiff. She... oh shit. Please please please no, I did not fuck up my elven waifu on the first night together. No way. No.


    "....You are full of stars!" - she breathes out just as I''m about to give in and start panicking in earnest - "You are like... like a person-shaped hole in the world! WHAT ARE YOU!?"


    Damn. This. Is gonna be a bitch and a half to fix. I try not to react as she backpedals frantically, pressing her back against the opposite side of the pool.


    "My kind are usually called SHOGGOTH." - I offer, letting more of my full vocalization slip out to impress the gravity of the situation on her - "We are not native to this existence. Please understand that I am just a BABY/SEED so far. I do have capability beyond RIGID-ORDER-FLESH-BEING-LIMITED, but not an external agency. Think of me as foundling that HIGHER-ENTITY-CONCEPT-EMBODIMENT put into this world to further their goals. There is no other of me in THIS-HERE-WORLDSTACK, to the best of my knowledge. We were ENGINEERED/CREATED/DEVISED to be universal labor, to comprehend and advance the PRODUCTIVE-ORDER-FACILITATION of LESSER-ENDEARING-SOCIUMS."


    "...YOU ARE THE TOOL OF GODS!" - she shrieks, practically vibrating in her seat. The wariness melts off her visibly, replaced by mounting excitement and joy - "This... I... Oh gods and stars, I can''t believe... SO... CURIOUS!"


    "Mm. Calm down. Tool of Gods? What''s that?" - I quip, scaling back my vocalization to human ranges as I do.


    "The Tool of Gods is the name our scholars are using to call the divine messengers that were directly placed by gods to improve the world." - she bubbles giddily - "Not the divinely inspired people, mind. The Tools of Gods were said to be towering entities with many limbs and eyes, capable of enormous creation. The legends say it is terrifying to behold one, but those who can stand the burden will be given knowledges beyond mortal ken. To think that I know that the right name is Shoggoth. That alone would earn me a place in the Thread of Creation!"


    Now Thread of Creation is a thing I actually know about. It''s a huge tapestry that is a record of the world''s history from antiquity to modern days. It is maintained by elves and kept in Evergreens. They used to permit human scholars to view it as a great honor in the past, but that kinda tapered off in recent years as elves grew more insular. Now, do I really mind if Moon Unit wants an accomplishment to be recorded? Nah. As the saying goes, happy waifu is happy laifu.


    "There is that." - I quip wickedly - "A footnote on that grand tapestry is more than most scholars achieve in their life. Want to make it a chapter?"


    She blinks at the seeming non-sequitur. "Are you offering to teach me?" - she ventures, looking more than a little bit like someone who just got told they won a lottery.


    "Among other things. But honestly speaking, I''m more interested in the earlier notion you ventured." - I continue. She blinks at me slowly, still puzzled. "Do you still want to be my paramour?" - I offer bluntly. And that''s when I get a faceful of tits, as she jumps on my lap and hugs my head. HNNNG.


    ...OOkay, she''s not letting my head go. Fine, fine. If you''re like that, then do kindly forgive me for taking liberties. Aaand she lets go of me with shriek and laughter as I lick her nipple.


    "Oh, you!" - she admonishes, as she sits back into the water - "I... can''t believe it. You are a legend. A myth. A world-changing existence. And I''m..."


    "Beautiful." - I cut in before she can really get onto self-deprecating track - "Moon Unit, if you truly want this, then the first thing you need is to stop putting yourself down. Am I a benevolent eldritch abomination from beyond the stars? Sure. Does that mean anything about how much you deserve or do not deserve to be with me? Not really."


    "I understand. I think. It''s just... so much to take in at once." - she responds softly. (Mental note - prove to Moon Unit sometimes that she can take in so much more. Innuendo intended.) She swallows nervously, and continues - "May I... see you? Not the form you take in the world, but the real you?"


    Darn. On one hand, she is not writhing on the floor trying to poke out her ears after hearing me SPEAK. On the other, seeing me is much bigger shock. But then again, if I really want her to be truly mine, I have to trust her to be able to handle the true me. And so...


    ...I...


    ....RELAX....


    AND LET MY BODY FLOW FREELY. RAISING FROM the pool, MY MASS UNFOLDS. CURIOUSLY, I STILL MAINTAIN SOMEWHAT HUMANOID SHAPE ON TOP, LITTLE EYES STUDDING MY FORM LIKE LED STRIPES. MY LEGS MERGE AND SPLIT, BECOMING A WAD OF TENTACLES. THEY STRETCH THROUGH the water, LIFTING Moon Unit GENTLY, AND BRING her stiff form IN FRONT OF ME, HOLDING her IN FRONT OF MY FACE.


    She''s drooling a little. Thankfully, the shock is not so bad, and I can see her brain and body restarting. She shudders violently and stares at me, her eyes so wide I can see my REFLECTION in them.


    LEANING IN, I KISS HER.


    ___


    I have to amp things back rather quickly. A few minutes of making out is enough for a first exposure to ME. Compressing back into human shape (which comes without hitch now), I settle back into the pool, holding her curled up against me while she recovers from the EXPERIENCE.


    She gradually drifts back into focus. I take my time playing with her hair, tickling her cheek with a lock while she gets her marbles back together.


    "I feel so strange." - she finally offers, her voice raw and husky, as she cuddles close - "It''s like.. like... Like the... I feel so much more powerful now. Why?"


    "Ah. Well, you''ve become DEFILED." - I offer to her - "Or, rather, began to become one. As we get more intimate, it will grow."


    "Defiled?... Oh. Oh. Wait. OF COURSE! You''re inherently transdimensional, of course this happened! I should have realized." - she offers, much more lively - "Goodness, you''re made of good things happening to everyone, aren''t you? Terrifying too. I... honestly did not think this through. I could FEEL my mind breaking when I was looking at you."


    "Well, that''s the hazards of being with me." - I admit easily - "On the other hand, it will only get easier from now on. You have survived the first glance and kept your sanity, that''s the most important part." That being said, I frown at her and bap her forehead - "And on that note, bad girl! I had been terrified I''m going to harm you pretty much the whole time you''ve been in my dream, you know?"


    "I''m sorry." - she replies contritely - "But it did turn out good, didn''t it?"


    "That it did, my precious. That it did."

 Chapter 15. Annoying Dean

    I wake up in such a good mood that Bridgit comments on it. I simply claim that I had a nice dream. Which is not in any way a lie, at that. She also notifies me that an academy footman came by while I was still asleep and requested I visit the dean for unspecified reasons. Not sure what he wants, but it''s not a hardship in any case. So after a light breakfast, I do depart towards the professoratorium. The day promises to be murky, given the clouds on the horizon. We might even have rain in the afternoon. Not that it would bother me. I''ll be fine and cozy in a dry and warm dorm.


    The atmosphere in the professoratorium is... odd. While the secretary waves me in pretty much as soon as I explain who I am and what I''m here for, I couldn''t help but notice her jolting when I said my name. Concerning. Even more concerning is the fact that the professoratorium seems to be abandoned. Where are all the people? It should be bustling with activity this close to the start of the academic year. As I step into the dean''s office (very spacious office, by the way, it looks like it spans the entirety of the building''s side from corner to corner), the doors behind me slam shut. OOkay? What''s with the stony expressions, people? And why am I faced with a man in royal mage uniform?


    He casts a spell in my direction. I''d dodge, but I can feel him massing up the intent, and it''s pure light magic. Entirely harmless to me. And, admittedly, intense enough to outright heal some pretty deep gashes. I can see the golden beam extending from the guy''s hand towards my solar plexus. Actually, this feels kinda nice, like a very light bellyrub. But nice or not, I can''t exactly let some random person just rub my belly like that. It''s uncouth! Even with magic, yes. Ask for permission first at least, you jackass.


    "So... what was that supposed to do?" - I drawl sardonically - "Because to the best of my knowledge, I''m not really wounded anywhere. Unless you''re trying to heal me from being a woman or something."


    Mage drops his hand like he''s just been burned and stares at me incredulously. His entourage, for the lack of a better word, are not any better. A standoff continues. "Well?" - I demand, putting in a touch of impatience in my voice.


    "...Shit!" - and one of the guys lunges at me with the dagger. OOkay, this is getting stupid. What the hell is going on? I grab him by the wrist and twist his arm, stepping to the side in the same time. Firing off body reinforcement spell is automatic by now, I don''t really NEED it, but I practiced it until it became a habit to explain away my supernatural toughness in altercations like these. He yelps, clearly not expecting the catch, and pounds the floor with his free arm, as I hold him pinned down by twisting the other one and a knee on the small of his back. "Sir Zade, help me!" - he manages, still struggling ineffectually.


    Mage finally works through his surprise and facepalms. "Stand down, people." - he grumbles, rubbing at his face tiredly.


    "But sir!..."


    "Yes, this includes you too, squire Jenkins." - he grumbles - "Lady Gillespie, I sincerely apologize for this misunderstanding. We had received a report that you are actually an undetected talbot, and dean Ambercrombe insisted on treating it as a confirmed case."


    "BUT SIR! SHE JUST CAST UNAIDED!" - Jenkins screams from under my knee. I shake my free hand in front of his face, making sure he can see the flower-embroidered sleeve clearly. He clearly fails to connect the dots. Zade just as clearly does. His palm impacts his face again.


    "Jenkins, you are a blind moron. What''s on her sleeve?" - he rasps. Not giving any time to the rash idiots to reply, he continues - "FLOWERS, Jenkins. Her sleeves are embroidered with flowers all the way to the elbows. She has enough facsimiles there to cast all the cantrips in the book at the same time and still have embroideries left over."


    I sigh and twist the arm harder. Jenkins yelps and finally lets go of the dagger, which clatters to the floor. I drop him unceremoniously and take a step forth, kicking the dagger well out of his reach. Zade sighs heavily and averts his eyes - "Jenkins, you are going back to sir Malachi for retraining. I can''t even begin to explain how much you screwed up. Honestly, the only thing you did right was not stabbing yourself with your own knife, while at it." He heaves a deep sigh and addresses me - "Once again, my deepest apologies. And my compliments on that takedown, while I''m at it. You are impressively trained in wrestling, lady Gillespie. My thanks for not wrenching his elbow, no matter how much the rash moron deserved it." We can hear some muffled sulfurous muttering from the aforementioned moron - which immediately earns him a heavy smack upside the head from Zade. "Shut up, Jenkins. Lady Gillespie was well within her rights to kill you right here and now. So you''d better be damn grateful she showed you mercy by injuring only your pride." - he admonishes - "What were you THINKING, pulling a dagger on count''s firstborn daughter!? It was bloody obvious she''s NOT a talbot the moment she ignored my spell. So why in the name of all that is sane and just did you decide that dagger is in any way the right idea?" And now Jenkins looks both steamed and sheepish. Guess it smarts being called out on doing the derp like this. Especially in front of everyone.


    "Sir Zade, I believe you have something to write." - I quip, tapping my foot. He pauses, groans, then turns around, patting his sidebag. "Damnation, I do." - he grumbles, as he sits down and shamelessly pilfers dean''s quill to start jotting things down on a piece of paper he pulls out of the bag. It''s a standard "had been verified to be free of malicious influences" form that is given to anyone who had been under suspicion of being a harmful creature and cleared of it. Strictly speaking, I can think of at least one malicious entity that could shrug off light magic just as easily as I did, but to the best of my knowledge, those beasts have had been hunted to extinction in ancient times. Three guys who didn''t do anything begin to shuffle towards the exit, as Zade waves at them. Jenkins follows them like a beaten dog. "Tell the dean to come in." - he calls after them.


    A few minutes later (Sir Zade is still scribbling. I really need to introduce printing press, their "forms" right now are basically a parchment with department seal preaffixed. Everything else has to be written in by hand.), a tall man enters the office. He, frankly, looks malnourished, with how thin he is. I''m curious enough to actually do a passive scan. Ooh, yeah. Tapeworms suck. Literally. And this dude has a honking huge one. Explains his thinness. And the perpetually foul mood, I''m guessing. "Sir Zade, what is this?" - he inquires acerbically, as he halts in the door and backs away defensively - "I was under impression that you had the problem handled!"


    Zade quirks a brow at him. "The problem, dean Ambercrombe, is handled." - he enunciates clearly - "At least on my side it is. You still need to handle yours. I do not know who was your source, but they took you for a fool. Lady Gillespie is confirmed to be exactly who she is, by the way. She is in no way talbot or selkie or doppelganger or any other malicious presence. Now forgive me for a few more minutes while I finish the document confirming this."


    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "And how, pray tell, this was verified so quickly?" - dean is just not giving up. Either he''s a fool, a paranoid, or... Oh, wait, I''m just being stupid. He''s obviously a relative of the choice idiot I handed out a beating to at the audience. Bother bother bother bother. Now I have to maneuver around this idiot too.


    Zade growls. "I do NOT care for you questioning my competence, dean!" - he stabs with his words forcefully - "But in the interests of keeping this short, she had shown NO adverse reaction to Ray of Purity. Which, as you should well know, is lethal or intensely painful to ANY malicious presence the royal charter currently recognizes."


    "But what about the unaided casting? I have been told she cast spells without a flower!" - jeebus. Get a clue, moron. I turn to him and very intently and slowly dust off my sleeves, showing off the embroideries. He just stares at me with empty eyes. What the fuck. Ooh, wait, nevermind, he snapped out of it. Oh, yeah, he''s looking on my sleeves. OOh, and here comes facepalm.


    "Yes, indeed." - Zade grumbles - "Now, mind if I finish this so I could get out of your office and let you resume the normality?"


    To be fair to the dean, he quickly adapts to the changed situation. Sketching a quick bow (Just as shallow as he can get away with by politeness, of course.), he steps into the office fully, moving off towards the window, and motions me to follow. Fine. Whatever.


    "I, hrm, offer my apologies for excessively hasty action." - he offers without looking at me, - "I have been advised by someone I explicitly trust, and had no reason to think they were mistaken."


    "Is that all you apologize for?" - I quip back.


    He jerks around, staring at me - "What do you mean by that?!"


    I give him a thin smile. "I have had been awaiting some packages to arrive in the evening. They haven''t, and I know for a fact they have had been dispatched." - I offer, chuckling in satisfaction as I see his jowls set into angry frown - "Therefore, they have had been intentionally tarried by Academy footmen. Now why did that happen, I wonder?"


    He swallows his angry surprise and retorts dryly - "Lady Gillespie, I assure you I did NOT order your packages delayed. If indeed Academy servants had failed in their task, they shall be disciplined to the full extent of their fault."


    "Is that so? In that case, I believe I shall prevail on you and sir Zade to be the witnesses as we search for the packages. You see, one of them was directly from the king, and I am under orders from his highness personally to handle the contents with utmost care and reasonable haste. Delaying that package, why, whoever did this would likely be beheaded." - I offer to him, watching Zade suddenly straighten up and pay intense attention, while dean looks like he just bit into particularly juicy onion expecting an apple.


    Zade comes to his senses first and grabs the sander, shaking it all over the paper to draw the excess ink. "I am at your disposal, lady Gillespie." - he says sharply, cutting off the dean just as latter opens his mouth to say something - "Intercepting royal mail is something I may not overlook."


    And now dean looks frightened. Subtly, he hides it well, but I can see the trembling tension. He was NOT expecting to be in this situation. I''m not sure if he genuinely believed in me being a talbot (This suspicion crops up way too often for my taste. Note to self, hold a public healing session or something to make it common knowledge I''m apt with light magic.) or just thought Zade would find something sufficiently dark on my persona to read me a riot act over it. I dunno why I would have any, pretty much all law-proscribed things are illegal for good reasons. Reasons like "it eats your life force" and "it makes you impotent" and "it ruins your frontal brain lobes". Baaaaad juju. Not the realm-ending bad, thankfully, but very much the person-ending bad in many cases.


    "So. Dean. Would you be so kind to lead us to the room that is used to store parcels arriving to students?" - I inquire lazily. He swallows, but turns around, heading towards the door without much ado. This is actually very convenient situation for me. If it was just me and dean, he''d just fob me off to go look for the parcel on my own. With Zade in the room, however? He has to come, otherwise Zade would just arrest him on the spot.


    The trip to the room is in silence, though I can passively sense dean getting tenser and tenser as we come close. He obviously didn''t plan it all the way through. If he did, the parcels wouldn''t be in the room to begin with, they''d be secreted somewhere out of reach, or even out of Academy to begin with. As is, he simply expected me to get in trouble on the first try and didn''t even pause to consider the plan B. The hold on parcels was obviously a plan to coerce me into further concessions once the "guilt" was to be established. Goodness, Ambercrombes certainly prove their salt as choice idiots. How does a guy like him become a dean anyway? I, ah... make an unfortunate conclusion that this man will have to be replaced. I''ll give him exactly one more chance to prove competence. He had to have SOMETHING going for him to keep the post, so one chance is all he gets. The parcels are the second strike, if he does something stupid again, well... It''d be very hard to justify remaining a dean after being beaten rotten by a student in an honor duel.


    With clear reluctance, dean enters the room first and demands to have "...any packages due to lady Gillespie to be presented at once." The pair of footmen in the room clearly realize something has gone wrong with me and Zade flanking the dean, so the scramble is very real. Before long, there are two packages from the bazaar, which are my hookah and the molasses I bought, and one rather ornate casket with king''s personal seal set into the lid. Dean visibly pales on seeing that, and swallows nervously. He probably wasn''t told about this, or he would have been much more cautious. A student getting mail directly from the king is not someone you bother without a good reason, professor or not.


    "When did the packages arrive?" - I ask. One of the footmen scratches his head. "Why, the last eve, milady." - he answers easily.


    "So how come I wasn''t alerted about it last evening, then?" - I inquire. He is faced the wrong way to see the faces dean is making frantically in his direction. The joys of being able to pick my position second, mm. Amusement much. "Ah, well, pardon us milady, but most honorable dean had requested we shan''t bother students while in repose. We were to deliver the parcels on the next day''s morn, while the students are attending to lecture hall." - he answers simply. Well, that was an inspired bit of ass-covering, dean. I guess I''ll let you off the hook today.


    "See this seal?" - I inquire of the footmen, tapping the lid of the casket. Both of them seem to be ignorant. "This is king''s personal seal. If you ever get packages with this seal again, they should be delivered instantly, even if it''s in the dead of night or in the middle of classes." - I explain, and both of them straighten up and nod spastically. Amusingly enough, dean does the same.


    "Well, no harm done. Sir Zade, I thank you for your attendance. Might I prevail on you to appraise his highness of the current state of the package? Do tell him to send a runner tomorrow, I shall have his commission ready by then." - I tell him, eyeing dean gain a faintly green complexion as the enormity of the fuckup he almost got into finally sinks in. Hopefully, that''s sufficient to scare him straight. And if not, well...


    As I go to pick up the casket, dean yet again proves his mouth works faster than his brain. "Wait, lady Gillespie! There''s also a matter of tables..." - oh, what the fuck. Dean Ambercrombe, what the flying fuck.


    "What of it? I donate them to Academy. Per Noble Charter of Attendee, I have the first pick on the furniture I donate, while I am in attendance. You can assign them to the students in need of a good worktable once I graduate." - I retort, while picking up the casket. Footmen quickly grasp the hint and lift the other two packages, lining up after me.


    "Sir Zade, dean Ambercrombe. Good day to you, gentlemen." - I offer as I walk out. Behind my back, Zade bites back a raspy laugh and shakes his head, while dean imitates a fish out of water.

 Chapter 16. A Few Slow Days (Also Brand New Cheat – GET!)

    After this remarkable morning, things calm down. King''s commission presents no trouble - I have already devised the structure once, now I just reproduce it a number of times and set it into the wooden planks, which are then polished and coated. I''m cheating on coating, just like anywhere else, it''s just a layer of tar with finely ground lapis lasuli as the filler being flash-dried on the surface like a varnish. The result, however, is pretty remarkable - the combination of yellow pine with blue lapis lasuli brings out a vibrant green on the surface. Which is very unusual of a color for wood, but matches pretty well the green of copper. To make things easier, I etch a number into each pair of receivers, from zero to nine. Yes, I used to be a programmer, among other things.


    Sending them back to king goes off without hitch. And... that''s where things get really slow for several days. Ed continues to avoid me studiously. Alistair is being his gallant self, dispensing pleasantries as he goes but never letting anything worthwhile slip. Honestly, he''s ridiculously good with keeping secrets, when he wants to. Hiram is a no-show. He poked in once, inspected his room and vanished somewhere. A manservant of his is in occupation, so I''m guessing Hiram is stuck in the castle doing diplomatic overtures and token appearances. Selene had gone quiet. When we meet in the halls, she looks wary, but hasn''t tried speaking to me again. The idle gossip I''ve collected indicates she''s keeping low. In part because after the unsuccessful demarches earlier people started asking uncomfortable questions about her hostility, questions she had no good answers for. In other part because I''m nowhere near how she expected me to behave, which apparently included the stereotypical "evil noblewoman laugh" and attempts at petty sabotage. No idea why she thinks I''d target her so early, she hasn''t even spoken with Ed so far.


    What worries me the most, however, is that Moon Unit decided to maintain some distance. Oh, we still meet and exchange pleasantries in the hall, but she professes to be busy whenever I venture any suggestions of spending time together. I did attempt to clarify the situation, but all I got back was a plea to give her a few days to "deal with it". I''m not sure what IT is, but if IT persists much longer, I might start entertaining concepticidal notions towards IT. Whatever IT is.


    I''m in a foul mood because of it. Thankfully, I have a distraction - the king had sent a second commission. He wants four of eight-point systems and eight of six-point, four-point and three-point ones. And twenty more of point-to-point connector pairs. And a separate six-point system which, if I am reading the hints right, is actually intended to be used by the royal family as their personal family line to each other, because the wood I''m provided for that one is abonos. Aka, the top grade bogwood, which is stupidly complicated to obtain. I''m in the process of cutting copper, using a conjured piece of carbide-edged osmium. Extravagant, but bad mood in shoggoth equals magical outbursts, so conjuring rare metals was actually pretty therapeutic. Fusing enough of carbon into it was even more satisfying. Combine with me having the strength on demand, well... Bridgit took one look at me slicing up a slab of copper like a butter stick, went pale and departed to the far side of the room. I guess the accompanying effects were a little too much - there''s been sparking, the odor of vaporized copper and an occasional microblast from copper steam build up.


    And... I fumble the last sliver and instead of it, the blade chops into my hand. Ow. Pretty solid hit, actually, I seem to have severed all the fingers except for the thumb. Aaand that''s when I hear quick thumping of steps behind my back. Shit shit shit shit shit! I push the new fingers out frantically, giving my newly reconstructed hand a flex. Looks normal, works normal... Taking a stock of Bridgit''s expression, she saw it. Damn.


    "Mistress...." - she begins worriedly.


    "I''m fine. Everything''s fine. Nothing to worry about." - I reply quickly. I''d smile, but I have a gut feeling that the resulting expression would be... less than reassuring.


    "So you didn''t cut off your fingers just now?" - she asks suspiciously.


    "Nope. No. What fingers? No missing fingers. See?" - flex my hand in front of her.


    "Soooo if I look behind this huge metalcutting knife, I won''t see a bunch of severed fingers behind it?" - she drawls, as she leans over to do just THAT! I... do something. I''m not sure what I tried to do, but when she looks there, what glances back at her is a spider-like thing with an eyeball for a body. Naturally, she shrieks and falls over on her ass. Or would have fallen if I didn''t pull her away from the table.


    "What in the name of gods is this!?" - she yelps, extending a shaking hand in the direction of the table. I glare at the eyeball spider and it runs off the table, jumps on the windowsill and vanishes outside. Apparently, just behind the window. And I have a nice view on the courtyard. And this is FUCKING RIDICULOUS. Because it''s still an active part of me I can move like anything else even if it''s not connected to me physically. What the... Just... WHAT. With this, I... well. Shit. This is an idea that just asks for testing. I direct the eyeball spider further into the dorms, sticking to the ceilings and far corners to avoid widespread panic, while in the same time reassuring my maid with obvious white lies that nothing is actually afoot. She, well... after the initial fright passes, she just huffs and tells me that I don''t need to break the magic more than I already did and maybe need to take a pause and eat something before I go back to slashing copper. Then she makes a mistake of trying to pick up the osmium blade. Which, for obvious reasons, is stupidly heavy. Which leads to me yanking her off her feet to prevent the aforementioned blade from going right into her foot. And now I have to calm down frightened maid again. She''s so lucky she''s cute.


    Right, so let''s see. Whom I can spy on? The obvious target is dean Ambercrombe. But this is actually boring, he is sorting out papers for the academy''s cafeteria purchases. Nothing I really care about. OK, how about Ed?... Oh, really? Ed, REALLY? You don''t have time to meet your fianc¨¦e, but you''re having tea with Selene in your room already? Heh. On one hand, I''m glad things on that front are processing. On the other, I''m sorely tempted to go burst in on them with Alistair in tow and a bunch of other witnesses to get the engagement broken early. Unfortunately, merely having tea is just a little bit not enough. She is, after all, a titled mage, which at her age is more than remarkable enough to get her an audience with the king, much less prince. (Note to self - persuade Moon Unit to be tested. She more than qualifies for title herself. Especially if the dream defilement really took.) Now if I caught them necking or something...


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Actually, now that I know I can do this, why shouldn''t I plant a bug on everyone of importance in the Academy? That would hive me quite a lot of forewarning about everything derpy they might think about. Not right now, though, I''m still giving headpats to Bridgit and she probably won''t care at all if I suddenly start cutting off more fingers. Actually, come to think of it... Do I NEED to cut off anything? I stab out around the heel of my boot into the wood, a bit of flesh squeezing between the floorboards and, for the lack of better word, dripping in. Ok, this is an option. I can split off bits of myself at will, shape them into something mobile and send them out to monitor the situation in the Academy. Heh. Heheheh. AHAHAHAHAAA! Oh sheeeit, this is gonna get silly, I just know it. Just from spreading through the underfloor, I can already hear all sorts of rumors. And see all sorts of ... interesting moments.


    ...Why do I hear moaning from Moon Unit''s room, come to think of it? It takes no time at all to divert a couple of "roaches" and clump them together into an eyeball spider. And then I peek in. OK, so... On one hand, now I know she''s not in pain or coerced into doing things she''d rather not do. On the other, why in the name of all that is sane she''s mauling her breasts and snatch while moaning my name? I mean, just... what the fuck, Moon Unit. Why exactly are you jilling off in your room if you clearly know you could''ve simply visited me and... Bah. This is silly. What IS her problem?


    Taking advantage of Moon Unit being distracted, I snoop around her room. One odd thing that immediately catches my attention is a cheap brass pot on the floor next to the bed. Taking a look into it reveals... several bloodied undergarments. Really? All that because she was on a period and couldn''t admit that to another girl... Wait, she did learn I''m a shoggoth. Maybe she assumed I am not privy to less than pleasant parts of a woman''s life? Silly bean. I''ll have to break it in somehow? Maybe try to catch her tonight and delay her long enough to "smell blood" on her? ...Except she''ll probably implode from embarrassment. Fuckity fuck fuck. Oh well, at least I do know she still wants me. That''s already quite a relief.


    Putting my attention back to the main body, I tap Bridgit on the nose. She had been placed on my lap at some point of it to dispense appropriate headpats and backrubs. I guess it is understandable she would be distraught at the thought of me injuring myself. Flattering, that. "Feeling better, Bridgit?" - I quip. She sniffles and nods. Yeah, she ended up crying. Not my proudest moment. Nope. I''m... somewhat tempted to show to her just how impervious to damage I really am, but I''m honestly not sure she could take revelation on a good day. Doing so while she''s emotionally distraught is just asking for a maid going loopy on me.


    Now, let''s see how much I can expand the bugging of the dorms... Oh. Oh hello here Lemand. I was wondering when you''ll show up. Stuck in the library, as always? Now, I''m calling dibs on the girl you might have chances with, sorry pal, but I''ll look out for someone who can share your interests. Preferably someone odd enough to contrast your bland nice guy looks. Really, for a man who''s going to rip a portal to literal hell, you''re looking way too blandly nice. Speaking of which... It might take a while to set up, but you''re going to watch some movies. Just so you know what kind of a bad idea is percolating in your mind. Call it a favor.


    Bridgit in the meanwhile had calmed enough to depart from me and go wash her face. While she''s busy with that, I neaten up the work area and stack the copper on the table. I''ve had enough of that job for today, old Abe did stipulate he expects it would take me a week to make things, after all. Taking a quick stock of what we have, I set about putting together a strawberry smoothie. Well, two of them, because Bridgit will outright refuse a treat I''m not partaking in. It''s pretty easy, too. Mostly wind magic to stir and chop, with a bit of ice magic to create the ice out of water to chill everything properly.


    Hah. Bridgit is adorable with milk mustache. Yes, yes, I''m finding you cute. You should have thought about that before attacking the milkshake with such vigor. And now she''s huffing at me. Cheering up - successful! I''d better give her a little bit of space now. Leaving my instructions for dinner, I depart on a midday walk. Nice to stretch my legs and everything... Oh, and here''s Moon Unit. Who, interestingly enough, seems to be actually looking for me, for once. She quickly approaches and hugs my arm before offering - "Are you going on a walk?"


    "Yes. Why, do you want to come with? I intend to stroll in the garden for a while, clear out my thoughts and lungs before dinner." - I offer back, and she nods excitedly.


    Normally, I''d offer my elbow, but I''m feeling a little bit possessive right now. so instead, I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her close. She gasps softly but goes along with it, her hand shyly coming to rest on my hip. Better. Much better. Gardens suddenly seem that much more brighter.


    "...I''m sorry I wasn''t available much the last few days, Alyssa. I wasn''t feeling well." - she opens the conversation.


    I have to chuckle. "I understand where you''re coming from, but next time, consider that having someone to rub your belly while you''re reading something on the couch will make feeling unwell that much more pleasant." - I offer.


    "...Ngh." - is her answer to that. And a looooot of blushing. Well, here''s hoping you will consider my words at least. She scrambles to change topic. "Alyssa, I was wondering something." - she ventures - "What exactly did you mean when you said TEKELI-LI!"


    She goes wide-eyed and clamps both of her hands over her mouth, surprised at the eldritch sound she just uttered. Thankfully, the garden is empty, barring the two of us. Turning to face her properly, I put my hands on her shoulders and kiss her forehead. "It''s not a word." - I explain with a bashful smile - "It''s mating call." Aaand she beats all of her previous records at blushing once she comprehends.


    "Oh gods, you mean I... you... I..." - she trails off and bites her lip, looking at me.


    "Made me want to tear your clothes off and have my wicked ways with you right on the flowerbed here? Yes." - I finish for her - "Kindly don''t do that in public places, I probably won''t be able to restrain myself if you keep giving the call like this."


    It would be probably more reassuring if her look was not quite so calculating right now.

 Chapter 17. All Sorts Of Spying

    I am deeply thankful Moon Unit is kind and merciful and did NOT make me do something I''d have great difficulty in explaining to every single traumatized student and professor. I''m LESS thankful for her being an incorrigible TEASE! (Note to self - invent the cold shower. Because I''m fucking gonna need it. A lot.) I AM slightly thankful that she did hint at teasing being complemented with pleasing at some convenient point soon. Not exactly sure when, though. Probably after the academy starts, because right now everything is pretty frantic. I have had finished with the second king''s order, bringing my earnings from that alone to a nice round hundred gold. He sent a note with the four guys coming to pick it up about holding off from further orders until the existing receivers are distributed as necessary. Apparently, the sudden glut of communication ability had caused something of an upending in the court. On a less pleasant note, I am short on paper and had to send Bridgit out for more. But on the upside, she did mean to pop back to our residence today to stash back what was unneeded anyway, so...


    I keep spying on the people in the meanwhile. Hiram finally made an appearance. As in, he''s now at his dorm room. His manservant is still turning away assorted visitors, so I am guessing he is not "officially in" just yet. Lemand is being his geeky self, failing to notice people around him. I have had surreptitiously swapped several books around, making sure he would get something other than dimensional theory. Admittedly, I did not plan on getting him stuck in a huge omnibus on enchantments, but this is much safer than the alternative he would get into without "assistance". (Note to self - try and steer Lemand into becoming a more conventional mage. Maybe get him into researching. By the time he graduates I should be able to afford him a very generous stipend - and he in turn should be a decent option to dump all the piddly research on while I''m concentrating on unexplored concepts.)


    Oho, what''s that? Ed and Alistair are having a serious conversation? Don''t mind if I do.


    "''...What is it going on with you, Al? Your face could sour the milk." - hm, Ed sounds pretty carefree there. Curious.


    "Your behavior worries me, my prince." - aand here''s serious Al. Way serious. "People are starting to talk..."


    "When they are not talking about me, Al? Tell me something new for a change. And stop with ''my prince'' already. I thought we''ve agreed it''s silly to use in private." - Ed tosses back. Hm. Just clueless, or intentionally avoiding thinking about it? Because even I can guess WHAT people are talking about. He had been seen with Selene a bunch of times already, but not with me. Add to that that I live in the different dorm building, and people are wagging their tongues something fierce. Only a matter of time now before ol'' Abe summons Ed to the castle to read him the riot act.


    "As you wish, my prince." - Alistair retorts. OOh, he must be annoyed at Ed to needle him like this - "And people are talking about your fianc¨¦e. And how you don''t seem to be in any hurry to meet her. And how you''ve been seen in the company of a maiden who is clearly not her several times already. At this rate, you''re going to give lady Gillespie a reason to demand satisfaction."


    "What of it? What is she going to do? Whine to father?" - Ed grumbles back, his mood clearly taking a nosedive - "Al, why are we talking about her again? Petty shrew never liked me, the less we see of each other the better. Let her spread the rumors if she wants to. The more of a harridan she seems, the easier it will be to make her go back to the boonies."


    "Well, that''s the problem, Ed." - Alistair finally dispenses with formalities - "Because she''s not. In fact, so far common opinion is on HER side. Everyone thinks you are a bonvivant who couldn''t be bothered to attend to your rightful fianc¨¦e and instead elects to spend time with jumped-up commoners. No, don''t look at me like this, I don''t set the tone for the public. I know lady Selene had earned her title, but the majority of students? Yeah, well, the most flattering opinion is "she lucked out being born into power". The rest are even less charitable."


    "Did Gillespie put you up to this, Al?" - Ed demands angrily - "I know you''ve been talking to her. What''s next, you''d be taking her side against me too?"


    "I don''t think she even knows she has a side, Ed. Much less that her side is going against yours." - reasonable Alistair is reasonable. Go Al, go. Rooting for you here.


    There is a curious slam. I''m not quite sure what it is, but my best guess is that Ed slammed his book close or thwapped it on the table. You mad, Ed? You totes mad. And I don''t even know why.


    "This again!? Al, we discussed that before. She hates me, she made it pretty obvious and I don''t see any reason why she would change her opinion." - Ed raises his voice - "She cried every time I was near when we were little, she avoided talking to me as much as she could when we were older, and she outright refused to spend time with me when we were of age to attend parties by ourselves. I do not know why she is still clinging to that sorry charade of an engagement and I wish she''d finally grow enough of a conscience to break it off."


    Hm. That''s interesting. Let''s... recall. Crying... Ah, yes. Our first ever meeting. When I was three and Ed was four, and he ran into me and knocked me over, then run away when three year old me naturally decided to bawl about scraped knees and palms. Then tried again two days later, which made three year old me start crying again. And run away again without explaining anything. That was IT as far as meeting while little went. The next time we met was when I was eight and he was nine, respectively, and I have been instructed up to wazoo on the proper etiquette and eager to show off just how well I learned it. There have been two months of on and off meetings while parents handled all sorts of things in capital, and I left under an impression he was well satisfied with a properly mannered fianc¨¦e. Which he apparently misinterpreted as "avoided talking", because I vaguely remember him fucking up protocol about several times per meeting. Was that him trying to get "informal"? Well, he sure did a shoddy job out of it, then. Because I came out of it with "woo-hoo, passed all the tests" impression.


    I have absolutely no clue what he means by "refused to spend time with me when we were of age". I had spent all of my teens until now in our county, I could hardly refuse or consent to meeting with him while living two provinces over to the north, now could I? The last nugget takes the freaking cake, however. Because count''s daughter just breaking an engagement with prince without a good cause? Yeah, well. It wouldn''t fly well. At all. In fact, that would be pretty much taken as tacit admission I''ve been critically unfaithful and pretty thoroughly damage the reputation of Gillespie family. So either Ed is stupid enough to fail this consideration - or he believes I should value his convenience over the safety and prosperity of my own family. Which, for someone he believes to be hating him is pretty weird. So... Ed, why you so stupid?


    "Have you considered the fact that between your father and her father wanting that engagement to happen, lady Gillespie herself might have no say on it?" - thank you for pointing out obvious, Alistair. Yes, I actually lucked out to have a father with conscience, but it would NOT be out of ordinary for your average noble dad to ignore their daughters having ideas on engagements. In fact, it''s usually how it happens - daughters are usually simply informed about their impending marriages. Actually marrying for love is something that happens to commoners and eloping romantics.


    "Pff, she has her father wrapped around her little finger. If Gillespie wanted out, he would''ve easily given up half his county to give her what she wants." - Ed retorts dismissively. But have you considered I might actually NOT want to pauper dad? Right. Sorry, Ed, but I''m NOT going to sacrifice my family because you''re too chickenshit. This engagement is going to be broken on your fault. It may be a fault to remain faithful, a fault to see it through, or a fault to live. Depending on how stupid are you going to get about it.


    Well, that was an interesting conversation to eavesdrop on. Gives me more ammo on Ed. Actually, now that I think about it, I am going to start coopting Selene to my side. Academy allows students to volunteer for certain tasks once the schoolyear starts. Participating in knight training is most popular, but there is an option to volunteer at the local temple if you are decent with light magic. So, my plan is to grab Moon Unit and make a public offer to Selene to volunteer at the temple as healers for all three of us. She can''t refuse it, both on her logic (What if that horrible villainess curses people instead of healing?) and on her reputation (Because having a title for being good at light magic and refusing the offer to do healing? Even she should be cognizant it would ruin her reputation to tatters.).


    But... I am worried for unrelated reasons right now. It''s evening, and Bridgit is not here. She should have been here hours ago. Which is why I''m currently walking towards my family''s capital residence.


    ___


    Well. Shit on a stick. Klaus, you son of a bitch. Now I wonder just what the hell did prompt you to act out so early and so overtly? I walk into the house, having spread the eyespiders ahead to scout. There are three men in ambush. One of them is holding control of Bridgit. Which, correspondingly, means he just signed up his death warrant, because they used a slave collar on Bridgit, and the only way I know to take it off her safely involves using the guy on the other end as a "willing" human sacrifice. Klaus is in the center, having a cuff for another slave collar on his wrist.. and the third guy right next to the door, preparing to collar me the moment I come in. I could kill them all with eyespiders. But... then I won''t find out what Klaus is doing here. So, as counterintuitive as it sounds, I''m going to let the guy put the collar on me. The funny thing about those collars - if you put one on a mage who knows how it works, it''s entirely possible to reverse the direction. Unfortunately, that does not mean I''ll be able to enslave Klaus instead. But it would be an entertaining way to kill him, and he might survive long enough for me to extract some data out of him.


    And so, I walk on, making just enough noise to give an impression of a decently agile, confident and unworried woman striding through her own home. And push the door open. And... wait. And wait some more. Seriously, Klaus? A hench that takes two freaking seconds to latch the collar? I understand you are expecting to deal with women, but for fuck''s sake. I take a look at Bridgit. And growl internally. She apparently didn''t go down without a fight, given she''s clearly beaten black and blue. And looking very dazed. Oh, the payback will be hard.


    "Ahh, fraulein Gillespie." - Klaus begins with his fake kraut accent. Bastard can speak flawless albish when he wants to, but prefers to affect an accent while "out of costume". "So glad you could join us. My apologies about the collars, but people are just so uncooperative these days. Honestly, no tact at all. So I''ve decided to, ah... simplify the matters. Oh, just so we''re clear - your pretty little maid over there will be killed if you try to resist the collar. Now, should you cooperate, I''ll let you both go, and shan''t bother you more often than once a month or so to do some small favors for me. Really, nothing onerous, just some rumor gathering and maybe some petty larceny. Do try not to get caught."


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    He pauses and gestures the guy behind the door to sit at MY desk. And start using MY paper. And MY quill. "Now, fraulein, be so nice to tell us how to make ripple steel, would you kindly?" - he continues. Seriously? THAT is what got you here? Not trying to kidnap one of the dwarves? "Oh, and the recipe for the cure for cold. I''m going to ask you to sign a confession that it was invented in Kraut kingdom. Nothing personal, just statecraft. You understand." I think I heard more than enough.


    "Nope." - I enunciate clearly. And overload the collar to the brim. The loop around my neck crackles, as most of it carbonizes outright in a puff of light smoke. Klaus isn''t so lucky, he lets out an incoherent scream as the wristband erupts into a fireball consuming most of his right arm and about a quarter of torso. The guy with Bridgit''s control opens his mouth, probably to shout and gurgles as my hand sinks right in, morphing into a tentacle in process. He does not get a chance to do so much as a blink after that, as I tear through the roof of his mouth and into his brain, tendrils spearing through the mass as I override his control, destroying most of the frontal lobe in process. He sorta squirms and sags, as the magic directed by me drains his available energy reserves into severing the link, taking all precautions on Bridgit''s side of it (which correspondingly means that the guy is in horrible pain, not that he has enough of brain left to register that).


    The third of the invaders finally gets enough of his marbles together to try and stand up from the table, his hand reaching for the dagger. He does not get far, as the knife his fellow had on his waist abruptly enters his nasal cavity and proceeds further into the skull, dropping him like a sack of shit. Klaus lets out a gurgling cry as he tries to lift himself on his remaining arm. I shrug off the corpse from my hand and reach for Klaus, lifting him up by the lapels. "You know." - I offer to him conversationally, as more eyes sprout on my cheeks - "I wanted to eat your liver with some fava beans and a glass of nice chianti. But then you just had to hold an exploding artifact just right to blow most of your liver across the floor. You have some fucking gall talking about people being uncooperative when you can''t even PRESERVE YOUR GODDAMN LIVER FOR A DISCERNING GOURMAND!"


    "Monster!" - he spits in my face. Literally spits, I have to dodge his saliva. Jackass.


    "So glad you noticed." - I return - "Know what''s funny, Klaus? I''m a monster, but you''re the monstrous one here." His eyes widen as I namedrop him, but I don''t give him a chance to ask. "Now, if I know right, you were here both to get the data on the new wares and to silence the last witness on the Baumhoff case, ne?"


    Bridgit, who was out of it enough to just sway in place so far, clearly takes notice. So does Klaus. His face is flabbergasted. I start laughing - "Oh, this is fucking hilarious, Klaus. You did not even know the daughter of the man you helped murder is my maid?... Then again, you murdered so many people you probably don''t even recall the name." He clearly does, but I''m not about to let him blather about it. My free arm shifts into a pincer, like that of a lobster, but quite a lot bigger, and I clamp Klaus around the neck with it - "You know, I don''t even care. I''m just going to take your head, dump it on Hiram''s table and let him worry about how much it''s going to cost to Kraut kingdom to smooth out your little screw-up here. Because trying to enslave prince''s fianc¨¦e? I''m pretty sure old Alphonse is going to end up giving up one of the old treasures to appease me and Champagne."


    It''s honestly more than a little anticlimactic as I close the pincer and his head rolls off.


    "Mishtreshh..." - croaks Bridgit behind me - "Ware yee ahways a orrible onsteh?"


    Sighing, I stand up and turn to face Bridgit, putting my claw and tentacle around her ... OOh, shit. Shit shit shit shit! Shapeshift shapeshift shapeshift! There. Just hands. Regular hands. Nothing to see here. So. I place my hands around her shoulders to steady her, as I channel as much healing as it is safe into her body, momentarily suffusing her with golden light. When the light show subsides, she looks much better. Not ideal, there are still traces of bruises on her face, but right now they look more like "third week traces" rather than "freshly beaten", and more serious issues had been taken care of. Including the most worrying kidney bruise. I.. want to kick the guy, but I kinda ate his brain already. He won''t feel it. But seriously, what the fuck, who hits a CUTE MAID in the kidneys? Inept fucks.


    "Mistress." - she rasps tiredly - "You might want to put eight eyes away before going out." Shiiiiiiiit. Cover. Blown. Bleh. I blink with all ten eyes in response.


    "Bridgit." - I offer, thankfully in a more or less normal voice - "I think we will have to discuss additional security measures for you. Because I will NOT TOLERATE this happening again." Honestly, I... just... Argh. So I hug her. And growl. And mutter dire threats to anyone stupid enough to try.


    "Mistress." - she repeats - "I''m flattered you would burn half of Kraut for my sake if needs be, but might you let me go? Because I really need to sit!"


    Setting Bridgit down on the couch, I briefly consider the corpses. The head of Klaus goes into a nice thick bag. Most of the blood already drained while I was healing and hugging. What do with the rest of the corpses? I could call guards, but then we''d have to give testimonies and there would be an investigation, and things would get uncomfortably official. Right.


    "Bridgit, I''m going to get rid of filth, alright?" - I offer to her quietly - "No need for you to see this." She raises her head, starts to answer... pauses, sighs, nods. "I understand." - she offers, holding still as I lift her up and carry her out to the front room. Having had put her there, I return to the corpses. Fuck it, why not? I need extra mass anyway, if I''m going to use eyespiders a lot. Besides, it''s good proteins. Not exactly gourmand eats, but plenty nutritious. Dissolving all three corpses takes but five minutes, after which I''m left to the collection of stuff they had. Clothes are straight up chucked into the fireplace, and so are the rags they have with them. Probably to wipe off the undesirable traces or something. I pocket a pretty comprehensive set of lockpicks from one, a couple of decent quality knives, which I strictly speaking do not need, but you never know when a nondescript knife might come in handy, and an assortment of coin. No papers or much of anything else. Which is pretty much par for the course for the underlings Klaus reared up. Opsec is something he''s fairly conscious about. Was conscious about.


    Setting fire to the pile in the fireplace, I give it a few minutes to burn, helping along with a low-key breeze spell to really kick up the burning. Into the smokestack you go, shoo, shoo. Having burned the whole thing to ash, I quickly put the room back in order and return to Bridgit, who looks fairly ready to travel. Hm, actually... Taking a look in the stables, I find the housekeeper with a huge lump on the head and a rag in the mouth. He is tied to the post next to the horses. Setting him free is easy. Setting him on ease not so much. I end up taking him to the house and showing him the head in the sack to make him believe I really took care of the interlopers. On the flip side, the looks he''s giving me now are VERY respectful. Apparently, he''s been clubbed on the head and left gagged in the stables all day. I quickly check him for concussion, find none and get him to drive me and Bridgit into Academy.


    Bridgit is silent through the carriage ride. She keeps stealing glances at me. Probably wondering what kind of monster is wearing the skin of her mistress or something equally dire. Bother bother bother bother. But then again, she didn''t raise a ruckus on the street. She could have, there were plenty enough people that she could cry havoc and be answered. Guess I still have some trust credit with her. Nice. I suppose.


    "Mistress. Have you always been like this?" - she asks wearily when we''re safely at my dorm room.


    I ponder the merits of evasion. And decide that it''s not worth it.


    "Yes." - I offer simply - "Not that I wanted you to find out like this."


    She gives a tired chuckle. "I think I, ah... always knew." - she offers - "You''ve always been odd, mistress. I just didn''t... didn''t realize it''s not just in mind but in body too."


    I ruffle her hair. "Well, I am. Do you mind?" - I have to know, come on. If she does, well, I''ll just send her back to the county.


    She leans closer and mutters - "I guess I don''t."


    Setting her to bed is much easier than usual. While I don''t like the fact itself, she is much more accepting of being fussed over after being beaten. So there is almost no argument when I make her drink a nice tall glass of milk "for strength" and tuck her in. Time to have a chat with Hiram.


    ___


    "Milady, this is far too late for visitations, and prince Hohenzollern is not..." - I cut the manservant off mid-sentence.


    "Hiram! I want to talk about certain Klaus!" - I shout into his door. Not TOO loud, I don''t want any eavesdroppers, but sufficiently so that he immediately shouts at the manservant to shut up and invite me in pronto.


    "Lady Gillespie." - he offers warily, standing up from the table. He was doing something paperworky, if the inkstained fingers and dripping quill are of any indication.


    "Kronprinz Hohenzollern." - I offer back without much ado, plunking the bag with the head on the table. He looks at it questioningly. I nod towards the manservant. Hiram nods back, sighs, then commands his manservant - "Yekb, vart mkhuts der tir. Farmakhn es gezunt, aun lozn keyn eyner arayn."


    I wait for the door to close. Then, I pull the head out of the sack and plunk it on the table. Hiram draws a surprised hiss. I set down the remains of the slave collar next to it. "Interesting pair, don''t you think?" - I offer to him - "Care to explain their appearance at my capital house, prince?"


    "A lokh in zayn kop!" - he swears. Oh. Wow. Hiram, mister purity himself, swearing? Once in a lifetime situation. He growls and looks at me - "What do you want, lady Gillespie?"


    "Well..." - I drawl - "Some guarantees this is an isolated incident, to begin with."


    "Granted. Might you explain to me the details of this... unfortunate meeting, so that I know whom I need to yell at and how much?" - he inquires.


    "Well, Klaus and his two accomplices had invaded my capital family house, knocked my housekeeper unconscious, beaten my maid and forced a slave collar on her, then laid in ambush for me and tried to force one on me too." - I sum up for him - "As far as Klaus was able to reveal before I fucked them up? He was after the technology behind ripple steel, the cure for cold and other assorted sundries. Oh, and he espoused his intent to use the slave collars to make us spy on students here in Academy. I was more than a little furious with his behavior, as you can tell from the evidence. The rest of them is currently cinders."


    I lean forward. looking at Hiram intently - "Please understand me right. I want to be friends. But I can not and will NOT tolerate such... ahem, less than friendly overtures from a supposed ally." I pause to let it sink in, then continue - "I am willing to keep this incident between us. But only if you are willing to give me your word you will knock enough of tangentially responsible heads together to ensure this situation is not repeated."


    He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Klaus. At least I can take solace in the fact this is the last time you give me a headache." - he mutters, giving a hard glare to the severed head - "I thank you for your forbearance, lady Gillespie. Most others would have demanded gifts to soothe the affront."


    "Heh. I could, ostensibly speaking. I imagine Kraut kingdom would have to fork over quite a bit to smooth over an attempt to enslave prince''s fianc¨¦e." - I quip, making Hiram groan again - "But, well. I happen to respect you. Not the kingdom, but you personally. If it was anyone else, well. But you do have the reputation for holding strong to your word."


    "My thanks for the compliment." - he smiles thinly - "It''s a cold comfort, knowing your personal honor is the only thing that shelters your country from the consequences of foolish spymaster''s blunders, but I take my comforts where I can. You have my word, lady Gillespie, I will personally attend to the situation and thoroughly impress on the responsible parties just how foolish of an attempt it was."


    Nodding, I pull out a third thing I have taken along to the meeting. It''s a bottle of ''knight mead''. "If you pardon the presumption, I have made a guess that after such news you would want a stiff drink." - I offer to him, setting the bottle down on the table - "It''s one of the new products our county offers now. Knight mead. Please enjoy."


    He barks a laugh and stands up to kiss my hand. "My thanks, lady Gillespie." - he proffers - "I believe I shall indeed. Have a good night."

 Chapter 18. Double Waifu Fun!

    Things are... setting down. Bridgit had been quiet the last two days, no doubt the aftereffects of Klaus being a moron. I have surreptitiously included a couple strands into her clothes that would let me keep track of her at all times. And, if needs be, offer magical support. And since I don''t exactly feel like advertising my distributive abilities just yet, she got a couple of neckerchiefs and wristbands with beads of assorted metals woven into them as fuel stores for one-shot protective spells. Mostly of the "cause havoc and inconvenience for everyone around to run away", augmented by a couple of "make running away better" and one or two last resorts of "vaporize the beads at once and blast them in the general direction of attackers". I extend the same kind of offer to Moon Unit, but she instead asks for some falshsleeves with embroideries. Admittedly, that is an even better idea - Moon Unit is strong in magic as it is, much stronger now that she''s getting her defilement steady on track. Why, yes, we did make out a couple times.


    Right now, however, I''m sitting there... trying not to cackle. Because, churning out an essay is stupidly easy if you can simply crunch up your hand into the shape of an inkjet printer. I honestly didn''t expect it to work out as well as it did. Unfortunately, this is a very shoggoth kind of trick, I won''t be able to teach anyone else to do that. On the other hand, the sheer convenience is overwhelming. Since I''m done, unlike the majority of students, who are still grumbling about an essay on the very first day of studies, the library beckons. I need to make a list of common enchantments anyway, I have so many ideas that might be profitable if no one figured them out yet. Might toss them on Lemand, see if I can get him on board early. If he''s used to working for me, nabbing him after Academy would be a matter of simply telling him where his new laboratory is.


    And, oh wow. Moon Unit. Now what are you doing at my room? And why are you dressed in such an... interesting way? Oh and what''s that you''re asking of Bridgit? Hmmm? I spin a couple of eyespiders out, because this is more than a little curious.


    "...Just for a few hours, please." - Moon Unit finishes her request, looking at Bridgit beseechingly.


    Bridgit looks at her. Frowns. Shakes her head. "No, sorry, but no." - she offers firmly - "You look like you intend to.. to... to do lewdness to mistress."


    "Well, yes! But she would like me to." - oh wow. Way to uphold the elven shamelessness stereotypes, Moon Unit.


    Bridgit blushes hard, but stands her ground. "NO. This is not fair." - she retorts defiantly - "If there is anyone mistress should use for skinship, it should be her maid!" Oh. Oh fuu... Bridgit, why. Now I simply have to add you to the harem. Which so far counts her and Moon Unit. Prospectively. Still, that''s a good beginning. The question is, how well Moon Unit will take this.


    "Ah. Um... You do know your mistress is more than she appears, right?" - fair enough, that''s actually a good topic to broach.


    "Not human, you mean. Yeah, I know." - Bridgit retorts - "Why do you care anyway? Didn''t you come here to seduce her?"


    "There is that, yes. But I wasn''t sure if you knew what you want to get into." - Moon Unit offers reasonably - "But since you already know you''re serving the Tool of Gods, that makes things easier."


    "Wait, what? Tool of Gods? What are you talking about?" - Bridgit demands, now intensely curious but more than a little bit wary. I have left the library by now, and I''m moving outside the Academy. I feel like shopping all of a sudden. I have a doubledate with waifus, and they deserve to be pampered with all sorts of decadent treats.


    "That''s what the Thread of Creation calls them. Your mistress'' kin. She told me their real name is Shoggoths." - aaand Moon Unit blurts everything to my maid - "Have you seen her at full power yet?" Admittedly speaking, neither of them had. I haven''t gone on a full war footing... well, ever. As for the two of them... Moon Unit saw me being cohesively inhuman, Bridgit saw me doing freeform body tricks. I guess either of them had seen something other didn''t.


    "What do you mean, at full power? I have seen her have tentacles and claws and eyes she doesn''t normally..." - Bridgit offers... And it''s just vague enough to make Moon Unit assume Bridgit is privy to full exposure.


    "Soo glorious..." - Moon Unit giggles deliriously. I... am suddenly concerned. Here''s hoping I did NOT fuck her up. Goodness, I''m doing so much hoping I didn''t fuck up cute girls lately, this can''t be healthy. Yes, two pints of cream, I''m sure I can carry it just fine. In a bottle. Yes, I can bloody pay, jackass, is it hard to guess from my clothes? No you fuck, you do not get greedy eyes at the golds, you get a silver ecu and you love it, not give hushed instructions to your nimblefingered... nephew, probably. Or otherwise closely related, I can smell the relationship on them.


    Absentmindedly, I let the pickpocket approach. Not within grabbing distance, obviously, I count it as "approached" if they''re within two meters. Which the little shit is. Oooh, watch at him go. Just one little nudge to trip him up, and he fucks over right in the middle of the pottery stand. Hi-fucking-larious, have fun paying this off, jackass. Strolling towards the fruit rows, I keep my attention on waifus. Well, technically, waifu candidates. Whatever.


    "I would rather say terrifying." - Bridgit offers - "Though, in defense of mistress, we were attacked at the time, so... terrifyingly effective?"


    "Attacked?! What happened?" - aaand Moon Unit snaps out of it. Phew. Nothing serious. "Actually, now that you mention it, I see the bruises... Let me guess, Alyssa healed you up?"


    Bridgit nods unhappily - "Yes, mistress pretty much had to. Oh, I''m so mad at those oddlaws. The utter gall of threatening a noble lady with enslavement, uuugh. Good riddance to worthless trash, I say, thank gods mistress disposed of them."


    "I shan''t ask." - Moon Unit decides - "May I continue healing you? You had a good breakfast, right?" Bridgit nods and turns to face the other girl, her head tilted back to let Moon Unit see the fading bruises on her jaw and neck. They vanish in a glow of golden light as her fingers trace a line over the worst bruises. "There you go. All nice and smooth and pretty, now." - she offers - "Which brings me back to my first point. I suppose I shouldn''t be asking you to leave while I entertain Alyssa... but maybe you''d like to entertain her with me?"


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Aaand Bridgit promptly goes lilac, gapes, then chokes on air and descends into an embarrassed cough fit. Moon Unit pats her back gently.


    "Haaaaah! Khh!... How do you even... Does anyone even... What is that even....." - Bridgit stumbles over her words, panting as she gets her breath back under control - "How can you even THINK about being so lewd!?"


    "Shh, calm down, breathe. Think about it for a moment. You love your mistress, don''t you?" - Moon Unit offers consolingly - "From what I''ve seen she''s fond of you too. Now I also love your mistress. And she is fond of me as well. Asking her to choose one of us is not good, simply because no matter which of us is chosen, she will be sad about having to give up on the other. So the only good solution to make everyone happy is if you and me go together. Besides, your mistress isn''t human to begin with, why do you think she would be satisfied with just one of us?"


    "But... That''s not how things are supposed to work." - Bridgit objects, but it''s obvious the objection feels weak even to herself, much less anyone else - "Besides, how does that even work? How, I mean, I''m not even sure...." And she trails off into embarrassed mumbling.


    "Ah. Well, how about this? I''ll teach you how skinship works while we wait for Alyssa to come here, alright? This way, you''ll be ready and able to please your mistress as soon as she''s available." - Moon Unit offers coyly. I''m pretty sure Bridgit would refu... wait, no. She''s.. nodding? Oh fiddlesticks. Oh fiddlesticks very much indeed. I... squash the eyespiders, and pull all the mass I have in the room OUT of audible range, because I so don''t need to have cute softcore porn playing in my ear while I''m in the middle of fucking bazaar! In the retrospect, I probably horribly overpaid the last few items, but fuck that, I''m in a HURRY. In fact, I''m so much in a hurry that I''m simultaneously running a dozen different things through my main body which is maintaining an appearance of a stately noble lady while internally doing a goddamn good impression of a food processing facility, turning the cream into whipped cream with plenty of sugar while slicing up the fruits in another cavity and shredding almonds and sugar into marzipan sticks in third. I won''t even try to explain the on-goings in fourth, suffice to say the result should be orange-flavored jello and it is being sped up by processes that are not in any way ever natural.


    I walk into my rooms, lock the door and unfold like an umbrella, hastily laying down the prepared treats on assorted platters (I may have accidentally a sort of plastic from a layer of plankton and moss I ripped off the street paving while passing by to make all those plates, preoccupied shoggoths are gonna shoggoth.), resume relatively human shape (plus a fan of tentacles behind my back to hold the treats), take a deep breath, and walk into my bedroom.


    "I''m feeling distinctly overdressed." - I offer, as I take a stock of the situation. Moon Unit, Bridgit, my bed, and about four items of fabric between all of them, one of them being the linen I usually use as a blanket. Bridgit is trembling and red and looks like she can''t decide if she wants to vanish or start apologizing for this being "not what it looks like". Moon Unit is looking a whole lot more collected, even though she''s also blushing a lot.


    "Surprise?" - she offers, smiling at me. I shake my head and let the tentacles properly fan out, holding out the treats.


    "MMm, yes. Two cute girls to pamper silly. Don''t mind if I do." - I offer, as I walk towards the bed. I can practically feel Bridgit going "PHEW", and for a moment I am afraid she''s going to pass out from relief. So I lean over, and kiss both of them on the forehead, one after another. Moon Unit also gets an ear nibble and a "Good job, you naughty girl." whispered in, which makes her shiver and giggle.


    It takes a little bit of shuffling, but eventually, it ends with me taking a lounge on the bed, holding both of them on my lap, rubbing their backs with my hands. I also take a great advantage of being a tentacle monster, and use the tentacles to feed grapes to both of them at a languid pace.


    "...Spoiling me so much, mistress." - Bridgit moans. She took a while to get used to the situation, and still sports bright blush (that intensifies each time she catches me glance at her perky breasts).


    "MM. Why shouldn''t I?" - I quip lazily, as I lean in and kiss Moon Unit slowly, taking my time to explore her mouth with my tongue. She moans into the kiss happily. Bridgit watches with acute, if embarrassed, interest. I lean in to her, and she shyly reciprocates, her mouth opening as her eyes close. Ooh, yes. Waifu count two - confirmed.


    A couple more kisses and caresses set both of them at ease enough for me to get a little friskier. Which, in this case, means I use more tentacle to randomly decorate their nipples with a bit of whipped cream or a slice of fruit and then lick it off. Or let the other one lick it off. Bridgit memorably fumbles the first time she tries to nab that slice of apple off Moon Unit''s breast and nibbles the nipple instead. She, ah... didn''t expect the kind of moan she got back. Moon Unit, in her turn, took it as a challenge and made a point of teasing Bridgit as much as she could get away with each time it was her turn to have a treat, eliciting several memorable moans and gasps. Bridgit, apparently, is rather vocal in bed.


    As fun as it is watching them tease each other, they soon gang up on ME! Admittedly, they had a point in that I''ve been the only one who did not have her breasts out in full view. But damn it, having TWO girls tease the bits you habitually programmed to be sensitive is a little bit NNNGFH! Especially as they take advantage of the treat bowls and very liberally use me as their fruit salad dish. On one hand, having cute girls eating fruit slices off my belly (no hands allowed, at that, tongues and lips only) is fun if slightly messy. On other, oh fuck why do I even have the ability of being tickled, oh daaaaamn.


    On the plus side, the form slippage is much less of a problem this time. In all fairness, I was more than a bit abrupt with getting Moon Unit accustomed. Taking a couple hours slowly shifting more and more inhuman traits in while having sexy funtimes seems to be working out much better, given that I DID let out a couple of TEKELI-LI at particularly successful licks and they didn''t affect Bridgit more than momentary "ooh that''s a weird sound mistress, can I make you make it again I wonder?" reaction.


    By mutual unspoken agreement, we all limit the extent of engagement to heavy petting. Bridgit is entirely inexperienced, Moon Unit is more knowledgeable, but clearly not very practiced and I am much too rusty with my fine girl-fondling skills. Another mutual agreement is that Moon Unit is welcome to visit at any time with aid and abettance of Bridgit. And while the extent of intimacy was limited, none of us had any particular intention to limit the time. Which led to us having to smuggle Moon Unit back to her room at almost midnight. I''d love to have her sleep over, but with her rooming in the same building, we had a galling lack of socially suitable reasons for her to be sleeping at my room. (Note to self: Try and work out some way to get Moon Unit in a more convenient place to share visitations.)

 Chapter 19. The Obstinate Hero (vs. Pavement)

    Bridgit is very pensive in the morning. So pensive, in fact, I''m suspecting she is half-way certain she had simply dreamt up the events of the previous evening. So I just have to do something silly about it. She squawks as I casually wrap an arm around her waist and dip her to kiss her properly.


    "...Mistress..." - she whines as I pull back - "You''re horrible." It''s obvious she''s not referring to my kissing abilities.


    "You know, I wanted to do that for the longest time ever. Having a cute maid is such a bother when you can''t kiss her as the mood strikes." - I offer to her conversationally, straightening her up. She blushes.


    "Why didn''t you just... do it before? You know I wouldn''t have resisted." - she asks quietly.


    I raise my brow. That''s... a pretty good question, actually. Contemporary morals would see nothing wrong with that. "To put it very simple, Bridgit?" - I offer to her, - "It would be hollow. See, it is actually really easy for me to satisfy just about any kind of carnal desire I might ever fancy. I can change my face, shape, gender, species pretty much at will. I have more money than I can spend. I am a noble and therefore have a huge amount of liberties. In short, my life is made out of advantage on advantage. And that makes me picky about things. The thing I want above all else, however, is that one thing I can''t buy, conquer, claim or steal. The reciprocity. The greatest desire I have is to be desired."


    I leave her with that conundrum and depart to partake in studies. Which, to be honest, aren''t really much so far. Mostly lectures on history, etiquette and surprisingly politics. Apparently, actual magic courses are slated to come in once the initial month-long initiation will pass. This is, of course, very beneficial for commoners who would otherwise be fish out of water in the societal complexities of aristocracy, but also surprisingly in demand by nobles from the outskirts. Of which I''m technically included, to be honest. I already know the stuff, but that would be because I subsumed everything the library had already. Little known fact - shoggoths can read as fast as one can flip the pages. So, really, all I have to do is flicker the book from end to end and put it back on the shelf. Another little known fact - it''s a tradition in Academy to use the library as a stashbox for messages. I had found seventeen love letters of various authorship stuffed into some of the older books. The oldest of them must be over a century old, if my impromptu analysis of ink degradation rate is right. Letters, that is. The oldest book in the library is exactly two hundred seventy one years old, it''s a hand-written tome on "Ye Moste Commone Maladye Mendications Moste Excellente". Given that the rest of the tome is written in much more comprehensive language, I assume the author penned the name so purple for the sole purpose of attracting attention to the tome. In fact, this feels like a book penned by a commoner being mindful of not making this too "vulgar" for nobles to bother with. Some of the recipes make me shudder, however. Shredded onion up the nose, really? Ew, ew, ew, ew. I suppose it would be efficient, but EW!


    More worrying, I have found two missives that clearly indicate an intent to commit treason. One of them I set aside due to having been present at the author''s execution a couple years before. Other is much older, at least fifty years if I''m right, and the name on it... Yes, well, I''m going to keep this one. It''s a big leverage, if needs be. Of course, if I ever use it, it will have to be discreet. Or I have to be ready for a ducal house to be toppled. Either or. Duke in question did not actually transgress against me or the kingdom in any visible way so far, so either this letter was a moment of teenage stupidity, or the duke in question is going to be a problem later. I hope for first, because ambition that makes allowances for that long of a wait? That''s not personal interest, that''s a conviction of familial piety that would be very hard to deal with, barring an outright extermination of family in question.


    Anyway, back to our muttons. The studies prove to be of no challenge... Not that I expected otherwise, to be honest. The students, on the other hand? I think tensions are beginning to arise, and not with me. It is not uncommon for commoners in attendance to be picked on, after all. Now, there are several possible outcomes to this. Some just do the meek routine and avoid being noticed. That''s the most common and well used one. Some (like Moon Unit, through no fault or intention of her own, though) end up being taken in as "vassals" to one or another noble in attendance. This is generally the safest option, barring the cases where the noble in question is being targeted. It goes without saying that Moon Unit had been seen with me often and long enough to make it spread through the whole academy that I''ve got my eye on her. Of course, the most prevalent opinion is that I''m "hoarding the elf", so to speak. They are known to make superb scholars, after all. I might be facing attempts to poach her.


    And, there is the third, least commonly taken route among commoners. Defiance. And, of course, this is the route Selene picked for herself. Now, I don''t exactly begrudge her this - she did earn a title on her merit, and that is no mean feat. But being a snob and being an aristocrat is often conflated, and I can already hear some displeased mutters about "jumped up commoners not knowing their place". In fact, a group of girls are preparing to make a scene out of it. On one hand, I can simply pretend I''m unaware. This will cause Selene some problems, and through her, problems to Ed, because Ed will doubtlessly stick up for his new beau. But, and it''s an important but, Selene WILL assume I''m the moving force behind the unpleasantness, because that''s how things in the game unfolded. So, with that in mind, I''m going to interfere. Not immediately, though, the gals in question are planning to make their move just before the dinner.


    And so, I find Moon Unit who, unfortunately, is not in the same class as the classes are split by social standing. Class A is higher nobility, from prince to viscount, and Class B is lower nobles and commoners. Annoying, but this arrangement is only going to last for mandatory for all classes. Specialized studies are not segregated like this. Filling her in on the plan takes a few minutes... Buuut, I may have elected to duck out of view and flagrantly abuse my shapeshifting abilities to climb on the parapet with her in tow to make out in privacy.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    "I never realized just how high the roof really is." - she muses, taking a look down. Thankfully, the parapet is more than tall enough to provide enough safety. Not that I''m not holding her tight regardless, of course. "So. I am not against your plan to volunteer at the temple - both you and I are more than qualified to, and Academy looks favorably on such. I''m somewhat befuddled by your intent to include lady Selene, though. While it''s true she''s also a powerful light mage, I''ve been hearing she''s not fond of you in the slightest. So, why?"


    "To put it simply? She''s been told a lot of fanciful stories about evil nobles in general and Gillespies in particular. I''m not sure who or why, but it''s apparently someone with a big grudge towards my family." - I offer - "That being said, I''m not actually anything she thinks I should have been, and she has begun to see the difference between the villainess painted in the story and actual person. I want to further hammer in that I''m not who she thinks I am, and volunteering to heal people is a good proof it is so. I hope that once she sees I''m not actually out there to drink baby blood and hatch evil schemes in a sordid lair, she''ll get more amiable."


    "And what about the rumor she is seeing your fiancee behind your back?" - Moon Unit quips, as she scans the crowd below - "Wouldn''t she be wary of that?"


    "Yes, she would." - I admit - "Which is why I''m bothering you about it. She''ll be much more at ease if there is an independent witness to the whole thing."


    "I''m hardly independent, you know." - she objects - "I''ve already been approached by some of the classmates to find out how did I manage to attract your attention. My race was the popular first guess, but my magic prowess was a close second." She pauses and giggles, snuggling to my side - "Though no one yet guessed you''re having more intimate interests in mind."


    "True, but I don''t think Selene actually knows yet. She is aware I''m on polite terms with everyone I''ve met yet, I''m sure, which is giving her a pause. She clearly expected me to be a haughty harridan." - I offer - "Oh, hey, look. This is interesting." There is Selene in the corner of the yard. And there are four girls around her, "talking". She''s clearly not comfortable with topic, but not distressed enough to fight or flee just yet. Interrupt time. I lift Moon Unit and hold her in bridal carry as I leap over the parapet and poof out the "skirt" to silly proportions, parachuting down easily. The girls are not aware of my fancy arrival. Selene obviously is, given her sudden wide-eyed look and outstretched hand. I set Moon Unit down just in time to face the four turning to me.


    "Good day, ladies. Are you quite done with lady Selene? I have a business to discuss with her. Private business." - I offer with a smile. My smile widens as the foursome promptly evaporates, citing "important duties elsewhere". Selene gives me and Moon Unit a very nonplussed look.


    "I don''t need your help..." - she begins pretty heatedly, and I shrug at her.


    "...What are you talking about?" - I toss back, as she trails off - "I came over to ask if you want to join me and Moon Unit. We plan to volunteer healing at the temple today, and you''re also a light mage. I thought I''d be courteous and ask if you want to tag along."


    She starts saying something inflammatory, bites off the words before they actually come out, and grumbles in confusion. "Since when are you a light mage?" - she finally ventures.


    Raising my hand, I let the simplest light spell coalesce on my palm, a ball of golden light casting flickers on our faces and clothes. "Since always?" - I retort sardonically - "Look. I don''t know what you''ve been told about me, but it''s obviously off the mark. By far. Maybe they meant someone else, maybe they were just confused. Don''t know, don''t care. You can figure that out on your own." I sigh and gesture around expansively, letting the spell disperse - "So. Are you in or not?"


    ___


    In the end, Selene didn''t have any real choice, of course. She was to accompany me, and that was it. As I stroll ahead, I can see her dawdling and pulling Moon Unit back a little out of the corner of my eye. Of course, I''m not letting either of them out of my eyesight and earshot, but Selene is not aware just how far my field of awareness truly stretches with all the eyespiders maintaining the perimeter.


    "Is she coercing you?" - bah, Selene. So uncouth.


    "Pardon me?!" - Moon Unit is understandably enraged - "What is WRONG with you?!"


    "What do you mean, what is wrong with me? Lady Gillespie is the villainess! Why wouldn''t I think she coerces you?" - aand Selene proves herself to be obstinately stupid. Or just obstinate. We''ll see.


    "The villainess, huh? Well, would you care to name one villainy to her name, then?" - my elven waifu to the rescue. Damn it. Listening to her defending me makes me horny.


    "Well, she is... I mean, she would... The engagement... Gah!" - and Selene finally sees the light, I guess.


    "Yes? Do continue. Is she the villainess because she''s engaged to the prince you have your eye on, perchance?" - Moon Unit inquires venomously.


    "YES! I mean NO. I mean... OK! Fine. She''s not coercing you, I got it. Sheesh. What''s wrong with me worrying about people?" - goodness, Selene, really? This is... advanced levels of hypocritical, right there.


    "That''s nice of you to notice. But we''re talking about the hypothetical villainies of Aly... lady Gillespie." - and of course Moon Unit is not giving up on this. Go girl go. "To the best of my knowledge, being engaged to a prince is not a crime, even if someone else likes that prince too. So what villainies do you ascribe to lady Gillespie, I ask again?"


    I have a feeling this conversation is going to end up with a catfight before long, so I slow down my stride to let them catch up.


    "Alright, ladies, time to cool it." - I quip sotto voce - "Moon Unit, don''t be too hard on her. The hardest prejudice to let go is an unfounded one. Give lady Selene time to work through her feelings. She likely grew up learning to hate me, putting aside her whole childhood is going to be hard no matter the contradicting facts."


    I wrap my arm around Moon Unit''s waist as I talk to her, and I can literally feel her relaxing. Selene gawks at the sight, then hurries up to catch up. "For the record, I''m not prejudiced." - she grumbles - "I''m honest."


    I heave a little sigh. "Is it truly honesty if you can''t even explain it?" - I offer - "Want to know what I really think? You''re calling me villainess not because of what I already did. You do so because you believe you''ve seen the future where I did."


    Aaand Selene promptly faceplants into the pavement as she turns to gawp at me and stumbles over her own foot.

 Chapter 20. Temple Work

    Well, that was certainly an impressive flop. Splendidly done, Selene. Simply breathtaking. She bounces off the pavement after a moment of stupefied inactivity, whirling to face me with absolutely gobsmacked expression. "HOW!?" - she demands in a voice that would be whisper if she wasn''t also trying to shout.


    "You are not the first seer I''m dealing with." - I toss back at her - "All of you are subject to the same fundamental problem - you tend to assume that what you see is what will happen, instead of what might happen." And the best part of it - it''s true. When I was eight, I''ve been attacked by a guy who was under impression I would burn his village when I grow up. Of course, he did not take into consideration that making an attempt on me would prompt father to burn the village years earlier instead. He probably wouldn''t have gone this far even so, except the investigation turned out that whole of the village wholeheartedly supported the murder plot. It might have something to do with the fact they were rather recently taken from a much more brutal lord who actually would burn villages for shits and giggles, if he had half a legitimately-sounding reason to. As it stands, father decided to put the "prophecy" to end in the most empathetic manner possible. Which involved making the villagers collect everything valuable and get the fuck out of the village with subsequent burning of the empty houses. It was a fun exercise in fire magic for little me, and villagers were even given timber and straw to rebuild. All in all, pretty merciful, if we consider that the usual reaction to murder plots against nobles is to put the whole village to the sword. Admittedly, dad DID have hung the guy who actually made the attempt. As he put it - "as an abject lesson in proper communication with your liege".


    She facepalms. "Not a seer!" - she starts to protest, but then realizes just what she''s about to admit - "I... I mean, not intentionally one, like!"


    "Uh-huh." - I quip sardonically, as I start walking again, making her doubletake then hurry to catch up - "So, let me sum things up for you. You know of a possible future in which I would do unpleasant things to you. Probably in retaliation for butting in on the engagement. Which you assume is already an on-going process. Which, I have to point out, is rather asinine, as I have only been told you''ve been spending time with Edward today." Technical truths - mean number one to deceive a light mage. Just because I''ve only been told a first time yesterday doesn''t mean I didn''t overhear or spy on anything prior to that.


    "Uh-huh." - she mirrors my expression - "So what changed?"


    I snort as I pull Moon Unit a little bit closer, the motion clearly visible to Selene - "In this particular timethread, I like girls."


    She nearly faceplants again, catches herself in the last second and stares at me and Moon Unit with an expression that is as incredulous as it is confused.


    "Wait, no, that doesn''t make sense. Why would prince Edward confirm you''re a villainess if you''re not?" - she demands suspiciously.


    "I''m afraid you''d have a better idea on that front. I haven''t spoken to Ed since I was nine years old." - I offer casually - "I am honestly unsure what is up with him. Up until recently, I''ve simply assumed the engagement is proceeding as normal. Right up until the point where we were supposed to meet at the Academy and didn''t. According to what I''ve gathered from the scuttlebutt going around the Academy and confirmed with Alistair, Ed''s been avoiding me. My best guess is that he has his eye on you and decided to see if he can''t provoke me into doing something sufficiently rash to blame me for the failure of engagement."


    Selene clearly wants to object, but doesn''t seem to have a good one on her mind. "Edward wouldn''t do that." - she eventually offers - "Besides, it''s you who''s clinging to this engagement."


    I take my time to rub Moon Unit''s back calmingly, as I can feel her tensing up with each accusation Selene is tossing out. No need to make elven waifu explode on a hapless moron. "Can you blame me for not wanting to pauper my family?" - I offer in return - "I need Ed''s cooperation to break the darn thing without upsetting someone in the process, and he seems to be set on avoiding the issue."


    "Wait, really? You want to break the engagement?" - Selene switches from suspicious to surprised suddenly - "What the... how... Just... GAH! You... I... You mean if I just talked to... Oh, fuck it all with a rake. We''ve all been goddamn morons about it, isn''t it so?"


    "Well, I wouldn''t go so far about myself. I mean, I''m doing pretty well personally. Getting together some personal fortune, collecting pretty girls on the way... Yeah, I''d say I''m pretty much on track for a good life, if we don''t mind the issue of engagement. Honestly speaking, I can simply wait till we get to the altar and tell Ed ''I don''t, you cheating bastard'', but that is the apocalypse option. I''d very very very much rather we settle this amiably somehow." - I offer to her - "In no small part because not settling this up amiably means enmity between my family and royals, and generally you don''t piss off your sovereign unless you plan to rebel. Which we don''t."


    ___


    Selene is quiet as I and Moon Unit talk to the priest. There''s basically no problem, though he has to send out an additional crier to make sure people know there are free healings in the temple today. I think the no problem bit is because I gave him a gold coin in "donation" to make sure he handles business for us. Nothing out of ordinary, given that crier gets an ecu from the priest for his trouble. I imagine he would in turn distribute a couple sols to boys that would run around and shout the short message and direction to crier. Selene notably takes the proceedings in, her eyes narrowing at the money exchange.


    "Why''d you bribe the priest?" - she hisses to me. At least she knew not to shout it out loud. Progress.


    "I didn''t? This is the standard practice in the temple. You give a gold for the temple''s troubles in making sure people know there is a healer in the residence. Nominally it''s free, but every one who visits to be healed or blessed will donate something to the temple. In the end of the day, the priest in charge of proceedings counts the donations and passes over your tithe. Beginners usually break even, if they weren''t lazy or caused problems. More advanced healers, like the three of us, will probably end up with a profit. You may donate your tithe back to temple, if you so wish, but generally it is expected that you will at the very least recover the gold you offered in the beginning." - I explain to her as the acolyte leads us to the spacious room set in the front section of the temple. There''s a number of beds and chairs there, and a couple tables. One of them is occupied by a cleric with a thick ledger and a donation bowl. He rises to bow to us, introduces himself as "Cleric of the second circle, faithful of Argul, Marra and Kinov, brother Theodore". While there are numerous gods that tangibly exist and could be prayed to with observable results, the temple is a monolithic organization that, in all honesty, is much more advanced than blind faith religions I''ve been used to in previous life. I suspect this is in no small part due to the fact that gods can and WILL smite their priests for grift and corruption. Serving multiple gods is not forbidden, though. For example, our cleric aide is serving Argyl, who is the god of crafts, Marra, who is the goddess of healing and Kinov, who is the god of business.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "Brother Theodore, a moment of your attention." - I request once I''m sure Moon Unit and Selene are set up and ready to receive the customers. In fact, they''re both busy already, handing out minor blessings of light to temple attendants attracted to the room with the flashes of light magic. He frowns and turns to me.


    "Yes, lady Gillespie? Is something unsatisfactory?" - he inquires - "There are only a few of..."


    He trails off as I raise my hand - "Not that. I wanted to ask if temple is running low on any cures. There are not enough people to need three healers at once."


    He brightens up, answering -"We are fairly well stocked on basics, lady Gillespie, but if I may be so bold, a stock of cure for cold would be nice."


    I surmised as such, hence the sack of dried mint that I tote with me. I had to make arrangements with father to have mint shipped to me with messengers. Thankfully, my initial fields had yielded well, and people over at the county quickly grasped the value of growing it, so there''s no shortage. "Fair enough. If the temple can provide honey and ouso, I have the herbs necessary with me."


    Making the initial batch is simple, but Selene''s reaction when I pull her off the greetings to quickly teach the compaction of cure is absolutely priceless. "You''re just going to teach me that? Why?" - she asks in absolute befuddlement even as she repeats the movements after me.


    "Moon Unit already knows how to, and I want everyone to take a turn at both. Besides, I don''t exactly intend to keep the recipe a secret. I''ve always intended to distribute it to the temples. In father''s county, temple already took over the production." - I explain, as I verify she''s capable of making it and leave her to finish the batch, joining Moon Unit in front. I can feel Selene''s eyes on me all the time. And how she is both relieved and even more confused after seeing me use light magic for real. The cases slowly grow more complicated, as sick and injured people come in or are brought in by their friends and relatives. So far, so good, though there was one harrowing moment when a pair of panicking girls dragged in their father going through a heart attack. It took all three of us to stabilize the guy.


    "That was.. tiring." - Selene mutters as she rubs her temples. Moon Unit is currently holding a wet towel over her face. Heart attacks are a serious thing. I mean sure, we managed to handle it, but between the three of us, I''m the only one who still has some semblance of energy. Both Moon Unit and Selene are nursing headaches from pushing all the magic they could.


    "Maybe, maybe. But their smiles are worth it." - I quip back, thumbing in the general direction of sisters, who are quietly sitting by their father as he recovers on one of the beds and literally glow with happiness. And this is not a metaphor, they''re physically luminescent. That''s a thing that happens to happy people in this world, yes. Usually also an indication of decent magic potential.


    A man of obviously great stature enters the hall. One of the top level priests in this temple, if his headwear is of any indication. Theodore hastily raises and bows to the newcomer. "Prelate Iohann, good afternoon. How may I serve?" - he offers quickly. Prelate, huh? Interesting.


    Iohann waves him off - "Easy, brother. Keep to your task, I am merely curious about our volunteers. To make the heart beat again is no small feat, even for three healers working together." He strolls up to us, but pauses and stays a bit away once he sees the wet towels over the heads. "Magic exhaustion?" - he inquires in a soft voice - "Should you need to, brother Theodore can summon acolytes to take you to secluded rooms to rest and recover." He smiles at me, and motions to step aside a little. Probably because it''s obvious I''m not as badly hit as the other two. "Lady Gillespie? I wish to confer with you about the cure for cold. I had acolytes come on in and tell me they could learn the makings of the cure just by watching you. You should be more careful to conceal the... Oh?"


    He trails off and pauses as I raise my hand. "That was the idea, most honorable prelate. I desire for the temple to learn the recipe and to provide it to all good people of the kingdom. The temple in my father''s county already does that much, I decided to be proactive and teach it here as well. If acolytes are not confident they learned properly, tell them to come and watch again, we will be mixing more of it when my companions regain some energy." - I explain to him - "Temple does not sell the cures by bulk, so my market gains will not be hampered, and honestly, I have far more irons in fire then just this one thing. Making sure the temple preserves the recipe and makes good use for it is frankly more important to me than squeezing that one extra ecu out of keeping the recipe secret."


    He strokes his chin thoughtfully. "My, my. Kinov surely blessed you." - he muses - "You are quite favored of many gods, it seems like. We are grateful for your contribution and will count you among the worthy from now on. Between the salvation of dwarves and gift of knowledge, you most definitely are of worth, milady."


    H-oh. That''s actually a pretty big deal. If the temple considers me "worthy", it means they will give me first dibs when they need something and that they will work on presumption I''m doing work of the divines and must be assisted where feasible. I honestly expected I''d need to donate and contribute more. I guess being seen as a sort of leader of a group of light mages is also a factor in my favor.


    "My thanks, most honorable prelate." - I reply to him, - "If you pardon me, I''d like to check on my companions now. It seems they have recovered." He waves me off with a chuckle and meanders over to the spot behind Theodore where a couple of acolytes are milling. They''re there to provide generic assistance as needed and if I''m not mistaken, also being informed that they should observe the cure-making and do their best to memorize the procedure. (Mental note - do the next batch slowly and with lots of explanation so they could grasp it.).


    The rest of the day passes without much ado. Selene and Moon Unit are tired enough to just sit leaning on me by the time it''s over. It takes me a while to rouse and guide them into a slow, sleepy amble back towards the dorms. Half the way in, I honestly give up and scoop Moon Unit up in bridal carry. Selene eyes the new arrangement with bemusement and a little bit of envy. I''m not sure if she''s envying Moon Unit or me, though.


    "Do you want to come in for a cup of cava?" - I ask Selene casually, as we stop next to the dorm doors. She would need to walk further as her lodgings are in another building, and she was already about to head that way as my question finally registers.


    "Cava?" - she asks slowly, rolling the word around her tongue, seemingly trying to figure out why it sounds so familiar. I don''t want to spoil the surprise, so I just smile at her.


    "Alright, fine. Why not?" - she finally goes - "I could use a drink."


    Entering my room, I head towards the bedroom without stopping, asking Bridgit to set up a fresh pot of cava. Selene trails behind her, intensely interested in my magical hot plate. Her eyes gradually widen as she takes in the coffee preparation process, no doubt recognizing why the word sounded so familiar now. In the bedroom, I lay Moon Unit on my bed and gently nudge her awake. "Wakey-wakey, sleeping beauty." - I offer to her - "I''m going to peel off your clothes so you don''t wake up feeling like you''ve been chewed on, alright?" She nods sleepily and drifts off in the process. Utterly exhausted. Poor girl. I really should have gotten her to take it easier.


    Back in the main room, Selene is sitting at the table and vibrating on the chair, her earlier tiredness forgotten in anticipation of coffee. "I''ve missed this." - she whispers quietly, probably not intending for me to overhear.


    "MM. Yes. Coffee in this world is notoriously hard to get." - I confirm to her. Her eyes grow WIDE as she grasps the implication at last.

 Chapter 21. Conversation Over A Cup Of Coffee

    Selene has a reverent expression on her face as she lifts the cup gingerly, and takes a small sip of it. "I have so missed this." - she mutters, setting the cup down and inhaling the steam. I have had sent Bridgit to "tend" to Moon Unit. Which, honestly, is a little more than "go make sure she''s asleep and get in the bed yourself". I''ve managed to slip her a couple words (and a little tongue) discreetly, so I am expecting two girls to cuddle with on my bed tonight.


    I set my own cup down with a bit of clatter. "So. Date of transmigration?" - I level at her squarely. No point to beat around the bush. "I''ve been here since the spring. Got full memories of Alyssa before that. Nothing particularly villainous, she''s essentially been a "nice kid", if not the most socially minded one. Thought Ed was impressed with her impeccable grasp of "highborne manners" when they met last time. What about you?"


    She startles, sighs. "Two days before the trip to Academy." - she admits then - "Grew up in little freehold on the ocean coast near Albic isles. I got full memories too, not that there''s much to be had there, because I think I''m a foundling here. My foster dad is a yeoman who''s had a bad time of it with the local gentry. They seem to find a land that is not governed by a "rightfully appointed lord" an affront. Not that anything other than snide words ever came out of it, none of them really trusts his neighbors to make an alliance strong enough to actually conquer anything."


    That... is actually surprisingly relevant. "Sea, huh. You know, I actually have problems getting together enough seafaring expertise. Or any decent port. The county is not having any of the seacoast. Think your dad is interested in getting paid good money for the business?" - I pitch to her, making her snap up and blink.


    "...Maybe? I have no idea. Freeholders don''t mind serving for pay, but they''re not interested in getting an overlord." - she offers back.


    "Well, think about it and tell me. I have a lot of money rolling around for investments, and I can think of a design or two that could work well for fishing or ferrying cargo along the coast. Logistics are a bother in this realm, I don''t think I''ll be able to promulgate road network sufficiently enough to make bulk trading viable for a couple years yet. Sea routes could prove to be a good intermediate investment in the meanwhile." - I suggest to her - "Yes, I''m not keen on sticking with the industrial status quo. You may have heard dad''s been offering shelter and food for any dwarves willing to migrate. I''ve given them some basic ideas on smelting, going to try building Bessemer converters during winter break. If that pans out, I''m going to start working on steam engines and railroad."


    She stares at me, blinking rapidly. Then starts to grin slowly. "Industrial revolution, then? Hell yeah, I''m in." - she offers, extending her hand over the table - "Magic''s making stuff easier, right?"


    I shake her hand. "It does, yes. I take it you''ve got the light magic up the wazoo?" - I offer to her - "I''m not actually focused in anything, but lucked out being a strong mage in general." I get up to bring her a pair of simple wristbands with a couple flowers embroidered on each, and toss them to her. "Wear those. Magic through facsimiles is not as strong as through regular flower, but neither you nor me actually lack in power, innit?"


    She pulls on the bands thoughtfully, flexing her hand as the lantern spell springs into existence on top of her palm. "Holy fuck. This is straight up cheating." - she quips - "Thanks. I was worried about being ambushed after those four showed up today... Um, about ambushes..."


    "I don''t plan on selling you to Sultanate, no." - I assure her lazily - "I''m confident we can find common ground, and even if not, I find the idea of slavery repulsive in principle."


    "Pheh. I guess we should talk about the... About Ed." - she agrees - "You meant it when you said you''re not interested earlier. So, theoretically speaking, you don''t mind if I go for him?"


    "I don''t mind even practically speaking." - I retort - "Hell, just get Ed to talk to me. He would''ve been an eligible bachelor already if he wasn''t so intent on avoiding me like a plague."


    She snickers. "No promises. He''s a sweetie, but horribly stubborn." - she offers - "I think I can wear him down eventually, but if you have any cunning plan in works, I''m all ears. Oh, hey, also, mind telling me something?"


    I quirk a brow at her. Well, that is much less painful now that she knows I''m not in the way. "Shoot."


    "You and elf girl?" - she grins cockily - "Hey, I get it actually. I''d go for her myself if I didn''t like the D."


    "And my maid too." - I correct her absentmindedly - "Might add couple more maidens down the line. Maybe one of the princesses, if any of them are interested."


    She gawks. "Oh my fucking god, really? You''re making a lesbian harem?" - she guffaws - "Hey, yeah, actually, you go, girl! Gotta catch them all and stuff."


    I nod at her. "Yeah, well, it''s contingent on you actually getting together with Ed. Or at least on me successfully breaking engagement without causing ah... political issues in the kingdom." - I suggest to her - "It goes without saying I''m in your corner on this one and will help as feasible. But I had a bigger question for you. You played the official translation, right? Given your name is Selene and all?"


    She blinks and nods - "Yeah. Why do you ask?"


    "Well... Here''s the thing. There was DLC that didn''t get translation treatment. So there are three more capture targets you might run across. Not likely, getting to them requires doing really messed up things, but I think you should know." - I explain to her.


    She pales, and clutches her cup - "Messed up like... Klaus route messed up?"


    Her face pinches when I nod gravely - "Option one - run face-first into every single situation that shows the nobles in bad sight, become full of hate for society, run off to Evergreens, cozy up to one of their big honchos and inspire elves to carry out genocidal conquest of pretty much whole continent. Oh, and it''s heavily implied that the dude to seduce is directly related."


    "Pass." - she says immediately - "Incest might be hot, but genocide sure ain''t."


    "OOokay. Option two. Go for Alistair, and keep on ramping up the violence until even he starts to backpedal. If you earn yourself a reputation for being a bloodthirsty murderdoll, you''re going to get a marriage proposal from the king of Vallah, one Vlad Tepes. Vallah, in case you don''t know, is local Transylvania and is in the middle of the TransBalkan mess. Vampires are a thing, though rare, but to the best of my knowledge, Vlad isn''t one. He''s simply a sadistic bastard with a fetish for impalement. It doesn''t end well for you." - I continue with my exposition. Selene shudders in her seat and rubs her shoulders as if she''s cold. It''s clear she''s not liking that option in the slightest.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    "And finally, option three. If you go for Marceu and decide not to fight off the ork attack when you''re touring the countries? They''re going to kidnap you and rape you until you go crazy, murder all of them with magic and get lost in Endless Steppe afterward. Different tribe finds you, patches you up and you end up falling for chieftain, who is also an ork." - I conclude - "None of the routes are a big danger, but you might end up dealing with Vlad sometimes, because Ed might get sent out for diplomatics at some point, being a spare prince and all."


    "Yeah. Well. Thanks for the warning, and that is really messed up." - she offers, as she finishes off her cup and stares into it forlornly. Her expression perks up as I pluck it out of her hands and refill it from the pot. "Oh, hey, you said the local name for coffee is cava?" - she asks eagerly.


    "MM. Yes, but they sell it as green coffee. You''ll have to roast it yourself, if you want black." - I explain - "Also, it''s sold at the same deal as spices. At gold''s weight."


    Her smile crumbles. "...Well FUCK." - she whispers viciously.


    I lean over and fluff her hair lightly. "Cheer up. Once you''re married to Ed, you''ll be able to afford it." - I quip - "Maybe sooner, if we swing the cooperation deal with seaworthy boats and your family starts turning a profit on it. I plan on eventually conquering some of Sultanate to have my own coffee plantations and really kick up the imports, but that''s a long-term plan."


    She looks up at me. "Sign me up for that." - she says with a wistful smile - "I can''t believe how much I missed this."


    "My mom does perfume by pigeon deal now, by the way." - I tell her - "Her idea entirely, I just showed her how to extract the essential oils alchemically. Simply mail a gold and a note with your preferred flavor, and you''ll get back about two ounces of basic perfume in it. Rectified alcohol for a solvent base, essential oil for flavor and the rest is water. Simple, really."


    She groans - "You invented Avon, too?"


    "Technically, my mother did, and it''s not called Avon in this reality. But yes, if you hear about ''eau fleurie du nord'', you''ll know what it is. I''d offer you some, but you''re going to get grief from girls in your class if you come out smelling like high-class nobility." - I suggest to her - "Remind me to get you some later once you''re in a position to officially go on a date with Ed, alright?"


    She gives me an eye. "MMm. That sounds like my mom promising to teach me how to iron and hiding the iron on the upper shelf in the same time, you know?" - she offers, yawning. I guess she''s tired enough to offset coffee.


    I snort. "I can give you some right now, if you''re fine with rose flavor, but there is no guarantee some of the students won''t go through your stuff at some point. It''s a common hazing tactic against commoners, accusing them of theft and going through their belongings. I suggest you get a sturdy lockbox and keep everything expensive and crucial in it under key whenever you''re not using it. Demand dean to be present if people want to search your stuff. Hell, ask for my presence as a guarantor. That would discourage a good deal of would-be harassers on the spot." - explain to her.


    She nods slowly. "And if they find an expensive perfume, they''re going to claim that there is no way I could have afforded this and therefore it''s clearly stolen..." - she muses - "Yeah, no. I get it. Not until I have some weight in social circles here, I guess."


    "Just so. Still, do keep in mind what I said earlier. Asking for a guarantor is a legal thing, and you''re allowed to violently resist any noble that refuses to honor that." - I tell her - "It would be better for all of us if you don''t end up needing one, but just in case.. keep in mind that little tidbit. Technically speaking, you can name absolutely any noble as your guarantor, but they will get a LOT of leeway over you in that specific case, and if your guarantor agrees you''re the guilty party in your conflict, you don''t get any appeals. It''s not uncommon for a noble to do just that - give a blanket "I deem my guarantee guilty of whatever you want to accuse them of" in case they''re named as guarantor by someone they don''t have a reason to like. So, for time being, if you need a guarantor, name me or Ed. And be aware that naming Ed as your guarantor is going to get you a LOT of negative PR while he''s still my fianc¨¦e."


    "Sooo... if one of those bitches accuses me of theft, I should name you as guarantor, and..." - she trails off questioningly.


    "And wait for the official fielding complaint to send someone to fetch me. If they refuse to or tell you they know better than to believe I''d guarantee for you, blast them with everything you''ve got. Nonlethal is preferable, but if you have to kill them to get away, do so. Supplanting the guarantor is a grand offense, and I will end up dueling whoever does this even if you don''t fuck them up first."


    "Wait, dueling? You''re going to fight on my behalf?" - she inquires incredulously.


    "Goodness, no. I''d fight on my own behalf in that case. Supplanting the guarantor in this context is them making a statement they do not believe I am a noble, and I''m entitled to satisfaction. Which means they either have to make a public admission they were wrong and give me an apology and a gift for my forbearance, or they have to answer my dueling challenge and, unless they manage to win, give me a gift for forbearance. An apology is considered inherently given if I beat them. If they win, the matter is closed." - I explain to her - "Don''t worry about me having to fight too much. Having plenty of facsimiles on my person at any time means I can outperform anything any specific duelist can pull out on the piste with their flower. So if I''m the one being dueled, the outcome will be quick humiliation for the opponent in the absolute majority of cases."


    She lifts her hands, looking at the embroidered bands around her wrists. "Like those?" - she quips.


    "Yep. But lots more. I have them on my sleeves, on the hem of my dress, on the belt, on the hairband, on the collar, on the shoes, on the jewelry, hell, I have flowers embroidered on my underwear. I suggest you either take up embroidery or find someone who would take an affordable commission and have as many items of clothing embroidered with some flowers as you can. Extra insurance never hurt anyone. Have some hidden panel embroideries, get some leather to make shoe inserts and stitch flowers into them, just in case. Oh, and be careful about anyone offering you jewelry. Slave collars are a thing, and some are disguised as necklaces. For assorted reasons, slave collars only work when they can encircle neck, so be extra mindful of what goes around it. Remember, as a daughter of yeoman, you are inherently freeborn and entitled to defend your freedom violently, if needs be. Anyone offering you a slave collar as a gift? You may kill them and the law will be on your side in Champagne. Not so in Sultanate, of course, but they are a wholly different can of worms. I don''t suggest visiting, they have... ideas about unattached women."


    She nods. Blinks. YAAAAAAAAWNS. I can hear the faint crack as her jaw opens beyond the limits of comfort. She snaps her mouth close and rubs at her cheek, sighing - "I, yaaah, I need to get to my room, because I''m about to crash, and your bed is already crowded." She downs the rest of the coffee in her cup, shudders and stands up. "Good night, Alyssa. I''ll see you tomorrow, I''m guessing. And hey, thanks for the coffee. And for including me into your plans. I, ah... have a lot to think about it." And with that, she wanders off into the night. I follow her with my eyespiders until she enters her room. Satisfied she''s in her bed safe and sound, I direct attentions to my own. Crawling in to fit around the girls is a bit of a stretch and squeeze, but it all works out well, and I drift off to not-sleep almost immediately, my arms wrapped around the girls possessively as I do.

 Chapter 22. Fluffy Talks And Spoiling (Also, Timeskip)

    "...Are you awake?"


    "Yes! Just, nngh... Oh, bother. Mistress. Mistress... Wake up, please, I need to make you breakfast and Moon Unit has to... um, actually, what do you need?"


    "TO PEE!"


    "YES, that! Mistress!"


    Snapping back to complete alertness, I... pause. Blink. And start unwinding the coils of tentacles. (Note to self - apparently, I''m an octopus-style cuddler while "asleep".) Moon Unit runs out of the room. I guess she really wanted to go, huh. Bridgit looks at me. Blushes. "Good morning, mistress." - she offers bashfully, hiding her eyes - "What would you like for breakfast?"


    "Some omelettes would be nice. Make sure to cook enough for all three of us, alright?" - I tell her - "Don''t skimp on pepper. And don''t try to put it only on mine, either." She squirms as I tap her nose with fingertip lightly - "Better get used to it, Bridgit. I''m prone to spoiling my girls silly. I have a couple things to discuss with you, but it will keep until afternoon."


    "...Mistress..." - she groans softly - "I''m not... I mean... shouldn''t you..."


    I bop her lightly. "Nope." - I enunciate to her clearly - "Let me put it simply, Bridgit. I like girls. I intend to have a whole harem of cute and lovely girls, and you will be an equal part of the harem for as long as you want to be with me. Understand? Don''t let anyone tell you otherwise."


    "Hee." - and Moon Unit is back. And jumps into bed without any hesitation, sprawling on top of me languidly - "Harem, huh? Does that make us your wives, then?"


    "Generally speaking, yes." - I confirm simply, making both of them jerk up and stare at me wide-eyed - "It might be a while before I have enough political weight to make it official, though. As far as I am concerned, though, yes. Consider yourself my wives. Well, if you want to be, that is. No pressure."


    "...But, what about your engagement..." - Bridgit mutters - "You... you can''t just abandon a PRINCE to marry a maid!" Moon Unit seems to be in agreement with her, frowning and nodding.


    "Ah. Yeah, well. I''m going to try and fob this engagement over to Selene. She seems to like Ed, and Ed seems to like her and honestly, I''m not even attracted to Ed to begin with." - I answer simply - "Yes, I understand. It sounds outlandish to you. But understand my predicament here. I''m not human, never been human. I can pretend really well, but I can''t hide my nature from my spouse, right? I honestly do NOT see Ed being fine with the fact his wife can sprout tentacles casually, you know? Besides, he''s just a spare prince. I have plans in motion to carve myself a nice domain to call my own, I don''t need a prince to prop me up."


    "But... Mistress, what are you, even? How did you end up being lady Gillespie, if you''re not a human?" - Bridgit inquires. It''s well-hidden, but I can see her entertaining some... bad suspicions. Thankfully, my inhumane features do NOT match any of the common supernatural babysnatchers even slightly, or we''d have a problem.


    "That... is a family secret." - I explain to them - "Bridgit, you already know my mother miscarried three times before having me, right? Well, that is because she and father are not entirely compatible. The dangers of marrying close to family. Because Bradfords and Gillespies intermarried often, we share too much blood, and... Well. Putting it simply, mother and father can only have boys. If mother is pregnant with a girl, it will be a stillbirth. They had a famous mage aid with this issue to have me, because they thought they can''t have children at all. His solution was, well... to summon a seed from the divine realm and replace the failing body with this seed in the womb. Thus, I am born Alyssa Gillespie, who is a SHOGGOTH."


    Oh, those expressions are priceless. I continue - "Keep this a secret, would you kindly? None of us needs the hassle that would find us should this become known outside of the family. And yes, I''m telling you this precisely because I consider you family. If at some point of time you decide to leave, well. I will depend on your honor to keep the secret, alright?"


    They exchange a glance, and lean closer to me, kissing my cheeks. "Alyssa, if you think I''ll ever leave, you''re sorely mistaken. You''re mine." - Moon Unit murmurs.


    "I''m not leaving you, mistress. Not now, not ever." - Bridgit echoes her. Hnng. Adorable waifus, confirmed. Yet again. I''ll never tire of this.


    ___


    It takes a bit of effort to get out of bed. Honestly, I''d love to stay there all day, but there are studies to be had. Moon Unit does a quick run to her room to change into fresh clothes and grab her learning materials and comes back for omelettes and coffee. Meanwhile, I clump a bunch of mass into a larger version of a spider with a cup-sized compartment instead of an eye and put a cup of freshly brewed coffee into it along with a brief note to Selene. Nothing important, just good morning greetings and some friendly ribbing about not squealing too loud over coffee. I''m in luck, spider makes it into her room just as she busies herself with her morning ablutions and is able to deposit the cup and the note on her table without hindrance.


    And here she comes and notices the cup. Oh, yes, that''s the expression I like. Also, appreciating the show, Selene. You probably didn''t intend on giving it, but hey, nice tits. Have a good morning now. She lifts the cup gingerly and sniffs it, her body starting to glow softly as she takes the first sip. Whoops, she''s going to shine all morning probably. People are going to be wondering what put her in such a good mood.


    Actually... Yep. Goodness, that might get a little awkward, because Bridgit and Moon Unit are both emitting a glow of their own. Not badly enough to be immediately seen, but should either of them loiter in the shadow, it would quickly become apparent. Oh well, Bridgit is not milling with students much, and for Selene and Moon Unit... I suppose the fact they did a big magic thing in the temple yesterday would be sufficient to explain the glow. When prelate says you''re worthy, it''s a pretty serious achievement.


    We depart for our studies shortly after breakfast, Bridgit getting a kiss from me and Moon Unit as we come out to the corridor. It''s thankfully empty enough that I risk kissing Moon Unit as we''re about to part our ways. Selene is down the corridor, waving to Moon Unit. Huh. Eyespider on this, just in case. That might be a problem.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Hello." - Selene offers softly - "I wanted to apologize for yesterday." Or maybe not. At Moon Unit''s quirked brow she continues - "We had a long talk with lady Gillespie after she put you to bed. I''ve been... thinking a lot of wrong things about her. She''s actually really nice, and I''m sorry I implied bad things about her last time."


    Moon Unit huffs. Then sighs. "...Alright." - she offers - "I''m still mad at you for saying those things, but you do know better now, so... apologies accepted."


    Selene grins and steps aside, falling in step with Moon Unit as they go to class. "She actually told me a bit about her plans last night, and, well..." - she pauses, then squeals - "I''m sorry, it''s just... you are so cute together!"


    "What?!" - and my elven waifu nearly stumbles. Selene, really? "She told you about.. us?"


    Selene nods happily - "Yeah! Don''t worry, I''m totally in favor. And yeah, I know to keep it quiet from anyone else, just... I had to say it to you, you know? Because ohmygawd, I can''t get over how cute this is. Also, good for her, I think. She really likes you, you know? Each time you were mentioned, she''s like... had this look like ''what am I doing here if she''s over there'', you know? Eeee!" And I''ve got a shipper on deck. Joy.


    Moon Unit chuckles lightly, her cheeks pink. "I know." - she mutters - "I still can''t believe I''m so lucky."


    Alright. No reason to butt in. They''re getting along now, it looks like. At some point of time, I''ll need to get all of them together and outline some of the more immediate plans so they know what to expect from each other, but that can wait. Honestly, until Selene manages to get Ed to talk to me, nothing big is going to happen anyway. I hope, at least.


    ___


    Days go by. I get my daily dose of cuteness, study the tomes of law and generally kill my time. Oh, also keep up a correspondence with dad, mostly sending him my ideas on things to produce. Magical hot plates are already appearing on the bazaar, and apparently are a big hit among nobles, who are enticed by the idea of "have a way to keep your meal hot right on your table". Per my suggestion, a plate comes with a brass wristband embossed with lilies, and a slip of paper explaining the basics of directing fire magic into the plate, to make things easy. I''ve even had one of the noble girls I''m keeping light acquaintance with brag about being "first to own" to me. She was.. a little embarrassed when I admitted to inventing them and having one before I even got into the Academy. Cluing her in on "hair breeze" smoothed the awkwardness over, though. And yes, I did "invent" a hair dryer. Mostly a wooden pistol-shaped thing, with a brass plate in the end. Again, embossed with lilies. The handle is engraved with thistle. Simply clutch the thing in your hand and apply power to have hot air.


    Also, I apparently have a following of girls now, who hang out with me mostly to get clues on the next "usefulness" to come out to the bazaar. I try not to concentrate on woman share of the market, though. Putting out all sorts of magical tools brings gold hand over fist to the county''s coffers, and the bigger share of the market I snag first, the best for me. So now men are bragging about "beardcutters", which are not even magical, just hand-cranked hair clippers. Dwarves apparently figured out that rocksaw can also be metal saw if you grind the dust to be finer, and promptly put it to use making fine-milled tools. I pitch the idea for a turntable machine next. For now, it will have to be cranked by hand via series of multiplication gears, or maybe they can cut straight to water-driven. Waterwheel mill had been finally completed in the town and dad had sent me a very hefty sack of gold with the note that says "I have four coffers now and I still can''t fit all the profits in. Take the responsibility for leftovers!"


    With gold just rolling in like this, I spoil the girls a little. Moon Unit gets a nice embroidered cloak and a bunch of petty jewelry. Including a locket with Gillespie crest, because yes, I''m entirely willing to claim her as mine. People notice and promptly decide that I''ve been headhunting for talents. For Bridgit, I get her a couple of nice dresses (including a fine silk gown that made her stammer a lot about being "oh so very spoiled") and again, jewelry, including a crest locket, because I want everyone to know she''s mine and I will come down on any motherfucker trying to get handsy with her like a ton of bricks. Selene gets a satchel of cava. Her squeal is heard throughout the whole dorm and spawns a whole LOT of rumors about the possible cause of her glowing for the next three days straight.


    Ed is still being recalcitrant bastard, and that is in spite of both Selene and Alistair telling him several times that maybe it''s time to actually talk to me and settle things. Alistair, notably, comes to talk to me about Selene a couple days in, and leaves absolutely flabbergasted after finding out that I have no objection to Ed courting her and in fact would really prefer they be a couple and get the engagement off me already. Ed flatly refuses to listen to them though, and instead berates them for even trying to talk to me, insisting nothing good is to come out of it. I''m starting to wonder if there is something wrong with Ed. And not in the "why are you so bloody stubborn" way, but rather "golly, maybe he is being influenced to act this way". Not sure how, though. My spying failed to uncover anything worthwhile Ed might be blackmailed over with, so probably not that. Magical influence? No way to check discreetly, Ed needs to cooperate for that. Maybe give Selene a clue about that and see if she can talk him into getting checked at the temple? Or failing that, have him object vehemently enough to trigger Alistair''s suspicions enough to carry it out forcibly? Something to consider.


    Hiram actually was missing for a good deal of time. Apparently, he had to take an urgent trip back to Kraut. I... may have caused that with my dumping the head of Klaus on his table. I hope he doesn''t make a big deal out of it. Not in the sense of Krauts getting offended, the very idea of trying a slave collar on high nobility of allied kingdom is sufficient casus belli, but in the sense of him actually bringing back something uncomfortably ostentatious as a peace offering. His room is still empty, though his petty belongings are still in and his manservant comes by every other day to water the flowers. He''ll be back soon, hopefully.


    Lemand is secluding himself in the library, as expected. He is, thankfully, diverted from dimensional magics and instead seems to be going through the available tomes on enchantment. I encourage the practice by "accidentally" bumping into him in the library and praising his "practical mindset". He brushes it off as "just indulging scholarly pursuits", but I can see he is perked up. Apparently, Lamarchands are not of high opinion about his inclination for magic. Lamarchand senior is famous for his martial prowess, and his firstborn is father''s pride and joy... And I guess I just found out why Lamand is almost aggressively shielding himself from the world with magical tomes. He is duly appreciative when I send him a set of brass inkwells and quill holders and actually seeks me out to give his thanks. The conversation is short, but he is clearly enthused when I tell him that the gift was so he could pursue his scholastic goals with comfort. Of course, that prompted yet another round of "lady Gillespie is headhunting"... Which, honestly speaking, is not a lie, so I just smile and offer noncommittal answers to the few people brave enough to broach the topic with me.


    Not counting Ed problem, things are proceeding apace according to my plans. Right until the end of the first month, when Academy announces the end of an introductory course and the arrival of several new students. Hiram is finally back, but what worries me more is that there is another student making an appearance. Emir Abbas ibn-Salaadin. The first prince of Oija Sultanate and consummate haughty bastard.

 Chapter 23. Specialized Studies (Are Not Off To Great Start)

    Abbas wasn''t really in the game much. I can remember a grand total of two scenes including him, in either of which he didn''t do much more than stand around with a haughty smirk. My conclusions after a week of attending studies with him around? He''s a jackass and proud of it. Thankfully, he didn''t actually show up much anywhere where Ed or Hiram weren''t already, and I guess their presence had mitigated his... tendencies. But goodness gracious, what a jackass. He had initially attracted some of the nobles trying to cozy up to him, but even the most dedicated flatterers and brown-nosers had taken to wearing rather pinched expressions whenever he deigns to show up lately.


    The rest of the Academy, in comparison, is downright pleasant. Well, the part I can interact with. Ed is still doing his disappearance act whenever I''m nearby, and some of the peeps looking to get tight with him started to emulate this behavior. I also had an interesting conversation with a group of girls who made conclusions that Ed had "good reasons" for acting this way. I''ve done my best to impress upon them that meddling won''t get them anything good, but I don''t think they really internalized the message. It''s just mean looks and hushed whispers otherwise so far, so I''m not that concerned. They''re mostly on my level or lower, as far as social standing goes. Well, technically, some of them are offsprings of assorted marquises, but none of them with enough weight to think they can really lean on me, given that king himself made it pretty much common knowledge that father''s getting promoted to the duke on winter holidays. Abraham was apparently duly impressed by the bevy of new goods coming out of the county at a steady stream, and the fact father ended up buying out several bordering viscounts and barons that failed in their fiscal obligations badly enough to force them into submitting to vassalage for cash relief. Gillespie county, as of now, contains 32% of the Champagne territory, including the entire north half of mountains from the Icy Ocean to the Ashenvale. Oh, Ashenvale is ours. Technically speaking, Kraut kingdom possessed the eastern half of it, but they were all too willing to sell it to dad for a token sum and a trade agreement.


    Hiram is actually pretty happy about that last bit. He had apparently been very busy putting out the political fires that ignited in Kraut over Klaus karking it in a highly inconvenient manner. The trade agreement, which includes a bulk sale of cure for cold to Kraut is tacitly accepted by everyone involved as making peace over that fuckup of his. We had tea a couple of times over the last week and tentatively discussed the possibility of tar road being extended through the Ashenvale and into Kraut kingdom. He is really enthused about having a decent land route from Berlinger to Parsee again.


    Selene reports that Ed is being slowly worn down in regards of getting himself checked for magic. She (on my advice) backed off from insisting Ed talks to me, and instead switched tack to pointing out that he is overly stressed and prone to bursts of ire over petty things. This topic is not making him dig in and turn paranoia to eleven, and while he is dismissive of the whole thing, he did recently express a bemused agreement to visit the temple with Selene to be "checked for mental fatigue". Even if they don''t find anything, the temple is liable to tell him to drink chamomile brew to calm his nerves, it''s their standard standby for such cases. Maybe that will mellow the stubborn mule out.


    I am currently killing time sitting at the lecture about magical dueling. It is, without doubt, the least favorite lecture for me. In a large part because the professor in charge of it very much reminds me of a peacock. Fussy and pretentious in his appearance and with a remarkably grating voice. Worse yet, he has some... interesting ideas about duels and how honor factors into them.


    "...And thus, you shan''t commit with an excess of magiage, thy spell shouldst match thy opponent. If they strike, you block. If they defend, you strike. This, and only this can possibly gain you the glory of victory." - he preens. I.. fail to suppress a snort at that. Gileas Hardlock is just... not the kind of person I can take seriously. His expertise, if it could be called such, calls for magical slugfests that depend solely on who runs out of stamina first. I''ve tried to ask him about more advanced strategies, and his suggestion was, if we strip away the mangled words and flowery language, to simply "show more nobility", whatever it means. I surmise that he is trying to say "cast harder".


    "Did I say something amusing, lady Gillespie?" - he ventures in that reedy voice of his. I... fuck it, I can''t take any more of this unwanted bastard of peacock and pufferfish.


    "Frankly speaking, professor, I''m having trouble visualizing your advice." - I offer to him bluntly - "It appears to me that your advice can be summed as "wait for an opponent to cast and do a spell with opposite effect". What about footwork? Evasion? Augmentation?"


    "Pff. Petty trickery is never effective against a noble opponent, lady Gillespie. I do not know what they taught you up north, but you would do well to abandon any such pedestrian notions, if you wish for glorious victory on the piste. Neither running around nor dodging would serve well, lest you''re facing a lowborn cur with no understanding of noble combat. The only way to prevail is to overwhelm your opponent''s spell with your own." - he lectures. Is he... looking down on me? "Perhaps I shalt remind thou to be more diligent in practicing the spellwork, so you shan''t entertain such commoner aspirations henceforth. Evasion, indeed! Nonsense."


    FUCK. IT. "A demonstration then, professor?" - I offer, standing up - "Because I''m honestly unsure just how do you expect to win just by standing and casting."


    "Please sit down and cease your questioning." - he talks over me - "Haven''t your parents taught you to heed the instruction of your betters?"


    "Goodness, professor. How exactly I''m supposed to believe you actually know anything about dueling if you are afraid to give an example?" - I smirk at him - "If you are truly a great duelist, it should not be a problem for you to put an uppity student in their place with your prowess, isn''t it so?"


    His jowls redden and he gestures irritably toward the center of the classroom. "Fine. If I must beat the instruction into you, I will!" - he wheezes - "Take up a flower and learn by deed, if you are not suited to learn by word!" His next words are a mutter, but I do manage to overhear something about "northern barbarians" and "uncouth bumpkins". Either he is actually a competent duelist and the whole spiel about "noble combat" is a rotten lie he is spinning for some reason, or he genuinely believes it, and is a rotten fool. In either case, I''m NOT. PUTTING. UP. WITH. THIS. FUCKING. TRIPE. ANYMORE.


    As I pass through the class, Alistair tugs on my sleeve. "Are you insane? What are you doing!?" - he whispers quickly - "He''s known for winning a hundred duels without defeat!"


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    "I''m going to fuck him up." - I reply to him quietly, pulling the sleeve out of his grasp.


    "Ohoho. It seems young sir McGregor understands the folly of your challenge, lady Gillespie." - the preening moron jumps in - "Heed his advice, young lady. I am willing to overlook this indiscretion if you apologize and return to your seat now."


    I pluck a random flower out of the vase next to the training piste, and step onto it carelessly. "En garde, mister Hardlock."


    His nostrils flare angrily. "That''s SIR Hardlock to you!" - he bites off - "Everyone, take notice. My current flower is a tulip, which has a strong connection to fire and earth. A fine choice for a duelist. Lady Gillespie here is facing me wielding lavender, which is water and light aligned, and weakly at that. It is a weak flower, best suited for a healer who needs to conserve their meager reserves. She will not be able to withstand more than two spells from me, mark my words."


    I tuck the sprig of lavender into my lapel and stretch out lightly, loosening up. He completely fails to notice as I throw a dual augmentation of sense amplification and mental acceleration on myself, as he meticulously arranges himself in a pose that... actually looks somewhat decent, if only he had a rapier in his hand instead of tulip. I wonder. And queue deflection shielding, haste, body reinforcement and iron skin. I want to fight him using absolute minimum, I just don''t get the impression of him as someone who actually can fight. Either that is a very convincing charade and he would easily wreck me... or I''m right, and he''s an incompetent buffoon. In the first case, I don''t want him to notice I actually had six spells ready to be cast in unison. In second, it''s simply not needed to. But I do hold them on the tip of my mind, in case I misjudged badly enough to need it.


    As he finally says "En garde!", I shake my arms out lightly, lifting them in front of my chest. In my previous life, I have taken lessons on unarmed fighting - I had the misfortune of being born in turbulent times and punching people in the face was a sad fact of life to accept and prepare for. That is not to say I was in any way competition-worthy. Especially now, given that as a shoggoth I never bothered putting in any time on physical fitness. But I still have muscle memory of several styles that I dabbled in, and I am annoyed enough to pick the most brutal of them. Krav Maga.


    "Fi...WHUM!" - he starts, and immediately cuts off his spoken incantation (Seriously? SE-fucking-RIOUSLY?) as my boot impacts against his face with satisfying SMACK, flipping him around and sending him on all fours on the floor facing away from me, tulip flying off into the auditorium. I give him no time to think. Two steps forward, a knee on his back between the shoulderblades, an arm around his neck, and then I PULL. Not hard enough to break his neck, but more than sufficient to make him believe he will be strangled in front of students right here the fuck now. His face turns purple as he wheezes what was probably intended as a startled scream, but came out as a gurgling hiss. Confirmed, he is an incompetent jackass. So... how did he accrue his reported hundred wins? Bribery? Lies? Mental magic? So very curious.


    ___


    Dean Ambercrombe pinches the bridge of his nose. "Lady Gillespie." - he starts - "This is absolutely unacceptable. Professor Hardlock refuses to continue teaching until he receives a public apology for your rash actions. I must insist you offer your apologies today at dinner, otherwise I will be inclined to dismiss you from attendance to keep the peace and ensure the proper education continues uninterrupted."


    I sigh. "I would think you have bigger things to worry about right now, dean." - I retort - "Namely, how are you going to explain that your vaunted dueling teacher, who presumably had won a hundred duels without a single defeat had stuffing beaten out of him by a mere student on a piste. There were over fifty students in attendance witnessing this, they saw him taking the piste, saying "En Garde" and preparing to cast. He even managed to utter the first syllable of his incantation. There is no way you can claim any skulduggery on my side without coming off as a liar."


    "We are discussing your behavior right now, lady Gillespie." - he objects - "I can not permit such blatant disrespect towards professors, regardless of anything else. My decision stands - either you apologize to professor Hardlock at the dinner, or you may collect your belongings and leave the Academy by the sunset."


    "Sure. Want to guess what I will do tomorrow in that case?" - I smile at him - "I''m going to visit the king. He did give me dispensation to request an audience per need, after all. And I''m going to ask him to compel you to reimburse my tuition. Because I paid to be taught by experts, and Hardlock is anything but. I imagine his highness will have his own inquiries on the matter. Why, I wouldn''t be surprised if he sees this as intentional sabotage of education. How many students had already received Hardlock''s dubious instructions, hmm? Each and every one of them is now a liability to the kingdom, should a war break out. Can you spell ''treason''?"


    He jerks back, his face paling rapidly as he once again grasps the implications five minutes too late. "You can''t... This isn''t...." - he wheezes, clutching at his heart - "Academy can not......"


    "You''re quite right. Academy can NOT afford that kind of scandal. Even if you''re not hanged for this, the reputation of the Academy will be in tatters. Honestly speaking, dean, you should be grateful to me I have had exposed Hardlock so early in the year. You can fire him and invite a competent instructor without impacting the education of students too much. Try to do anything else? Anything at all? Your choices, in that case, would be to go down as traitor or buffoon. Either way, it will not be a pleasant change in your life." - I drive the point home, my smile widening - "So, dean, what will it be? Better education for every student now, or thoroughly ruined life for you a little later?"


    "But... I can not let you just... disrespect me and Academy like this!" - he chokes out - "Fine, I will look into replacing Hardlock if he is truly so inept, but I insist on apologies nonetheless. To Academy, if not to Hardlock."


    "That''s.... nice, dean, but I honestly do not give a damn about what you think you can and can not let." - I tell him bluntly - "I tried not to make your job too hard on my account. First, you accuse me of being a creature. Then I immediately find out your orders had led to the king''s personal delivery to me being delayed. Now, you have the audacity to defend the hiring of an utterly incompetent fool to teach us how to protect our lives. And you STILL have the GALL to look me in the eye and demand APOLOGIES?!" I cough, as I realize I have leaned over the table, grabbed his lapels and started shaking him like a doll during the speech. I let go of his lapels, letting him fall down into the chair. "Last chance, dean. One last chance. If I have to deal with any more incompetence from your family, I will declare a blood feud and WIPE every last Ambercrombe from E??X?IS??TE??N??C??E?/??M??E?M?O??R???Y/??CON??T??I??NUU???M. Do I make myself CLEAR!?"


    He nods spastically, pressing himself into the back of the chair and cringing away. I''m... so fucking tired of this. Some part of me keeps wondering why I still bother. Why I''m not declaring feud already. Or why I''m not just consuming the entirety of his protein mass and burning the leftovers in his own fireplace.


    "For your own sake, dean, let us both hope that our next conversation will be about handing over my diploma." - I tell him, as I head for the door - "Feel free to encourage professors to test me on advanced topics. I won''t be against graduating early or working on my own projects out of class. Have a nice day."


    I''m almost back at my dorm rooms when I realize I have actually shouted at Ambercrombe with the full range for a moment. And that he might very well be preoccupied with poking his ears out right now. Well.... shit.

 Chapter 24. Pizza Party (And One Worried Squire)

    Setting myself firmly into the chair in my room, I spin a bunch of eyespiders and direct them to Ambercrombe''s office to determine the extent of damage and run some mitigation if needed. Much to my relief, he is not engaged in self-mutilation. However, it has to be said, he makes a very concerned go at self-inebriation, because that''s two empty bottles of brandy, and he is chugging the third one without even bothering with glass. Hitting him with a low-level scan to ensure he''s not going to die from alcohol poisoning (or any other exposure issues), I notice something amusing. Dean is apparently made of sterner stuff than his tapeworm, because I seem to have had outright killed his parasite with fear. It tracks as missing its nerve ganglion, which is replaced with a bit of soot. Which, in turn, likely means the dean is going to have a nasty surprise next time he visits chamberpot. Yeah, well. Let''s call it "vengeance well served with consolation prize". I imagine he would like to actually stop feeling hungry all the damn time.


    Tossing the dean out of mind, I stretch out languidly. Technically speaking, there''s dinner, but I honestly don''t feel like showing up. Hardlock will be there expecting apologies that he won''t be getting, and I''ll have to smack him down again, and... yeah, just... no. Fuck him. I have no doubt he is spreading around the "she will be expelled, mark my words", though, so I send out Bridgit to find and invite Moon Unit and Selene for a close-quarters dinner. While I myself busy with making the dinner nice. I, ah, take flagrant advantage of my inherent production advantages to create a decent try at pizza. I only have two varieties of cheese, though, and one of them is something brined that does not melt when heated, so that part has to be simple by necessity. On the other hand, there are four different versions of tomatoes, a bunch of bellpeppers and all the greens I could possibly shake my fist at. Even some sort of mushrooms that should go pretty well lightly fried over in slices. Ham will round out the presentation.


    Girls walk in just as I''m unlocking the conjured "oven". Really, it''s just a pair of pans that I stack one over the other and hit with fire magic to maintain a baking temperature. Selene sniffs the air, her eyes turning to the pan - "...If that''s what I think it is..." She trails off and swallows visibly. Goodness, Selene, don''t drool on my floor.


    I stand up, hugging Bridgit and Moon Unit together and kissing their cheeks. "Greetings, everyone. I had an annoying conversation with the dean about the Peacock, so... yeah, not feeling up to showing up in dining hall right now." - I offer, as I let them go and everyone settles themselves at the table, waiting for me to pull the pizza out - "No need to worry, though. I''m fine, dean had understood the problem after some discussion, so I expect Peacock to be let go shortly, if not outright arrested. Though probably not until tomorrow, I have a hunch dean intended to get drunk after the conversation. Whatever Peacock is saying is his fancies, I''m neither expelled nor offering him any apologies whatsoever. If he feels slighted, he is entirely free to challenge me to a duel over it."


    Selene and Moon Unit snicker at that. Bridgit just sighs and shakes her head. "Mistress..." - she chides - "Try not to drive any of the other professors to drink or humiliation, or you might have to teach the classes yourself."


    Moon Unit pipes up - "Well, I for one wouldn''t be missing that particular cur. He had all but told our class that our best option is to, and I quote ''avoiding quarrels with people of nobility, lest they crush you effortlessly''."


    "Yeah! One''d think we didn''t pay the jackass exactly for teaching us how not to let that happen." - Selene pipes in - "Good riddance to useless trash, I say! Now, onto more important things. Alyssa, is that pizza in the pan?"


    I carefully decant the well-baked pizza onto the conjured china platter. Two pairs of eyes stare at it, while the third closes as their owner lets out a belly growl that would make a bear cautious. Conjuring a disk part of a pizza cutter, I use minor telekinesis to slice pizza up and distribute a slice to everyone. Selene grabs it and immediately starts eating it, much to the shocked confusion of Moon Unit and Bridgit.


    "Lady Selene, wait! We DO have cutlery here..." - Bridgit begins, hopping to her feet only for Selene to stop her.


    "MMf, nhah, huppst tho eaf laiseees." - she announces, blushes and turns aside to swallow - "Sorry. I mean, you''re supposed to eat this with hands."


    Bridgit is dubious, but Moon Unit is feeling more adventurous and grabs the pizza by the crust edge, copying Selene. She bites off the tip, and starts chewing on it, only to slow down and try to inhale more air. "Ow, hof hof hof!" - she yelps, as she struggles with overly hot molten cheese. I pass a glass of plum juice to her and she gratefully chugs it. "Ahh. Better. This is a very strange kind of food, it keeps the heat inside it!" - she offers - "Bridgit, eat it carefully."


    My maid is hesitant to try, and ends up barely starting on her first slice by the time Selene is already working through her third. Thankfully, I baked a big one, and after finishing the third slice, she leans back with a sated sigh. "You know." - she offers conversationally, sipping the juice - "I''m somewhat tempted to leave Ed be and apply for a position on your harem instead." She grins at the expressions and raises her hand - "Kidding, kidding. But seriously enough, thank you. This is another thing I didn''t know I was missing until I had it."


    Moon Unit is slowly working her way through the second slice. "Thish ish very filling." - she offers between bites - "There''s some sort of bread on the bottom, and the top has... actually everything I think. This is very convenient."


    "It is, isn''t it?" - I agree, nibbling on a slice of my own - "This is called pizza. A little something something I dreamt about last night. Though a fair warning - eating this too often will make you fat."


    Selene shakes her head - "Where did you even find an oven...." She trails off as I show her the "conjure pans" - "stack them face to face" - "heat them" in quick sequence. "Good grief. There''s cheating, there''s blatant cheating, and then there''s you. How did it go, hm?" She takes more than a few tries to conjure metal, but eventually manages to create a dish-sized oven. Bridgit is at first standoffish, but then takes interest in Selene''s experiments and starts giving her advice. Meanwhile, I take advantage of them being busy by pulling Moon Unit on my lap and tickling her gently.


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Eventually, Selene and Bridgit proudly present the pancake they managed to bake with the newly learned spells. Well, they start proudly presenting. Then they clear their throats and look awkwardly asides, because tickling had switched to making out while they were putzing with dough. We spend the time fooling around, trying (and inventing) simple spells and fixing up homework. Eventually, it''s late enough that both Selene and Moon Unit bow out and return to their respective rooms. I''m... a little bit miffed Moon Unit didn''t just stay over. Actually, I need to work on that problem. She''s still on the bottom floor, and I have one room empty next to mine. I just need one last piece of the puzzle to fall into place.


    As Bridgit puts away what wasn''t conjured on the fly, which is remarkably little, I reach out and grab her by the waist as she passes by, pulling her on my lap. "...Miiistresss..." - she whines as I kiss her possessively - "I need to finish cleaning..." I push out a couple tentacles in lieu of an answer, sorting the remaining few items as I lift Bridgit up in bridal carry and stroll to the bedroom. "Mine." - I whisper in her ear as I start on her dress, untying the bindings and undoing the buttons. She shudders and moans, rubbing against me, agreeing - "All yours, mistress..."


    ___


    I need to make it a habit to sleep with someone at least every other day. My irritation and tiredness are pleasantly alleviated overnight, as I slow down everything other than just perceiving Bridgit cuddling against me. She is feeling more confident about sex now, and occasionally, even shows initiative in that. I try my best to encourage her. I can feel her waking as I trail the tip of my tongue along her neck, kissing her good morning at the end of it. "Mistress." - she offers muzzily - "Not out of bed yet and already spoiling me?" She chuckles and stretches, her breasts rubbing against my side as she does - "I must be the most pampered maid anyone ever had."


    I am about to answer, when peace and quiet is shattered by a hoarse scream of terror from the professoratorium. I guess Ambercrombe finally visited chamberpot and met his tenant. I wonder what will come out of it. Bridgit jerks up, but I don''t let her jump off the bed, instead stroking her back softly. "Shh, it''s nothing that concerns us." - I murmur to her. Still, I need to get up soon and attend the classes. The next day, however, is a holiday, and I already have plans involving Moon Unit, Bridgit, an oversized picnic basket and a nice spot on top of the academy roof that I built a lightweight gazebo on. Amusingly enough, there is plenty of evidence that roofs are constantly and consistently used by more crafty students as getaways, as I have found a number of stools, tarps, baskets and assorted flim-flam obviously recently used to establish basic comforts. I don''t think anyone else went so far as I did, because my gazebo is the first structure on the roof.


    Things proceed without a hitch. There is a big commotion at Professoratorium around midday, and the rumors that immediately spread suggest that both Ambercrombe and Hardlock are not on the premises anymore, rather involuntarily on the second''s part. I wonder where dean went though, and why. Then again, he''s been having shocks non-stop since yesterday, I can''t blame him for wanting some time away from the Academy to sort himself out. Hardlock is actually not arrested, much to my chagrin, simply forcibly escorted out of premises. Rumor says he got... belligerent when Ambercrombe asked him to explain how did he end up losing.


    And now, it''s dinner. Aaand... here comes Alistair. Wonder what he wants.


    "Good day to you, lady Gillespie." - he offers gallantly, bending to kiss my hand. Heh. Good old Al. Gentleman to the core.


    "Good day to you too, sir McGregor." - I tell him - "Something on your mind? You usually dine with prince Edward."


    Alistair winces - "I, uh... We had a disagreement. He keeps insisting that interacting with you in any manner is hazardous. Frankly speaking, I''m worried at this point. I could ascribe his earlier actions simply to being misinformed and disliking the arrangement, but he is being... strange lately."


    "Ah. So you noticed too. Lady Selene had expressed similar concerns yesterday." - I tell him, and his eyebrow twitches.


    "That... was the source of disagreement." - he admits slowly - "Edward reacted... badly when Selene explained she had spent an evening with you. He is currently refusing to see me or her and... I''m very much worried. Lady Gillespie, I know this is not supposed to be widely known, but you DO have a direct copperphone to the king, right? Edward had locked himself in with his own and... I''m at my wit''s end. I sent the letter to the king with a runner lately and Edward somehow managed to intercept him and take the letter away. I fear he would attempt to run if I am not here..."


    I put the phone on the table between me and him - "Here. Go call his dad. I think it''s high time for things to be sorted out for good."


    ___


    Funny thing, but this is the first time I''m ever in Moon Unit''s room in person. It is... much smaller than mine. I think that by now we had firmly established my claim on Moon Unit among the school populace... Not that it stopped several particularly foolhardy fellows from trying to offer "better terms". One of the baron sons got very huffy when Moon Unit laughed in his face. And by huffy I mean "tried to hit my waifu". I broke his arm. In dean''s absence, the task of dealing with this situation fell on his aide, a very no-nonsense dame by the name of Apricotte. She sat all of us down, listened to each of us telling their side, smacked baron''s crotchberry with a fan once he tried talking over me or Moon Unit describing the events as we saw them, and came to Solomon''s decision - this is a matter between families. And if, for some inane reason, a son of a baron thinks he has enough oomph to go against the daughter of a count, he is by all means welcome to try. He tried to blather about being "baselessly injured". Dame Apricotte offered him to wait until he''s healed then challenge me to a duel over that. He... went kind of silent and muttering after that.


    "I''m so sorry." - she mutters - "I just... the very idea of ''better terms'' is so hilarious."


    I pat her back. Due to lack of space, I''m sitting on her bed, and she is sitting on my lap. Which suits me just fine. "You know, I have a plan." - I offer to her - "Did you know that your affinity with light magic is no less than what Selene can boast? And she got a title out of it. I talked this over with her and prelate and they both agree you''re well up there. And then again, you healed a woman from a heart attack by your own in the beginning of the week. This is more than sufficient for your own title."


    She nods thoughtfully. "But... I don''t think having a title will really discourage them. I mean, some are trying to talk up Selene, and she''s pretty much known as Edward''s favorite right now." - she complains.


    "By itself, no. But with title on you, and your affiliation to my house, I have sufficient reason to get the dean to approve you moving into a room next to mine. It''s empty anyway, and as a title bearer and associate of a count''s household, you are entitled to better accommodations than this." - I offer - "I believe having me next door will be more effective deterrent to any overly insisting nobles then title alone."


    She wrinkles her nose. "Alright. I''m... dubious about this, but if you think it will work out best..."


    I keep rubbing her back slowly - "A lot more options will open themselves to you if you have a title. Merchants offer the stock they don''t put on display. Inns unlock rooms they don''t rent out to commoners. Craftsmen do your orders first... So on and so on. Plenty of benefits to having a title. I know it seems somewhat unfair, but you''re not getting it because you lucked out to be born in a specific family. You''re getting it because you have a useful ability that you put to good work bettering the society. Your title and the benefits you''ll enjoy with it are WELL and TRULY earned in your case, believe me."

 Chapter 25. Ceremony, Moving And Celebration

    All in all, the ceremony is both bigger and smaller than I expected. Bigger, because there''s a full temple of people watching, most of them apparently because of being healed by Moon Unit at some point. I didn''t realize just how quickly twice a week adds up if you need maybe five minutes on most cases, including smalltalk. Smaller, because everyone is surprisingly chill about proceedings and treats it mostly in the "yeah, we were expecting something of the sort by now" fashion. Moon Unit, on the other hand, is a raw bundle of nerves. I heavily suspect that if it wasn''t for my presence nearby, she wouldn''t have the nerve to step up to the podium to be announced.


    Prelate Iohann is doing the job, and he looks like he''s having a whale of a time, on the other hand. "Good people of Champagne." - he announces grandly - "Today, the temple is honored to announce a new healer to be titled. Many of you had experienced her holy touch in the last few weeks. Some of you owe her your very lives. So, in accordance to the law and custom of our kingdom, I recognize her magic prowess and award her with the merit of nobility." He turns to face Moon Unit - "Let it be known that from this day onward, you are lady Lux." The crowd cheers, many of the people throwing their hats in the air, as they take in the announcement.


    Moon Unit steps up, her hands clenching visibly as she fights back her nerves. Still, we had rehearsed what to do, so she''s managing. "Many thanks to everyone who came to witness this." - she offers softly - "I do pledge to continue contributing my magic for the good of people." She raises her hands up high, channeling a spell we practiced last evening. Mass blessing is not complicated, but pretty exhausting, and as such tends to be used only on special occasions. The blessing itself is nothing outstanding, just a bit of a boost to people''s vitality, fatigue and mood for the day. She keeps smiling, but I see the corner of her eye twitch. Exhausting, yes. Giving the last wave, she turns away from the podium and trots off to the side room, doing her best to move quickly without looking like she''s running away.


    I catch her at the door and guide her to the chair immediately. "Shh. Here, drink this." - I tell her, putting a glass in front of her mouth. She nods and sips from it, closing her eyes. It''s an iced latte. Yes, the first latte in this world. I figured the newly minted lady could use a little perk-me-up. She takes the glass and continues sipping it quietly as I rub her head and shoulders. "Better?"


    "Yesh." - she offers at last, sighing - "That was terrifying. All those people, and... Agh. If you didn''t make me rehearse yesterday, I''d run off. Honest, I''d run off the podium and probably cry. I have no idea how do you just walk up and give speeches like it''s nothing." She shudders and takes a deep sip. "What''s that? It''s roasted cava, but there''s milk and it''s so chilly..." - she muses, looking at the glass - "Mmm... And actually good for the headache I could feel starting... Mm. Yes. This is really good."


    I fluff her hair a little, then morph my hand into a hairbrush, working it through Moon Unit''s hair to relax her more. She gives a quiet sigh as she leans back and relaxes against my brushing. "...Love you." - she mutters after a bit of time, looking much better than five minutes ago - "So, what else I have to do?"


    I shrug. "Nothing? You''re done with the public part of it. Now we go back to the dorm, I go talk to dame Apricotte to get her permission for you to move, and we move your belongings into the room next to mine." - I explain to her, and she sighs in relief.


    "Thank gods. I could really use a bit of... family time." - she offers, her face blooming with a shy smile as she reaches up. I lean in to meet her kiss half-way.


    Sadly, the kiss is a short one, because an eyespider behind the door sees prelate approaching. So I straighten up, turn my hand back into the hand, and step away with a quick whisper to let Moon Unit know. She nods and smiles, returning her attention to the half-full glass.


    "My, that was a grand spell." - he offers from the door, - "Lady Lux, are you alright? Blessing everyone in the temple in the same time, goodness. If there was anyone out there who doubted your merits, they certainly walked away persuaded."


    She smiles, and waves her free hand. "Many thanks for your concern, most honorable prelate, but I am fine. It was quite exhausting, I''ll admit, but a friend nearby to lend her shoulder is all that one really needs to stay on her feet." - she offers - "I am quite alright now. The drink helps."


    Prelate tilts his head - "I admit, I was quite curious about this. Lady Gillespie was rather... emphatic about keeping it safe. What is it, out of curiosity?"


    "A concoction to invigorate called iced latte. Works really well on magical exhaustion headaches, but I''m afraid it might be too expensive for the temple to really use." - I explain to him - "The base ingredient is cava, and it needs a chunk of ice to be frozen and shredded without melting it."


    His face elongates as he considers the overall cost of such. "..Sad, but understandable." - he offers - "If it''s not a secret, can I at least indulge my theoretical curiosity?"


    I explain to him how latte is really made, and he leaves scratching his head and muttering about giving it a try on a personal scale. As a prelate, hm... I doubt he can afford it daily, but as an emergency option, well... he probably has the dosh and the mana to pull it off.


    ___


    Dame Apricotte is surprisingly understanding about my request. Which is helpful, because if the dean was present, I''d probably have to traumatize him some more to get what I want. Or maybe not, but having a sympathetic staff member handle the issue is still way more convenient. She even offers to send servants to move the furniture, if Moon Unit wants to keep what she already uses. Nice of her.


    On checking the new room, Moon Unit decides that the only thing she would be keeping from the old one would be her planters, because they already have the flowers in them. Servants handle that easily, leaving her to pack the personal belongings. I wanted to help, but both Bridgit and Moon Unit rebelled and insisted it is far below my station to. In the end, we had agreed on letting Bridgit handle the helping. Of course, I''m not the kind of shoggoth to take this lying down, so while they''re gone, I make judicious use of magic to cut in a doorway between our rooms, install a latch, mask it as a wall adornment on both sides and set the door in so neatly it looks like a wall panel to anyone not in on the secret. I wonder if it will be eventually discovered by students after we''re gone, or the staff will find it first.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Giving Moon Unit and Bridgit time to start unpacking, I open the door and step through. Which, judging by their reactions was a surprise. Bridgit comes to her senses first. "Mistress. You can''t just... destroy Academy walls!" - she yelps, running up to the wall just in time to see the door close and latch behind me. She paws at the door questioningly, pushes against it and groans - "...Mistress...."


    Getting her and giggling Moon Unit to watch I demonstrate the hidden lever to operate the latch, swinging the door several times to show it working. Having them try it from both sides cements the lesson for good. And while they''re doing it, I use my tentacles to unpack and distribute the belongings. On discovering that, Bridgit sighs and leans on me. "Please let me be the maid here, mistress." - she mutters - "I''m starting to feel useless when you do that kind of thing."


    I chuckle and swat her rear gently - "Very well. Be a maid and make cava for all of us, in that case. You know how we like it." She giggles, leaving for my apartment through the new door. I take a look at Moon Unit. "...Actually, I just realized I should have asked first." - I offer, as that very thought suddenly occurs to me - "I mean, I very much hope you don''t mind but I can block the door if you..." She leans in and silences my ramblings in the most pleasant way possible. MM... Waifu kisses. Come to think of it, Bridgit also kissed me of her own initiative this morning. Not sure if it was because I told her Moon Unit is getting the title and moving next door, or something else, but ... waifu kisses x2 - Get!


    Unfortunately, I have to take a bit of pause to let Moon Unit confirm her belongings are where they are desired and how they are desired. Fortunately, she agrees with my suggestions to treat both apartments as a singular expanded condo and share meals and sleep arrangements. And that''s when I make a big deal out of unveiling a new bed I''ve created out of assorted fabrics and stacks of wood. Per previous arrangement with dame Apricotte, my Academy-assigned bed was moved out earlier, and instead I assembled something far more oriental-looking - a solid futon mostly set into the floor and spacious enough to fit all three of us in any desired poses and combinations. A literal mountain of pillows and gauzy canopy complete the ensemble.


    "...I''m not even sure if it''s a bed or a lair, to be honest." - Moon Unit muses as she walks around the corner of the room I selected for this. Bridgit follows, her face red and intrigued in the same time.


    "Can it be both?" - I quip, as I take a running jump and flop onto pillows carelessly, stretching out - "NNNgh, oh yes. Come in, jump in, try this out. I think this is my best creation so far." While neither of them takes me up on jumping in, they both try the sleeping corner out gingerly. Which I naturally take shameless advantage of, and grab armfuls of giggling girls, kissing them until we all sprawl on the bed, red and panting.


    "That, hahh...was fun but tiring." - Moon Unit comments after a bit, as she sits up - "Does anyone mind if I''ll do the cooking tonight? I have a dish in mind I''d very much like you two to try out. I haven''t made it since leaving Evergreens, it''s something you''re only supposed to eat with the family. I think it''s appropriate now." Bridgit is a little mulish about this, but accepts it on the grounds of ''trying elven food''.


    As it turns out, Moon Unit prepares a nice quiche and teaches Bridgit how to make it in the process. My contribution to cooking was to conjure the pans to bake the quiche in. It''s pretty nice. Of course, I might be biased because this is, in a very real way, my first family meal. To round things off, I uncork a bottle of wine. And then another. Long story short, four bottles of wine after, I have a full lap of tipsy, giggling, half-naked girls that are currently in the process of helping each other out of their clothes while also casting seductive glances in my direction. Unlike the first threesome we had, they''ve elected to strip me naked first, and neither is shy about groping me right now.


    I wrap a tentacle around Moon Unit''s waist, lifting her slightly to let her slip her skirt off. Bridgit is a little stuck in her shirt, and I extend another tentacle to help her out, tickling along her spine in the process. She emerges from the shirt and immediately grabs for my boob, latching on to nipple with her lips. Huh. As I contemplate the merits of switching things around to make milk, Moon Unit wraps her arms around my head and presses my face into her cleavage. I am... distracted.


    ___


    I draw the covers over the girls carefully. I''ve... really worn them out. Admittedly, it''s hard to stop eating them once you start. Eating out, I mean. No waifu cannibalism here, nope. I''ve put off more invasive ideas until they''re sober... No need to hurry. Plenty of time to enjoy them in every single way... Mm. Yes. Holding them right now sounds very good. I can feel them breathing against my surface, I can feel them moving... NNngh. Honestly, I''d love nothing more then to simply lie in bed and appreciate the full-body senses I can direct towards my girls... no. My wives. I do NOT care what ideas the world might have, they''re mine, I''m marrying them and if the world has any problem with it, it may burn.


    Anyway, while I''d love to stay in bed, I have to handle this. Alistair is heading towards the door of my room, and I''d better intercept him in the corridor, because if he were to see two naked bodies in my bed, he would implode. I throw on a nightgown, and step out just as he reaches the door. He pauses, blushes and turns away.


    "My apologies, lady Gillespie. I did not think you have already gone to bed." - he stammers.


    I take pity on him and nudge him along. "My phone back?"


    He nods, fumbles and finally produces the loaned copperphone out of his pocket. It had taken him three days to persuade the king something was wrong with Ed, but he managed to, with the help of Selene''s testimony and letting the king listen in on one of Ed''s rants about how I''m not to be approached for anything. "His highness will send a message for Edward to return to castle for urgent business." - he offers - "It is likely you will be summoned to castle too, lady Gillespie. His highness will want to hear your side of this sordid affair. And, if I might be so bold... could you find it in yourself to protect lady Selene as possible? I got an impression his highness was not impressed with her closeness to Edward."


    I nod at him curtly. "I expected this much. Tomorrow, I''m guessing?" - I offer, acknowledging Alistair''s nod with my own - "I believe I will get back to sleep in that case. Tomorrow promises to be hasslesome." He is left standing on my porch as I turn around and close the door behind myself securely, tossing the gown on the chair and slipping into bed again. The best place to be, really.

 Interlude 1. Klaus Gets The Red Herring

    He rubbed his eyes tiredly. Normally, Klaus did not care to resort to scryings, magic foresight never gave straight answers and more than often proved to be misleading in hindsight. But still, some things could be divined if one approached the matter with a grain of salt. And the mystery of fraulein Gillespie was... a problem. All available data he had insisted she is merely a divinely inspired noble, gifted with a few scraps of alchemical knowledge. Available data was a load of crap. He had seen his own head, as delivered back to Kraut by kronprinz Hiram, along with dire warnings not to antagonize obviously powerful family further. His own notes mentioned that this was not a solo operation, he had two aides. Neither of which could be found. Which meant they were all caught and disposed of, quickly and efficiently, given that out of the whole Parsee, Hiram was apparently the only one in the know about his demise there. Alyssa Gillespie was most emphatically not whom she appeared to be. Hence, the divination.


    Most of the scrying is relying on visions. Something he was very loathe to do, because visions are intrinsically colored by the biases and presumptions of one experiencing them. That left one odd ritual that was more of a summoning than scrying, and called forth assorted items that had "connection". Mostly, random crap, like pebbles that had been stepped onto by target in the past or scraps of fabric from clothes worn by the target in the past, or... In short, random garbage. All of that random garbage was, in some way, important - for example, a pebble could be the one the target stood on when they beheld a miracle or some such. The problem was deciphering such connections, which was very much a crapshoot. The problem is, this time it was different. Instead of an assortment of random garbage, he found himself in possession of twelve neatly calligraphic sheets of paper, with immaculately drawn portraits and a bit of information.


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    He considered the papers intently. What was the connection? Three women, nine men. All of them considerably older than Alyssa Gillespie. None of them even remotely resembling her parents. Or any people Klaus knew. That did not mean as much right now, sadly, him being only a few weeks out of the decanter. He was still refamiliarizing himself with the situation. Directing his attention to the papers, he split them according to what he could figure out from the names and short details provided. One pile contained "not likely to find out much about". Names like Xianyong Bai and Quarbani Singh went there - he recognized the names as natives of far Orient, and the pictures had borne the assumption well. Most of the others went into "maybe" pile, with names and faces he tentatively placed as people from Pharos and Transbalkan. In the end, he had put his focus on three papers. Michelle Dachss sounded very Champagne-like, though he knew of no nobles with that family name. Warren Clyde - very albish, both in name and looks, but again, likely a commoner. But the last? Oh, the last paper was where he would concentrate his attention for the foreseeable future.


    Frank Bilders. The black sheep of Bilders family. Also known as Oireland Butcher. No one knew he was named Frank, actually, but every other Bilders was accounted for, and the information.... did match, well, insofar as he could gleam. He was still expressly curious about all the weird names on the papers. It was clear that they came from a world not quite the same as one Klaus inhabited currently. He knew enough to sense the otherness to papers. But that was simply fascinating on the level he could not fathom - was Alyssa Gillespie really from another world? Could be, could be. The question was, then, what is her connection to Oireland Butcher and who are the other eleven?

 Chapter 26. Jackass Swings Into Action!

    Ed''s departure is quite low-key, all things considered. Well, as low-key as a royal messenger and royal carriage could be. I could see Ed being... puzzled about it, but going with the sudden summons without much hassle. Alistair accompanies him, but not Selene. Which, if we''re honest, is about how I''d expect things to go. Alistair is his future chief of security, of course he would go with Ed pretty much everywhere outside Ed''s bedroom. Hopefully, he did warn Selene about the upcoming events, because it''s highly likely the king would want both of us in the palace to hear our sides in this before actually making Ed do anything. It''s good enough that Alistair had managed to get things rolling to begin with. That being said, I expect the summons to be no earlier than tomorrow. Not unless they find something sufficiently alarming on Ed. Which, given Alistair didn''t locate anything, would be pretty weird. I did subject him to a low-level scan, but... he does not seem to have any on-going influence. So that rules out things like being charmed or replaced.


    On the other hand, his departure spawned a lot of rumors.... But none of them are anywhere close to the real deal. Hopefully, they will remain at their current state of disinformation, because assuming Ed is really under influence, letting anyone know would be a scandal. And assuming he''s not... it''s already a scandal, then. With me in the middle. Bother bother bother BOTHER!


    The classes pass without much issue. I have a fascinating post-class discussion with the alchemy professor who actually knows a thing or two about iterative compounds. My own insights into base elements (chemical ones, not magical ones) are received really well either. I am recommended a number of books, and I recommend two from my side to represent my side of the things, and we part well-satisfied with discussion... well past dinner. Well golly, I just spent three hours talking shop with the professor. Time sure flies when you''re talking about SCIENCE!


    ___


    I make my way to my rooms quickly. Bridgit has gotten worried enough to go look for me, and this is not good. I''m not keen on worrying my maid, after all. Especially right now. Because she''s about to meet with one guy I most emphatically don''t want paying attention to her. And, of fucking course, he does. He fucking DOES. I round the corner just as Abbas stretches his grubby mitts towards my waifu. BAD move. Very bad move, sand frog.


    "...a nice face, too. Come, you will serve me tonight." - he offers, no doubt with a leer. I clear my throat right behind him.


    "Emir Abbas ibn-Salaadin." - I say crisply. Crisply, as in there is actual frost condensing on the floor and walls around me. Yes, I''m annoyed. "This is MY maid." - I tell him to his face as he turns around - "She is NOT available to serve anyone but me."


    "Do you know who I am...!" - he begins hotly, only to trail off as he realizes that he''s just been called by his full title and therefore looks like a tool asking this.


    "Sure do. Not impressed. Trot along, little prince. This maiden is not for you." - I sneer at him. I probably shouldn''t, but I''m tired of his jackassery. He needs to pull his head in a little, Ed''s absence does not mean he gets to be king of the roost now.


    "How dare you! I will have you..." - I cut him off with an impatient wave of my hand.


    "I''m going to be at the king''s court tomorrow. If you think you have the balls, you''re entirely welcome to challenge me to a duel there. Not that I think you would." - fuck it, I''m going to upset him to the very bottom of his soul and use this as a pretext to start doing bad shit to Sultanate. There is neither time nor resources to wage warfare conveniently, and I honestly don''t want to wait so long to do this, so magical terrorism it will be. I already have a perfect spell in my mind, and Abbas is helpfully providing me with a reason to engage in hostilities. Maybe. I''m hoping he is hotheaded and dumb enough to try and go through with my challenge.


    It is a sad truth, but I have come to believe that Sultanate is built on pure evil, as far as statecraft is concerned. It''s the only country that still accepts slavery as legal and they carry out regular raids on all of their neighbors, both for profit and to get more slaves. Special attention being paid to children and relatives of high-placed people to serve as potential hostages. So I''m going to wreck it as a country. The sooner, the better.


    ...This is going to be a hot wire gamble. I''m... a little irritated over him trying to proposition Bridgit. I''m more than a little irritated about the fact he tried to do the "not taking no for answer" shtick. And I''m especially irritated over the fact he just tried to slap me. Key word, tried. His hand waggles funnily as I block his wrist with my elbow, and he pulls back his arm with a pained hiss. I lean over him - "Oh, so that''s how it is? Emir Abbas, I hereby challenge you to a duel. Tomorrow at king''s castle, so that king himself may witness it. Bring whatever weapon you want. Won''t make difference." He stares up with the most peculiar expression on his face. I take it he had never been menaced by a woman before, if the conflicting storm of emotions is if any indication. In the end, he decides that he is better off trying this somewhere with witnesses next time, and departs muttering imprecations under his voice. Given what I''ve seen of him, he might... try to force earlier resolution. He has some manservants here, I think.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Bridgit is not taking this well, but she notably relaxes once I take her back to our rooms. "Mistress, why." - she says - "Why are you risking so much over me? Would it really make a difference if I..." I shush her.


    "Bridgit. Dear. Love. Shush." - I tell her, struggling to keep my ire under lid - "When he said serve, he intended to use you like a whore. AND I WILL NOT PERMIT THAT. YOU-THIS-LITTLE-ENDEARING-LOVELY-UNIQUENESS BELONG/CLAIMED/RESERVED FOR ME-THIS-SPECIFIC."


    She goes limp in my arms, her eyes wide open. Oh. Fuck. Vocal range. GG, Alyssa, really. Fuck your maid up, will you? And she''s already frightened by the jackass.


    "MISTRESS!" - she offers suddenly, and claps both hands over her mouth when she hears what came out. Ooh phew. Thank gods and everything, no san damage. Well, nothing malevolent, in any case.


    Taking a deep breath, she tries again, offering "Mistress..." - in a normal voice and slumping against me, relieved - "...What was that?"


    "Further manifestation of your actual station in life?" - I offer to her simply - "I wasn''t jesting when I called you wives before. You get to share a little bit of OUTER with me. Your magic powers will grow as your DEFILEMENT progresses. Ultimately, you will become far more powerful than most nobles. Speaking of which, Bridgit? I''m going to be teaching you more magic from now on. You are at the stage of power where you can handle conjurations."


    She pulls a little back, flexing her fingers in front of her face wonderingly. "I''m.... defiled?" - she asks curiously, yelping as the embroideries on her sleeves kick in and her fingers are abruptly full of floating embers. A firesetting spell that usually requires her to touch a potted tulip to perform, now just at her fingertips like that. "...OOoh..."


    ___


    On one hand, it takes a while to get Bridgit to stop playing with her new magic powers. On other, the distraction was very distracting and she didn''t harangue me any further for duffing Abbas up?... Oooh, speaking of which, here he comes, with two hefty servants. No doubt to "teach me a lesson". I distract Bridgit further by tasking her to prepare supper, while I take a little stroll in the garden to clear my lungs before sleep. She buys it, thankfully, and I walk out just in time to intercept Abbas right at the door of my dorm building. I have to hand it to him, he was pretty quick at identifying me and gesturing for his goons to rush. I kick the first one in the knee from the side, my usual combat suite of spells already activated on my walk outside. The crunching and the grimace across his face as his leg bends under its own weight tells me he is out of the brawl. Manages to stay quiet, though, despite the fact I just cracked his kneecap. Second jerks back, obviously alarmed.... and I follow him, directing another kick into his gut. He twirls aside, hand going for the knife... and passing right next to my fingers. In the next moment, his wrist is seized, and twisted behind his back hard enough to make him stand on his toes, free arm swinging fruitlessly in the air. He hisses from pain and grows still as I manifest the osmium knife. He doesn''t know it''s osmium, of course, but the sheer density of metal against his cheek quickly tells him movement is a very stupid idea. I can see the other fellow trying to crawl closer to presumably grab my leg, and take a quick step forward, yanking on his arm further to lift him off the ground. He swears in Oijan as I dislocate his shoulder completely, letting him fall down on the path and take another step towards backpedaling Abbas, flipping the knife in my hand as I go. "I said tomorrow, little prince. Unless you''re looking to be found, quote ''dead in a robbery gone wrong in the bad part of the city''." He RUNS, without even pausing to check on his servants. Too bad, so sad.


    "Right. You two." - I grumble - "I frankly don''t care. Crawl back to your master as you can. Or just sit here till morning. Your call." Judging by their faces, they wholly expected me to put the knife to good use. Whatever. Fuck them. I stroll off into the garden, pointedly disregarding their existence. Of course, I''m actually tracking them with eyespiders. A few moments later, after listening carefully, the guy with cracked kneecap drags himself towards the other.


    "<dfn title="We need to set your shoulder, brother. The white witch tore it from the socket.">Nahn bihajat ''iilana dabt katfik ya ''akhya. Alsaahirat albayda'' mazqatuha min almuqbis.</dfn>" - he whispers to his comrade, who winces but rolls over to give access to his shoulder and brings the free hand to his mouth to bite on the sleeve. The other guy sits himself up, braces, and yanks on the arm, setting it in with a nasty crunch. Well, I can tell they''re not strangers to injuries. Soldiers, perhaps? They manage to clamber to their feet and slowly, painfully, limp off into the night after their cowardly master. I... Fuck this. I surreptitiously hit the guy with busted knee with a minor healing spell through the eyespider. He''s not going to recover in a day, but he will recover eventually.


    Spying on Abbas reveals that he is... rolling on his bed screaming?... Seriously?... What the hell. You can''t be throwing a tantrum. You''re fucking EMIR. Your father entrusts a good chunk of Sultanate to your governing. How... just... Fuck. I really, really, REALLY hope at least one of your brothers is less infantile mentally, because I don''t want to take over the whole Sultanate. And I will have to, because consigning people to your rule is a crime.


    Coming back to my rooms, I see Bridgit AND Moon Unit both sitting there at the table, waiting for me worriedly. I come in, and both of them smile and reach up. What can I do but dispense kisses? A nice supper later, we''re all cuddling on the bed discussing the situation tomorrow. Both of them are worried, of course, but accept the reassurances that all is according to plan. Moon Unit is most curious about Bridgit showing her defilement stage, and starts comparing against her own, resulting in them making all sorts of otherworldly sounds as they try to SPEAK. From my viewpoint, they''re doing babytalk, and it''s ADORABLE.

 Chapter 27. Reminding Everyone I’m A Monster (Especially Certain Emir)

    Castle visit. I.. am somewhat glad I did not tell Bridgit and Moon Unit anything about my planned roof relaxation, because I''m having to postpone it to visit the castle. Then again, it''s the kind of thing that can be done pretty much any weekend, so no rush there. Feeling more than a little paranoid, I tell Moon Unit and Bridgit to stick to the rooms today and create hollow mimicries of both leaving for, respectively, temple and bazaar, which collapse as soon as I''m sure they''re out of sight from Academy. Call me cynical if you want, but Abbas is exactly the kind of bastard who''d kidnap my maid just to make me forfeit the duel. That is not to say I''m not going to keep an eye on them with my eyespiders anyways. And most of Academy, while at it.


    I honestly don''t feel like a carriage - Academy is within strolling distance from the castle and the weather is fine. Not to mention, I get to spy ahead and figure out what is going to happen. Abbas, strangely, is already there... Ah, he is complaining to the king about being "discourteously treated". I notice he''s avoiding mentioning my name for some reason. Wonder why. If he already sussed I''m important to kingdom, he might be... No, that makes no sense, he would want to call off duel without losing face, and king ordering me to back off for my own safety would be just about the perfect resolution for Abbas. Could it be he never learned who I am? Doubtful, he should have been aware of my identity at the very least. Just arrogance, acting like saying my name is beneath him... Nah, no one can be that cartoonishly idiotic.


    The guards at the door announce my presence, and both king and jackass turn to face me. Abbas is notably discomfited by the fact I have direct access to the royal audience, but not sufficiently to protest. And, huh. Well, having a trained servant definitely classifies as a weapon. And that dude is huge... Huge AND pretty quick, if my passive scans are to be believed. Not that magical, but most likely fucking lethal with this scimitar on his waist. Ah, nice plan, Abbas. Too bad I''m better.


    Abe is notably worried when I come forth and finger Abbas as owing me a duel. He has... a deplorable face expression as he confirms that yes, there will be a duel, and that yes, he''s going to be represented by champion and where is my champion?


    "Why''d I need a champion? I''m perfectly capable of handling this issue personally." - I tell them, and I savor the darkening expression jackass sports from that. "Now come on, I don''t have all day. The sooner I hear the apologies, the sooner I can get to important things."


    Abe leans over to me as we all go to the piste. "Lady Gillespie, what is going on?" - he rumbles quietly - "Why are you doing your best to make an enemy out of emir?"


    "We have a categorical difference in our opinions on treating women." - I whisper back quietly - "He thinks we''re cattle. I think he needs to be taken down a peg or three. Besides, Thousand Isles is within his oversee. I want to try and conquer a couple of them for myself."


    "You are aware Sultanate will continue to harry you until you''re dead, gone or captured if you take any of the isles, right?" - he offers - "They would not tolerate a woman conquering from them."


    "I''m confident I can deal with them." - I tell him - "Besides, it''s plans for the future. For now, I merely want to discourage the overly lascivious fool from trying to rape my maid."


    Abe is obviously not convinced a maid is worth starting a brawl with Sultanate, but he is well cognizant of the fact that many young nobles in his kingdom made their names fighting the Oijans. "Be careful." - he whispers - "This champion of his is a very capable warrior."


    He might very well be. But like Abbas, arrogant. Very. Unlike Abbas, his arrogance seems to be grounded in his combat skills. Master of ceremonies looks at me with jaded eyes. He remembers the last fight, but this time we''re talking about a professional fighter. "Champion of emir Abbas, are you ready to fight?" - he croaks. The guy in turban nods, pulling his scimitar out of sheath slowly. I can see him angling the blade just so to scrape the back side against the brace, producing a long unpleasant squeal of metal against metal. Psychological pressure? Huh. Funny.


    "Lady Gillespie, are you ready to fight?" - he turns to me. I consider the opponent. I could roflstomp him with magic. But that would probably give out more than I want to show, because that necklace on his neck? Dragon scale. Not enough to nullify magic completely, but sufficient to disrupt most common spells. I''d have to get exotic or commit a hell of a lot power to nail him. Trying to fence him will probably be... foolhardy. I have the raw specs advantage, but he beats me hands down in experience, all I have is half-forgotten basics of fencing with dad when I was little, this guy looks like he trains with his sword daily. Alright then, let''s see how you deal with an exotic weapon and misleading opponent, in that case. I lift my hands and concentrate, conjuring a weapon without a local name. I recognize it as Bec de Corbin. As long as I am tall, rounded spike on the bottom, six-sided spike on the top, curved beak, rounded hammerhead... And just to be extra nasty, the hammerhead is hollow and filled with mercury to about three fourth of capacity. That ought to mess your kinematic expectations nice and proper.


    My opponent takes a cautious step back as I heft the polearm and grin at him. "Ready." - I murr, taking a step towards him. The haft feels comfortable in my hands as I swing the beak towards the surprised opponent, making him dodge and duck as I follow the swing with spike thrust. Hah. He had some practice facing spears, it seems, but a combo of spear and hammer? That has him unsure. And here he comes with a feint. Nice move, but I can see your leg tensing as you''re about to jink to the side... And here... Darn, he''s pretty fast. I''d suspect he uses magic to accelerate himself if not for the dragon scale. I didn''t think he''s fast enough to dodge the backspike aimed at his knee. Well, he had to abandon the attack, at least.


    I swing low, aiming the beak at his ankle now, thrust as he steps back, forcing him to jink to the side and yank back, using the beak as a hook to catch the back of his ankle. Off-balance, but not quite off-balance enough, he pirouettes nimbly and comes from above. Pretty slick move, actually, I have to block him with a middle of the haft to block at all. His face is near mine now, panting with exertion as he pushes against his sword with both hands. "What now, white witch!?" - he suddenly sneers, and I can feel the sword tilting. The idea is probably to cut into my hand and thus render my longer weapon useless. Too bad for him. I push at him with the haft and in the same time jump up, in effect thrusting myself backward while I''m in the air. My leg comes up and slams into his hip in a hammer kick, sending him skidding across the floor as I launch myself in the air, flip over and almost don''t stick the landing, ending up having to slam the butt of my polearm into the floor to keep this as three-point landing, as opposed to faceplant landing.


    He clambers to his feet, his eyes narrowing. I can see him favoring the injured hip. This is pretty good. I can take him down simply by wearing him out, if nothing else. Let''s see if I can''t do it simpler, though. His mobility is hampered, he will have to block more often now. I wonder just how good his grip is. A simple swing sends the hammerhead at him, and he ducks, but this time instead of translating it into thrust or pulling back I follow through on the swing with full revolution, taking another step forward as the hammer whistles towards the guy''s shoulder. I can see his eyes widening as he realizes he won''t be able to dodge this properly, and out of other options, he thrusts his sword out, trying to block me with the hilt. A momentary correction and hammerhead smacks into his sword right above the basket, and... outright breaks the blade off in a shower of sparks. Unexpected. I thought he''d lose the grip first. Still, the strike is redirected enough to miss his head and he scampers backward, swearing as he stares incredulously on the remains of his sword, the basket top dented and scoured from my hammer impacting it. I give him no chance to move further, delivering three quick thrusts with my Bec de Corbin, in pike fashion. He dodges two, but the third one rips a bloody trail across his shoulder and he falls over, clutching at his arm and muttering Oijan curses under his breath.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Stepping away, I turn my back on him and face the master of ceremonies, king and Abbas, taking a shallow bow, offering - "I believe the blood is mine." Abbas is frightful to look at. The mix of fear, anger, loathing and... is that lust? Hah. Dream on, dude. Dream on.


    "Batal fight to the death, witch!" - he suddenly shrieks in my face. Oh, fuck. I can already feel the movement behind me, as the champion lunges for my neck with the dagger. Oh, dude. Why. You could have survived. I drop to one knee, in the same time swinging the butt of my polearm behind myself and turning. Dagger swishes above my head, the buttspike sinks under the kneecap and I yank on the haft, sending the man behind me spinning around and falling forward as I complete my own revolution, accelerating him forward with a kick to the lower back. My hammer swings high, fingers sliding over the haft until I grasp the very end of it right above the butt spike. It is smeared in blood, which is funny to notice because the man in question had not even processed the pain to the point of screaming. I bring the hammer down HARD, the tip of it letting out a sharp crack as it breaks the sound barrier. The unfortunate champion does not even have the time to squawk when the beak enters his forehead from behind, slamming the guy on his knees and further down, pinning him to the floor as the beak passes cleanly through the skull and its tip sinks into the floor stone. Stone dust billows from under the freshly made body as the impact catches up with it. Someone from behind me whimpers ¡°''amy!¡±. I guess it was impressive, yes. I turn around with a smile.


    "I believe his life is also mine." - I repeat. Abraham claps his hands together. A measured, slow clap. "Nicely done, lady Gillespie." - he proffers - "You have affirmed your honor threefold. What is the boon you desire of emir Abbas?" Emir in question looks fit to tie, as he pulls one of his servants close to his ear by the collar and whispers into his ear furiously.


    "I desire of emir Abbas to swear an oath that he will treat every single woman within Champagne with all the respect a knight of Champagne would afford to the noble lady. And should he break the oath, I desire of him to leave the country and never return." - I enunciate clearly, and I see Abbas jerking back, blinking at me incredulously. Abraham raises his brow.


    "I see you have kept to your habits, lady Gillespie." - he rumbles - "Just to clarify, your only request is a show of respect from emir, right? You do not desire gifts, trade concessions or lands, merely his word that he will hold himself to standards of gallantry while within our kingdom or leave it if gallantry proves to be an insurmountable task?"


    "Quite so." - I confirm, and Abraham directs his eye at Abbas, stroking his chin - "I do believe the terms are eminently agreeable, emir. Your champion had lost the duel by every count, and all that lady Gillespie desires of you is the respect that you should have accorded her simply as a gentleman to begin with."


    Abbas is about to answer, and given his narrowing eyes, the answer was promising to be very venomous, then a sudden chuckle interrupts. It comes from the... servant holding something on the fabric-covered tray. He pulls the fabric out, and what we see is a crystal ball the size of my head. Inside, the face of the current Sultan, Salaadin ibn-Assam is clearly seen, along with the part of the wall and back of the chair he is sitting on.


    "I do believe the terms are acceptable to Abbas." - he says simply, and emir straightens up and visibly shuts his mouth, even though his eyes on me are now gaining a laser-like intensity with the hatred he seems to be directing my way. And then Sultan continues, and I am simultaneously revolted and giddy. Revolted, because the fuck is so casually misogynist I want to reach into the sphere and slap his face, and giddy, because casus belli, here we come. "As for you, girl, you will have to come to Sultanate." - he orders - "Abbas needed his lesson, but I will not tolerate women disrespecting members of my family. I do have a man in mind who will be able to properly discipline you."


    And this is where I laugh. "...Just to be clear here. Are you trying to order ME to marry a man of your choice?" - I quip at him - "We''ll have to go with no, then. Not happening. Nope. Thoughts?"


    His face darkens. "Very well. In that case, my batal will have to teach you a lesson." - he retorts - "I know who you are, whom your father is. Neither count Gillespie, nor king Cullen have an army big enough to oppose Sultan''s will, girl. You will marry the man I tell you to marry, even if I have to slaughter your family and your country first. Or you can take your own life, I suppose. That''s one escape I can not take from you."


    I quirk my brow at Abraham. "Your highness, I believe I''ve just been declared a war on. No need to bother on my account, I am going to handle this personally." - I tell him, and he winces.


    "...I will have no part in this." - he finally offers - "Lady Gillespie, I wash my hands of this. You want to take on the Sultanate it seems, all that you take will be yours, all that you lose will be theirs, at no interference from me."


    Sultan apparently has something to say, but I give him no time to. I have had been preparing this ever since I transmigrated. The floor around me flashes deep red as I invoke the first phase, "pockets" unfurling and spreading carefully selected flowers, herbs and minerals over the glowing inscription. They are not really pockets on my dress, as it might look to them, they''re pockets in my body. But that is immaterial, for now. I push the energy in, and the tone rises higher, reminiscent of tolling bells. The next phase of the spell adds the electric-like thrum as the laid ingredients are fused together into the directive matrix and powered. I open my mouth and what comes out is a deep roar, words spoken at too high volume and too low frequency to be really heard. The walls tilt away as I push on the dimensional axis, and suddenly, we are at the river. The chill in the air is incredible, this place is not even cold as much as intrinsically inimical to the warmth. Deep bone-rattling buzz shakes the terrified observers around me as the myriads of bees rise out of still waters, dispersing into the air, blotting out the distant pale sun as they stretch to the south.


    The vision fades away slowly, the snow-covered bones that make the riverbanks slowly fading back to stone, black waters vanishing. The air in the hall is still cold, frost patterns covering the floor, spreading from where the river "was". I hold my hand, and several bees land on it. The rest have gone on. The silence is... different from usual. I have a feeling that everyone present is currently staring at me in terror. So I turn around.


    A distant scream cuts through the air, and everyone twitches as they realize it came from the globe Salaadin is using as a communicator. He jerks around, stares, then turns back, leaning over presumably his own globe. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!?"


    "Something horrible." - I tell him, smiling - "If you want to minimize your losses? Tell everyone in your country to touch neither weapon nor flower. And unlike Abbas, you will not get away with tokens of respect, Sultan. I will want lands, if you want relief from my wrath. Ah, but don''t hurry. Consider what I have done to your country first. Try getting around it. Lose reliable servants. You''re a very prideful man, Salaadin, you won''t just bend your knee from mere threat. So go, try to take the reigns of your suffering country now. Suffer with it. And come back to me on the knees once you''ve had enough."


    "Your demise will be legendary, witch!" - he snarls before abruptly pushing away from the globe, and we hear him shouting orders as he strolls away, culminating in the door slam.


    "What... was that?" - Abraham finally manages, rubbing his elbows to stave off the piercing chill.


    "Tuonela. The river of death." - I tell him simply - "Sultanate had grown too big and too prideful to take apart with martial strength. So I have been working on a way to bring it to the knees without using warfare. This is a curse I came up with. The dead will raise and take every one who raises sword or flower in the name of Sultan." Abbas looks appalled, he rips the dagger off his waist and throws it on the floor as quickly as he can, his servants following.


    "You will suffer for this." - he hisses before turning around and marching away, his pace just barely not panicked running. I guess he is just barely not giving in to terror and that is only because he is too prideful to show this to Abraham. Trembling servants close the door behind them, and the king heaves a deep sigh.


    "Alyssa." - he begins - "I..." His voice cracks, and he looks away for a moment. I push out a simple spell, a combination of light and fire, and suddenly everyone looks much better. Color returning to cheeks, faces lighting up, shivers coming to stop.


    "My thanks." - he rumbles - "Gods, that was bloody terrifying. What do you plan to take from them, my girl?"


    "Ah. Well, I have my eye on Thousand Isles, your highness." - I tell him demurely - "I''ve always wanted a domain that can grow my own cava."

 Chapter 28. Sordid Truth About Ed

    I''m treated to raised brows. And a very thoughtful expression. "The whole archipelago?" - king muses slowly - "It would be an enticing addition to any kingdom, I admit. Too enticing. Be careful not to plunge the whole world into war, lady Gillespie. Or at the very least, make sure you win it for us with acceptable casualties, if nothing else." We exchange knowing glances. "Alright then. I''ll admit it felt uncomfortably pleasant to watch those pompous knaves smacked down like unruly puppies, but we have had one more topic on today''s docket, did we not?" He frowns, and continues - "What exactly happened between you and Edward, Lady Gillespie? I have received squire McGregor''s testimony, and that of lady Selene, whom... Nevermind, we''ll talk about her later. For now, tell me what exactly is wrong between you and Edward?" He then pauses, takes a look around, and shakes his head - "Actually, let us move to more convenient room first."


    Fifteen minutes later, we are seated in one of the small cabinets, a table in front of us laden with snacks and beverages. The teapot in the middle, notably, steams up a lot of mint and rosemary aroma in the air. As the servants pour our mugs, I gather my thoughts. "Well, to begin with, I''d like you to understand one thing. I still haven''t spoken to Edward face to face since our last meeting seven years ago." - I tell Abraham, making him jerk up in alarm - "Which is the crux of the problem with Edward. As you know, we were supposed to have our meeting before the Academy. The plan was for my father to remain with you while I was to proceed to reacquaint myself with Edward. Ambercrombe messed things up with the duel, and Edward had slipped away in the confusion. At the moment, I didn''t think much about it, as there were things going on with everyone, but he failed to contact me in the days since. I knew he was present at Academy and had met with him occasionally in the corridors and dining hall even prior to the start of studies, but he never made any attempts to talk to me... and frankly speaking, I was rather miffed about being ditched back in the palace, so I did not bother to start the conversation either."


    I pause to take a sip of tea. Nice. Really nice. I guess the servants had time to fine-tune the herbs. There''s more than just initial mint and rosemary in the mix, now. I can taste hyssop, for example, and there are several other herbs less distinct but quite present. "So. Time had passed until the studies began. At this point, I became worried enough to discuss things with Alistair, who confirmed Edward is avoiding me. He also confirmed earlier rumors that Edward is often taking tea in private with lady Selene." - I explain, and Abraham''s face darkens little by little as I do - "A few days later, I have found some common ground with lady Selene in our shared mastery of light magics. I have invited her to attend the temple along with one other student also gifted with light magic. You might have heard about her being titled by the prelate last week, lady Lux." He nods, but motions to continue, and I oblige - "So... I have had struck a sort of friendship with lady Selene. It helps that we have surprisingly similar views on many topics, starting from magic use and ending with liking cava. After gaining amiable understandings with lady Selene, I had confided in her my worries about Edward eluding contact, and she had admitted that Edward had been ranting about avoiding me both to her and to squire McGregor with a vigor that is hard to explain."


    Abraham pinches the bridge of his nose. "Which brings us to the situation we have now." - he concludes - "Alistair tells me he had checked for most obvious signs of magical influence on Edward and found none. I imagine you had independently confirmed his results?" I nod to him, and he groans - "Damnation, this means it''s something truly insidious or I have brought up a complete fool of a son. I am not entirely certain which is worse." He looks up - "But I am rather curious about this lady Selene. You did say you befriended her? Why do this? I would have expected hostility, given the... situation."


    I snort lightly. "At the risk of sounding cynical?" - I tell him - "If Ed''s already looking for a concubine, I''d much rather she be someone I can be amiable with. Lady Selene also has the advantage of having useful talents, while at it."


    Abe chuckles. "Well, that is one way to deal with it." - he retorts - "Surprisingly pragmatic one, all things considered. Then again, if I had to sum you up in a word, pragmatic would definitely be high in consideration." He pauses, and sighs - "Very well. Let us invite Edward here. I have heard him out yesterday, and I''m afraid I just don''t see where he comes from with his dire warnings. He seems to be convinced you will cause him some undefined harm, but had refused to define the exact nature of the harm he is afraid of. I have a feeling he does not know himself. If there is some foreign influence, it should flare up in your presence in some way. If not... well. If not."


    Fifteen minutes go by. Twenty. Half an hour. I can see the patience on the king''s face slowly becoming irritation. He finally calls the chamberlain, who literally runs off at the quiet command and comes back shortly after, out of breath and obviously distressed. "His Excellence Prince Edward refuses to leave his room while, as he says, ''the harridan is here''." - he reports. Probably not meant for me to overhear, but whatever. Abe''s face crunches into a scowl. "Summon squire McGregor." - he commands - "Then, take four men, and have Edward brought here forcibly. Tied, if needs be. Also, inform the royal physician that his attendance is required. Something is not right with Edward, and we are finding things out here and now."


    Alistair is here, and somewhat... foolhardy, he brings in Selene with him. Which is... I''m not sure if it''s brave, thoughtful or idiotic of him. Probably all three. So I rise and make a point of being friendly and welcoming to both of them to underline to the king that Selene is not the problem. She, thankfully, is smart enough to ask me about Ed, and do it quietly. "He''s being... difficult. His highness just ordered him brought here to sort things out, tied if needs be." - I explain to her, and she leans back with a surprised expression. Alistair listens in with a worried expression.


    The commotion and yelling are quite the announcement of Edward''s visit. He is, unsurprisingly, tied to the chair which is carried by four burly swordsmen palanquin-style. Chamberlain follows them, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Next to him is a rotund gentleman with an impressive mustache in a frock-like coat that I presume is the royal physician. He does have this air of doctor around him. Abraham casts a glance around. "Very well." - he says curtly - "Let us begin. Edward, I have been told you are refusing to meet with your fianc¨¦e. I''d like to hear your reasons for doing so."


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Ed opens his mouth - and we are treated to a shrilling diatribe on how horrible of a fate awaits us all for associating with me. I''m not even sure how I can possibly not associate with myself, at that. Geez. But it is the end words that make me sit up and pay attention. "...And I REFUSE this engagement! Do you hear me? I refuse you! You will never be my wife! This engagement is off!" - he shrieks, and I''m sorely tempted to tell him to say it, not spray it.


    But this... is a good opportunity. "Very well." - I reply blandly, cutting over his on-going ranting - "If that''s what you wish, then let us consider the engagement between prince Edward Cullen and lady Alyssa Gillespie to be broken on first one''s initiative."


    Abe is the first one who gets his wits together. "Now, now, no need to be so hasty, my girl." - he rumbles - "Edward is clearly not in his right mind and..."


    I shake my head. "Beg your pardon, your highness, but prince Edward here is very insistent on it. Look at him. His heartbeat is twice over what is normal for a young man in good shape." - I rebuke - "Do you really want to see if he can stroke out over the issue at hand? Honestly, ''not my fianc¨¦'' sounds quite preferable to ''dead fianc¨¦'', don''t you agree?"


    Abraham flinches, his line of thought disrupted as I push at the issue from an unexpected angle. I lean over to him and whisper - "Just... go with it for now. We can discuss where to go with this once we figure out what''s wrong with him."


    Edward, meanwhile, stares at me incredulously. He obviously does not want to talk to me, but his expression tells it clearly nonetheless. "What is this? Could it be true? Would she really let me go if only I asked?" is written loud and clear across his face. Behind him, the royal physician swings into action, casting spells on Edward. Most of them I recognize as general purpose calming, healing and diagnostic spells, though several are more advanced and nuanced than what I knew so far from the books and practice. More energy-efficient too. Yoink. But it''s clear there is no answer there, and Ed is growing agitated again. Finally, the physician turns to face the king - "Your highness, I believe I should put his excellence to sleep before proceeding. The next few tests will be uncomfortable and invasive if he were to endure him awake, and he is already dangerously agitated." Ed''s thrashing grows panicked as Abe nods thoughtfully, and then slowly stills, as sir Pasteur places his hand on Ed''s forehead and channels through a powerful sleeping spell, his other hand holding a bouquet of nasturtiums to focus through.


    "There is no doubt in my mind that something dastardly had been done to the prince, your highness." - he announces grimly, taking his hand off Ed''s head - "There is no physiological reason for his agitation, yet he was in a state of blind panic just now. Whatever it is, it included admonitions against letting anyone know about it. I shall test his excellence for the signs of possession and thralldom now." And he promptly pulls out a lancet from a leather pouch. Hm. Something to consider later. I think things over. We have more or less ruled out the on-going foreign influence. If there was something or someone connecting to Ed now, we''d know. Ed is also Ed, he is not a creature pretending to be Ed, that was also checked for. But, we already know that his influence is persistent, because he can not be persuaded to drop it or alter it in any way, even after being given what he wanted. So... something inside of him that tilts his mind just so?


    I hit him with another passive detection, this time checking for consistency of the skin, and... bingo. And what a bingo, at that. The whole back of Ed''s head is a mess. "Sir Pasteur?" - I ask - "How long have you been royal physician?"


    He looks up, thoughtful. "Ah, well... Since shortly before crownprince Alexander''s birth, I believe." - he returns - "Why do you ask?"


    "So... you have had been Edward''s attending physician for the whole of his life then?" - I clarify, getting back an impatient nod - "In that case, you should know if he ever had any significant injuries to the back of his head."


    He pauses. As does Abraham. "Wat? No, his excellency had no head injuries to the best of my knowledge. He certainly never needed my treatment for such, and I daresay I''d know if he ever tried to hide one." - physician offers back, somewhat indignant, - "Why I... I... WHAT?!" His hand presses against Ed''s back of head as I ask him, probably in a subconscious effort to verify there is nothing wrong. Only, there is.


    "Your highness!" - he speaks with urgency - "There ARE scars on his excellency''s head! This very well might be the cause of the situation! But his excellency had never shown me this injury before, nor did he ever..." He trails off - "Whatever this is, measures had been taken to conceal it. Your highness, I ask for permission to shave prince Edward''s head to see what are we dealing with. The scarring is extensive, I can not palpate the exact shape of it."


    As king nods resolutely, Alistair pipes up - "Let me fetch my beardclippers, it should make shaving the hair quick and safe!" He runs off before anyone manages to stop him. "Beardclippers?" - sir Pasteur hums questioningly - "How intriguing."


    He is more than a little intrigued when Alistair returns with a hand-cranked hairtrimmer. "Goodness, such craftsmanship. Young man, which jeweler did you commission this from?" - he inquires, marveling at the teeth moving against each other - "Such finesse." He lifts Ed''s head and is about to crank... in the middle of hair. I have to stop him. His second try is much more successful, and he shaves a close cut band from the nape of neck all the way to Ed''s forehead. "Stupendous! This is, without a doubt, the most medically sound way to remove undesired hair. Squire McGregor, you simply have to introduce me to the artificer."


    Poor Alistair is a bit... put upon. He finally finds the good answer in the middle of this effusive amazement and proffers - "Why don''t you ask lady Gillespie about it? This device came out of her county, the merchant on the bazaar had boasted a gross of them to be available for purchase when I have acquired mine."


    And suddenly I''m the focus of sir Pasteur''s intensely interested gaze. I sigh and nod. "We can discuss this later, sir Pasteur. Let us attend to prince now, I do promise I will get back at you with samples of what fine tools my father''s county can offer once Edward is safely recuperating." - I tell him and he suddenly has an "oh shit" expression for a moment.


    "Ah, yes, yes... Indeed... What is this... WHAT? Your highness, come here, please! His excellency had been a victim of skulduggery most foul!" - he proffers as he continues to clip the hair off Ed''s scalp. Everyone who can see the emerging scar can easily understand the physician''s alarm. Chrysanthemum brand. With chrysanthemum being THE flower to do mind magic with, the brand on prince''s head is an extremely damning sight. Whoever did this is in for a world of hurt. Or would be, I suppose. I have a sinking feeling the person responsible had his head chopped off by yours truly last month.

 Chapter 29. Scalping Princes And Getting Evidence

    Well, Ed''s been shorn like a sheep. At some point, a sort of bench was brought in and he was untied from the chair and laid out on the bench face-down, still sleeping, while everyone tsks at the hideous scarring. Sir Pasteur is very empathetic about it. "Your highness, this must be... removed. I shudder to think about the effects, this is like... like... like having a hole in your head for anyone willing to reach inside and toy with your thoughts." - he stammers indignantly - "Whoever did this must be... found. This is an abomination, an affront against nature and decency, a... a... A SIN."


    Abraham sucks in air. "If they can be found, they will be found." - he rumbles angrily - "Summon Grand Inquisitor here, I have a job for him. For now, sir Pasteur, how do we remove this and root out the influences from Edward''s mind? For that matter, can he be returned to his proper mental state to begin with? And if not, can we determine what other commands he was given, because for the love of all that is sane I can not think why would anyone commit that grave of an offense solely to turn Edward against lady Gillespie. The treachery goes deeper."


    He hesitates. "Your highness, it is hard to say anything for sure." - he hedges - "The most obvious way to deal with this is simply to use cosmetic spell meant to smooth out scars and keep applying it until there is no recognizable shape. However, doing this will heal in the scar and thus, internalize everything that had been pushed through it. As such, his excellency will require a lengthy convalescence rest and reassessing everything he considers obvious truths..." He pauses, dabs his face with a handkerchief, and continues - "Another option would be to have someone we explicitly trust to use the brand to access his excellency''s memories and rearrange them properly before healing the scars over. That is the most medically sound option I can think of, but it will leave us the least of information, because we wouldn''t even know what orders were given, much less by whom. Finally, there are spells that should review what passed through the brand, but I am very hesitant to recommend that for fear of more mental trauma being given to his excellency."


    At this point, Grand Inquisitor is brought in. I sorta know him - his name is sir Malachi, and he is largely responsible for training and overseeing everyone who deals with "insidious" supernatural and magical threats. Not on casual terms, though, he is old enough to call my father "young man". After being appraised of the situation and casting a couple more spells of his own (the area around us is quickly becoming a makeshift flower bed as servants bring in pots with rare and finicky flowers that are required for some of the spells). "I have to agree with sir Pasteur''s conclusions." - he rumbles - "The safest way to break this treachery will destroy the evidence. Perhaps if we could interview prince Edward before committing with any treatments..."


    And I have an idea. "Sirs? And idea presents itself to me." - I suggest, making both of them (and king, and Alistair and Selene) turn around and stared at me - "Sir Malachi, would I be correct to assume that all the clues you hope to collect are within the scarring?" He strokes his beard thoughtfully. "Aye, lass." - he finally rumbles - "I think I know where you''re going with this...."


    I smile at him and turn to physician - "Sir Pasteur, would I be correct to assume the scarring is only skin-deep, since it''s a brand?" He blinks his eyes. Then turns around and grabs a sprig of lavender, casting another detection spell on Edward. "...Why, yes, yes it is." - he responds with excitement - "But how to separate the scar from his excellency with minimal harm? I do not believe I possess an appropriate tool to make that kind of broad incision quickly. Still, it could perhaps be forged for the task, this is an emergency after all...."


    I raise my hand - "I think I have a quicker option, sir Pasteur. Your highness, good sirs, lady Selene... I hereby suggest the following plan." I turn and point them out in a row - "Sir Pasteur, you will maintain a diagnostic spell on prince and signal when the part of the skin is separated to your helper. Lady Selene, you will channel a healing spell that sir Pasteur will guide to regrow the skin flap and hair properly. Sir Malachi, you will be on standby ready to receive and contain the flab of skin with the scar on it so that it could be examined in detail without harming prince Edward. I believe in doing thus, we shall achieve both removal of undesired influence and preservation of evidence to properly persecute the trespassers. Ah, I will obviously perform the removal of skin. What do you all say?"


    The physician pops the question first. "May I see the demonstration of how do you intend to remove the skin before committing to any answer?" - he inquires. Fair enough. I conjure a simple clay pot and set it on the table. "Imagine this is the skull in question." - I explain, coating one side of it in a layer of conjured wax - "And this is the skin." I even sketch a mock image of a flower into it, while at that. "And here is the removal process." I place my hands around the pot, conjuring a simple metal ring on both index fingers. A moment later, and the rings are connected by a length of composite decofilament, which I stretch taut and shear off the layer of wax with flower etching on it from the pot, leaving the clay surface behind and a slab of wax curling onto the table. Dismissing the filament a moment after, I pull back. "And this is it." - I tell them. Sir Pasteur comes closer. His finger brushes curiously against the exposed pot, then over the edge of the wax. He pokes the wax curiously, then stretches out the sheared roll, examining it.


    "Ah, I see..." - he hums - "The plan is to use very thin wire, then? Thin enough to cut the skin easily but not thin enough to bite into the bone... An elegant and inspired solution, lady Gillespie. I daresay I would be hardpressed to achieve the quality of cut, and certainly not the speed of it. Well now, let me just check how well lady Selene can handle the throughput of light magic, and we should be all set, provided she can handle the necessary energy." Selene snorts and steps forward, lifting her hand. A ball of golden light coalesces and starts gaining in luminescence quickly. Sir Pasteur and Sir Malachi both bite back swears as they sharply turn away from harsh brightness, while Abraham shields his eyes with a hand before ordering - "Enough, lady Selene, you''ve more than proved your ability."


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Five minutes later, we are ready. Grand Inquisitor had caused a bit of delay to have a specifically enchanted box fetched to him first. At a glance, this is a very curious artifact. Power-hungry, it requires a fresh flower stuck into the holder each day or the effect dissipates. But really worth it, because whatever is inside is held in effective stasis. And not just physical, this thing halts spells in process and keeps them without disrupting. Selene is positioned with her hands next to Ed''s neck, wearing (at my insistence) a pair of heavy gloves, just in case I nick her with decofilament. Sir Pasteur is next to her, and is trying to smile encouragingly at everyone. Sir Malachi is standing by with a pair of tongs that he is holding above the place where the skin is expected to curl. And finally me, standing next to Selene with my filament ready. The king is wisely off in the distance.


    "Now, everyone is ready?" - he asks hoarsely - "If so, then let this be done." And he turns away. A wise precaution, I suspect. Sir Pasteur grimaces. "Lady Gillespie, we''re all ready, you can start cutting. Don''t hesitate, the faster you... Gods above!" He probably thought I''d be nervous. I slice the whole scar off in one pull, ending with a bit of jank to nudge the flap against the tongs, and dismiss the filament, stepping away from the operation "bench". Selene grimaces as blood splatters all over her gloves and starts channeling harder, the golden glow around Ed''s neck intensifying as Pasteur finally remembers what was his part in this. Malachi drops the skin fragment into the box and slams the lid shut without further ado, grabbing a bouquet he brought with him and casting a bevy of investigation spells over the suspended skin. His face cracks into a terrifying smirk and he growls - "We''ve got everything here, clear and distinct like a fresh manuscript."


    Turning my attention back to Ed, I see that between Selene pumping power into the spell and Pasteur providing his expert insight into what should the skin and hair grow into, Ed gains his coiffure back at impressive speed. And a little more... And a LOT more... And I tap Selene''s shoulder. "Yeah, either you stop now, or you get to teach Ed how to braid hair." - I tell her. She amps the channeling down at that wisecrack with a nervous giggle, and the tension is broken. Sir Pasteur is busily checking up on Edward, while sir Malachi collects the box and receives the king''s leave to go and investigate it with all the magic and cunning at his disposal. Both of which are considerable.


    Abraham comes closer, and considers the results critically. He then ruins his image of a furious king in one fell stroke by putting his hand on Ed''s head and stroking. And now I can''t even see him as anything other than worried father. "How is he, sir Pasteur?" - he inquires. The physician snaps up, smiling. "Exceptionally good now, actually. It was a good call to have lady Selene provide the power. I was able to concentrate all of my attention on guidance and examination and I can confidently say his excellency is free from outer influence and the breach into his mind well and truly sealed off. And, less importantly, he has all the hair back. After a visit from a barber, he could be brought back to look exactly like he was before the discovery, and thus fool the villains who put the brand there into complacency thinking it is still there and undiscovered."


    "I see." - he mutters and sighs. Then he turns to us - "Lady Gillespie, Lady Selene. The kingdom of Champagne owes you deepest gratitude for your insights and magic contributed to deflecting an attack most foul on one of the royal family. Furthermore, I owe you deepest gratitude as a father. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for looking out for my boy."


    ___


    In the end, we leave. The royal physician wants to keep Ed asleep until tomorrow to go over everything with a fine comb, and the grand inquisitor has quite a lot of investigation to do. Tomorrow, we''re going to revisit, talk with not so mind-whammied Ed and hopefully sort out something. Alistair is going to stick around, he will be the one to fetch us tomorrow when Ed is free to talk. I think the idea is that Selene is done visiting, but I''m dragging her along anyway. I really need to push the engagement over to her.


    "Well, that was... was... WAAAAAH!" - oh goodness gracious, WHAT? Why am I suddenly holding a crying Selene and what the hell is wrong!? Fuck this, I''mma take a clue out of Spiderman''s book. Taking a quick look around, I ensure no one is in the direct eyesight, hoist Selene up and do my tentacle wallcrawling routine, scaling up the castle wall we were walking by about half-way before jumping over to the roof and continuing in the general direction of Academy. It''s late, the sun has already set, and for crying out loud, this is just silly. Selene keeps crying even when I reach the academy roof. She FINALLY looks up with an absolutely waterlogged face, only to doubletake as she takes in the surroundings.


    "Where are we?" - she inquires wonderingly - "Wait, what? But... how!?" She leans over the railing I erected and peers down into the Academy yard for a while. Then she whirls around and looks at me. "Alright, spill." - she demands - "How are we even up here?"


    "Spiderman, spiderman, does whatever a spider can..." - I hum at her, making her doubletake again, then slump.


    "Of fucking course you would figure out how to be magical Spiderman. Of course. What was I even thinking? Of course this is the bloody thing you''d do." - she grouses and whaps the table - "But goddamn it, why didn''t I think of this too?!" She peers at me half in wonderment and half in irritation, whining - "Why do you always have the most awesome ideas first?"


    "Virtuous living and a loving harem to recharge my creativity every night?" - I tell her, wiggling my eyebrows for emphasis - "Alright, jokes aside, what''s up? You were holding so well and then suddenly came unglued entirely."


    She shudders and rubs her shoulders. "I just... I..." - she moans - "I tried so hard not to think about it, but each time I get distracted, I see Ed''s blood on my hands and I blank out and uuuuuuuu!"


    I sigh and pat her head, as she begins to sob again. "There, there. At least he''s going to be fine now, right? And you''ll be there next to him to make sure nothing like this happens again, right?" - I try to console her.


    "Uuu... Hnn, fuck yes, I will be there, but I waaaaahsint!!" - ookay, this is gonna take a while. On the plus side, I think this is a good proof she''s really in love with Edward.

 Chapter 30. Slumber Party (Also, Dream Cinema)

    Calming down Selene takes way way way longer than I imagined. Actually, I cheated. Sorta. Well, I wanted to blatantly cheat first, but then realized that mind-reading magics is one of the disciplines I haven''t actually read much on, in no small part due to data on this being rare and watched. I mean, I could have possibly scienced it myself, but... yeah, well. I need some kind of official post to gain convenient access to ethically acceptable test subjects, because I''m pretty damn sure my first few attempts at telepathy will end up in targets going insane or a''splode. So no magically calming Selene with magic.


    In the end, I ended up taking her back to my room and asking the girls for help. Which, somehow, turned into a pajama party (with Bridgit helpfully escorting Selene to her room and back to collect the necessary garments, while I coopt Moon Unit''s help to quickly get some coffee and snacks together), Selene, had, thankfully, run out of tears after telling in great detail just how awful everything was.


    "Come on." - I object lightly - "I just removed a palm''s worth of skin from Ed''s head, and you healed it right after. While the royal physician oversaw the whole process. You had king give you personal thanks, even."


    "Yes, yes, but... just... ugh." - Selene objects - "I mean, I''m glad Ed''s going to be fine, and I guess it was really the best method to help him, but... I just don''t like blood, OK?" She shudders and clutches her shoulders, prompting Moon Unit and Bridgit to put arms around her and leans on. She visibly appreciates the support.


    "Blood is awful." - Bridgit mutters softly, and I''m suddenly reminded she was actually there to see her father murdered. And that was pretty bloody. And she was sorta there when I did pretty nasty and bloody shit to Klaus and his cronies. Which leads to me hugging all of them. And if I cheat a little and stretch my arms out to make it a proper hug, well, who''s gonna tell?


    "Well, look on the bright side." - I remind them - "Everything''s getting better now, and we can sleep in tomorrow."


    Moon Unit smiles - "Oh, speaking of sleeping in." She leans over to me and whispers - "That matter you asked about? I think there''s no real difference how many people are brought in, only that they must all be with me or with the target." I have had asked Moon Unit about the specifics of dreamwalking, and she promised to doublecheck before telling me for sure. She apparently has a bunch of elven texts she''s referencing when she does rare elven magic. Wise of her, I would say, some reference is better than blindly pawing around hoping for a miracle.


    It takes another hour and a bit of pillow-fight before we''re ready to sleep. Bridgit has, by now, grown completely at ease with Selene and stopped trying to deal with her "with respect noble lady deserves". Admittedly, she switched up to being cute huffing at all of us for "not giving station any consideration". Then I end up making her blush like a tomato by retorting I don''t see her any less noble than any other in our group.


    Pro - I have three girls to cuddle.


    Con - I can''t actually fondle them, because Selene will freak out.


    Pro - Hugs are OK and so are kisses so long as I remember not to try frenchkissing Selene.


    Con - Now I''m thinking about it.


    Pro - Selene actually gets pretty giggly and blushy when she sees me making out with the other two.


    Con - Still think she''d be better off as Ed''s wife.


    As I see Bridgit and Selene fall asleep, I exchange quick glances with Moon Unit. "Let''s grab them too?" - I suggest - "The target will be Lemand, as we discussed. Can you stuff everyone in my dream? It would be easiest if I have control of environs." She nods and grins, leaning in to kiss my lips softly.


    "No problem." - she whispers back - "But it''d better be something magnificent that you want to show."


    Now that I''m paying close attention, I can see her spell actually kicking in. I... think I can theoretically imitate it. But doing so would require growing a secondary brain with very... peculiar structures that... yeah. Let''s set this off as a long-term research project for later. I''m not really in a hurry to shape parts of myself into imitation elven brains and all.


    ___


    "Holy fucking shit." - and this is Selene''s opinion as we all pop into a dream. Since all four of us are in the same spot, we pop in together, all sprawled on a huge couch in front of the biggest TV screen I''ve ever seen. She looks around, sits up, pokes herself, pumps her arm - "Fuck yeah, lucid dreaming! Now let''s do this thing!" And before I realize what she''s talking about, she grabs ME by the lapels and eagerly sticks her tongue into my mouth. Gah, warn a girl or something!


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Pushing Selene away lightly, I shake my head at the twin gasps from behind. "Selene, this is actually a SHARED dream." - I tell her, and she goes from pouting to mortified in a drop of a hat. A minute later, I exchange bemused glances with my lovely harem and poke the shoulder sticking out from under the pillow, which Selene is using to hide her head under. "Come on out." - I tell her - "It was an honest mistake."


    "....UUUU.... So embarrassed." - she whines, lifting the pillow in front of her just enough to peek out and see Moon Unit and Bridgit sporting bemused smiles -"I''m sowwy."


    After a bit, we''re sorted out. Since this is a dream based on my memories, I took the liberty of imaging properly comfortable pajamas for all girls. We''re going to be inviting a guy to be here, so coverage is essential. On the plus side, putting everyone into kigurumis was sufficiently amusing and distracting. I''m a mouse, Moon Unit is a badger, Bridgit is a shark and Selene is a tiger. Now, we''re sufficiently prepared for... Oh, wait. We all turn to see Lemand entering the room. He is completely bewildered. And wearing a luxurious man''s pajamas I totally cribbed off my internet memories for looking like a complete smoking suit. Despite being pajamas. Complete with matching fez.


    "I... ah.. beg thy pardon miladies. I appear to be lost... and I think I am also dreaming." - he stutters.


    "Hello, Lemand. Yes, you are dreaming. Come have a seat, we have something to show you." - I tell him, and he approaches, dazed and confused.


    "Lady Gillespie?" - he questions numbly - "Lady Selene? Mo... I mean, Lady Lux? What is going on? How are you all in my dream? Why are you dressed so strangely?"


    Selene snickers - "Vah, is this the first time you ever had a naughty dream, nerd-boy?"


    I shake my head at her. "Selene, be nice." - I admonish - "What if you make him faint from embarrassment? Or worse, give ideas none of us are interested on actually following through on? No one likes a tease."


    She pouts. "Fair enough." - she grumbles - "Sorry, Lemand. If it helps, we''re all aware of ourselves and won''t do anything weird to ya, so don''t worry." She turns to me - "So, Alyssa, what are we going to watch? I assume you have a show planned, with the TV on the wall and everything?"


    Three heads pop up curiously as Lemand, Moon Unit and Bridgit hear the unfamiliar word.


    "Alright." - I sigh - "Introductions first, I believe. The gentleman over there in the chair is Lemand Lamarchand. Me, who is dressed as the mouse? Alyssa Gilespie. Next to me is Moon Unit, who carries no second name by elven traditions but might claim Lux as one, if she so wills, dressed as a badger, Bridgit Baumhoff, who is dressed as a shark and Serenity Selene, who is dressed as a tiger. Since this is a dream, we''re going to leave the titles in the waking world and just call each other by name."


    Selene raises her hand - "Actually, can everyone call me Selene? My foster dad thought "family name" is what family calls you and I''m more used to being called Selene than Serenity."


    Lemand raises his hand too - "Lady Gille...." He trails off as I glare at him, swallows, then continues - "Alyssa. What exactly is going on? How are we all in the dream, and why me?"


    I nod to him - "Pertinent question. The short answer, Lemand, is that I want to show you something. You had been looking into certain magical configurations recently. While enchanting is a good venue to focus your attentions into, and a pretty profitable one, I wanted to warn you off from trying to mess with dimensional enchantments too much. And in order to do that, I am going to show you a story of people who tried, and what came out of it."


    Selene suddenly connects the dots. "Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait... Lamarchand? Box?... Oh shit, shit shit shit!" - she jerks up, stabbing her hand in Lemand''s direction - "Did you try to figure out LAMENT CONFIGURATION!?"


    He reels back from the sudden scream, while I bap Selene on the forehead - "He thought about looking into things that eventually lead to that. I''m going to show him why it''s a fundamentally bad idea."


    She slumps. "...Yeah. Well. I guess." - she finally admits - "Pinhead is gonna be... a warning. So..."


    I grin and raise the remote to the TV. It lights up, and everyone''s attention turns to the "magical" show.


    ___


    I got bapped with pillows a lot by the girls. The common consensus was "That was absolutely horrifying, why did you make us see that?!" Including Selene. Apparently, while she heard enough about the series, she never watched the first movie herself. Lemand, meanwhile, is in utter shock. He is STILL sitting in the chair staring numbly into white noise on TV, his fingers clutching the chair''s arms so hard his fingers had gone white. He is, apparently, suitably impressed on the horribleness of idea. Admittedly, he had no option to hide his head in my side like the rest of the viewers. Something girls had resorted to more than once. Again, including Selene.


    In the end, in order to unfreeze Lemand and assuage the rightful wrath of the girls, I have to resort to Disney''s bounties. The story of Robin Hood quickly gets me back into good graces as all of them happily squeal over Robin and Marian getting their happy end. More importantly, Lemand starts blinking about half-way into the movie and more or less comes back into his senses.


    "...This is true, isn''t it?" - he whispers to me as the cartoon ends - "If I start looking into Configurations, I risk inviting those demons right in."


    I shrug - "Potentially. It''s not a sure bet, but they are insidious. For now, you know what to guard against. If you ever get an inexplicable urge to start looking into it again, despite the warnings, tell me. Those things sometimes have a nasty habit of sticking around and bothering people with ideas long past usefulness of doing so."

 Interlude 2. Sultans Woes

    Salaadin snarled as he crumbled the latest report and threw it across the room, making the servant scamper after it. It''s been a week since the curse had descended on his country, and in spite of himself, he was impressed by the sheer scope and insidiousness of it. And the worst of it was that he could not even seed mistrust by calling the bedamned woman a necromancer because there was clearly no soul left in the husks shambling through his realm. Just bees. Endless bees that would swarm anyone who dared to be seen armed or with a flower, and stung them into a ravening frenzy, crawling into their ears and nose and mouth when they''d fall down from pain and exhaustion, and eat their way into the brains of those unfortunates. Then the corpses would rise and shamble around while more bees spawned from within their empty skulls. It was terrifying and demoralizing for the whole realm, especially once the people had come to a collective realization they had NO guard to protect them from oddlaws and wild beasts.


    No guards except for the bee husks, that is. He supposed it is a small consolation that husks would attack and repel any beasts approaching the settlements. Some of the criminals had also run afoul of bee husks. While they were content to shamble about otherwise, flashing a dagger was sufficient to be beset by bees and corpses, as several robbers across the country learned. The worst part of it was that he could not even send his armies out of the country - while bees did not prevent them from leaving, they would follow major ships and hover over them ominously. He had some limited success in shipping out most trusted batal one by one with foreign merchants, but Sultanate was not loved by any foreigners, and so the foreign merchants were both reluctant to take any passengers from the realm and asked great sums for it. And he could not even have them properly disciplined, because damned bees ignored foreigners brandishing weapons! It was just a matter of time, he surmised, before Sultanate would be subjected to series of retaliatory raids, ship seizures and outright conquest - and he could do preciously little about it.


    Taking a box, he opened it gingerly. It contained several scrolls and letters - the grand total of what his spies could ferret about one Alyssa Gillespie. His initial communication from Abbas was painfully bare of details, he simply whined about how some "jumped up white whore refused to serve". The servants in the palace proved to be much more reliable, and were able to identify the person in question based on what they saw of the duel. That... did not enthuse him in the slightest. A woman capable of killing one of his batal in a martial bout? Very odd. A badge of honor for batal was a scale of a dragon fashioned into a pendant, which granted decent protection against battle magic. It was this advantage that permitted Sultanate to maintain its combat superiority - the availability of dragon scales with which fighters with a minimal grasp of magic could be turned into legitimate threats to any mage by simply having protection against magic and physical training to run the mages down and cut them down the old-fashioned way.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    He had yelled at Abbas over trying to bed a daughter of a count, only to be rebuked by Abbas claiming he tried to bed the maid of the aforementioned daughter. Now that was something that shook Salaadin badly. A noble who would pick a fight with Sultanate over a servant''s honor? Unbelievable. No, the maid was just a pretext, Alyssa Gillespie had clearly been preparing her attack on his homeland for quite a while and Abbas had foolishly given her the legit casus belli to do so... No, wait. Abbas had given her the opening, and he, Salaadin, had given her the actual cause to hurl a war curse their way. A stray thought crossed his mind - Abbas really was arrogant and disagreeable with anyone he considered lesser. Which was everyone except Salaadin himself. Maybe he should have remained silent and allowed the humiliation of Abbas as it stood.


    Salaadin sighed and shook his head. As much as Abbas needed some lessons in humility, letting a foreigner noble administer them without any rebuke would have tainted the reputation and honor of his family and his country. The problem was that he, Salaadin, had grievously miscalculated how to administer the rebuke. He had thought to cow her into submission and have her become a wife of one of his trusted emirs. Maybe even one of his sons. Then she''d be taught proper obedience by husband''s discipline and be a boon to Sultanate. Apparently, the witch had no respect for elders or the power Sultanate could bring to bear. Or couldn''t bring to bear, as it turned out to be. Damn it! The more Salaadin thought about it, the less he liked his conclusions. Alyssa Gillespie had meant to start a war with Sultanate. Not try to grab a bit of land in a border skirmish, as it was common among border nobles. Certain isles near the coast of Champagne would change their current owner almost yearly, as barons and beys with their personal hosts fought over them nearly constantly.


    But... this particular woman was clearly not aiming for an island or two. No, she had intentionally hobbled the whole of Sultanate and if Salaadin read it right, the lands she would want to be ceded to her would be more than just a few isles. It was, if he were to call it honestly, an attempt to cleave a part of Sultanate sufficient to crown herself a sovereign of an entirely new country - and one that had considerable chances of happening, at it. After all, if she had the personal power to cripple the greatest power like that, why would she settle for less than a nation of her own? And therefore, he sighed, she needed to die. As expeditiously as possible.


    Picking up a quill and dipping it into an inkwell, Salaadin began to write a letter. Batal were great when you needed to batter down someone in an open fight. But for this? He would need to enlist some help from a certain old man on a mountain.

 Chapter 31. Shoggoth On The Roof (Relaxing…)

    The morning was a little bit more awkward than I expected. Primarily because Selene had decided to apologize again for "horning in on your territory" to Bridgit and Moon Unit. Who had the bright idea to start teasing Selene about "becoming a wife" which lead to awkward attempts to explain on Selene''s side that she "still likes D better", which was followed by her having to (awkwardly) explain what she means by D, which was followed by Bridgit and Moon Unit blushing and berating Selene for being "lewd". I admit, all this awkward back and forth had permitted me to create some meringue, which nicely distracted everyone. Then Bridgit got pouty over me hijacking her "maidly" duties again so I had to remind her that meringues don''t quite qualify as breakfast.


    So we''re now sitting around the table, sans Selene, who had begged off after having a coffee. She, apparently, feels she is "behind on homework", which is entirely possible and I entirely approve of her doing the responsible thing about her education. Which, in turn, leaves me with Moon Unit and Bridgit. "So." - I offer - "Who has any ideas? I have to be here because I might get called to castle at any moment to check up on Edward, so..." Moon Unit and Bridgit exchange glances, blush and stare down. Well, that was amusing, but leaves me with no actual clue as to what to do. Thankfully, this is where we are interrupted by knocking on the door.


    It''s Al, and given his face, he has odd news. "Terribly sorry, but it looks like your conversation with prince Edward will have to be postponed for a couple days, Lady Gillespie." - he offers without much ado - "He had woken up suddenly in the middle of the night, panicked because of circumstances in which he fell asleep, tried to climb out of the window and fell from the third floor down into the hedge, where he spent the rest of the night. He is currently sick with a grave cold, has a broken ankle and his mind is clouded with fever. Sir Pasteur had already attended to him and he is positive Edward will recover finely, but he insists on bed rest and complete serenity for at least two weeks. He is of opinion that Edward might have a nervous fever if he were to have a... complicated discussion while his health is weak. I have volunteered to inform you of this unfortunate happenstance."


    And of course things with Ed can never be simple. Damn. Alright then, I''ll just find some better things to do in the meanwhile. "Thank you, Al. Mind telling the same to Selene? She must be worried about Ed too." - I offer to him. He adopts a... complicated face expression on hearing that.


    "Are you certain about that?" - he whispers - "Now that Edward''s no longer under the spell, there is no obstacle to your engagement..." And this is where I bop his head.


    "Al, for crying out loud. Think. This brand was not placed seven years ago. It''s not even a year old, by the looks of it." - I whisper back to him furiously - "Why would I want to tie my fate to a boy who couldn''t be arsed to visit his fianc¨¦e for seven years? I lived in the county, yes, but I have had been in the capital a number of times. Father let the castle know about his presence each time, went on audiences with the king. Ed had every opportunity to see me at those times, if he so wanted, and no one would object to him wanting to see his fianc¨¦e. He did NOT. Does it not strike you as ODD that you know me way better than Edward does? And it''s not like you made an effort to seek me out either, you just acted as every gentleman would. So tell me again, why is that I would want to restart my engagement to a boy who blatantly neglected me and deny him to a girl he actually likes and I consider a good friend?"


    ...Aaand apparently Alistair had never actually considered the full implications of what Edward did. Or never bothered to think it through deeply enough. In any case, he looks shocked. "Do you mean to say?..." - he begins, then cuts himself off - "...I, yes... I guess I can understand this. So... the plan is still to achieve a mutually amiable dissolution of engagement and promote Edward''s budding relationship with lady Selene?"


    "Yes, Alistair. Yes." - I tell him with as much emphasis as I can put on it - "I am, most emphatically, against being married to Edward, regardless of his reasons for recent oddities. It is well known that even chrysanthemum is helpless in the face of true love. So I believe I can say with certainty that Ed has no love towards me. Maybe we can be friends once he recovers, but marriage is off the table."


    He sighs. "I understand." - he agrees - "But allow me to say that he does not truly understand what he is going to miss." He kisses my hand and departs, presumably to fill Selene in. And I turn to my girls with a smile.


    "Welp, nevermind." - I tell them - "My schedule is suddenly eminently clear. What do the two of you say to a lazy day on the roof? Snacks, lounging, great view and...." I pause and doublecheck, and yes, the hookah is still where I put it down and forgot about it - "And exotic relaxation."


    Of course, some of the aforementioned has to be prepared, so Bridgit insists on going to market (with eyespider supervision that I tactfully omit to mention) while I prepare some of the sweets with the help of Moon Unit. Busying about preparing foods and drinks lasts all three of us until almost midday, when we''re suddenly... ready.


    "But, how are we getting to the roof?" - Bridgit inquires only to gasp and flail as I suddenly snag both of them and the supplies and tentacle out of the window and onto the roof in one huge swing. "Oh gods WHY?!" - she yelps, while Moon Unit offers more subdued but no less heartfelt - "Whooa!!"


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Next five minutes the two of them berate me for terrifying them and "exposing" myself with that stunt. What I don''t tell them is that I already verified with eyespiders no one has the line of sight on us. So I just smile and tickle them while they rant. They notice and switch over to tickling me in return. Which leads to shaky tentacles and letting them go before I drop anything fragile. Which is when they notice the gazebo.


    "Was that always here?" - Bridgit asks curiously - "And how come I never saw it from the ground?"


    Moon Unit shakes her head - "No this is actually something new." She leans into the gazebo, looks around it for a moment, then pulls back and quirks her brow at me. "Alyssa." - she drawls - "Did you build a gazebo on the roof of Academy just to impress us?"


    "Among other things. I also thought it would be nice to have a secluded place to relax. And found out the other students use the roof intermittently as a place to hide out..." - I explain as I spread out the mats and pillows I have prepared beforehand for gazebo use. The hookah goes on the central table. "Does anyone have any objections to rose flavor?" - I quip, and both of them shake their heads.


    "Mistress, what is this? A censer?" - my maid asks curiously as I continue filling up and assembling hookah. Moon Unit finds herself a nice place within the gazebo and settles down, nabbing a meringue out of the snack basket. She apparently finds meringues to be incredibly appealing. Bridgit, meanwhile, is more fond of marzipan. Sitting down next to Moon Unit, I attach the hose to the hookah and take a long slow drag, letting the molasses vapor waft out of my nose and mouth into the air. Bridgit claps her hands. "Mistress, you''re like a dragon." - she quips excitedly.


    I lean over and offer her the mouthpiece - "Want to try?" It... goes moderately well, because after a cautious first drag, Bridgit gets cocky and tries to draw a lungful to imitate my dragon impression. Which leads to her coughing rings of smoky vapor in every direction. Thankfully, I manage to snatch the mouthpiece from her before she upsets the hookah. Moon Unit is much more cautious after that, and successfully manages to imitate my first attempt. Bridgit pouts at us. She is more successful on the second try, though neither of them is quite as interested in smoking as I am. Then again, sitting on the roof, puffing the hookah and spoiling wives with treats... Does one really need more to be happy?


    ___


    And I may have overdone it a little bit with relaxation, because I have two wives napping on me. Then again, I do have some comforters handy, and why not? I spread a couple of them over the girls and my own lower end, leaving only their heads poking out. Me, I have my hands and shoulders above the comforter line. Goodness. This is the life. And to underline that, I take a minute-long drag from the hookah. Puffing it out floods the whole gazebo roof with smoke, sending it curling out of the edges. And that''s when I hear double yelps from somewhere to the side.


    Two students show up in short order. Both of them on their third and last year in the Academy, if I remember right.


    "Oh... My apologies." - the guy offers quietly - "I have thought the gazebo caught on fire. Ah, but where are my manners. My name is Lincoln Cromwell, and this is my fianc¨¦e, the inimitable Cordelia LaCroix." His companion curtseys briefly. I wrack my mind. Cromwells are... viscount family from the southern coast, and LaCroix are holding adjacent barony. Makes sense why they''d be fianc¨¦es, but I''m guessing they''re also pretty happy with each other.


    "Do forgive me for not standing up, but..." - I glance at the heads on my sides meaningfully - "My name is Alyssa Gillespie. Would you like to sit with us? Plenty of space, and I could use a second opinion on some of my sweets."


    They notably perk up as I introduce myself. Cordelia much more so, however. "Lady Gillespie?" - she repeats - "Is it not your mother who invented eau fleurie du nord, perchance?"


    I briefly consider correcting them, but then decide that I don''t actually object to people thinking my mother is the one who invented the perfume. "Indeed. I take it you''re one of her happy customers?" - I return.


    "Oh, very much so." - she gushes - "It''s hard to notice here because of your censer, but I''m actually favoring lavender flavor. It''s just so relaxing..."


    And this is where I levitate a pair of meringues out in front of them. They''re... a little surprised. Then Lincoln slaps his forehead, leans to Cordelia and points at my sleeve.


    "Forgive me for asking, lady Gillespie, but are you really using just a facsimile to levitate objects?" - he asks a bit incredulously.


    "Yep. But there is a secret to it." - I tell him conspiratorially - "I''m using more than one at once."


    He blinks, stares, slaps his forehead again and generally looks like someone who just had a minor epiphany of the "why the hell didn''t I think of that?" type.


    Meanwhile, Cordelia takes notice of meringue floating in front of her in much more direct way. She takes it out of the air and takes a hefty bite out of it.... And pauses. And stares. And then wolfs it down as quickly as possible. "Lincoln, you HAVE to try it." - she demands, turning his attention to the one still floating in front of him. He snatches it, sniffs at it curiously, then takes a bite. His reaction is largely similar. He stares at it, then wolfs it down.


    "This had zukerrohr in it, right?" - he inquires - "And... some sort of... No, I don''t even know how does one make something like this. Is this a piece of a baked cloud?"


    He is more then a little flabbergasted at my explanation that this is nothing more then sugar and egg whites whipped into a cream. And I make a mental note to "invent" a magic-assisted eggbeater, because I have a feeling hand whisks are not going to cut it if I make meringue recipe available to the general public.


    "I guess that both of you found this treat appealing then?" - I inquire and get two enthusiastic nods in return. "Very well. How about this?" - I inquire, levitating a clump of marzipan for each of them. They snag the sweets out of the air, eager to try them out.

 Chapter 32. Busy Busy Busy BUSY Relaaaaaaaxing….

    I am, currently, being consoled by my lovely wives. And why do I need consoling? Well... I accidentally started a confectionery shop in the capital. It''s NOT my fault. Dad keeps sending more moneys, dwarves are clamoring for more ideas, ordinary peeps are all inquiring what else could be made/grown/crafted/built to make things even more profitable and oh gods why. Just... why. I thought I''ve been setting a breakneck pace, hell naw, apparently the world wants even more even faster! Dwarves, as it turned out, are churning batch after batch experimenting on steels and pattern-welding had allowed them to make decent use of pretty much anything they output. Low-carb steel? No probs, we''ll hammer it together with pig iron. High-carb steel? Cool beans. They even figured out several distinct patterns, rough chops to complex waves to a folding so fine it would take a magnifying lens to see the actual pattern without it merging into a weirdly shimmering gray surface.


    So I had a big old sit down, jotted down like fifty different varieties of cookware - whisks, pots, pans, spatulas, spoons, tongs, nutcrackers, knives, forks, pastry cutters, graters etc etc etc, and they went RUNNING with it. Also, the road to Parsee is finished as of two days ago, and they''re already showing off the three-day forging delivery. Goodness, people. According to the latest letter, there are seven waterwheel mills, two waterwheel rocksaws (they figured that one on their own, I didn''t even have to hint) and apparently the windmill plans have had been "leaked" to pretty much every single lord who has a border with our county and a good deal more throughout. I have given some BASIC ideas of aeolipile to explain the concept of a steam engine, and the last letter from them was "but what if we release steam into a bigger wheel?". Not quite the right track, but quite the right sentiment. The idea of rails is something they already know to an extent, so it''s only a matter of time before someone connects those two together and steam hits the pistons.


    Aaanyway, dwarves are going nuts with the metallurgy and technological progress and were it not for my worry about their society running out of housing for all the new people coming (As of the last census, Gillespie county has a population of three thousand seven hundred fifty two dwarves, including women and children, a thousand six hundreds eighty four of them - ablebodied men quarrying stone and building up a veritable city around the clock.) and things there are going at full burn. The king had made an official announcement that Gillespies are promoted to ducal status, with official celebration and jubilee to be held during winter holidays.


    And... well. I somehow missed one aspect of this society that I really should have had been aware of. Everyone''s magic depending on flowers means the arts of GROWING plants and fertilizing them are absolutely mindbogglingly advanced in comparison to everything else. Yes, they had the first major harvest of sugar beets. Already. And father decided that half of it (which, just so we''re clear, is SIX METRIC TONS of sugar) is my personal property to deal with as I see fit! The rest is going on sale, thankfully in small proportions, because dad doesn''t want to break the sugar market in one go. Something to the tune of a stone of sugar per week. Which, again, is about as much as the whole kingdom bought in a month.


    So... After having a bit of arglbargle in privacy (tentacle flailing may or may not have had been involved), I have had...


    A) Bought out a spacious office/warehouse/shopside that used to belong to Sultanate merchants that pulled out of the kingdom. (No, it''s just a coincidence, they pulled out in spring, it was not bees!)


    B) Had it renovated. As in, cleaned from top to bottom, checked for any problems and had all holes patched and all windows glassed up.


    C) Dropped "crazy gold", to quote the woodworkers, to have the furniture produced to specification post-haste.


    D) Hired twenty four people to maintain my new shop. Twelve cooks, eight sales clerks and four bouncers. Because fuck Klaus or Salaadin getting cute and trying to get back at me by setting shop on fire or something.


    I just came back from an exhaustive six-hour masterclass on how to make everything I want to be sold. There is a windmill being built into my shop to handle the flour needs, millstone currently cranked by a pair of donkeys. I''m now a registered member of the merchant guild, and apparently jumped straight to "shop-owning merchant" because that''s what I started with. (Guild has six ranks - artisan, peddler, caravaneer, shop-owner, franchise-owner and trading house owner. Ranking, respectively, from selling what you make to petty reselling to running caravan to having a permanent shop to having multiple permanent shops to running private bank on top of that all. I''m simplifying, commerce is actually pretty advanced and pretty bureaucratic, even in this world.)


    On the plus side. The shop is to open in the end of the week. The lineup currently includes meringues (new and cool thing, everyone who''s someone wants to get some), shortcake with assorted fruits (available as a mix or with specific fruit on demand), green tea cakes (because tea is a thing here and I like them so there), marzipan (with strict control over almond condition because I could do without anyone going down to cyanide poisoning), mead (Because why wouldn''t I sell alcohol?) and a bunch of other things including bread with chopped nuts baked in at commoner-affordable prices. The bigger shopfront is dipped in and cleared out to create a sort of half-outdoors cafe, while the smaller one is set up to be a more "common" bread and treats kind of store. Teaching prospective cooks to use the linear ovens was probably the most complicated part of it. They were... rather confused by a concept of an oven that permitted sequential batching. I had on more than one occasion remind them that YES, you put dough trays from ONE end, but retrieve baked dough from the OTHER.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Anyway, the mess had taken the better part of two weeks, and I''m right now eyeing the Caturday evening with weary eyes. And deep gratefulness about having wives to alleviate my bone-deep weariness. And I don''t even HAVE bones. That''s how hectic it was. Thankfully, this was the last thing I need to personally deal with. Until Ed gets well enough, which is tentatively slated for tomorrow. But FUUUCK that for now.


    Moon Unit shakes the vial over her hand, getting a bit of oil out and slowly smears it over my back, showing Bridgit the right way to rub it in. This wasn''t my idea, but goodness gracious, this is relaxing. I''m completely naked right now, for obvious reasons, and so are they. The bed under me is covered with a bit of "water repelling" tarp that I have made in my spare time out of a regular canvas and my leftover gum from an investigation onto sources of natural latex I''m still carrying out. It''s not considered particularly valuable or important (shortsighted morons), but I have had managed to entice some of the merchants going to Sultanate and Pharos to bring back the saplings and cuttings from trees with "sticky saps". Some specimen show promise, but they aren''t suited for the northern climate, so I had them planted in the backyard of our capital residence for now.


    Aaanyway, I''m getting oil massage from my lovely wives... and I''m still thinking about all sorts of products and trade agreements, gods damn it all. I need to amp down, or I''ll be taken over by shoggoth instincts. And that would suck in all the bad ways. I can sort of hear them whispering and giggling over my back while I''m yet again distracted by my musings, and what are you planning over there, ladies, ahhh? Oh... Oh, huh. That... is surprisingly pleasant. Four nipples against my skin are very effective at distracting me from the thoughts. And then each of them straddles one of my legs and ... nnngh... It''s just a backrub... It''s just a full-body rub. With their bodies. Naked. With oil... I... yeah, fuck it, this is sex, and I''m really being on the bottom today. I wonder what other plans do they have. Should be... relaaaaaaaaxing...


    ___


    Kissing those two, I smile at them. "What would I ever do without you, hmm?" - I muse, as I hold them close. Bridgit, while she is trying not to show it, is pretty tired herself, having had accompanied me in my mad dash across the capital''s commerce. Moon Unit is much more energetic, and right now it is very amply obvious, because Bridgit is snoozing against my shoulder softly, while Moon Unit is quite alert and talkative.


    "Are we having a sweets-only breakfast tomorrow?" - she quips, as she lazily toys with my hand - "You do remember that the first products are always to be offered to the owner, right? Every single kind?"


    I blink at her. "So... I''m going to have every single thing on the menu being delivered here in the morning, is that what you''re telling me?" - I''m feeling mentally sluggish right now, bite me.


    "A dozen of each, give or take, actually. Treats are usually offered by a dozen and all that." - she quips.


    "...Fair enough. Most of that stuff can keep for a week or two anyway, so we''ll just have nice desserts all the time and have more amorous fun to burn off the calories." - I decide.


    "What''s calories?" - she asks curiously. Oh. Um. Er.


    "Well... simply speaking, it is the measure of the energy a kind of food can give to you. For example, meat or sweets are high calories. Greens are low calories. Leafy greens like celery - very low calories. Water - no calories." - I try to explain - "It''s connected to a higher understanding of energy and could be used to draw a parallel between burning something, eating something and pushing something, but I''m honestly not sure where to even begin explaining without lots of paper and at least a couple of different books from the library to point out the references."


    She hums. "So... Some food has high energy and some food has low energy, right?" - she muses - "Would I be right in assuming that eating high-energy foods and not doing anything tiring will cause people to grow fat?"


    I kiss her nose with a smile - "Acute as always, love."


    She blushes and shakes her head - "Compared to you, I''m like a candle to a sun."


    "Not a fair comparison. I have a much deeper well of knowledge to draw upon." - I rebuke her - "Besides, you are learning things at a great rate. I daresay you''re the best scholar in this Academy, ability-wise."


    "What about sir Lamarchand?" - she ripostes - "He is pretty capable on those grounds."


    "Maybe, but I''m not sleeping with sir Lamarchand, am I?" - I tease her - "Jokes aside, dear, you have an advantage over him - you are not prone to losing yourself to your research. Lemand would pursue things well beyond the limits of rational. Or even beyond the limits of healthy curiosity. Which, besides the obvious dangers, can also hamper you by leading you on a scholar''s equivalent of a wild goose chase. In a dark room full of black cats. None of which is a goose."


    "That sounds... complicated, yes." - she admits - "At least he had calmed down after he was able to ask all those questions."


    I cringe. The day after the dream TV, Lemand approached me in the library and posed so many questions I thought I''d have to answer them till midnight. It thankfully wrapped up earlier than that, but he had, presumably, internalized that he is not doomed to open a portal to hell, that this is merely one of possible futures that just became that much less possible simply because he became aware of it and would do his level best to avoid going anywhere close to the ruin, as he termed it. I hope the lesson took well, because otherwise I might start doing something mentally invasive to Lemand to discourage him, and that is liable to cause complications. I really want to keep him active as a magic researcher, if it''s at all possible without risking opening up a door for things I really don''t want anywhere near my loved ones.


    "Here''s hoping he got the lesson downpat, yes." - I quip - "I''d hate to eat his head if he wasn''t."


    Moon Unit lets out a somewhat nervous giggle. "You wouldn''t..." - she begins, trails off and leans to look me in the eye - "...You totally would. Wouldn''t you?"


    I nod absentmindedly, and stroke Moon Unit''s head - "Not something I''d do casually, but yes. If it is absolutely necessary, I won''t hesitate to eliminate anyone who might threaten... this." She responds to kiss easily and gently, her worries about me eating heads apparently assuaged. Or at least, set aside for later.

 Chapter 33. Where Shoggoths Dare…

    I... am currently constructing a shelving. Emergency. Sweets-based emergency. I don''t have sufficient storage space in my room to place all the... Just... WHY. People. Why. OK, I get it, this is shaping up to be stupidly profitable. You''re excited. It''s a custom to bring the first product to the owner. But for crying out loud! Moon Unit is giggling at me, inbetween nibbling on a piece of shortcake and pointing out the places she thinks would be best for shelves that I''m fashioning out of leftovers from my tinkering. Pro - filigree metal and wood shelves are fancy enough to fit the room well. Con - I HAVE TO MAKE SHELVES.


    It is in the middle of this disaster Bridgit brings Selene in. Who takes one look and starts giggling. Traitors. I''m surrounded by traitors. Cute, cute traitors. So, in order to put an end to giggling, I distribute more shortcake around. Bridgit thankfully pitches in with putting stuff on the shelves, and then so do both others. "Leave what you find personally appealing on the table. Might as well have this for breakfast." - I grumble, as I leave a box of green tea cakes on the table to set an example. It... might have been foolhardy. So I hastily amend - "I mean, what you find personally appealing and intend to eat right now."


    "Sooo... what''s up with a sudden cornucopia of sweets?" - asks Selene as she hefts the box on the bottom shelf. Box that is full of shortcake. Must resist shortstack jokes.


    I sigh. "I accidentally a confectionery." - I tell her, and she stops. Turns. Stares.


    "You accidentally destroyed a confectionery and those are the remains of this?" - she quips incredulously - "Gosh, I knew you were a villain all along."


    I wave her facetiousness off as I lift the last of jars on the top shelf. "I accidentally found myself in possession of enough sugar that opening a confectionery seemed like a good idea." - I tell her.


    "Wait, what? How much sugar are we talking here? Also, what do you mean, opening a confectionery? When are you going to attend lectures then? Or is it going to be an afternoon-only thing?" - she interrupts... And I suddenly understand she has a problem comprehending the scale of what I did.


    "Right. In order, how much sugar? Six tons and a bit. More to come. When I say opening a confectionery I mean that I bought out a storefront with attached warehouses and offices facing Merchant Square of the bazaar, refurbished it to meet my sensibilities and hired two dozen people to make the things you see all around yourself and sell them there. I also bought out a smaller storefront on the opposite side of the warehouse facing People Square. The one facing Merchant Square is set up as a cafe and takeout shop rolled in one, they also serve tea and juice and whatnot to make the sweets go down easier. The one facing People Square is essentially a bakery shop." - I explain to her, and her face slowly elongates with my explanation.


    "So... What you''re telling me is that you now own your personal bakery and shop and cafe attached to it?" - she inquires incredulously - "And this all is going to be available to buy at the market every day from now on?"


    I have only one thing to answer with. So I put the green tea cake into her mouth, and nod while she sputters indignantly - "Yes, indeed." And then I pick up two more cakes and turn to my wives. Who are genre savvy and already wait for me with their mouths open. Good girls.


    ___


    "I''ll say it again. There''s cheating, there''s blatant cheating, and there''s you." - Selene fumes - "I can''t believe you can just... casually open a shop."


    I bop her forehead lightly - "Ok, first of all. There is nothing casual about it. I worked my ass off for two weeks non-stop making it happen. And that is after you take into account I can afford to throw money at each problem until it goes away. Yes, there were so many things to throw money at. Second, I am now a registered shop-owning merchant in the guild, which came with its own load of headaches. Finally, third - now that I am an established, registered merchant, I can in all seriousness walk up to your foster dad and ask if he wants to be hired to build and run ships for me."


    Selene perks up - "Oh, about that. I actually had sent him a letter a while ago, he wrote back recently. He''s being hedgy, but thinks they can hear you out at the very least. So, yeah, they''re open to negotiations."


    I nod at her and look out of the window. We''re just about to ride into the castle. Alistair came by with a carriage to pick us up, as Ed was finally deemed ready to talk. So, we''re going in. Strictly speaking, I think he expected I would go alone, but I insisted on bringing Selene with me as the other involved party. Al was... eh. Suffice to say, his expression was of the ''I understand why you want this and can''t mount a decent objection, but it''s going to be fucking awkward for us'' kind.


    The atmosphere in the castle, however... Something just happened. Something bad. So I nudge Al and he proceeds inwards briskly, clearing the path for me and Selene. And here we go... Holy fucking shit, is that Constantine? What is going in? Fine, whatever. I grab Selene and make my way over to the gaggle. "Healers are here, make way!" - I shout at the servants and practically throw Selene at Constantine. She thankfully quickly figures the situation out and hits him with a healing spell, prompting a collective sigh of relief. Nudging Selene towards the wounded guards, I lean over the second prince - "What is going on? Who attacked you, are they still in the castle?"


    He does not seem like he wants to answer at first (I barely know Constantine, as a second prince he is being the go-to person to send out for diplomatic missions and rarely is present in the country, let alone the capital.), but then notices Alistair nodding. "Well, lady... actually, what is your name? I do not believe we have been introduced." - he offers, and I fight the urge to facepalm. Really, Constantine? REALLY? Now is the best time for that?


    "Alyssa Gillespie. Ed''s fianc¨¦e until recently. Who attacked and why? Are they still here? Between me and Al, we can add some oomph to counterattack and Selene can heal people." - I tell him curtly, and his eyes snap open.


    "Oh. Right. Eh, sorry. I''m more than a bit discombobulated by that... I think the attackers were from Sultanate, they definitely spoke in oijan. I don''t think they even recognized me, they seemed intent on going after my sister... OH. OH! Sir McGregor! I think my sister is targeted for kidnapping! Can you aid?" - goodness, he''s all over the place. Concussion?


    "Selene, you stay with them and heal them as best as you can, alright? I think prince Constantine is concussed, he is certainly not thinking clearly." - I say, and she nods to me briefly before turning back to another wounded - "Al, with me. We''re going in hot." He opens his mouth to say something, snaps it shut, and pulls out a sword from one of the dead guards. Good idea, Al. He barely manages to keep up with me as I run deeper into the castle. On the way in, we see several more wounded and people aiding them, and Al pauses briefly to direct them to Selene. I run ahead, where I can still hear shouts. Aaand... Oh dear. There''s at least a dozen of sultanate batal and a mage, who are fended off by about twice as many guards and there''s Abraham himself behind the guards. Fine. I conjure Bec de Corbin again. Unfamiliar weapons are best for dealing with experienced fencers. And then I leap over the guards at a run, clearing their heads by a respectable meter, sail over the batal and land on their sole supporting mage heels first. The crunch his skull makes on impact with the floor tells me very clearly he just checked out of the fight for good.


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    I do not think they were prepared to deal with someone on full war footing. I mean, guards were taken unawares and barely had time to group up, much less cast the reinforcing spells. Me, I had the whole suite going on as I run in, and I can sustain much more and at a much higher amplitude. To give an example, I''m currently going at thirty two times the time factor. To me, everyone else is moving like they''re stuck in molasses. And my own body and strength reinforcements permit me much faster movement than that. The nearest batal does not even have time to do more than tilt his head my way as I swing the hammerhead at his temple... And probably I shouldn''t do this quite as hard, as his head just bursts like a melon under the sledgehammer, splashing his comrades across the faces with blood and brain matter. Speaking of which... The trajectory of my hammer lines up and I thrust it, sinking the spike on top into the neck of the next guy. He is probably quite perplexed why he can''t feel the rest of his body right now, and why does he have a steel spike sticking out of his mouth.


    The less I say about the rest of slaughter the better. Suffice to say, batal were not ready to deal with an enemy much faster than they to suddenly attack them from the back, nor were they trained to deal with polearms. Not to mention guards had quickly grasped the situation and denied batal as much of a chance to disengage as they could. Three frantic minutes later, and I''m standing in front of Abraham, who is fuming. My hammer is very literally dripping with blood, and there''s a good deal more of it all over my dress. Not a... cozy look. Nope.


    "Lady Gillespie." - he rasps - "My thanks for the aid. If only you were here five minutes ago...."


    "What happened?" - I ask. Entirely logical, I think.


    "That bastard Abbas had abducted Lily-Anne." - he retorts - "Gods bedamned sand jackals."


    "They couldn''t have gotten far, you know." - I have to keep calm. Keep CALM.


    "They had a mage... move them to Sultanate." - he admits - "Nasty magic, it kills the mage who casts it."


    Well. Fuck. Wait. I just injured one mage here. Although I cracked his skull, it''s not certain he is already dead. Maybe I can... I turn around and grab the mage out of the bodypile. I was right, he is still alive. Barely, but that is more than enough for me. I put my hand over his eyes, and just to be a memeing little bitch, say "Embrace eternity!" before sticking tentacles into his brain through eye cavities. And... there it is, the teleportation spell. I force the guy to teleport across the room, which kills him, obviously, but also gives me more than enough data on how the hell does this work. And I can pull it off. Not flawlessly, but I can.


    "Lady Gillespie, what did you do!?" - Abe yelps, more than a little surprised.


    "Ah. Well... I do not know how to teleport." - I offer to him - "DID not know. But I do know how to hijack someone''s mind. So I hijacked his, forced him through casting teleport and learned what he did and how. Coincidentally, they are barmy idiots. It is possible to teleport without killing the mage casting it, but they never figured out how. It''s preposterous just how overcomplicated the spell is for something it actually does. Take me to the spot where they disappeared, I''m going after Lily-Anne. Can''t take anyone along, I''m afraid, it''s going to be hard enough to teleport back here with her alone."


    He jerks. Starts to object. Falters. Grabs my shoulders. "Are you confident you can do this?" - he asks intently - "Are you sure and certain?"


    "Leave it to me, your highness." - I tell him - "Sir McGregor is scouting the castle for wounded right now, lady Selene is in the main hall healing. Prince Constantine has been wounded by the intruders, but he is already attended to. I''m not sure about everyone else, take me to the spot and search the castle then. I''m pretty sure Abbas only had himself and Lily-Anne transported, so the rest of the Sultanate ambassadors should be still here. Grab them, make them turn on that gem of theirs they use to talk to Sultan. I imagine he has a few things to say to you."


    He clenches his jaws and gestures abruptly - "Alright, men. Ten of you - to the ambassadorial quarters. Have all of them brought to the main hall, by force if necessary. You four, with me. The rest, split into pairs and search all the halls and rooms for hostiles and wounded. And... dead. If any of you find sir Pasteur, escort him to the main hall if he is able to move, carry him there if he is wounded or worse. We need all the healing expertise we can get right now. Oh, if you stumble upon squire McGregor or any other squires, send them to the main hall if they need healing, fold them into a searching group otherwise. No one is to go anywhere alone, we might have more of those sons of jackal-humping whores sequestered around the castle."


    He turns to me, and motions me to follow. Oh, wow. Abe must be really pissed to swear like this. Then again, his daughter just got kidnapped, and that''s after he declared he is not a party to this to begin with. Abbas, why. Why are you such a moron? Were you dropped on your head when you were little?


    The spot, when we reach it, is almost indescript. Just a part of the corridor outside of Lily-Anne''s rooms. But the traces? Oh, the area was literally saturated with dimensional magics. A vapor trail under the fabric of reality, stretching towards south. Something I could easily follow. "Ready, your highness. But, and this is important. I need this part of the corridor blocked off when I cast, and it should be blocked off until I return. Anyone who tries to look will be immediately defiled, and in these circumstances? I''m pretty sure most would go insane on the spot and try to claw their eyes out to unsee what they have seen. This is going to be one of the most dangerous ways to become defiled, and mage sacrifice is, in a large part, dedicated to suppressing precisely that. Stupid on their part, what''s wrong with simply ensuring no one is looking when you cast?" - I explain, as I factor the trail into my mental mathemagics.


    "Won''t it drive you insane then?" - Abe objects reasonably.


    "Don''t worry about that. I''m already as defiled as it can possibly be." - I toss back, and I almost see a lightbulb going on above his head as he instantly jumps to wrong conclusions as to how the hell I am such a powerful mage. I wait for them to clear out, concentrate and... And... AAAAND!..... BWOING.


    And I manifest in the courtyard, in front of at least a hundred of assorted servants and guards. All unarmed, because I fucked the Sultanate pretty badly. And, what is much more complicated, I manifest without any form. Or, more precisely, I can not maintain my form, I''m literally roiling. The joys of 360 degree vision - seeing as sanity flees from over a hundred pairs of eyes in practically the same moment. Welp. I guess I can not help them, but I suppose I can at least give their insanity some kind of... not so harmful direction. Besides that, I am angry. I''m volcanically angry. The conflicting emotions smash into each other and coalesce into a singular earth-rattling ROAR.


    ¡°K???????????????????????????N???????????????????????E?????????????????????E?????????????L????????????????????????!???????????¡°

 Chapter 34. Strolling Through The Sultan’s Palace Picking Up Some Souvenirs

    Well... shit. While I do my level best to squish myself back into human shape, it goes roughly. Teleporting is dimensional magic, it fucks with shoggothness on a very basic level. Nothing harmful to me, but I suspect the more I lug along, the longer it will take for me to wrest my shape back into Euclidian norms. The courtyard is... Eh. Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Ok, so... Everyone''s nuts. But because I used the moment of disbelief to shout a command, everyone''s stuck on this. Therefore, everyone''s kneeling and starting at the floor. Can I... No, there is no good way to fix them. Ok, so... what do I do about this? Just leave it for Sultan to be horrified by? Meh. Salaadin is an ass and I don''t mind traumatizing him, but he is not his country, and those peeps are not anywhere near decisions-making... Most of them. This guy and that guy and that guy and this? Likely nobles doing something in the court, given the quality of clothes and adornments. Right, so... what do? Fuck it, let''s issue a proclamation. They''re in a receptive mood.


    YOU-THIS-SPECIFIC-INDIVIDUAL-PERSONHOOD, OBSERVE/REJOICE/RECORD THE BEAUTY/INTRICACY/ORDER OF THIS-SPECIFIC-REALITY-SLICE-NOW. APPRECIATE/PRAISE/ACCEPT THE POTENTIAL-CARETAKERS-OF-YOU-THIS-SPECIFIC. WORK/CONTRIBUTE/ASSIST YOU-THIS-COLLECTIVE-SOCIETY IN MAINTENANCE/SUSTENANCE/SYSTEMATIZATION/PROGRESS.


    "<dfn title="We hear and obey, great enlightener.">Nahn nasmae wanatie ''ayuha almustanir aleazim.</dfn>" - a chorus of people answers back. I guess they got the message...


    There. They''re still going to be fucked up cultists, because of course they would turn out to be cultists, but they should be cheerful hippie-like cultists who make somewhat disturbing art and grow a lot of veggies. I hope. Now, if I were a kidnapping asshole, where would I take the kidnapped princess... Ah, right. In the direction where the roof is highest. Proceed... Hm. Maybe a bit of extra intimidation?


    So I reshape a little. Swap the dress out for "plate armor", keep the polearm, upscale, grow... yeah, two and a half meters is good, let''s leave the legs as they are, humanoid shape... hm. Nice, but... oh, yes. Ten eyes. Suck it, dumbasses. I can have eyes. You can have trauma. ALL the TRAUMA. ALL OF IT. MUAHAHAHAHAAA! Ok, note to self. Engaging in crazy cackling is therapeutic, but scares the shit out of everyone around when you have the volume advantage. Therefore, MUUUUAAAAHAHAAHAAHAAHAA! Better, better.


    The corridors ahead of me are deserted. I suppose no one wants to deal with whatever it is they got in rebuke while being unable to fight properly... OOh, what''s that shiny door? And there are even two guards at it? Two fainted guards, but... The dudes are kinda fat? How? Oh, they''re eunuchs. Very interesting. So... Oh gah, I was both right and wrong. Lily-Anne was here just now, I can smell her on the air, along with Abbas stinking things up, but they left through... there. So this is the sultan''s seraglio? Looks like a women''s dorm. If dorms had rooms without doors. They''re not big on letting women have privacy here, eh... Most of them, I hear, are huddling in the furthest nook... And there is some kind of struggle going on. So I poke in.


    "Let her go. I will break the faces of everyone still holding her on the count of three. With my hammer." - I tell them, lifting Bec de Corbin threateningly - "One. Two. Three." And this time, they''re proving themselves smarter than your average guy by letting the target of their scuffle go and scuttling back against the walls as far as they can. This is... huh. Just my luck.


    "Take me with you, please!" - she says, lifting herself from the floor. Well, well, well. I guess Sultan had Roxolane for a bit longer than the game implied.


    "<dfn title="...utter fool, that''s a demon! Gods know what will happen to you!?">...''ayuha al''ahmaq almutlaq , hdha shytan! ''alaa taerif madha sayahduth lak!?</dfn>" - hisses one of the older women. I suppose she has a point, and might even think she was trying to do Roxolane a kindness... But she''s not. I can see that this early, Roxolane is still defiant. Already quite beaten, but still willing to push back against Sultan with all she has. Good, good. The game version was... destroyed. Pretty face, empty heart, vicious mind. This one might be more intact. So... I lift her.


    "<dfn title="Devil will be better than your old master!">Sayakun alshaytan ''afdal min saydik bidun ''aqdamin!</dfn>" - she retorts hotly, as she takes my hand and hoists herself up. Whoa, they really did a number on her trying to make her be quiet.


    "I suggest you stay here." - I tell the remainder - "I''m neither merciful nor particularly observant when it comes to enemy belongings." They must have had someone other than Roxolane who understands albish, right? Eh, not my problem.


    OK, so... unexpected rescue target - got. Proceeding to intended rescue target now. I continue following the scent trail, absentmindedly slapping a generic heal on Roxolane. "That should let you keep up with me for now." - I tell her as she stares at the golden glow in befuddlement - "Don''t fall back."


    "You''re not a demon, are you?" - she asks, hurrying to keep up with my pace - "No demon could possibly use light magic."


    "My name is Alyssa Gillespie, and I am a noble of Champagne kingdom." - I tell her, as we cross the opulent, sizeable and very empty rooms one by one - "Sultan had our princess kidnapped earlier today, and I am here to get her back. And to hammer in the point that Champagne does not negotiate with hostage takers." I twirl the hammer in my hand to make an emphasis.


    "OOh... You must be a powerful mage to do this." - she comments, and I can practically see the stars in her eyes. Fangirl, get? "I''m... Roxolane. Please, take me with you when you go back to Champagne. I have family in Kraina, they will reward you well for bringing me out of this gods-forsaken slavery pit."


    "Don''t fall back, in that case." - I suggest.


    The scent is getting stronger. And so are the shouts from behind that door up ahead. The one with two guards at it, ones who are pale and shaking but still try to bar me from going in. I smack one of them away with the haft of my polearm. Owie. The bad thing is he has a broken hip. The good thing is, he''s well out of the way and not going to be a problem anymore. Other tries to tackle me in the meanwhile and is backhanded across the corridor for his troubles. OOh, that''s gotta smart. That''s... one, two, three, four... five teeth on the floor. Dude. I''m sorry, but the fuck you expected trying to wrestle someone twice your size and armored up the wazoo? Anyway, he''s no longer in the mood to fight. Or be awake. Concussion, hello-o.


    "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?" - and that scream is unmistakably Salaadin. And it is followed by... ooh, Abbas is getting his life education via face slaps. Man, that''s a good sign you really really really screwed the pooch. And the poodle. And tried to get cozy with husky afterward. "Champagne king had declared his neutrality on the matter, it was between us and the witch! And you just dragged him in on the witch''s side!" - he shouts, dispensing another slap - "Now we will have to contend with privateer raids all over our western coastline, and mark my words, Krauts will not be far behind in joining in! And all of it because you just had to get the royal family involved! Get out of my sight, Abbas! I have to settle this issue now, and I can not even give the girl back, because you have already given an open offense! If you had the wits to do this quietly at least, we could have claimed she came to us of their own free will! Now, even if I give her back safe and sound, we''re still facing war with Champagne, and they have THE WITCH! Do you want to see how much worse she can get? This is not an ordinary woman, Abbas, she should have died from exhaustion casting this, and she didn''t even stumble!"


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    This is nice, but why Salaadin is yelling at Abbas in albish? He is putting up a show for someone, but for whom? My money is on Abe. I''m sure Salaadin had already sussed out Abe had seized the communications gem and is putting up a show in front of his copy to get Abe to think this was not sanctioned. Actually, it might be Abbas acting on his own and fucking up. Ok, let''s bust this party. I step back and kick the doors, ripping the inner bar off the brackets and sending the doors flying open, slamming into the walls. Of course, while I am doing this, my primary focus is where the rest of the people are. This room is pretty well sealed, because there are knives on the table and there''s a sword and I can see some spears being grabbed... None of that, please. Since I''m going for shock and awe, I resort to one of the flashier spells and fry the overly enterprising bodyguard with lightning. And Salaadin runs out of the side door immediately, a couple guards dragging Abbas after him. I think the dragging was simply due to Abbas losing control over his lower extremities, rather than any arrest or the like. He certainly pissed himself. The remaining four toughs are scrambling for knives, obviously intending to try and hostage Lily-Anne, who is also here. Which is why all four die the moment they reach either the table or Lily-Anne via judiciously applied lightning.


    And... I did not think it through with my awe and reverence form. Fine, whatever. It''s not like the self-transformation is entirely unknown, just considered overly complicated to maintain in the heat of battle. Thankfully, I kept my face the same, other than two rows of eyes down my cheeks. Lily-Anne is staring at me with wide eyes. "Alyssa, is that you?" - she croaks. Right, let''s get those... the fuck, people. Who the hell ties girls up like this? She''s going to have bruises at least.


    "Hello, princess. Heard you''re in trouble, thought I''d lend a hand." - I quip at her, lifting her up on my shoulder. She''s not going to be walking anywhere for now, dumbasses had tied her knees together so hard she probably doesn''t feel her ankles. Roxolane makes herself useful by sidling up next to me and rubbing Lily-Anne''s legs while I quickly take stock of what''s available. The comms gem... no, it''s grafted to the postament and bespelled, it''ll take me a good couple hours to get it off without collapsing the ceiling on our heads. Anything else...No. The side door? I send the eyespiders out discreetly, and there was a stairway right down to stables there. They had a carriage prepared. Well, Salaadin is not a fool, he obviously made preparations to escape. Makes me wonder if it''s a consistent arrangement, or he sanctioned Abbas to do that idiocy and prepared a way just in case. Weird and weirder.


    We troop out in good order, Lily-Anne perched on my shoulder, Roxolane sticking up close. Now let''s get back to the courtyard. I''m not used to teleportation just yet, better avoid any additional complications in casting it. Funny, but the way back seems way shorter. Maybe because I don''t bother checking out the detours and instead head directly for my... oh. Huh. Who''s that.


    "Wait!" - well, that''s curious. Who''s blocking the courtyard doorway?


    "Out of my way, girl." - I rumble at her, keeping my advance steady. Someone exceptionally magical or simply a dumb girl trying to play hero?


    "I''m not blocking you, I want to go with you!" - she yelps, jumping back and aside, falling in step on the other side of me.


    Roxolane gasps. "This is sheikha Rafiqa." - she whispers to me. Huh. Interesting.


    "And why does Sultan''s daughter want to run away from Sultanate, hmm?" - I quip.


    "Why does a bird want to leave the gilded cage, <dfn title="wizard">sahir</dfn>?" - Rafiqa tosses back - "I have seen my fates here, and all of them lead to me being beholden to men thrice my own age, passed around like an adornment to buy favors." She lifts her hand, and I see she is toting a sack which... seems heavy. "I am not without means, and I will not be a burden. Take me away from here, and I will pay you well."


    "Keep your gems." - I tell her and she stumbles, blinking at me. Come on, it''s obvious. What can a girl like her get? Coinage? Hah, no, her daddums won''t let her have a single coin. Because money is independence. But jewelry? That she has in excess, because of course Sultan''s daughter is not to go anywhere unadorned. "Rather, find me enough clean fabric to make three blindfolds, and you can come." Much to her favor, she does not even blink an eye, as she steps into one of the many rooms we pass by and catches up with three towels of decent size. "Good job. Keep one, pass the other two over to Roxolane and Lily-Anne. All of you must put blindfolds on when I say so and keep them on while we are transitioning. The teleportation is hazardous to see, you might go insane from peering from beyond the world."


    "I understand why you would come for your princess, <dfn title="wizard">sahir</dfn>, but why are you taking Roxolane?" - she muses - "My father will not forgive such a face slap."


    I lean to look her in the eye. "She made the same request as you. For much the same reasons." - I tell Rafiqa and she frowns, then casts a commiserating look in Roxolane''s direction - "...I suppose that''s fair. Do you serve lady Gillespie? I heard my father ranting about her, if there is anyone able to defy him, that would be her."


    "Honey, I AM lady Gillespie." - I tell her and she stumbles again, staring at me in confusion. And then we clear out to the courtyard and they see the kneeling masses. Who had, in my absence, proceeded to chanting... And are now doing a surprisingly well-matched chorus. I''m not sure what they''re singing, but given the expressions on the Oijan-fluent part of my party, it''s something they didn''t expect to see.


    "What happened to them?" - Roxolane asks, looking around fearfully - "They are singing about the ... joy and horror of feast amongst the plague..."


    "They did not wear blindfolds when I teleported in." - I tell them simply, and I can see (and feel) three synchronized shudders. Setting Lily-Anne down (And I''m thankful she can stand now), I smush back down to my usual human form, ignoring the intrigued and spooked glances from all three and say -"Blindfolds on, ladies.", as I start spinning up the appropriate spells.


    BWOOOOOOOING.


    Fucking OW. Teleporting with three girls is HARD! And the... Shit, shit shit shit shit! I won''t be able to tamp my self down to form without inherent sanity damage! I grab for the girls... but it is stupidly hard to control roiling tentacles, and the only one I manage to prevent from pulling the blindfold off is Rafiqa. Other two... glimpse. I thankfully manage to pull their blindfolds down quickly enough, but they definitely saw me. And speaking of seeing things... I shout down the corridor - "We''re back, but the area is hazardous! Don''t try to come here without blindfolds until I settle things down!" There. Now I won''t worry about... No, I will. Because Abe is making his way here, with a scarf wrapped around his head. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. I... Sort of nudge Lily-Anne towards him and do my level best not to trip them up with tentacles as they do an incredibly awkward game of "Marco Polo" with each other''s names, finally finding each other in the middle of a corridor. Yeah, well... Lily-Anne could really do with father''s hug right now, I wager.


    NNngh. OK, it took me fifteen minutes to stop roiling this time. Unpleasant. Annoying. The blindfolds are taken off, there''s Al and Selene, and I think we''re going to be postponing the talk, as Selene starts to fuss around the three girls as a healer should, and Alistair reports that all the wounded are accounted for and all the dead are collected and placed in the courtyard for identification and last rites. Mission fucking complete.

 Chapter 35. A Horde Of Girls

    How did that happen? No, seriously, how... Why... Just... I don''t even... Argh. Ok, so...


    Aggravation A. Talk with Ed is postponed yet again. Because castle needs to be settled down, blood washed off and things neatened up. One would think that this is a great time to kick Ed out back to the dorms, but no.


    Aggravation B. Somehow I am in charge of my rescuees. I could understand fobbing of Roxolane and Rafiqa on me, somewhat. They''re here because of my initiative, it stands to reason I''d be the first one to bother on their account. But in the name of all that is sane, why oh why did Abraham ask me to look after Lily-Anne as well? I... feel there is some sort of influence on Lily-Anne''s part. We always got along well, and after today, I can sort of understand why she''d want me around. What I do not get is how in the name of all that is sane did she talk Abraham into agreeing. I''ve been expecting him to put Lily-Anne deep into the castle and assign a dozen bodyguards or something like this... Though, come to think of it, he DID ask to make it low-key, the carriage is nice but not one with royal crest that''s usually prepared for the king''s family, and... Hrm. Maybe he''s onto something - anyone who expects Lily-Anne to be in the castle certainly wouldn''t be poking through the academy. Oh, Selene and Alistair are going back with us.


    "Al, what''s going on?" - I quip at him as we squish together on one seat, three girls on the opposite being in various stages of wary-tired - "Why his highness wants to send princess out, but neither of the princes? What is up with this?"


    He winces. "Actually, Edward was supposed to come with us, but he had rather reasonably pointed out that it''s going to be crowded in the carriage as is, and that he needs to leave the castle in the official royal carriage, as he arrived on one. After all, he is expected to be in Academy. As for prince Constantine, he had already left. I''m not sure where, I think he wants to keep that secret to recuperate in peace and quiet." - he explains - "Honestly, I thought I''d return with him tomorrow, but he insisted I accompany as a protector."


    I quirk a brow at him and he snorts - "Edward hasn''t seen your last exploits, he still thinks you''re more of a duelist than combatant. Speaking of which. Might we spar when you have free time? I am very curious as to how to handle the weapon you''ve been using. What is it, by the way? It looks like a pike and a hammer had a baby and it grew up to be rowdy."


    "Bec de Corbin. It''s more popular in Pharos and Confederacy than around here, it''s been designed to breach plate armor, after all." - I explain, and he makes a complicated face.


    "I look forward to learning more about this. Any other exotic weapons you have had encountered, perchance? Also, how come you never mentioned anything of the sort before?" - he pouts at me, and I blink. Goodness, Al, what''s this?


    "I''ll see what I can do, but no promises, Al. I have my hands full here, as you can well see." - I tell him, gesturing around, and he acknowledges my point with a nod.


    Right. Let''s... settle some things.


    "Ladies. A moment of attention." - I clap my hands, and girls perk up, looking at me - "OK, so. For reasons assorted and numerous, we''re all going to be bunking at the student dorms. Alistair has a letter to the dean from the king that explains the situation, so the cooperation we will have. Now is a good time to tell me what kind of accommodations do you prefer. I can talk to dame Apricotte to have you placed into individual rooms, or we can get a bigger room if you don''t feel comfortable sleeping alone, or... yeah, well. We have a whole day to decide and work things out to suit everyone the best. Roxolane and Rafiqa... I''ll do my level best to get you on the level the Academy currently is, if you want to join the roll. Lily-Anne, you get to decide if you want me to tutor you ahead the same way or you''d rather wait a year as it was originally intended. His highness permitted you to decide this on your own. So... If you have any ideas, let''s hear it."


    Rafiqa raises her hand - "Can I get my own room? I... never had one, properly. Father wouldn''t permit me to ''seclude'' myself without at least one of his wives nearby." That''s fair enough. Her departure had been the least traumatic, so she''ll probably be fine. And I can understand wanting something you never had.


    So, I nod. "Fair enough. We''ll get you one of the unoccupied rooms. There should be some basic furniture available, but if you need something specific, make a note of it and tell me, I''ll take you to the bazaar to look at what''s available." - I offer to her, and she beams - "I can go to the bazaar? Just... go?"


    "Well, I''d prefer if you don''t go alone to begin with, you don''t know the city." - I explain - "But later on, once you learn where things are, sure, you can take a walk at your own leisure." Aaand she promptly begins to illuminate the carriage. Goodness. Some people need so little to be happy.


    Lily-Anne perks up next. "Can I bunk with you, actually?" - she asks me. Well... awkward. Then again, maybe for a few days, until Abraham wants her back in the castle...


    And right before I can answer, Roxolane adds her own opinion. "...Can I also?" - she mutters - "I... don''t feel safe on my own."


    Well. Shit. Alright. Hm. "...Alright. Let''s assume so, provisionally, but!" - I tell them - "We will get a room near mine and set it up for you two, in case hanging out in my own rooms will turn out to be too cramped for all of us. Keep in mind that I have a maid that lives with me, and a close friend next door who spends a lot of time in my rooms as well."


    Lily-Anne bumps my ankle with her foot. "Close friend, huh? Alistair told me you live next door to prince Hohenzollern. Just how, pray tell, did you end up close friends with this distinguished gentleman, ah?" - she quips - "Last I checked, you were betrothed to my brother, you know."


    "While he is indeed a fine gentleman, I am talking about someone else who lives on the other side of my rooms. And before you start teasing me more, it''s a girl. And she''s an elf. You might have heard about the temple recognizing Lady Lux a couple weeks ago. That''s her. Oh, yes, her name is Moon Unit. Yes, that''s the name. Two words, one name." - I explain, and the princess valiantly struggles to swallow her giggles as I explain the name. She''s... mostly successful.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ___


    Dean Ambercrombe had wisely decided that dame Apricotte can handle all of it, if that is the king''s will. He looks healthier, while we''re at it. Not healthy, just yet, but obviously beginning to gain some weight back, if his cheeks are of any indication. He''s... probably going to end up having the same kind of complicated feeling about me as the neighbors from my last life. They seemingly could never decide if they want to say "good day" or "fuck you" each time we met in the lobby, too.


    Dame Apricotte, as usual, had shown her unflappable aplomb and resourcefulness. For Rafiqa, she had opened a room next door to Hiram''s. It had a bed and dresser and table as I checked it, and Bridgit could handle the small bits like bedsheets and such. In fact, that was the first task I had for her - procuring bedding and nightclothes suitable for everyone. Rafiqa herself asked to be allowed to enter the room alone, shut the door behind her and... Hm. OK, squealing about having your own room is a little odd, but I suppose that''s par for the course for her. For Lily-Anne and Roxolane... I initially wanted to have an extra room just for two of them, but Moon Unit volunteered to have them sleep over at hers, if needed. Oh, dame Apricotte was shown the hidden door, examined it, and made a note that the suites in question are not to be assigned to students of opposite gender henceforth. I honestly expected her to request I restore the things as they were at least when I leave the academy, but apparently she has something in mind for this. Oh well, not complaining here.


    Lily-Anne is treating the whole thing like a sleepover party. She''s bouncing on my bed right now, and generally acts half her age. Which I am understanding about, because she had preciously little opportunity to do that, and after today''s morning, she deserves to be a kid for a while. Roxolane worries me though. She obviously wanted out of Sultanate, but I don''t think she quite understood the depth of change she''s courting. So she''s now sitting quietly in the corner and trying to be unobtrusive. Rafiqa is still poking around the room given to her, Bridgit (and Selene, who volunteered to help her) is out, and Moon Unit is shifting her things around to make space for an extra bed in case either of our guests needs to sleep out of main bed. I think they''re in for a shock, because I have no intention of hiding from them that I keep Moon Unit and Bridgit in the same bed. Wonder how they''ll react. Thankfully, I built with plenty of allowance in mind, so even if no one''s chickening out, my bed is sufficient for five. Not much more than that, though.


    Alright. Time to do something. Hopefully, something to engage Roxolane. I set the pot on. Today, we''re going to have tea. I''m pretty sure I do not need any hyperactive girls around today. And Lily-Anne is well into hyperactivity even without coffee to begin with. "Roxolane, Lily-Anne, here''s something you might want to consider." - I suggest - "You might want to decide on a shortened name for yourselves. People often want to shorten complicated or multiword names, and if you don''t suggest your shortening, they might come up with their own. For example, a couple girls tried to call Moon Unit simply Unit. It.. was not the best idea, honestly speaking, but she had since then decided that Moon is an acceptable shorthand. Bridgit doesn''t need shortening, usually, but little children usually call her Bree."


    They are.. considering the implications. "I.. think I wouldn''t mind if people called me Roxy." - Roxolane offers first - "My mom called me Roxy." Fair enough. I slide a green tea cake towards her, and after a bit of confusion she grasps that it''s for her and gingerly takes it. Lily-Anne, on the other hand, is being mischievous.


    "Sooo, what do the little kids call you?" - she quips, as she rolls over on her back and looks at me upside down.


    "Usually? Mistress." - I tell her blandly - "Besides, I''m not even sure how do you shorten Alyssa further. Aly? Lyssa? Doesn''t make sense to me, to be honest. Cake, princess?"


    She rolls off the bed... and ends up falling on all fours on the floor. "Ow! Your bed is much lower than what I''m used to." - she complains - "Much bigger, though. Way bigger. I''ve never seen such a big bed for just one person before."


    I shrug and hold the cake out for her, waiting for Lily-Anne to get up and get it - "Well, it''s not just for me. Bridgit sleeps here too. Sometimes Moon Unit as well, if we stay up too late and she falls asleep before realizing it''s time to turn in."


    Lily-Anne grabs the cake and bites into it. Makes a surprised face. "What''s that?" - she asks curiously - "What''s that green stuff inside?"


    "Green tea and sugar, more or less." - I explain to her - "Wait till all the girls get back. There will be much more sweets."


    She swallows the rest of the cake, and pokes my shoulder - "Why do you have so many sweets? And why do I see so many ones I never tried?"


    I blink at her. "You mean, you never found out? I opened a confectionery. All of those sweets are sold on the bazaar from now on." - I tell her and she squeals and starts batting at me. Why?


    "YOU ARE THE OWNER OF ''SWEET DREAM''?" - she shouts - "Why didn''t you tell me before! Everyone''s dying to know who was the genius behind the shop."


    Tired of being batted, I execute a countermaneuver and pull a squirming giggling girl on my lap instead. "Shush. I had no idea anyone cared. It''s been a very intensely busy two weeks for me. Just ask Bridgit if you don''t believe me." - I tell her. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Roxolane watching the events intently. She''s sporting a light blush and is... feeling a little envious, I''m guessing. Maybe? I''ve been wrong at guessing face expressions before.


    "Right. While we are at it, here is a question for you two. Feel adventurous enough to try sleeping on my bed, or should we make preparations to have you sleep in the adjacent rooms? No pressure either way, mind. Just thought you''d want to decide sooner than later to make sure everything''s prepared." - I quip. Roxolane, I can see, tenses up. Lily-Anne is oblivious. And baps me again.


    "Of course I''m sleeping with you." - she tosses back easily - "Why did you think I pestered dad to let me come?"


    Spoiled sweet princess is spoiled sweet, gotcha. I turn to look at Roxolane. "How about you, Roxy? Yes, no, need more time to decide?" - I quip. She fidgets. "I can decide?" - she finally offers, then snaps back - "I mean, of course I can decide. I just.. have to decide."


    "Alright, we''ll chalk this as maybe so far." - I tell her - "For now, dinner awaits. Well, as soon as Bridgit and Selene are back. I''d rather feed all of the horde at once, if I can help it."


    "Horde?" - Lily-Anne muses - "There''s... one, two, three, four, five, six, seven... oh my gods, you''re right! We''re a horde of girls!"


    "I''d like to think we''re more civilized than that." - Rafiqa quips from the door, as she enters the room - "My deepest gratitude, lady Gi..." She trails off at my nonplussed stare, sighs and musters on - "Alyssa. I am supremely happy right now. Would it be possible to borrow some of your time or maybe your maid to show me around? I''d like to have some idea of where the bazaar can be found and I am curious about the guilds..."


    I chuckle. "I might be able to swing something, yes. But for now, come on in and make yourself comfortable. We''re having dinner as soon as Bridgit and Selene come back." - I explain as I lift Lily-Anne off my lap, and stand up. "I''m going to do some kitchen magic right now, so be careful. The pan is going to be hot."


    "What pan?" - Lily-Anne begins only to cut herself off as I conjure a pair of pans that I use to bake pizza and start stuffing them with the necessary ingredients. I am deeply thankful that I asked Bridgit to prepare dough last evening, otherwise, I''d have to think up some kind of different treat.

 Interlude 3. Klaus Is Untrained In Pistol Skill

    It galled Klaus to admit it, but he couldn''t find anything worthwhile from the twelve papers. Oh, he still had them, but what relevance they had to lady Gillespie? No idea. No idea at all. His hunch about Oireland Butcher did not pan out. His name was not Frank. His name was not anything, actually, because, as his investigation found out, he was born deformed and his family refused to give him a name. Or education. Or anything, really. Instead, they kept him in a cellar room his entire life until he escaped upon reaching seventeen. When his people found the Butcher''s lair, they were shocked to find out his speech was like that of five years old. Given that the wildling was also a cannibal, the leader of investigating group had made a decision to put him down out of mercy. He reviewed Anne-Marie''s report and found himself in full agreement with frau Geldstein''s decision. That sorry bastard was best off in the afterlife, whichever it might be for him.


    Still, that left him without any clues. So, out of other options, he resorted to scrying spell again, hoping to gain something else that would give him an insight on the twelve mysteries and their connection to the woman in the center of it all. The result... was more than a little disconcerting. What he got back was a... cylinder, of sorts, with a ring on top and a small tube sticking out just under it. Made out of unknown white material, which felt simultaneously soft and hard to the touch. The only clue the cylinder had was a mysterious PS20 written on the side. Fiddling with the strange artifact, he had noticed that the thing actually fits pretty snugly into his hand, if he were to put his index finger into the ring and hold the rest in his palm. Some kind of fist weight out of strange wood? No, too light. So what is it for......


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    And this is where Klaus squeezed a little too hard. The inner part of the ring suddenly depressed, the tube between his fingers heated up and the artifact had belched out a ball of green fire, which slammed into the chair in front of his table and exploded, sending the chair flying against the wall and setting it and a good portion of floor on fire. For a moment, Klaus just sat there in shock. Then he dropped the artifact on the table, hopped up and hollered for water, grabbing for the jug in the alcove to at least start putting the fire out.


    Half an hour later, he was sitting in his study again, trying not to pay any attention to the new chair or the blackened circle on the floor, and fiddled with the strange weapon. Try as he might, it would not shoot the ball again, and he was quickly coming to the conclusion this must be simply one of the one-shot fire enchantments, just in odd form. The color of flame was strange, but he had to admire the practical shape of the device. It actually permitted one to cast the spell pretty accurately, simply by the virtue of only allowing one to grasp the thing in one specific way. The material intrigued him as well, but on further consideration, it became obvious that it was simply an odd bone. The bevy of identification spells he levied on the device had given back the "dead flesh of ancient beasts, alchemically treated", if he were to interpret the spell results into specific words.


    Maybe lady Gillespie had discovered some ancient bones that are particularly suited for enchantment? The blast was pretty strong, and the color of flame... Curious, very curious. Klaus had made a note for his field agents to be wary of any green fires and delved back into reports. While the mystery of lady Gillespie was in many ways the most intriguing problem he had, the rest of the world also needed some attention from the spymaster every now and then.

 Chapter 36. In Which I Talk A Lot

    In the end, I bake four pizzas before Bridgit and Selene are back. And they''re back with a veritable army (I jest. A platoon, at most.) of servants carrying additional linens, toiletries, clothes and who knows what else. I have a sinking suspicion Bridgit took it as an opportunity to really stock up on things I don''t pay much attention to. I did give her... How much it was again?... I think a little bit over two hundred gold. Just in case. This is more than enough to buy out most of the farmer''s square. Or one booth in the merchant square, heh. And... Selene is munching on a whole loaf of walnut bread.


    "Appreciatin'' the shop, oh most benevolent and wise one." - she offers, giving me a bow. I''m pretty sure she''s jesting. "You didn''t tell me you also opened a separate storefront for commoners." - she continues - "Really good bread there, by the way. You sure don''t do things by half, do you?"


    Sighing, I go to fetch Moon Unit. She''s just reading on her bed. Huh. Wonder why she didn''t come back if she''s done here. So I close the door behind myself, and lean over to kiss her forehead. "Hey. Dinner''s hot, so let''s go eat." - I offer to her . She looks up and frowns. "Can we talk first?" - she asks softly. Darn. That sounds... complicated. So I take a seat. "Yes?"


    "Are they going to be your wives too?" - she asks me. Direct much, Moon Unit? I shrug.


    "I do not know." - I tell her simply - "Moon Unit, understand me right. I do not choose wives. I present myself in the best light and let them choose me. If either of them finds me attractive enough and proves herself to be willing to get along with you and Bridgit, I''ll consider it. If not... then not."


    She tilts her head. "But... you have a princess now. Won''t she outweigh a commoner and a maid?" - she asks, fidgeting nervously.


    "Irrelevant. If the princess can not be at peace with my maid and my scholar, then I don''t want the princess, simple as that." - I tell her - "Look. I understand this is going against social expectations. And you have rational doubts about it. This is fine. This is reasonable. I really don''t have any better reassurance than to kiss you and say yet again that you''re not going to be pushed away from me, by the princess or anyone else."


    She still looks dubious, but leans closer. Damn. I really, really, really do not want her or Bridgit to just assume they''re going to be discarded and start acting on it. So I lean in and kiss her. I suppose I could be forgiven for not paying attention to much of anything else when the door swings open again. Gah. And, of course, it''s Roxolane. Who blushes up a storm, stammers something vaguely apologetic and backpedals so hard I think there are skidmarks on the floor now. Oh well. I suppose there are worse ways to break the news. So I stand up, help Moon Unit up (who is blushing hard, but is smiling now) and go back to my room. Where Roxolane had stuffed herself into the furthest corner behind the table and gives the best impression of ¡®I walked in on my parents having sex, please pretend I don''t exist¡¯ embarrassment. Lily-Anne is trying to figure out what is going on, Bridgit is facepalming, and Selene and Rafiqa are observing the situation with notable entertainment.


    "What did you do?" - Lily-Anne jumps into the fray, grabbing my elbows and staring at me with a comically serious expression - "Why''s Roxy acting so weird? Were you doing some..... eeeeelven thing?" She says the last two words in ''eeeeeeeerie'' whisper, which is... just stupidly cute on her. Childish, but cute.


    I sigh. Rub my forehead. "Something like this." - I tell her then, as I turn to Bridgit and lean in, kissing her soundly. Lily-Anne SQUAWKS and retreats back behind the table, her face color quickly matching Roxolane''s. Selene guffaws, while Rafiqa dons an expression that could be called flabbergasted in the same way a tsunami could be called a wave. Wrapping my arms around my waifus, I face the remainder of the horde firmly - "I''m in a relationship with those two, and I was feeling like reaffirming it. Coming home with three more girls in tow did cause a bit of mixed signal here, so..."


    Silence descends on the room, interspersed only with Selene valiantly fighting her laughing fit down. Rafiqa finally closes her mouth and grins strangely. "I... have heard about this but never seen it with my own eyes." - she admits - "And I hope you''re not offended, but I''m not interested in... that kind of relationship. I desire someone all to myself."


    "Entirely understandable." - I tell her - "You are your own person, and certainly can make your own decisions regarding whom you court, and whom you want to be courted by."


    She sighs a little and smiles - "Thank you. The liberties northern women have... It''s simply mindboggling. If anyone ever told my father he picked a fight with a woman who has her own harem, he would probably have a stroke."


    I wince. "Well, Rafiqa, I would appreciate if you make a distinction. I might have a harem, maybe. But I would NEVER resort to force or coercion to fill it up." - I tell her, some of my conviction on the topic coloring the words - "I do not see the numbers as something to achieve. I merely count my blessings and appreciate I have my girls to love me."


    She seems to be... more than a little befuddled by this. But also notably impressed. And this is where Lily-Anne butts in. "So... Can anyone else join?" - she asks. Holy fuck, Lily-Anne, why. You''re supposed to be mildly embarrassed and pretend it never happened. Not ask for admissions. Selene gives her thumbs up and a grin that makes me want to stuff more bread into her mouth to shut her up.


    I sigh. "Lily-Anne..." - I continue, feeling both Moon Unit and Bridgit tense up. Of course things would come straight to fucking head off the get-go, what the fuck is my life, even. "Fine. Here are three conditions one must fulfill. Condition one. I must like you. If I don''t like you, you''re not going to be in a relationship with me, period. Condition two. You must like me. If you don''t like me, why would you ever want to be in a relationship with me? Don''t answer that, rhetorical question. Don''t like gold-diggers, don''t care for political marriages. Condition three. You must get along with girls I''ve already claimed. I will not have a torn home. Everyone must accept and like each other in order for addition to be successful. And no, I will not consider... ''exchanges''." I hug my girls closer. "Once you are a part of my family, the only way to leave is by your own volition. I will SHELTER, PROTECT AND TREASURE those I love, this I am certain of."


    Oh. Shit. Conviction impressed. HARD, if the faces around me are of any indication. I wonder if I can dupe them into assuming it''s simply a magical outburst coming out of deep-seated conviction... AAAnd they all give a collective shake (save for Moon Unit and Bridgit, of course, who are much more used to me), and go back to the conversation like nothing had happened.


    "Is this what the marriage is like in the north? Because I think I like that idea." - Rafiqa quips - "To love and be loved... This is incredible."


    I can see Roxolane being... conflicted. Lily-Anne is, rather obviously, aiming to insert herself, and I''m... not sure what will come out of it. I think I should be keeping a close eye on her and temper her attempts not to alienate my waifus. What to do with Roxy, however? She is obviously liking the "love and be loved" idea, but is fearful of anything that revolves around the harem concept.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    "Um..." - she ventures softly - "Won''t we be, um... in the way if we sleep here?"


    I snort - "Not really. Selene had slept with us before, she can confirm nothing untoward happens. I might kiss Moon Unit and Bridgit good night, that''s about it."


    Selene helpfully pitches in - "Yeah, totes fine. Besides, sleeping in a cuddle pile is like... the safest feeling ever. I''m tempted to invite myself for another sleepover, buuut you already have your hands full right now, aincha?" And she winks at me. And worse yet, Lily-Anne also winks at me. The fuck, people. What am I going to do, cook chocolate pudding at four in the morning?


    ___


    Pizza. The greatest distraction. They didn''t pay attention much when I was making it, but that is mainly due to Roxolane trying to be invisible while Lily-Anne and Rafiqa compared notes on being a princess. Rafiqa had come a distant second, by the way. The difference in treatment is stupefying from bits and bobs I overheard. Lily-Anne was brought up like a proper princess. Education, etiquette, physical conditioning, the works. In comparison, Rafiqa had been drilled HARD on "woman-appropriate" topics and left completely ignorant on anything else. And her own physical exercise all revolved around looking sexually appealing. Which means I have my work cut out with her. Lily-Anne, in comparison, would probably need at most a refresher on some of the purely magical disciplines. Roxolane is... inbetween. She had a pretty broad education back in Kraina, but Confederacy is not quite on the level of Champagne, so she has a bit of work to do to catch up properly.


    Back to our muttons... Pizza. They also didn''t pay attention because I conjured a new pan for each one. Now, as I crack them open? Everyone starts sniffing the air. Selene, Moon Unit and Bridgit are already grinning in anticipation. The other three are confused and trying to figure out what is that they''re smelling, and why is it so good. Thankfully, a lot more foods are eaten with fingers in Sultanate, so it''s not a hard sell for them... Lily-Anne, however, requires a bit of an example and a clean rag to wipe her fingers on, just in case. And then they all bite in (after appropriate warning about cheese, of course, I might be a monster, but I''m not monstrous) and now they''re making... noises. For fuck''s sake, people, it''s just pizza. It''s not baked orgasms.


    Fine, fine, I''m just... grouchy. Calming down. Dinner actually goes really well. Bringing out tea and sweets after pizza is done with brings the mood up all the way to joyous. Even Roxolane is defrosting. A little. While the girls are giggling and swapping stories about me (Goodness, why. Why me? Why not yourselves?), she pulls me aside with an indication she wants to have a conversation.


    "Yes?" - I quip to her - "What''s on your mind?"


    "Why are you doing this for me?" - she asks - "I can understand why you''re looking after Rafiqa, she''s sheikha of Sultanate, runaway or not. But I''m just..."


    I bap her forehead lightly. "You''re a girl who needs help." - I explain to her - "You, if I understand your situation right, did not volunteer to marry Sultan, did you? No, you were abducted from your home. Why wouldn''t I help?"


    She tries again. "But I have nothing to offer... I thought you''d just take me to Champagne and then I''d find myself a job at a caravan or something and make my way home... somehow." - she trails off, as the enormity of the path ahead dawns on her. She''d need to get over the mountains separating Champagne and Kraut, cross Kraut, then pass through several likely hostile Confederate states before she would enter her own country. That''s a long journey. And traveling by sea, while easier, is very liable to put her back in contact with Sultanate again, which she desperately does not want.


    "Let me tell you about my plans a little." - I offer - "You see, I want to take Thousand Isles from Sultanate. I have cursed the entirety of the country, making it very hard for them to maintain any army or train any mages, and I have more in mind, if needs be. In the end, I intend to break Salaadin, to make him come to me on his knees and offer up a part of his country to spare the rest of it. His son, Abbas, had offended me greatly, and Salaadin had the utter gall to tell me he will decide whom I am to marry after I beat the champion of Abbas into the ground in a duel. So, yes. I want to, and I have the means to destroy their pride. To take away the unthinking arrogance he has in considering himself the most powerful man in the world."


    ...Is it making her... excited? Good grief, it is. She is getting aroused listening to me venting my bile about Sultan''s follies. Time to amp it down a little, I really don''t want to embarrass her. "So..." - I continue - "My options regarding you are as follows. Primo, I can give you enough money to hire a group of mercenaries to escort you home. Good mercenaries, the kind that put their reputation ahead of their greed or loins. Though, I don''t know your current situation at home. For example, I don''t know if the rest of your family survived the raid. Or if they still live where they used to be. So, in the worst case, you will end up back at your home country, but alone and with limited funds. Secundo, you can stay with my court, so to speak. I''ll pay to have you enrolled in this Academy and personally tutor you to make sure you meet the grade. The course here will take three years normally. By the end of this time, I expect to be officially in control of Thousand Isles. One more year to revitalize the shipbuilding and inject some investments into local merchants, put down more cava and other cash crops, and I will be ready to visit any country at Mittelzea. Including, yes, Kraina. Which is when you can come with me and visit your country as a powerful and valued associate of a wealthy trading house who will establish trade agreements and generally command respect and assistance from locals. The first way will take about a year traveling, give or take, because mountains are hard to traverse and moving through Confederacy is unpredictable. The second way will take a better part of five years, but in return you will reenter your country with your future very well assured. Pick which is more preferable to you, and I''ll make it happen."


    She looks up meekly. "But... what do you get out of this?" - she asks.


    "Well... In the first case? Admittedly, not much. Maybe a friendly face once I put my plans into action and visit Kraina five years from now in search of trading partners. If your family survived, if you found them, and if they are wealthy enough, then I might even have a favorable local partner. And if not wealthy enough, well, at the very least you would be able to vouch for me that I won''t cheat people. In the second, much more. Mainly, because if I invest in your education, I will also employ you once you graduate. I''m not sure what is going to be your strong points yet. Maybe you''re good with magic. Maybe you''re good with numbers. Maybe you''re good with people. I can find a use for anyone, and I can be pretty certain you will work hard to ensure your own future." - I explain to her.


    Roxolane sighs. Steels herself visibly for a ''big question'' - "Will I... be required to join your harem if I want the second way?"


    "Required, no." - I deny - "Getting into a relationship with me and my wives is wholly separate from this. And yes, I expect anyone wanting in to be on close and amiable terms with everyone in my family. I want a harmonious household. Should you ever come to want this, we will discuss this separately. And if it does not appeal to you, we simply won''t touch the topic anymore. Regardless of which way it goes, my offer about education and employment is on the table. All I ask from you is honest work in making your own future. With or without me in your life."


    "And if I make something of myself? Why wouldn''t you want to get a firmer hand if I am worth something in the end?" - she objects. Getting a little heated here, Roxy?


    I laugh. "Let me tell you how I ended up with two girls." - I begin - "Bridgit, I actually grew up with. My father took her in as a maid apprentice when she was nine, and she was basically growing up next to me as my maid. Moon Unit, I have met in this Academy a few days before the term started. I was a bit starstruck about striking up a friendship with an elf. But, and I want you to pay good attention here... I did NOT expect either of them to want to be mine. I was making some tentative plans to maybe court Moon Unit at some point, and did my best to avoid even thinking about Bridgit that way because I was afraid she''ll assume it''s either this or being let go. And then, one beautiful day, I walked in on them. Naked on my bed. Asking me to come and play with them to my heart''s content. Turns out they were talking behind my back, found out each other likes me like this, and conspired to get me together, since they didn''t want to hurt each other." I sigh and smile. That was really nice. Ah, fond memories.


    "So... I did not pick my harem. My harem picked me."

 Chapter 37. Alyssa Gillespie, The Wingwoman Extraordinaire

    Things settle down after dinner, as Bridgit and Moon Unit start helping the other three to settle in. Selene initially pitches in too, but bows out soon enough, citing the necessity to keep abreast of her homework. Me? I''ve been excluded from domestic chores by popular vote, much to my displeasure. So instead, I elect to spend my time more proactively, and go knock on the next door neighbor''s door. Since our last meeting, Hiram apparently left some specific instructions about me, because as soon as his manservant saw me, he invited me inside and asked me to have a seat while he would go and fetch Hiram.


    Hiram himself glances at me warily, but sketches a shallow bow and kisses my hand like a gentleman he is. "Lady Gillespie." - he offers - "I hope this visit is going to be less jarring than your last one."


    "Don''t worry. No heads in the sack this time." - I tell him blithely, making him flinch a bit.


    "I have heard about your recent... trouble with Sultanate." - he proffers - "And your solution to it. Honestly, I''m not sure if I should congratulate you on handing them such a vast blow or just stare in horrified awe. Cursing the whole country at once? One big enough to look down on the rest of us? Father''s court is abuzz with rumors and worries about you. I''ve been getting missives to establish friendly connections with you almost on daily basis. Some go further and suggest I attempt a courtship... Which, frankly, I think is a very foolhardy idea, given you''re already engaged to prince Edward. So. What brings you to my door today?"


    "Ah. Well, first of all, call me Alyssa. I do find you a pleasant company, and I''m sure your father''s court would be well pleased if you were to report you have had advanced our friendship to first name basis, if nothing else." - I tell him - "Don''t hold your breath on the courting, though. You''re a fine man, an exemplar of a noble and gentleman, if I am to be honest, but my tastes lie elsewhere."


    He nods sagely. "I did not want to presume, but given how often you are seen with ladies Lux and Selene, and how little attention you pay to Edward..." - he proffers with a wan smile - "I do have a feeling that Katherine might have better luck with courting you then I will. And yes, call me Hiram. I daresay we can find common topics with ease. And... unofficially, thank you for putting a decisive end to this foolishness Klaus attempted."


    "Much obliged, Hiram." - I agree - "Now, second. It''s not urgent, but I thought you might want to run the idea by your father and get his opinion on the matter. As you know, I am congregating dwarves in father''s county... well, duchy, now. They have had reached the level of production where I feel comfortable offering Kraut kingdom an option to purchase ripple steel, should you want to. Not much, so far, they are still building up the smelters and forges to ramp up the production, but I daresay we should be able to manage some spearheads and arrows. Maybe some of the less war-oriented wares too."


    He grins - "Well, that''s certainly of interest to my nation. I will pass the word to my father. Should his representatives contact you or your father, though?"


    "My father. I have already discussed the matter with him and he had achieved his highness permission to supply you. I should warn you, however, that until the production picks up sufficiently, king Abraham had imposed a limit of five quintals on the total weight of ripple steel to be exported to Kraut. Hopefully, by the winter we shall surpass the gross quintals he set as a goal for domestic production, and all the excess could be traded freely. Until then, Kraut kingdom gets the consideration as our close ally and neighbor, and the rest of countries will have to bargain with king Abraham himself, if they want any." - I explain to him. He frowns at first, then does some mental math and doubletakes.


    "Wait, five QUINTALS? As in, five thousand livres?" - he asks incredulously - "And the goal is gross quintals which you expect to reach within this year?..."


    He shakes his head at my nod, and sighs - "Just when I thought you can not surprise me with anything anymore. Very well. I will have to notify his highness king Cullen about this, obviously, and if he confirms the terms you have outlined, your father can expect emissaries from our nation as expeditiously as possible."


    "Speaking of expeditious, this is another matter I wanted to discuss with you." - I tell him, and he snaps up at attention - "By the end of the autumn, the tar road should reach Ashenvale. If Kraut kingdom is amenable to this, I would like to extend the road through the Ashenvale to your kingdom. We are prepared to offer the technology for constructing the roads to Kraut kingdom in exchange for your cooperation and help in reestablishing a viable highway through the Ashenvale. I''ve been asked to propose the idea to you, as due to... certain political considerations it would be best for everyone involved if Kraut kingdom reaches out with initiative first. As far as I can fathom, I think king Abraham does not want to appear as one dictating terms to your nation."


    "Done and done." - he answers immediately - "I shall appraise my father with all due haste. Making land trade route available for caravans again had been a concern for our country for quite some time, and if Champagne is prepared to cooperate on this matter, we certainly are. What of the dwarves, though. Will they be resettling Ashenvale?"


    "Not immediately. It is in consideration, but you have to admit, with the current state of the valley, it would be a long endeavor. Ash is not a good foundation for a home. It does, however, have certain applications in construction, and if my experiments pan out, then yes. Dwarves might reestablish some presence in Ashenvale. Some, mind you. They are getting settled in pretty firmly in the northern part of the mountains and we do not plan to dislodge them even if Ashenvale regains some of its appeal. We do hold high hopes for them eventually repopulating enough to establish their settlements throughout the northern part of the mountains, but this is obviously not something that can happen overnight or even overyear. In half a century, maybe." - I explain, and he nods.


    "Entirely understandable. Still this is very good news. We had feared that dwarves had reached their dusk as a race... That is, until you had given them a new dawn." - he admits - "Thank you for doing that, by the way. The world would be poorer for their passing."


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    I nod - "It would. Well, that covers the topics I wanted to discuss with you as a prince. I have one favor I want to ask of you as a gentleman, though."


    He blinks. "I''m listening, Alyssa, but I make no promises until I find out what is that you want." - he offers cautiously.


    "Last day, emir Abbas had attempted to abduct princess Lily-Anne to exert a pressure on king Abraham and make him ''reign me in''. A foolhardy attempt, as you might well guess." - I explain, and he squares his jaw, frowning - "I have had rescued her, and, in the process, I ended up taking two more girls from Sultan''s castle."


    "Wait, wait, hold up. How did you manage to reach his castle and return in a single day? It''s two months by the sea at favorable winds both ways." - he objects.


    "Well... I''m sure you''ve heard of a spell Sultanate has for instant travel. I''ve caught one of their mages during the kidnapping attempt, pried the spell from his mind and adjusted it to be less demanding. My version does not require of mage to sacrifice themselves in exchange for briefly making the departure and arrival points hazardous to be in without blindfolds." - I tell him and see his jaw fall open in shock.


    "Are... you telling me that you also possess a way to just appear anywhere you desire?" - he demands incredulously.


    "Not quite. I have to be either familiar with the place, scry it somehow beforehand, or have a fresh spelltrail to follow. In this case, it was the latter. Sultanate had one of their mages sacrifice themselves to get Lily-Anne to the Sultan''s castle, I followed the trail and... yeah. Unfortunately, Salaadin and Abbas had fled before I could reach them, but I was able to recover Lily-Anne, and..." - I pause, and sigh - "I have ended up taking one of Salaadin''s wives and his daughter. No, not as hostages, both of them had very good reason to want to flee the Sultanate. Roxolane was abducted and forced into Sultan''s harem against her will, and Rafiqa... Well, let''s just say that Sultan''s daughters are usually treated as prizes to hand out to particularly loyal and valuable beys. Rafiqa found it disagreeable to be given like an adornment to a man thrice her own age, and I don''t see any fault with that logic."


    He swallows. "Good thing Klaus wasn''t married." - he jokes feebly - "Goodness gracious, you don''t do things by half, do you? Alright, so what is that you need me for as a gentleman?"


    "Rafiqa has... low opinion of southern men. Justified, I have to admit. She is eager to find out how northern gentlemen are, and I couldn''t think of a better person than you to show the sheikha of Sultanate around our fine city. No pressure, Hiram. I do not demand you cater to her every whim or something. Just take her out to see the city when you have time. I think you''ll find she''s pleasant enough company. Obviously, I''ll introduce both of you first." - I explain to him, and he slowly nods.


    "So... your request, to sum it up, is simply to introduce me to the sole princess of Sultanate, and be a gentleman to her?" - he quips - "That is far less onerous than I was fearing. Sure, I would like to meet her and accompany her a time or two to the city, if she finds my company acceptable."


    "Hiram, she''s used to men treating her like a piece of jewelry. Trust me, she won''t find your countenance lacking in any way." - I reassure him - "Mind if I go fetch her to do the introductions?"


    He scuffs the back of his head lightly - "...Very well. Give me a few minutes to arrange for some refreshments, though. There are certain expectations to formal introductions."


    Nodding, I stand up, and he follows, kissing my hand again. "I''ll see you in a few, then." - I tell him and leave to take a stock of the situation. I have had the foresight to suggest the girls handle Rafiqa''s room first on the grounds that it will clear up a lot of elbow space with our rooms. It seems they have had done so and left Rafiqa in her own room to settle in. I take a peek into my own rooms, note the lively bustle and step out of it to let them work in peace. Rafiqa answers the door quickly, once I knock.


    "Yes, who is... Oh. Alyssa. What I can help you with?"- she asks politely, taking a step back to invite me in. I peek into the room.


    "Nice. I see you asked for Champagne fashions?" - I ask her, and she nods.


    "I had quite enough of Sultanate." - she offers back tersely, her face mellowing as she continues - "And some of those things are just fascinating. The hot plate, for example, I have never seen anything like this before. To think, you can have your tea warmed on demand. So convenient."


    "Good, good. Now, I wanted to ask if you want to be introduced to your neighbor next door." - I offer to her.


    Rafiqa fidgets, but then straightens up with a look of resolve. "Yes, I should get acquainted with more people. I''ve been sequestered long enough." - she offers, trying to sound braver than she feels. Poor girl.


    Hiram''s manservant ushers us in, obviously prepared, because he does not even ask what the purpose of my revisit is. Inside, Hiram is already at the table, and on seeing Rafiqa he beams and comes over. Hands are kissed (Rafiqa is immediately blushing. I am guessing she''s been barred from seeing any males period during her upbringing.), and Hiram bids us to sit.


    "Well, let me introduce you to each other. Hiram, this is sheikha Rafiqa bint Salaadin, the runaway princess of Sultanate. Rafiqa, this is kronprinz Hiram Hohenzollern, the firstborn of king Alphonze Hohenzollern of Kraut kingdom." - I offer, and she stares at me in barely suppressed panic.


    Hiram is much more comfortable. "Charmed." - he offers with an easy smile - "If I remember the naming conventions of Sultanate right, I should call you lady Rafiqa, correct? Lady Gillespie had asked of me to meet with you, and I must say, I am quite glad she did. Neither of us has any expectations of you beyond merely making acquaintances, but I am hoping you will permit me to accompany you to the city sometime to show you around. Lady Gillespie confided to me that you had preciously little positive experiences of men, and I would like to prove to you that gallantry is not an empty word in the north."


    I lean to Rafiqa, and whisper to her - "This does not constitute for any obligations on your part. Hiram is a consummate gentleman and I could scarcely think of a better person to show you the difference in treatment you can expect from men in Champagne and Kraut kingdoms. You are entirely free to accept, postpone or refuse his invitation, and no one would think less of you regardless of which you elect."


    She gulps, but visibly steels herself to answer - "Lord Hohenzollern, I am honored to meet you, and I am looking forward to visiting the city with you sometime. I would ask of you to give me a few days to settle in and get used to my surroundings, however."


    "Ah, call me Hiram. No need to stand on ceremony, we''re not talking politics here." - he replies - "And of course. I understand that the circumstances of your departure from your homeland were less than pleasant, so I could hardly expect of you to jump into social caucus on the very first day. Instead, if you are amenable, would you like to accompany me to the People Square next Sunday? I hear there will be a traveling troupe giving a performance that day, it should prove to be entertaining."


    She nods, blushing - "I''d be delighted to, then."

 Chapter 38. After The Longest Day

    As much as I''d love to just leave Rafiqa with Hiram, it would be too much too soon. So after making a bit more of smalltalk and politely sipping tea, we bow out. I can tell Rafiqa needs time to process the situation, so I nudge her back to her own room and extract a distracted promise to visit for supper in the evening. I make a mental note to show Rafiqa some of the cosmetic options that would underline the subtle Cleopatra looks she has going on. Then I make a further mental note to invent the missing cosmetics, because it suddenly hits my mind that available methods of toning include such wonderful things as lead and antimony.


    Back to our muttons. Now that basic necessities are sorted out and everyone is more or less settled in, there is something I need to address. Namely, the topic of education. Rafiqa... Yeah. She''s going to be a concentrated effort, and I might try to conscript Hiram to help out, if things pan out. One on one study sessions are a good way to foster some... dating interest. Though, I would need to see how Hiram handles the tutoring first. He might be not apt at teaching others, in which case it''s going to be less of a bonding and more of alienating. Not exactly a desired outcome.


    Lily-Anne is on the other end of the spectrum. In fact, I have a suspicion she can already handle the Academy load and might in fact aid me in bringing Roxolane and Rafiqa up to speed. Roxy, though? This is what we''re going to settle. So, I visit my rooms, collect Roxolane and Lily-Anne and take them out to the gardens to see how well they grasp the basics of magic.


    "Right." - I begin - "First thing. Put those on." And I hand them sets of faux-sleeves with some flowers on them, continuing - "Facsimile casting is often looked down on because it is inherently weaker than using live flowers. However, it also has a bevy of advantages that nobles often overlook. Namely, facsimiles don''t wilt, nor do they break if handled a little roughly. So, put those on, and make sure you have those on at all times. Having some access to magic all the time is going to do wonders to your safety and comfort."


    They put the sleeves on, though not without some fumbling. Roxolane frowns at them thoughtfully. "You know, my family used to wear embroidered clothes all the time, but father never said anything about facsimile casting." - she muses - "Is it really.. well, useful?"


    I lift my hand and let the fingertips ignite, sending both girls reeling back. "I would have to say... yes." - I drawl - "It is a common mistake, and until recently, we had a dueling tutor in this very academy who prescribed to same notions. Of course, he was also a fool who lost a training duel against me ignobly and tried to demand apologies over it." I pause and shake my head - "And while normally beating the stuffing out of your teacher is indeed something to apologize for, in this particular case? Well, one has to ask - is tutoring by a man who was beaten in his own subject by a student really worth it? He had utterly neglected the utility of reinforcement spells, electing to extol the ''glories'' of casting overpowered flashy ones that take way too much time to set up and call for a verbal formula to enact. Which, in a fight, is a horrible idea. Why would you want to warn your enemy about the exact way you intend to attack them in? To let them counter you in the most effective way, if not outright dodge and stab you in the side while you''re busy with your grand showing?"


    I chuckle bitterly - "I mean, honestly. Who would want to learn how to duel from a man who is defeated by a kick to the face?" Lily-Anne snickers. "Oh, I heard about that one. Hardlock''s been trying to petition father to ''remonstrate the disrespectful bumpkins'', to quote. I don''t think dad cared much for his tone." - she offers gleefully - "Did you really kick him in the face?"


    "Ask Alistair, if you don''t believe me. He saw it with his own eyes." - I retort - "Anyway, let''s see. Do you both know the basic channeling? Try and show me the exercise. Channel through the sleeves. Air, water, earth, fire, light, darkness in that order. If something does not come well, skip it, and go with the next one. Ok, on the count of three, channel some air."


    It takes them a couple tries to properly work it out. Lily-Anne, in particular, keeps trying to grab the sleeve with other hand. The consequences of being trained exclusively on live flowers, I''m guessing. Still, they both manage on the third try.


    "I... think it actually works better now." - Roxy mutters, as she keeps the simple breeze going - "I remember getting tired doing this, but right now..." Water makes the issue more obvious. The exercise is very basic, just cup your hand, channel water and there will be a bit of water in your hand. Only this time both of them have their arms soaked down to the elbow. Yelps and frantic shaking off ensue.


    "What''s going on?" - Lily-Anne demands - "Why am I suddenly so much stronger?"


    Well. Darn. "You mean it''s not obvious yet?" - I shake my head - "Both of you pulled your blindfolds off way too soon. You''re right now in the initial stages of defilement."


    OOh, that got a nice startled reaction. "Defilement!? But... how!? What happened?"


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "How do you think I got you back from Sultanate to Champagne in a second? Teleportation magic literally drags you out of the world for a moment and then back in in a different place." - I explain - "The whole reason why Sultanate version of it kills mages is because their version of the spell creates a teeny-tiny world for people teleporting to be in, while transitioning. And you really have to be a god to create a world without dying for it."


    Aaand now they''re both quiet and thoughtful. The mood persists as I run both of them through further exercises. Both have good power levels, but Roxolane lags behind in conventional spell knowledge. On the flip side, she knows a bunch of spells that are not really common in Champagne, including, much to my bemusement, an air-water spell that braids hair. On a side note, I have to mention that braided Lily-Anne is excessively cute and causes passing by students to stare and trip into the hedges.


    ___


    The supper is a quiet affair. Mostly. Rafiqa is still in a pensive mood, and Lily-Anne and Roxy have their own thoughts to mull over. Which suits me just fine, as I can put more attention towards Bridgit and Moon Unit. Don''t want them to feel neglected, obviously. Moon Unit ventures an interesting idea - group magic studies. Not the theoretical stuff, obviously, that is all over the field, but practical exercises. All of us, including Bridgit, much to her stammering denial. It takes a couple of kisses and reassurances to make her feel less daunted by the perspective of doing magic "like noble ladies". Thankfully, I have a good counterargument - we''ll be all doing it like commoners, facsimiles only. I mean, honestly, if you can channel through the embroidered flowers, then real ones are a snap. All they add is a good deal more of power, and regulating that is the same exercise across all elements. Moderation and control, that''s all there is to it.


    The conversation over the meal is thankfully devoid of any heavy topics. Petty plans, pass the salt and other innocent and mundane topics float all over the table. The only thing worth of importance is the discussion on which lessons everyone is interested in. There is a notable disparity. Lily-Anne is waxing poetics about dueling class. Rafiqa is apparently interested in arts and social studies. Roxolane initially demurs from answering, but eventually cracks and admits she is curious about calculus and mathemagic. Note to self, I might want to look into latter ones too. Magic computers are really a fascinating topic, though obviously not something to be developed in a day or even a year. Still, Moon Unit and Roxolane end up splitting into their own conversation about mathematical underpinnings of magic, which is honestly way more advanced than I expected from Roxy. She might be more scholarly than I expected. Then again, what chances did she have to show this side at Sultanate? They do not appreciate educated women at all.


    Rafiqa then surprises everyone by asking to go out tomorrow as a group so that everyone can be shown the bazaar. I''m initially surprised, but she quickly lets slip that she wants to see my shop. Oh well, this is doable, and having a whole lot of pretty girls eating there at once is just free PR anyways. She departs soon after, leaving the five of us to settle in for the night. Out of consideration for Lily-Anne and Roxolane, we take turns using Moon Unit''s room to change into our nightshirts. I don''t quite think they''re ready for everyone to just strip naked, not after the explanations in the morning. Roxolane is fidgeting more than enough as is. Lily-Anne, on other hand, is way too eager.


    Moon Unit takes the lead, as she was the first one to change, and by the time I come back in my own nightgown, she and Lily-Anne are already on the bed. Bridgit and Roxolane round up the order, but... Well, Bridgit settles down easy, she''s been doing this for more than a few times already, and extra girls are not so much of a problem. Roxy... Well.


    "If you want to sleep in the next room, it''s fine." - I tell her - "Or, if you want, I can drag one of the beds here, if you''d rather not be alone in the room."


    She slowly shakes her head. "No, I... I shouldn''t let my fears get the better of me." - she objects. Still, she is more than a little discomforted as she perches on the edge of the bed. Gah, no, this is just not it. So, I do the obvious. I reach out and draw her into a hug. Bridgit quickly gets the idea and spoons her from the other side. I think having more than one person hugging her actually calms Roxolane down, because she stops shivering pretty quickly. The tenseness remains for quite a bit of time, however, and she does not participate much in pillow talk. Lily-Anne, on the other hand, takes to the whole situation like fish to water. Maybe a little too well, I think as I nudge her hand off my breast for the third time. Persistent cheeky... argh. The game had preciously little info on Lily-Anne, and my own memories are not sure-fire, but it might be that Lily-Anne is a latent lesbian much in the same way Alyssa was. Might. Or maybe she''s just being a cocky youngster and pushes on into things she''s not properly grasping. ...Alright fine, there is nothing wrong with her grasping per se except for the simple fact that I do not want to freak Roxolane out even further by molesting Lily-Anne right next to her.


    Thankfully, very thankfully, Moon Unit comes to my rescue. It is hard to make out in the darkness, and I avoid busting out night vision options out of sheer laziness, but I think Lily-Anne just got well and properly groped by elven waifu, if muffled squeaking and giggling is of any indication. Not that it stops her wandering hands. Or Moon Unit''s wandering hands, for that matter. Or Bridgit''s wandering hands! Goodness gracious, how the hell does she even reach me across Roxolane like that? ...And, of course, the coup de grace is when I find Roxy''s hand on my belly. And she IS also copping a feel, because I can FEEL her inching upwards. Jeez. Girls. Honestly.


    "This is much nicer than I thought." - she whispers into my ear suddenly - "Cozy." I sigh, wrap my arms around the expanded harem (because yes, at this point it becomes rather obvious I just gained two more wives, even if one needs a much softer touch than other), kiss four foreheads and go to "sleep".

 Chapter 39. Disguised King And Complicated Conversation

    Note to self - even if I''m keeping my form firm, five girls on one bed results in one big knot in the morning. Working out from the pile is quite an effort, and honestly I probably would have taken much longer if Bridgit didn''t wake up soon after me. Disentangling the other three to avoid any unfortunate incidents, we retire to the front room. Bridgit sets up omelettes and coffee while I consider what sweets to put on the table and heat some water for morning ablutions. For now, this is fine, but I should hire some subordinate maids for Bridgit once we move out of Academy. Taking care of four is much more hassle than just me, even though each of us individually is far less attention-needy than an average noblewoman. In fact, Bridgit deserves some encouragement for putting up with this.


    I sneak up on her from behind and hug her around the waist. "Mine." - I murr into her ear, making her shiver and moan softly. "All yours, mistress..." - she agrees with a giggle as she turns her head to get a proper kiss. Moon Unit shows up soon after, bleary-eyed and yawning. She takes quick advantage of hot water, and comes back to get her share of morning hugs and kisses. There is no time to wait for the other two to wake up, we need to have a breakfast and get to classes. Lily-Anne and Roxolane can sleep in, on the other hand, they both need it and I can''t start tutoring them earlier than afternoon anyways. Bridgit will take care of them in the morning. I have left some textbooks in case they get bored, too. Rafiqa shows up in the middle of breakfast, passably awake, and takes a cup of coffee without paying attention. Owie.


    The good part is that Rafiqa only took a good sip, not drained the mug like Bridgit did during her first time. The bad part is that even that is sufficient to send Rafiqa from sleepy to buzzed in one fell shift. I end up having to distract her with the news that Academy garden is the place she can poke around at on her own, since it''s walled in and there is always a servant or two nearby, so she won''t get lost.


    I''m honestly relieved when I finally make it to the class. The weekend was explosive, no other word for it. I''m looking forward to some nice and slow days. And that is not even mentioning the harem expansion. What is up with this, anyway? Why are they suddenly so thirsty? I mean, sure, I''m a sexy beast and all that, but for crying out loud, this is ridiculous. And why Moon Unit and Bridgit are suddenly so eager to nudge them on? I mean, Moon Unit had her doubts before dinner, about Lily-Anne actually. So... If she was wary in the morning, why so much willingness to fondle Lily-Anne in the evening?


    This is going to bother me, I just know it. Because now I''m doubting everything. I mean, I am already aware I can fuck people up mentally just by showing up au naturele. How confident I am that I''m not also fucking my girls up in subtler ways? And if I am, how far I''m willing to go to rectify that? What if it''s an irreversible change for them? What if it''s going to progress? I do not want to end up being responsible for a bunch of brainwashed sex slaves. That would be disgusting and I''d be depressed looking on them and remembering the people they used to be.


    Bridgit... Is a good clue it''s not so bad. Because I have verifiably been shoggoth ever since birth, I`ve doublechecked that much already. And Bridgit was on the "maid" level this whole time. If I were fucking people over with my presence as I fear I might have, why didn''t I find Bridgit already in my bed first thing upon transmigration? Because pre-transmigration Alyssa had no libido to speak of? No, that does not mesh with memories. I distinctly remember checking Bridgit out. Alright. So, let''s for now work on assumption that my fuckery is not insidious enough to mindfuck them into being in love with me in the background. How about the foreground, then? Roxolane worries me. It is strange that she would bounce so quickly. And while we are on the topic, Lily-Anne is also... worrying. Not quite to the same degree, but still... She shouldn''t really have the concept of homosexuality, this culture sees skinship as something that supplements marriage, not as something that exists as a separate relationship. Well, mostly. Gay people exist and the concept of being homosexual is a thing, but not a public thing, if that makes any sense... Anyway...


    I spend most of my classes thinking this over, giving absentminded answers. Then again, the questions are simple, if extensive. Alchemy professor had spent almost a quarter of class quizzing me on lead toxicity, for crying out loud. I had to point out to her that areas where lead-containing ores is a traditional ingredient in cosmetics sports consistently higher levels of stillbirths. Silly. I''m not that easy to stump, nope. It''s obvious, when you really think about it...


    It is just before dinner when I''m shaken out of my musings quite rudely. Namely, by an Academy servant appearing to summon me to the dean''s office. The hell does Ambercrombe want now?


    ___


    Turns out it''s not Ambercrombe at all. Well, well, well... I guess we do have things to talk about, Abe. Now, what exactly is that which drags you out here relatively incognito? Lil''old me? Why, I''m flattered. Flattered, I tell you.


    "Right." - I really have no words for this - "A visit on the sly, I take it?"


    He nods smugly. Well, I have to hand it to him - clothes are spot-on "citizen of passable income but no great stature". Face, of course, is still recognizable, but the hat really changes the overall impression of face width. One would take a glance at the guy and think - "Wow, that fellow sure looks kinda like our king. Uncanny. He probably hears that a lot from all sorts of people." And I think Abe''s shirt actually has some kind of tightening belt between his shoulderblades to shift his posture and therefore gait. And the shoes actually have soles thicker in front, changing his walk... Comprehensive effort and no magic used. I''m impressed. One on one, it''s obvious he''s Abe, but in the crowd? Yeah, good luck figuring it out.


    "Very well. I take it you have questions? I can guess about some of them, but let''s hear the whole list. It will be probably easier this way." - I offer to him as I take a chair and sit across the table from him.


    "Hrm. Well, first and most worrying question. How did you end up getting defiled? I don''t want to think ill of Gerard, but this is pretty... unusual at such early age." - he plows straight into the issue I expected.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "Ah. A combination of searching old mythos and trying to recreate the spells they had." - I answer easily. Alyssa did that, after all, and some of the results were pretty... out there. I sigh and continue - "To be honest, I am not sure if there is any specific spell responsible for this, a combination of thereof or something else. I can tell for sure that the rest of the family had nothing to do with this, it''s just consequences of being too curious and too gifted with magic."


    He sighs with... relief? Yeah, I suppose Abe actually likes my dad, he probably wouldn''t be keen on hearing dad is actually guilty of something. "Well, that is a load off my mind. I''d offer my condolences, but I think you really came ahead on the whole thing." - he mutters - "Very well, the second question. Edward. Correct me if I''m wrong, but you''re not feeling particularly sanguine about the engagement, now do you? Mind telling me your point of view? I think I grasp Edward''s motivations and reasons and causes pretty well by now, but your side of it remains an enigma."


    "That''s actually the part of the problem." - I tell him bluntly - "Did you know that Edward had not met with me since I was nine? That''s seven years. I''ll drop the last one, since he had been under the foreign influence, but that does not explain his utter absence in my life for the remaining six. Me living in the county only excuses this so far - I have had been visiting the capital every year with my father, and if it comes to it, father would not deny hospitality to Edward either. So why hasn''t he ever tried to meet with me?"


    Abe sighs and scratches his head - "I have been wondering about this one myself. According to Edward, well... he believes you''ve disliked him when you were both little and kept that opinion throughout the years. He describes it as you bursting into tears each time he was near when you were little, and avoiding talking to him when you were older. He had come to believe you want the engagement for the social boons, but have ill will towards him as a person."


    I sigh. "In order... I cried because when we met for the first time ever, he knocked me over and run away, and three years old me responded to that as all toddlers do - by crying a lot." - I explain to him - "Then he showed up again, three years old me assumed it''s time to be knocked over again and started crying preemptively. Which made him run off again." I shake my head - "It''s very simple and obvious once you remember that you''re considering the actions of toddlers. As for the latter meetings, I''ve been trained on proper etiquette a lot and honestly came out of the meetings assuming Edward was impressed with my grasp of proper etiquette. I had no idea he had interpreted this as "did not want to talk" until recently."


    "So... What you are telling me that all this is simply Edward making excessive and wrong conclusions?" - he drawls slowly - "If so, why do you want the engagement broken?"


    "Well. Consider this. Edward had all those assumptions, and he did not consider approaching me to work something out." - I offer - "Anything else, I would have forgiven, but he did one thing I absolutely can not tolerate. He wrote me off."


    Abraham raises his hands placatingly - "Alright, alright, I understand. I can see why you are having reservations now. Still, it was a mistake. He understands that much now, surely Edward can do better if you give him one more chance?"


    "If only he did anything else. Anything at all would be better." - I retort - "My problem is not with the fact Edward made a mistake, no. My problem is with the way he handled it. I''m afraid of being abandoned, and that''s exactly what he did. How am I supposed to trust him not to do that again, if his whole problem-solving mechanism seems to rely on ''pretend the problem doesn''t exist until it goes away''? I want out of this arrangement. He called it off, I confirmed it. Can we PLEASE leave it at that? I can tell for a fact he is interested in someone else. And I happen to think Selene is a good friend to me. Honestly, everyone would be happier if Edward''s engagement goes to Selene."


    And... this is going to be an annoying talk, because I can see by Abraham''s expression that he concedes the truth in my arguments but also is very much unwilling to let go of a chance to tie me to his family in a more direct way than simply being a citizen of the kingdom. Of course, this is when a third party barges in. I''ve been aware of Lily-Anne perching outside the door. She actually followed me here, though I only found it out properly once I was in the room. I''d call Abe''s attention to it, but then I''d have to explain how did I know Lily-Anne is there. And she eavesdropped.


    "How about a compromise?" - she offers, as she pushes the door in, startling Abe. The door firmly closed behind her, she continues - "How about you let Edward be engaged to Selene and engage me to Alyssa instead?"


    Abraham''s expression is priceless. "Lily-Anne... you''re both women..." - he begins hesitatingly.


    "So? I know for a fact Alyssa likes girls, she has a harem even. Engage us, and everything''s hunky-dory." - she continues, making me blink and giggle at the last expression. Where did she even pick that up from?


    "Harem? What''s that about?" - Abraham inquires, trying his best not to laugh. I guess he''s not taking Lily-Anne seriously just yet.


    "I have a maid, I met a potential scholar to retain, and I''ve grabbed even more girls from Sultanate recently." - I explain with a sigh - "They think it''s funny."


    Abraham chuckles. "That explains things." - he offers - "Lily-Anne, I appreciate you trying to help, but..."


    She stands up straighter. "Father, I invoke the favor." - she says, and Abe visibly jerks up in shock. A sign that this is serious, isn''t it? Lily-Anne continues - "I invoke the favor you owe me, and I want to be engaged to Alyssa. She is not against it."


    He draws in a lungful of air. "Lily, my dear girl, are you absolutely certain this is what you want? For that matter, lady Gillespie, would you even consent to be engaged to another woman?"


    "Once bitten, twice shy." - I say out loud - "If it comes to this, I provisionally agree with the following understanding - anything can be called off any time by either of us, without any provisions for the other side to counteract this by anything other than persuasion."


    He shakes his head in disbelief. "I can''t believe things had come to this." - Abraham mutters, before standing up - "Very well. Since those are the facts and conditions you bring to me, hear me now. I recognize engagement between Edward and Alyssa dissolved by mutual agreement and give tentative permission for Edward to engage Serenity. He will be notified of this later. As a favor owed to Lily-Anne and on obtaining Alyssa''s consent, I accept her request to be engaged to Alyssa instead. Let it be known that Lily-Anne engages with an intent to join the harem as a fully-fledged wife. The changes in engagements will be kept at low key until such time that everyone involved reconfirms the current arrangements are to their satisfaction."


    Ooh dear. I think Abe had decided Lily-Anne is over her head with her fanciful tales of a woman having a harem, and decided to prank her. And everything is actually true. Oh, holy fuckbisquits, Abe''s expression is going to be epic once he finds out everything was as serious as seriousness gets.

 Chapter 40. Conception Of A Tabloid

    "You certainly don''t miss any cues." - I grumble as I follow Lily-Anne into the garden. Abraham could not hang around for long, for obvious reasons, so after getting the acknowledgments, we bowed out to give him a few minutes to talk to Edward. Which is stupidly ironic, because in the end, I never got to have a talk with Ed properly. Now I have no idea what to expect from him.


    "I should hope not." - she tosses back - "I''m not keen on missing out." She pauses once we are well into the garden. It''s pretty abandoned this time of day. Most students are still taking their dinner. She looks around, sighs and promptly goes from self-assured confident princess to nervous girl five harsh words away from bawling. "Oh gods I actually did it, I can''t believe I did it!" - she gasps and grabs my waist, pressing close to me. Well... darn. I pat her head.


    "I''m guessing you were more worried about how your proposal was to go than you let on, then?" - I quip at her. She shudders and hides her face against my shoulder.


    "...I was terrified you''d say no." - she finally offers in a muffled voice. And yeah, I guess she''s crying. Or doing her best not to, but not quite managing, anyways. "I was terrified you''d take Ed back and things would get awkward... Then I was terrified you don''t want anything to do with us at all...." Darn. That''s... a bit more of an attachment than I expected from her. I guess she''s really set on it.


    "You want me that much?" - I quip at her. It''s kinda dumb and blunt, but I honestly don''t know what else to tell her. And that''s not even minding my own suspicions about her decision being influenced. She groans and baps her fist against my shoulder lightly.


    "Yes, gods damn it all." - she demands, looking up on me fiercely - "Do you have any IDEA just how much I hated the fact you were supposed to become Edward''s wife? That this decision was made before I even understood the concept of marriage? That this one girl I have ALWAYS wanted was never within the reach? And then suddenly you are! What did you expect, that I would not grab you with everything I have?"


    Holy. Fucking. Shit. This was FAR more than I bargained for. I thought Lily-Anne maybe having a recent hero worship style crush. Not a... The hell do I even call this? Unrequited love years in the making? At least I don''t have to worry too much about influencing her unduly. She clearly had her own opinions way before I could actually stick my oar into that river. And she''s clearly meaning what she said, she''s not going to let me go of her own volition. That... simplifies some things and complicates others. But oh well. Que sera sera.


    "Very well." - I quip dryly - "Consider yourself a wife, in that case. Ah, my wife, to be exact." I sigh and fluff her hair lightly - "Lily-Anne, look at me." I gently tilt her head back and look her in the eye - "Please understand me right. I think you are a very fine addition to my family. But, I want you to take some time to get used to being a part of a family before you commit to anything you can not take back easily. Consider this a promissory note." And with that, I lean in and kiss her properly. She shudders and squirms, her mind taking a bit of time to catch up with the events, but once she grasps what I am doing, she responds with great enthusiasm. I honestly wouldn''t mind continuing, but there is someone gasping behind me!


    So I push Lily-Anne back a little and turn to see what is going on. Aaaand I see the trio of most prominent gossip-mongers in the Academy. Nortrop-Bradford triplets. Funny story - both me and Lily-Anne are related to them through our mothers. They''re children of my aunt and Lily-Anne''s uncle on respective maternal sides. Well... darn. This is going to be all over the Academy in the blink of an eye. And I''m out of sorts, because I should have seen them coming via eyespiders... Which are not present. Because I was too preoccupied with my thoughts and forgot to spin them up. Bollocks.


    "Sooo... before you spread this all over the Academy, it might behoove you to know that I''ve had my engagement switched from Edward to Lily-Anne by mutual agreement." - I tell them, and Lily-Anne groans, punching my shoulder again.


    "Does low key actually mean anything to you?" - she grumbles.


    "Sure does, honey, but we''ve been caught red-lipped, as it were. Might as well make sure they know the real deal. I''d rather not have someone come up and try to slap my face on Edward''s behalf, you know?" - I tell her - "I mean, I will punt them into next week for trying, but this would be annoying."


    The trio (Who are, much to my morbid fascination, named DeeDee, MeeMee and LeeLee...) exchange glances, then DeeDee, who is their usual spokeswoman as a group, ventures - "Perhaps... you would spare us some time to, ah... settle our curiosity, in that case? There is a very interesting new shop at the bazaar that sells all sorts of sweets. Would you be perhaps amenable to visit the place? Our treat."


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Actually, you know what? Let''s go for it. Releasing information on my terms is definitely preferable to a leak. "Counteroffer." - I tell them - "You''ll pay for yourself, I''ll pay for my girls. I need to invite a few more to make the story complete." Ooh, that got them interested.


    Lily-Anne elbows me in the side. "What are you doing!?" - she hisses to me - "Even I know they''re the biggest gossips in the whole city!"


    I pet her head gently. "Lily-Anne, the cat is out of the bag." - I tell her - "I can not make them forget what they saw. But by providing them with the actual story on what is going on, we can at least assure there won''t be much in the way of absolutely ludicrous. People want to know things, not talking to them simply makes them complete the missing parts from their own imagination, for good or for bad. Usually, for ridiculous."


    "Also, when we know the whole story, we don''t need to hurry to tell everyone. We can take our time dishing it." - MeeMee offers coyly - "When it''s a rumor, you have to pass it on while it''s hot, because tomorrow it will be something else. But when you really know a thing in advance? You can take your sweet time with it and dish it out little by little. Why, just what we heard right now from Alyssa is enough fodder to attract three whole parties. One to tell the engagement is broken, one to say princess is engaged, and one to reveal the new engagement. And if we know all the details and like the person we''re talking about... And we do like you, little cousin, mind you... Well, then we can have people talking about you juuuust right until you actually hold your ceremony."


    ___


    I end up leaving Lily-Anne with the trio as a "collateral" as I collect the rest of my harem and... actually just my harem. Selene is not in her room, and Rafiqa demurs from attending. She has her hands on a huge tome dedicated to histories of the Champagne and Kraut, and I have a feeling she''s not at the point where she would care for a break, so I don''t insist.


    Taking a walk into the city is one thing. Taking a walk as a group of eight turns out to be something... else. Arriving to the shop (And of course, it was my shop. Figures.), we occupy two of the tables and push them together to form one big place to sit around at. Figuring out who wants what takes a bit of time (and the trio don very curious expressions when they hear Bridgit confidently state what she wants).


    "Alright." - DeeDee takes the reins of conversation once the tea is brought in - "Given the present company, I suddenly feel like a certain rumor needs to be confirmed. So, Alyssa. Is that true that you are collecting a harem?"


    "Yep. And before you ask, yes. I''ve taken the advantage of outing to take my harem out all at once." - I smirk at her, and I''m treated to three shocked faces and a bit of elbowing and snickering from my own girls - "In the interests of scrupulous honesty, Roxolane here...." I pause to gently ruffle her hair, prompting her to duck her head and smile sheepishly - "Is not yet sure if she wants to join or not. She has good reasons for hesitating."


    Moon Unit pipes up - "So what exactly happened? You said there was something new about Lily-Anne, but never explained what."


    "Ah. Well, we had a bit of conversation with high highness regarding my situation with Edward." - I begin - "Lily-Anne invited herself to conversation to offer an alternative. Basically, my engagement to Edward is called off by mutual agreement. Instead, I am now engaged to Lily-Anne. King Abraham had acknowledged that Lily-Anne''s engagement is to join a harem. So... consider all of us engaged as of now. Actual officiating ceremonies will be held later. Much later. I intend to finish the conquest and solidify a rule over a domain before transitioning the engagement into marriage." I pause, and chuckle - "Now, I imagine there are questions to be answered. Ask, but no pestering."


    LeeLee comes to her senses first. "What are you conquering?" - she asks curiously.


    "Thousand Isles." - I tell her simply, and watch three jaws fall open again.


    "It was YOU!?" - DeeDee demands incredulously - "You cursed the Sultanate!?"


    "Ayep. Also stole a girl from Sultan''s seraglio, while at it." - I tease back, and Roxolane ducks again. She... calms down once I lean over and give her a hug.


    "..." - ok, I think I made the trio speechless. AAAnd now they''re all demanding details and... oh jeez, how do they make so much clamor? It takes a while to explain everything to their satisfaction. On the plus side - now I''m entirely, completely, unequivocally legit harem mistress and can take out my girls on any and all sorts of dates without worrying about any public misunderstandings. On the minus - everyone is going to bother me for confirmations. Mental note - give father a call and tell him about everything. He''ll be very puzzled otherwise. I wonder what''s mother''s take on this.


    "You do realize there''s going to be legends about you just from this, right?" - DeeDee quips eventually - "I... just... holy moly. You have a pretty insane life, you know? Goodness, it will take us a year to properly disseminate all this."


    "Have you considered writing tabloid?" - I suggest to them half-seriously - "Between the three of you, you have it covered, I''d think."


    "What''s a tabloid?" - oh dear. They latch into the idea. Of course, once I explain the concept of newspaper, every girl sits up and pays attention. Trio objects that hand-writing so many copies is impossible. I counter with the concept of a printing press. The next thing I know, I am saddled with a request to develop and produce a printing press for the newspaper that the trio will organize. Fine. Whatever. Printing was a thing that I had to introduce anyways, and those three will be keeping the press smoking hot. Should popularize the concept of printing pretty darn quick.


    MeeMee snaps her fingers - "So many new things, but one mystery remains!"


    "Do tell." - I retort - "What mystery is still there?"


    "Why, the mystery of who owns this shop. The reason why we came here in the first place." - MeeMee explains gleefully - "You wouldn''t know, by any chance?"


    I snicker as my whole harem facepalms as one. "Of course I know." - I tell her - "It''s mine."

 Interlude 4. What Are The Dwarves Doing?

    Rory frowned. The newest batch of notes from Chosen One was extensive and complicated. They had a lot of luck and profit with the previous batch, as it detailed on a dizzying array of kitchen and household utensils, many of which were novel to the point of being bought by nobles simply for the sake of being the first to own. Obviously, duke Gillespie''s household got the first pick on everything they devised, but other than that, they made quite a bit of extra cash by auctioning the first piece to be sold, and opening the rest of the market a week later.


    This particular batch, however, was beyond what he had expected. Apparently, it was prompted by them reporting the housing and the construction of the first forging hall had been largely finished. This was true - while furniture was still a work in progress, everyone had proper stone walls and clay roofs to shelter themselves from the elements. The hall itself had no roof so far, they simply covered the arches of the future ceiling with a tarp and called it good enough. The heat from smelters definitely made heat insulation a non-issue. So, what they got back is the plans for a much bigger furnace, one that would have to be built outside the hall, because it was to be taller than the hall. It would need a ramp... Rory briefly toyed with the idea of sinking the whole thing into the ground, but that would make pouring metal out a very complicated process. No, better construct ramps to wheel the barrows on top. Or, maybe... Oh, yes, that could work. The Smelting Wall.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Before long, he was sitting next to Geoff, showing him the plans. Elder had been lacking energy lately, so he was by necessity confined to chair most of the days. "Tricky, but worth the effort." - the elder rasped eventually, as he considered the plans Rory made - "Four smelters this huge? What did she call them... Vagrans? Yes... Four Vagrans. And if the instructions she gave us are doable as they are given, it will give us what... Twelve quintals of pig iron per hour? Obviously, we can not run all four now, but having one of them smelting at all times, others being maintained and readied? Eventually maybe two at a time, though I don''t hope to see the time when all four are going at it... But this is marvelous. The smelter that does not stop... Rory, we need to build this. Start on this. Wall can wait, build us one... one Vagran, and have a ramp to it. Maybe use those cranks we had for pulling the earth out of foundations to haul the iron and coal topside."


    "I understand, but why so much hurry? We can take our time to build a wall first..." - Rory began, trailing off as he considered just WHAT they might have - "I''m honestly a bit concerned about the output. Mere clay doesn''t seem to be enough to hold the veritable river of metal, treated or not..." Both of them grew silent, as the phrase clicked.


    "Elder...?" - Rory whispered with wonder. Geoff nodded and grinned, his teeth gleaming in the flickering torchlight. "...where rivers of metal will run on the shores of clay..." - he quoted - "Go, Rory. Make our dreams come true."

 Chapter 41. Revelation At The End Of Day

    In the end, while the overall confidence had increased, my personal one continues to drop. I keep worrying if I''m coercing Roxolane, and it puts me off the mood. And girls notice. And take it personally. Lily-Anne is huffing about me being "wishy-washy", Roxolane is sulking over "causing problems", Bridgit is worrying about everyone, and Moon Unit... is being rational at me. Which, I have to admit, is calming me down. Now if only she elected to be rational in a less crazy direction...


    "I understand your points, but are you sure it is not too soon?" - I ask, as Moon Unit lays out some rational points. She insists that for the good of us all, it would be best if I explained and showed Lily-Anne and Roxolane the entirety of what they want to sign up for. I intended to do that much, but later on. Moon Unit, on the other hand, posits that doing this as soon as possible will improve the overall situation and give me back some confidence regarding Roxolane. Admittedly, she IS right. If she won''t run away screaming after seeing all that I am, then she''s a keeper. But damn it, I so don''t want to risk her going insane because of that... And that is a worry.


    "If you wait too long they will be wondering why didn''t you trust them. If you try to tell only Lily-Anne, Roxolane will assume you don''t trust her and leave." - she explains - "I honestly don''t know why you''d want to tell Roxolane but not Lily-Anne, that makes no sense at all. Ergo, your only option is to tell both of them at the same time."


    I sigh. "You drive a hard bargain. Very well. But, we''re all going to the roof first. I want everyone to be as mellow and relaxed as possible before doing any revelations." - I tell her, and she grins at me. On one hand, it is nice to have a smart wife. On the other, I have a feeling any irrational indulgence is going to be a hard won luxury from now on. Oh well.


    Let''s see. The weather is fine and doesn''t look like it''s going to go weird. There is no lack of sweets. Hookah is washed and dried and ready to use. There are enough blankets and tarps and pillows (Thanks due to Bridgit for buying extras, totally slipped my mind.) to bed everyone three times over. But... let''s set things up in advance. First, eyespiders... Well, hello. Now what are you doing on the roof, dude with the knife and distinctly southern features? On one hand, I want you gone. On the other, I want to know who the fuck is responsible for this. Unfortunately, if I swing out right now, Moon Unit will notice and worry... But do I really need to go in person, so to speak? More eyespiders make their way up top, clumping up into a bigger mass. On a lark, the mass shapes itself like a big leathery egg with a cross-like impression on the top end. And then... it squeaks.


    The guy in question stiffens up and rolls over. And wow, that was nifty. Some sort of chameleon-like masking... Huh. The way I made it look seems like someone had tried to hide the "egg" in the gazebo. Wonder what the dude will do... Apparently, wait. And wait. And wait some more. I keep jotting down my homework in the meanwhile, while Moon Unit next to me studies the history book. it takes almost half-hour for the dude to feel safe and go investigate the squeaking. But then he DOES. And oh joy, he even puts the knife away to examine the "egg". I wonder if he thinks about stealing it?


    As he leans in close to examine the "egg" up close in the dimness of the gazebo, I trigger it. Sorry, dude. You definitely didn''t see Aliens, so you can''t appreciate the facehugging you got. Ooh, that''s some impressive struggling and... ah, yes, pierce through the nasal cavity, into the brain, branch out, scan the available... Darn. I can''t get proper memories out of him. Some knife skills are pretty automatic, I can see how his body reacts to the imprinted stimuli with reflex movement. Might be a good idea to copy that down. OK, so... Let me see. Ah, yes. The examination of my new subject. Some magical enhancement, including a bunch of stuff tattooed on his skin, nifty trick that. No documents. Vague notions that he''s here to kill me, though his ideas on how to achieve that are eminently laughable. He intended to slip into the window at night and cut my throat. Moron.


    My suspicions are on Salaadin, but without good proof, I''m going to bide my time and make it seem to him like his assassins just ain''t that reliable. Now, I... OH yeah, I totally can consume his mass with just a facehugger worth of... Actually. Converting, converting, converting. OK. Alright... Oh fucking hell YES. Multiple presence, get! Good grief, this is beyond cheating. Roof me drops a bunch of tentacles down and very quietly snags traps and blankets one by one, setting down the gazebo to be a cozy snuggle pit. And fetching stuff. Fuck it, I''m not going to bother Bridgit right now, let''s go raid the bazaar. I should invent something new to treat them anyway. How about icecream? That should go over really good. Or, well, not bona fide icecream, but rather chilled whipped cream with fruit slices. I can''t handle proper icecream in half-hour, flash-freezing it alters the texture too much.


    Alright. So. The roof nest is as prepared as it can be, the roof me is pretending to be a blanket and will merge with my primary when we get there, most of the stuff is in place, all I need right now is to gather the girls. Bridgit and Moon Unit are right here. Lily-Anne and Roxolane... Oh, they''re finishing up their studies in Moon Unit''s room. Well, Roxolane is. Lily-Anne is fiddling around with lavender, creating whorls of colored lights in the air. Practicing magic, huh? Cool, cool.


    "Ladies. I do believe we''ve put in a good deal of work just now and deserve some rest and relaxation." - I announce, standing up and stretching languidly - "I propose an evening out in the roof gazebo. Treats, drinks, smokes and pleasant company all around. If anyone has suggestions or alternatives, do tell."


    Apparently, they don''t. Also, apparently, they find my grandiose announcement to be funny.


    "But how are we getting to the roof?" - Lily-Anne quips curiously - "I mean, where''s the staircase? I was curious about it in the morning, but I couldn''t find it."


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    She gets her answer when I grab her and Roxolane and swing out of the window with them in tow, depositing them on the roof in short order. Then immediately drop down to grab Moon Unit and Bridgit, swinging back up. Tentacles do make lots of things easier, and I even managed to pull it off quickly enough to avoid letting Lily-Anne and Roxolane see anything. Actually, the pair are.... hyperventilating, apparently. Golly, that was unexpected.


    I am being subjected to numerous little punches from Lily-Anne in short order, accompanied by Roxolane complaining about the utter terror of the second-long swing to the roof. Honestly, girls.


    "Could you at least warn us you''re going to jump out of the window while dragging us with you next time, you reckless tearaway!?" - Lily-Anne screeches - "Goodness, you''re infuriating sometimes!"


    I tilt my head. "I could, but then you two would be even more scared than now." - I tell them, and they fume at me. Bridgit and Moon Unit look on this with expressions of commiserating bemusement. Oh come on.


    Thankfully, the siren lure of treats and pillows manages to overwhelm their righteous indignation soon enough. It does help that Lily-Anne is intensely curious about hookah. Roxolane is not, and I think it''s mainly due to having seen it in action many times. Bridgit pulls away, while Moon Unit moves in closer. Huh, go figure. I guess Bridgit didn''t quite like it as well as Moon Unit did. Indeed, she refuses mouthpiece when I offer her a turn. Moon Unit, on the other hand, is quite happily surrounding herself with smoke. I wonder... oh, that''s an interesting trick. Basically a very slow whirlwind that keeps the smoke whirling around her in wisps, rather than dissipate outside. Roxolane is notably startled when I offer her a turn.


    "Me, but, isn''t that just for.... ooh." - she begins voicing her objection when the difference finally sinks in. Yep, in this setup you''re on the level with everyone else. Forget the previous misfortunes. While she manages a few puffs, it soon becomes obvious that the prestige of taking a part as equal is far more important to her than actual smoking, and she passes over the mouthpiece to Lily-Anne soon enough. Good timing, too, I was afraid she''ll start coughing. Lily-Anne, on other hand, is taking her cue from me. Which means she inhales as hard and as much as she can... And coughs up smoke rings in all directions, much like Bridgit did. Bridgit and Roxolane come to her rescue and pat her back while she gets the last of smoke out of her lungs.


    "Gah! How can you enjoy this? It tastes like the inside of a chimney!" - she complains, sticking out her tongue. Moon Unit smiles at her gently.


    "The trick is not to overdo it, you see." - she explains, taking a small puff - "Just like anything else, hookah is best if enjoyed in moderation. Draw in too much, too hard, too fast? And you won''t like the results."


    In the end, me and Moon Unit remain the smokers, while the rest of the girls decides to just pig out on treats instead. Good, I like that. It took a while to get Bridgit inured to the ideas of casual equality. Roxy is still a work in progress, but thankfully Bridgit is right next to her to provide cues. Good, good.


    Bringing out creamy fruit smoothies is welcomed by everyone, who are by that time stuffed and lethargic, lounging around the gazebo amongst the pillows. Chilled drinks do perk up everyone enough for a talk to start. And then... Moon Unit nudges me. Yes, yes, I remember.


    "Girls?" - I ask, and the attention snaps to me - "I have something to show you. As you may or may not have surmised already, I''m more than just a human."


    Lily-Anne and Roxolane are notably wary now, though not quite to the point of it being worrisome. I think they expect something low-key but odd. Guess surprise it is, then. I also notice Moon Unit and Bridgit moving closer to respectively Lily-Anne and Roxolane, probably to provide support and stability. Good thinking, girls. I set the hookah aside carefully, making sure it''s well out of the way, and then...


    ...I...


    ...RELAX...


    AND LET MY FORM FLOW FREE. THIS IS THE FIRST TIME I DO SO IN THE REAL WORLD, IT SUDDENLY STRIKES ME, THE ONLY PREVIOUS CASE WAS WITHIN A DREAM. I WONDER...


    And the girls are utterly terrified. Squeaking.


    "SHH. I-THIS-PARTICULAR AM STILL WITH-THIS-SPECIFIC-YOU. THE COVENANT/AGREEMENT/TRUCE/ALLEGIANCE IS STRONG-CONFIRMED-EXISTENT. YOU-LITTLE-BELOVED-ONES WILL BE PROTECTED/LOVED/NURTURED/ADVANCED."


    They calm down, marginally. And when I calm down, I mean "no longer struggling against their respective helper trying to run away and hide". Geez. A little colder reception than the previous two times. Then again, they had less time to get used to me being ME.


    "...What is this? What is going on!?" - Lily-Anne demands hoarsely, while Roxy just hiccups and shivers.


    "Our mistress of harem, of course." - Moon Unit explains unflappably - "Alyssa was never human to begin with, you see? She is an ancient being, the SHOGGOTH. The Thread of Creation calls them Tools of Gods. It''s an apt moniker, I assure you. Alyssa''s kind had been given the mandate to help us grow. To thrive. To advance."


    "But, please remember that mistress is still mistress. She might have a form that bends your mind when she relaxes, but her benevolence remains the same." - Bridgit adds softly, as I compact myself back into human shape.


    Amusingly enough, it''s Roxolane who approaches me first. "Alyssa...?" - she croaks - "The COVENANT..." She cuts herself off, her hand over her mouth as a strange sound slips out. Visibly steeling herself, she resumes - "Will I be PROTECTED/LOVED?"


    "Of course. I made the offer before, did I not?" - I tell her, carefully keeping things stabilized within human range. She nods, shudders, then promptly leans in and hugs me. I just pat her back awkwardly. She''s... complicated. Here''s hoping things will improve as she gets used to the idea of safety.


    Now, what about Lily-Anne? Oh, she is already looking better. And discussing something in furious whispers with Moon Unit. While looking furtively in my direction.


    "Alyssa, I have one thing to say to you!" - she begins with a scowl - "TEKELI-LI!"


    NNngh. MUST. NOT. TENTACLE... YET, at leas... Ah fuck it. I wrap a tentacle around her midsection and pull her in for a searing kiss, leaving her sputtering and wiggling. "THE FUCK DID I SAY!?" - she demands of Moon Unit with wide eyes. Who promptly doubles over laughing. Well played, Moon Unit. Well played.

 Chapter 42. A-Talking We Will Do…

    "So what did I say?" - Lily-Anne insists five minutes later, as we all settle down. Geez. Thanks a lot, Moon Unit. And no, giggling does not help. And Bridgit, really? Bah. I have very mean girls here.


    "You didn''t, to be exact." - I explain with a sigh - "It is not a word at all. It is, well... It is my species mating call. So, very roughly translating it, you have had just invited me to make babies. Please don''t do this in public places unless you want to get ravaged in front of everyone, it is considerably hard to resist conceptually expressed invitation." Aaand she blushes so hard I start worrying about her blood pressure. Moon Unit is subjected to shaking and furious whispering next.


    "If, hahahaha, if it makes you feel better, I did the very same mistake myself." - she finally offers - "Of course, I did that after hearing that particular sound from Alyssa herself, so..."


    And now it''s my turn to blush. "We were in the hot spring and you started rubbing against me." - I object - "I''m not made out of stone, you temptress."


    "Hot spring? Where did you find this kind of luxury in Parsee?" - Lily-Anne inquires curiously - "I wouldn''t mind visiting it too."


    Moon Unit sighs. "In the dreams." - she offers wistfully - "No, literally. I was so curious about Alyssa I used dreamwalk on her, and, well... things got a little out of hand. And yes, we can do something like this, but not right now. I can only use this ability once a month safely."


    "What''s dreamwalk?" - Roxolane asks curiously - "I never heard about any spell of that sort."


    "You wouldn''t. It''s something only elves can do." - I explain to her - "I looked into it actually, and... it''s complicated, let''s say."


    Bridgit cuts the conversation by distributing cups of fruit smoothies. Which is extremely well-timed and earns her an appreciative kiss from me. And from Moon Unit. And Lily-Anne looks somewhat jealous because she was closest and got the cup first and the idea of kissing a cute maid didn''t occur to her. Roxolane simply smiles and thanks Bridgit in a soft voice, sipping her smoothie immediately. "OOh, it''s so cold." - she remarks curiously - "I thought it''d be warm by now." Showing her ice chest (new enchantment, basically a reverse of hot plate applied to all six sides of metal-plated chest) makes her check out of conversation briefly as she pokes at the engraved formulae. And I make a mental note to pass over all my enchantment notes to Roxolane, because she''s obviously interested.


    "This is all well and good, but what does this all mean for us?" - Lily-Anne offers once the smoothies are dealt with. I shrug.


    "Not much? Aside from being aware I''m indestructible and can take any shape I wish to be, I suppose." - I explain - "Also, your defilement stage had just been ramped up all the way to thoroughly, the same as Moon Unit and Bridgit, because I''m as otherworldly as otherworldly comes."


    "Wait, you can safely defile people?" - she suddenly veers off the topic.


    "Not quite. I can safely defile people who already want to join my harem and generally have a very good opinion of me. If I just randomly show up... Well, you''ve seen what happens back in the courtyard of Sultan''s palace, didn''t you?" - I tell her, and she shudders.


    "On one hand, I feel like they deserved that, on other... that''s horrible." - she admits sadly - "Did you intend to do that?"


    I shake my head - "I''m not upset it happened, per se, but no, it was an accident. I was teleporting for the first time ever and didn''t know it would make my form unstable. They basically saw tentacles and eyes and teeth manifesting out of thin air and their brains had made a decision to reject that reality. I... INSISTED on them adopting a wondering and appreciative attitude towards the world to prevent them from ripping their eyes out and poking through their eardrums. Because without some sort of directive to direct the madness, it usually sublimates itself via mutilation. Shattered minds insist on removing what made it possible for them to see and hear what should not be, to wax poetic about it."


    "Wondering and appreciative, huh. Well, I suppose singing about it was... Eeeugh. It was creepy, sorry. Just really really creepy how they''re all different people and they all just somehow... manage the same exact note and word in the same time." - she admits - "You''re scary sometimes."


    Stolen novel; please report.


    I snicker - "Honestly? Counting my blessings, here. I was not sure at all if you and Roxy won''t just run for the hills."


    Roxolane pitches in softly. "I thought about it." - she offers - "And then I thought how you could easily make me do absolutely anything you wanted and there is nothing anyone could possibly do about this. And how you didn''t do anything and instead keep asking me what would I want with my life." She leans on my side and sighs - "I... thought I was lost back there in the palace, you know? That nothing I could do would set me free anymore. I was thinking about pretending to be an obedient wife and maybe try and gain some influence over Salaadin so that maybe someone else can be spared that. And then you came. I was... so close to giving up. To giving in."


    I wrap a tentacle around her and tickle her chin - "Cheer up. Yeah, you''ve been in a bad place, but you''re no longer there. And the way I see it, things can only improve for you from now on."


    She snorts quietly - "Oh, I can always do the stupid thing and leave you. Not likely, though. Counting my blessings sounds good right now."


    ___


    The rest of the evening is a quiet affair. I take advantage of our roof seclusion to get the girls better used to more inhumane features I can pull out. And I learn one important thing. If I put an eye on a tentacle, Lily-Anne WILL poke it. Sometimes by mistake. Sometimes intentionally. Sometimes even entirely unknowingly. But poke the eye she will. Thankfully, it does not cause me anything more than momentary discomfort, but I quickly learn to shield any eyes not on my face in her presence. Other than that, the acclimatizing progresses very nicely. I also learn that it''s surprisingly fun to tickle all four girls at once. They syncopate. I think. I''m pretty sure the effect produced is called syncopation, but music isn''t my forte.


    I also learn, somewhat less pleasantly, that presenting additional limbs as somewhat disjointed is less disturbing than showing off the junctures. To give an example, if I split my arm into several tentacles in the sleeve and let the ends stick out like oversized fingers, it does not cause any odd reactions. Rolling up the sleeve to show them how forearm splits? I get worried glances. Doing split in direct view nets me shudders and requests not to do that again. Apparently, they still somewhat equate the human form I have with conventional biology and are somewhat convinced that splitting like this has to hurt. Lessons learned. On a lark, I also show them the complete split, forming two complete human bodies and that trick is very well appreciated. On request, I also attempt to split off a "chibi" version and I am summarily declared to be adorable.


    Unfortunately, that leads to Moon Unit figuring out eyespiders and suggesting to me that I could covertly observe the Academy. Admitting that I already do and have had been doing so for a while, on the other hand, is received much more favorably than I expected. Apparently, they don''t consider a breach of privacy to be nearly as important as the extra security that gives me. Thankfully, Bridgit avoids mentioning that I can also consume people. Or perhaps she assumes I burned the bodies back when Klaus tried to be an idiot. Moon Unit, equally thankfully, does not bring up my previous gaffe about "eating heads". And honestly, I think it''s good. I don''t need girls to worry I might eat them. They don''t need to worry, obviously, but minds are not entirely rational. Especially not minds that could internalize the entirety of ME as their spouse. Honestly, the only kind of eating I want to apply to my girls is eating them out.


    Buut, that will have to wait a bit. While my newest additions are progressing remarkably well, I don''t want them to feel pressured into intimacy. I also don''t really want to disappoint Moon Unit and Bridgit by denying it, but now that they know about my splitting, I can handle both situations without much of a problem. It will still require some discretion, because I am somewhat certain that Lily-Anne will jump into things with excessive enthusiasm. I have time, I can afford to let them get used to increasing intimacy the slow and pleasant way.


    ___


    Putting things away and moving all of us back into the dorm room takes a bit, but all in all, I''m very satisfied with the outing. Harem membership confirmed, girls taken into confidence without issue and new trick learned. All very good things. So, I am in a considerably good mood. Nothing can dampen it. Nothing.


    And, of course, this is where the door gets a knock. Bridgit opens it, and Selene steps in. She is quite shiny right now. But... the person following her is much less jubilant. Edward. Goodness gracious, all that time, and you''re finally coming to talk? Talk about ironic timing.


    "Lady Gillespie?" - he offers in a voice that could probably be well-fit on a person marching to his own gallows - "I... believe we need to have a long overdue conversation."


    I sigh. And smile. "I see. Bridgit, would you be so kind to put on a big pot of cava? I think we will all need a drink for this conversation. Oh, and please get the bottle of ouso out. Some of us might need a bit of... fortification." - I ask my maid, and gesture towards the table - "Have a seat, you two. Let''s hash some things out." I turn to my harem and clap my hands - "Girls? Come join us. No point in keeping secrets in the family, innit?"

 Chapter 43. Surprisingly Nice Conversation

    The reactions are muted. Roxolane has no particular opinion on Edward, period. Bridgit and Moon Unit are... neutral, though I get the distinct feeling neither of them cares much for Edward at all. Lily-Anne is... complicated. On one hand, she greets him as a brother and generally seems to be quite pleased to see him. On the other, she is notably wary. Which is entirely understandable, as from her viewpoint she had just snatched his engagement from him. Selene is clearly on the other end of the spectrum, because with my endorsement, Abraham apparently gave their relationship tentative approval. Ed... is very complicated. I have a feeling he feels a lot of guilt over his actions, now that he had the time to process them with an uninfluenced mind, and more importantly, contrast my treatment of him versus what he expected. Alright. Let''s see if I can defuse this into a more amiable situation.


    "So. I think we''re on first name basis here... with the exception of you." - I offer, nodding to Edward as cava is distributed, snacks are set out and everyone settles down around the table - "Care to join the trend? Or should we stick with your excellency instead?"


    He flinches. "Just... Edward, please." - he then offers - "Lady... Alyssa. I, in my shortsighted presumptions, had given you a lot of grief, for which I do not even know where to begin to apologize. All that time, I was under the misguided impression that... Eh. I do not think my foolish notions need to be repeated. Suffice to say, you are nothing like the harridan I have had expected, and my behavior towards you was nothing short of vile. Your magnanimous aid leaves me greatly thankful and humbled. While I dare not hope to be called a friend after all that, I sincerely hope that from now on, amiability will be the cornerstone of our... dealings."


    Well. He is genuinely contrite, at the very least. I only need to take one glance at Moon Unit to see he means every word he speaks.


    "Water under the bridge, Ed." - I tell him - "The important thing is that you learned from your mistake, and your new engagement promises to be much more amorous."


    He smiles lightly. "And that is yet another thing I will be forever grateful to you for." - he offers - "I daresay I could scarcely believe your compassion and understanding when I had learned you were the one who recommended to my father to let my affection for Serenity be acknowledged."


    "You better believe it, brother." - Lily-Anne quips - "Though, to be honest, I''m a little thankful you''ve chosen to be such a fool before. I''d be left pining for unattainable if not for it."


    Ed raises his brow -"Ah, yes. Another bit I could barely believe in. Goodness, why didn''t you ever say anything, Lily-Anne?"


    She snorts. "What would I say, brother? Gee, that''s a fine fianc¨¦e you have there, do you mind sharing?" - she snarks - "Nah. I was quite prepared to let that go. Fortunately, now I don''t have to."


    He grins - "Fair enough. Now, what is that I hear about a harem?"


    Ah. Well, that would be fun. "More or less exactly it." - I retort - "You see, I have had taken the advantage of your, ah... heated words before the removal of the control seal..." He winces and scratches the back of his head at this remainder. "...and started my own harem once I was certain it wouldn''t interfere with prior engagements." I gesture around - "You see, I have met Moon Unit here shortly before the start of term, and became rather enamored. Then Bridgit admitted she harbored some interest towards me as well during a memorable meeting between her and Moon Unit, and they decided to collaborate. At this point, well... what could I say but yes? Then I ended up rescuing some girls from the evil sultan, and that kind of narration practically demands I get to marry a princess for playing a hero."


    I pause, and ruffle Lily-Anne''s hair slightly, prompting her to whine and pull back to smooth it out. "Though, I have to be honest. I did not expect that to happen. Lily-Anne, on other hand, had her own ideas and found a good time and place to pitch them to a receptive audience." - I continue - "And here is Roxolane. I have had essentially stolen her from the sultan''s seraglio. In all honesty, I was prepared to simply hire some guards for her to let her make a journey back to Kraina where she was born, but... I am not entirely sure what awaits her there. So I offered her a choice between going there now and spending time with me and studying in Academy to come back to her country later on more even keel, so to speak. I''m still surprised she wanted to join after that horrible debacle in Sultanate, but... counting my blessings, here."


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    I pause, and then shake my head. "But, well... I''m pretty sure most people used to harems would find mine to be very odd." - I offer - "The idea of treating everyone as equally important and valued has yet to gain traction in society. Oh well. One day. I can at least set the example." Girls preen as I say that. Including Lily-Anne, interestingly enough, who I would have honestly expected to be a bit put off about being put on the same level as a maid, elevated commoner and a foreigner. Then again, if there is a lesson I have learned about equality, is that true equality is not when you treat every princess like a peasant, but when you treat every peasant like a princess. Might be something to do with that. But hey, what is the point of having wives, if I am not to pamper them to my satisfaction?


    Selene finally pitches in with - "And this is why you get to have what you want, you know. Because you honestly try to give everyone a good deal. I mean, given how awful I was to you the first few meetings, I wouldn''t be surprised if you wouldn''t give me time of day, let alone encourage me to pursue my relationship with your fianc¨¦e."


    Edward raises his finger. "This is something I was very curious about." - he offers - "I can clearly see why you would want to be rid of me, but why help Serenity even before you were certain the engagement is to be called off?"


    I sigh. "Because, Ed, if it wasn''t called off, I''d still try to coopt her as your mistress." - I tell him bluntly - "For many reasons, but the chief of them being that all political marriages end up involving mistresses at some point, and making sure yours is one I can reach an accord with would be much preferable to alternatives."


    His face goes through a complicated series of expressions, finally settling on awed. "You know? This the most cynical and compassionate thing I have ever heard in my life." - he offers conversationally - "I just... Just... what." He turns to Lily-Anne and shakes finger in her direction - "You keep both hands on that one, missy."


    She smirks - "Hands and legs, brother." He processes the statement, and promptly blushes as the innuendo becomes clear.


    "Er... Moving on." - he stammers - "Serenity had told me a little about your plans for the future, and I am intrigued. You are already putting out a great deal of new things to people. Things that improve life. Do you think there is any chance I can pitch in? I may have missed on marriage with my foolishness, but I hope it''s not too late for some mercantile dealings, at least?"


    That''s... pretty interesting, actually. "Tell you what." - I begin - "Start by taking a list of what you have. As a third prince, you do have some personal holdings, right? Check on them, find out what are the traditional wares your holdings tend to produce. Then come back to me once you have some figures on hand, I should be able to suggest some profitable avenues for you that will compliment my own endeavors well."


    He hums. "It will take a couple days to collate the facts you want, but I can tell you one thing right now. The capital of my holdings, Bakarat, is famous for glassblowers." - he proffers - "I''m not sure how much you can do with this, glassblowers are by their nature solitary artisans."


    And I can''t help but laugh. GLASS. Finally. I have a line establishing proper glassworks. Oh, Ed, I forgive you all the initial headaches. Glassworks are worth it ten times over. "You''d be surprised, Ed. You''d be surprised." - I tell him, as the plans and numbers begin to swirl in my mind.


    ___


    Much to my chagrin, I get a little distracted with all the plans I have for industrial glassmaking, and this is capitalized on by girls ruthlessly. While Ed had clearly regained some of the goodwill by offering apologies and trying to be a nice guy, this still does not buy him enough leeway as my harem with gleeful aid and abettance of Selene drives him spare about his new engagement. As it turns out, he had not been out on a proper date with Selene yet, and the amount of floated suggestions ranges anywhere from plausible to extravagant to outright ridiculous. Thankfully, after some mirthful chortling, Selene mercifully puts an end to this by suggesting that brainstorming dates as a group is not exactly conducive if the group is not participating in the date to begin with.


    On other hand, their attention turns to ME! And the dates they consider for my participation are even more outlandish. On the other hand, I do have some... interesting ideas. Chief of them is being slowly prepared by a bunch of well-paid carpenters, blacksmiths and tailors at the family mansion in the capital. Keeping Bridgit out of there had been a bit of an effort, considering I do not want to peak her curiosity by outright forbidding her from visiting the place. So instead I keep her busy with personal tutoring on magic. (Bridgit declined my offer to get her enrolled into Academy as well. She says she much prefers our one-on-one studies and doesn''t really need the grounding in politics that is interspersed in the curriculum. I can''t fault that logic, though I do have a suspicion her primary motivation is simply to get more personal attention from me.)


    Before long, Selene and Ed bow out, citing late hour and classes tomorrow. And I start the long but ultimately pleasant task of wrangling my horde of girls into bed one by one. Bridgit is such a dear, helping everyone. I hope she''s not terribly unsettled by me helping her in turn. Blushing is fine, though. Totally fine.


    And, once in bed, I discover the last pleasant circumstance of the day - now that all of them are well familiar with my plasticity of form, I can easily afford to get four arms out and hug all the girls in the same time. Mm... Cuddles.

 Chapter 44. Plans Picking Up Some Steam

    Things are coming to some interesting culminations. Ed''s lands are an exercise in nonsequiturs. The highlights are glass, gourmet cheese, red wine and baskets. Not much to do with the last one, honestly, other than introducing some advanced frames to hold the baskets while weaving. Cheese is similarly hard to improve on - it just requires patience. I was able to suggest some basic enchantments to monitor the temperature and moisture of the aging caves, which seems to be a revelation. It''s glassworks where I was able to cut loose. They had the plate glass tables invented... just. No concept of polish just yet, the sand was used to smooth the glass down but it also turned glass matte. Suggesting to polish with coarse wool had gone over well, especially once the idea of packing the wool into a disk and attaching a cranking pedal to it caught on. I''m well-pleased with how the concept of modularity crops up much sooner, because the glass-polishing table is essentially the same as a fine rock-cutting table, just with a different disk in the clamp. And since dwarves already had the technology of tables downpat, Ed ended up getting a good and quick deal on it all, along with some assorted abrasives.


    The concept of lenses had been more complicated, but as of yesterday, Bakarat is a proud exporter of looking glasses. Ed''s been trying to be overly generous with profits until I pointed out that I already get my cut from the fact he buys the shells from dwarves, and thus puts gold in duke Gillespie''s coffers. I also suggested to him a line of unadorned clear glasses, both regular for drinking and graduated for alchemists. The second proved to be a bit of a boom. Apparently, the prevalent method for alchemists to measure something was to have cups fitting in exactly one measure and filling up sequentially. The concept of glass you could just fill to the gradation? Yeah, well. Let''s just say Ed''s workers have had been inundated with requests for looking glasses, magnifying glasses and graded glasses so much he had to triple the workstaff. I had to sit him down and lay out the principles and details of work distribution. He''s still working out the details. Oh, I ended up creating a six-piece copperring phone for him to manage his stuff, he wouldn''t be able to get things moving anywhere near as fast otherwise without being there in person.


    I have told him that once he deals with the initial boom, we''re going to look into eyeglasses. Which is an interesting concept. While this world has less of a problem with vision defects due to healing magic, some things are just not that easy to deal with. While eye injuries typically can be restored pretty easily, genetic issues and on-going illnesses are a problem. As such, there is a good selection of elderly who would be very appreciative of assorted glasses. While we are at it, dwarves report the successful construction and activation of the first Vagran furnace. I have gotten the first drops of metal from the inauguration smelting, they attached them to a silver chain. Nifty, and... well. They probably didn''t intend to, but this is now an artifact. That is to say, a magic item that is very complicated or outright impossible to recreate. This particular one is based on "the first glimmer of hope and fulfillment of restoration and fondest dreams", and as such is stupidly powerful. Anyone wearing it would be flatly overwhelmed with inventing spirit. I''ve tested it on all four wives (with their informed consent, of course), and the results were amusing. Moon Unit had sat still for two hours, then asked for wood and glass and assistance. What came out of this is essentially a magic photocopier. It takes one page at a time and burns the copy of the page into a clean sheet. Requires a flower per each hour of operation, though, but I think this is a passable cost for the way to easy copy books. Tulips seem to have the best cost-efficiency ratio, it seems to favor fire-aligned flowers.


    Bridgit''s reaction was weird. She asked for paper and ended up creating a fairly comprehensive "Maid''s Manual", which I will be copying and sending out to various places. In no small part because it will be popular with all the "noble ladies" who can not afford a maid of her own just yet. Some of the concepts, especially the suggestions on cleaning imply maids have a much better practical grounding in alchemy than I considered. Might have to teach Bridgit some theoreticals of the science too, she might come up with pretty interesting household chemicals. Lily-Anne had the necklace on for five days, because her project turned out to be social networking. I think they''re referring to it as "Whirlwind Princess Week" right now. I''m... reluctant to try more, she seemed to be fairly well loaded on social obligations as is right now. Roxolane produced a treatise on mathemagical theory that is nigh incomprehensible to anyone but her, Moon Unit, Lemand and a couple professors, who are all gaga over implications. She basically took the formula of teleportation that I threw down on paper for her to poke at, and expanded it into an overarching theory of translocation. She still has the necklace on, as she''s currently working on making practical implementations. If what she calculated is correct, she''s about to put logistics on their ears.


    The downside of the artifact is that after the project is finished, a LOT of recuperation is necessary, because it pushes through a manic state in which the wearer is being... complicated. Complicated to the tune of feeding them exclusively with sandwiches because they can''t be arsed to distract themselves from the project kind of complicated. Understandable, but at times more than a little annoying. As such, my harem has had a bit of a downturn lately. Between me tutoring them (Roxolane had passed the entrance exams and is a full-fledged student right now, Lily-Anne is slated for tomorrow, Rafiqa is still being tutored, though now I have had split the duties with Hiram. He took it in good graces, but I''ve made sure to have him well supplied with spirits and sweets as a bit of reward for patience.)


    Right now, I am working on sketches and schematics for a steam engine. The furnaces and rocksaws could use an extra source of power in places where wind isn''t enough and water isn''t close. If I am right, it should be more economic than what I expected. Just making an engine running off magic is problematic, it might harm the users or use a profligate amount of flowers to power itself. I was looking into making metal-powered engines, but turns out copperphones are about the upper limit of what metal-powered enchantments can take. Lots of longevity, but not much in the way of juice. I''m also working on alchemical sieves, industrial stills and other assorted ends and odds to kickstart the chemical industry.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Selene''s foster dad came through with an agreement. He had visited the duchy, shook hands with dad and made an agreement to transport our goods around the coast, both to the north to Albic islands and to the south, to the Thousand Isles. On our hand, we have had given him funds and schematics to lay down four new ships, which is going to put him right above the squabbling idiots in the area in terms of "fuck you". He''s already registered as a caravaneer, but with six ships instead of two... He sent a letter yesterday, one of the four is ready to the schematic and he is ecstatic about it. Contemporary shipbuilding is mostly cogs and carracks, the latter of which are being considered "the ship" to develop. If my admittedly limited naval history memories are correct, carracks are supposed to transition into galleons, which would include them becoming lower, narrower and longer to accommodate better speeds. Current ships are... bulbous, let''s put it like this.


    In comparison, the plans I have provided are for a light sloop, a brigantine and a clipper. The first two were pretty common designs. Last, well... I had little hope that they''d build me Rainbow or Sea Witch from the first try. It was provided mostly as an example of advanced designs I could give to them, to whet their appetite. The promise of bigger ship designs would further inspire them to put actual effort into those. More importantly, all the designs I have had provided were late eighteen century hulls, as opposed to late fifteenth century as the shipbuilding here was. Mixed sail rigging should provide quite an advantage over current ships. The plans called for the construction of two sloops in addition to two cogs they currently have and two brigantines. And one of the sloops had been built first as a pilot example. According to the letter, they are... very satisfied with the new design. So much, that Edmon (Selene''s foster dad. Edmon Dantes. Thankfully, without a horrible backstory of being imprisoned for years over a crime that was not a crime. Yeah, I have no idea either why every second name I encounter is a reference to something I read, watched, played or listened to. Or refused to do any of the aforementioned, as is the case with unfortunately named Ed.) is venturing forth a suggestion that if the brigantine pans out to be comparably impressive, they might sell both cogs to local fishermen and build one more brigantine. Or, maybe, attempt a clipper.


    I wrote back to him that so far, I''d like for them to establish the viability of brigantines and sloops as superior ships and leave off clipper design until he has his own trading house. Edmon might be dubious about this, but should he push forward and really make himself THE person to go to when you need to deliver something by sea? Coupled with his stepdaughter marrying a prince? And a profitable relationship with a wealthy ducal family on the rise? He''s gonna go far, if I have anything to say about it. And I do need a good reliable "face" to hire the seamen I''d need. Because there is no way in hell to maintain control over the archipelago without a fleet.


    Honestly, I''m unsure if I even want to bother with big sails. I suppose I can pass over some windjammer designs, I should have enough of industry and enchanting by then to figure out a magical version of dynarig, but that is years in the future. For now, I''d settle for a fleet a couple hundred years ahead of the competition, at least. But really, I''m already thinking about steamboats. And, while we are on the point... I keep jotting this thing down. It''s impractical, and overly grandiose and just plain pretentious, but... But damnit, I want my own airship. And if my plans (which go into a SEPARATE scroll I don''t show to anyone) are anything to go off, this promises to be a flying mansion. No crew other than my family, automated everything. Magic, enchantments up the wazoo, exploiting all the physical laws they don''t even know yet and blatantly breaking some of them... Goodness.


    Right, I have had been shaking some hands around the capital, while at it. While the textile industry is pretty decent so far, I notice a distinct lack of cotton. Asking some questions had revealed the truth - cotton is known, but expensive. I was able to obtain some cotton thread and sheets. (Bridgit was more than a little scandalized when I asked her what she thinks about cotton undergarments. Apparently, she thinks I''m a horribly extravagant person to want such expensive fabrics on a maid. But since she didn''t say no, I got her to find a seamstress and embroideress to fashion some. I''ve been subsequently jibbed on by all four girls for being "way too cagey". Paranoia is not unfounded when they''re really out to get me, girls.) Pondering the merits of introducing cotton gin. Actually, I think I save that one for a bit. If my hunches are right, Salaadin is going to crack sooner than later. Once the Sultanate bends enough for me to get what I want, they''re going to be very sore losers about that, and passing them a device that will let them get prosperous off cotton will probably smooth things out enough to make them concentrate on rebuilding.


    However, there is a certain issue that''s been bothering me. I''ve been invited for a meal and business discussion with a certain merchant tomorrow in the afternoon. And this invitation makes me feel.... off. This guy is... skeezy, no other word about it. Oh, he is pleasant enough, I''ll give that. But I''ve noticed certain glances in his direction and mine, subtle hints from people who clearly want to warn me off but don''t dare to. Wonder what this is all about? I planted eyespiders on him, and I''m currently perusing his papers. Including the stuff he keeps hidden behind the painting. Classic, that.


    The picture that comes out of it is pretty grim. This guy is a mob boss, there is no other way to sell it. He runs a protection racket, he has a great deal of influence in the merchant guild, hell, he has the fucking floor plans of MY fucking confectionery. And other assorted papers, including the summary on profits (likely obtained by observation, it''s off by a bunch) with this bastard''s "resolution" across the report "to be acquired". The big question is, what do I do? I can eat him here and now, he would be billed as "disappeared in the middle of night mysteriously". The thing is, people will STILL assume he is around. I need to make him go away publicly if I am to remain unmolested. But going away he MUST be, because he apparently already IS leaning on father''s men for "protection money", and they fucking pay because everyone does.


    Besides, I''m morbidly curious as to what tack he is going to use for this. Will he outright threaten? Or will he try to swindle me? Or maybe he thinks he knows something blackmail-worthy? Or maybe his whole plan is just browbeating? Well, well, well...


    "Girls? I will be absent till evening tomorrow. I have a dinner with monsieur Konistan."

 Chapter 45. Aggressive Negotiations

    My first impression on entering the Konistan trading house is "not impressed". Honestly, it''s just... every single thing here is practically shouting "I''m trying so hard, why aren''t you impressed with me?". Literally everything, from floor to attendants to ceiling. The expressions cinch it. Those people have chiseled ¡®I''m so much better than you¡¯ on their faces so hard not even ¡®golly, let''s not piss off high noble¡¯ is diluting it well enough to be unseen. The impression intensifies when they open their mouths. I wonder if Konistan told them to pull that shit, or they''re just habitually used to doing it.


    "Monsieur Konistan is a very busy man and does not see anyone off the street." - the girl in front of me simpers - "Besides, he is expecting a very important guest right now. Go on, shoo." Seriously? Fucking seriously?


    I lean over the counter slightly, just so that we''re on the same eyelevel. "Mhm. He sure does. One Alyssa Gillespie, namely me." - I tell her with a smile - "Now, are you going to be a good little bunny and run to fetch your boss? Or maybe you''re feeling confident enough to risk him putting you into whorehouse to pay off the losses he''s going to take if I decide he''s being a rude host and leave prematurely?"


    She snaps back and wisely decides to confer with her friend before saying anything else. The said friend immediately closes her mouth with a hand and puts another arm around her waist, pulling her into the backroom despite the surprised groaning. The door slams shut, and the second girl gives me a saccharine smile. "Terribly sorry, lady Gillespie, we did not expect you to arrive incognito. Please follow me, monsieur Konistan is awaiting you."


    The dude himself fails to impress either. Oh, he is well dressed, well coiffed and even perfumed, which is probably a mistake on his part, as he acknowledges he uses wares from duchy already, accepts the current price and therefore should not be negotiating anything down. But the impression? I would be hard-pressed to actually put a finger on what about him is so off, but he gives a very comprehensive impression of "this person is skeezy, avoid touching if at all possible". So naturally, the moment I think this, he grabs my hand to kiss it. Eww, slobber. Dude, why. Whyyyy! I surreptitiously incinerate everything on my skin below wrist as soon as my hand is out of his sight. Bleh.


    The meal itself is... passable. Once again, the dude tries too hard. Among the delicacies on the table, there is no space left for actual food. All of it is one big show of "look how rich I am". And now the smarmy prick is saying something... "..And it had come to my attention that you like chilled cava, Lady Gillespie, so I naturally thought to present the most exclusive bean, the inimitable Kopi Luwak!"


    The cup that is set in front of me is an atrocity. They tried to brew half-digested beans green. While giving them a few thumps with a pestle, if at that, I can see the crumbs floating in the cup. And, if so, it means they didn''t even WASH the fucking things before... ...Fuck it. I''m going to get nasty.


    "...Monsieur Konistan." - I offer to him icily - "I am going to presume you are not aware that this particular SORT of cava is a cruel joke by Pharos empire on Sultanate. Kopi Luwak is the beans picked out of shit of specific sort of rodent that likes eating cava fruit and is abundant in the far east." I lift the cup lightly, and swish it in front of his nose - "It is under no circumstances to be brewed without very thorough washing, broiling and crumbling, and honestly, I wouldn''t drink it even if you prepared it properly, because I am not nearly decadent enough to seek the thrills of consuming treefox dung." The cup is set down with a little bang - "So... I''m going to presume this was a case of benign ignorance and not an attempt to denigrate me. Kindly have it removed before we continue, I am of the strong opinion that manure is not something to be placed on the table."


    OOh, geeze, no need to look so rattled. "...Certainly, certainly." - he mutters, summoning a servant to remove the offending cup. I notice that his is also surreptitiously gone, and a pair of entirely different cups are brought out, with very safe and traditional tea in them. Better. "How did you ever learn of this perfidy, lady Gillespie?" - he inquires, whatever it was he intended to ask is forgotten in the face of ¡®omg I almost drank brewed shit¡¯. I snort.


    "If you ever taken instruction at the temple or paid attention to what they do, one of the basic light spells is for detection of uncleanliness. It will tell you if water is safe to drink, if food is safe to eat, if you are clean enough or need a bath to avoid getting sick." - I explain to him - "That spell reacts to bags of Kopi Luwak. We had a merchant from Pharos trying to sell this in our county once. He, ah... was encouraged to explain himself." This is essentially true, even though I am letting Konistan think that encouragement was less of verbal permission and more of physical coercion.


    His face darkens. "...bedamned copper-faced dotards." - he mutters - "I bet they laughed when they sold me those!" He visibly sweeps the snarl off his face and looks up with a smile that would be almost nice - if it wasn''t so smarmy. "Anyway, foreign indignities aside, it is truly great to be able to meet you at last, milady. I have been very impressed with your acumen. To start a shop within three weeks, why, this must have been positively exhausting."


    Hm. Not seeing what line of attack he wants to commit to. Try and get me to hire someone to help manage? Imply I didn''t hire enough and push for me to hire more from him, ¡®as a favor just for you¡¯? Let''s see how far the rabbit hole goes. "Well, it was certainly a hassle. It is open now, though, and turns pretty good profits for a shop less than a month old." - I agree neutrally, trying one of the slices. Goodness gracious, why, this is halloumi, you''re not supposed to serve it with sour cream! It is best grilled, not... agh!


    "A lot of effort, isn''t it?" - he offers commiseratingly - "Honestly, all that mercantile effort must be beneath you, milady. Wouldn''t it be nice to have someone of more appropriate stature handle the humdrum? I can scarcely believe you would find daily reports to be fun reading."


    I quirk a brow at him. I''m guessing he is trying to get me to hire one of his underlings as a shop manager, then. Uninspired, but probably effective enough. "I''ll manage, thank you." - I tell him blandly - "Now, I was under the impression you wanted to discuss some business venture with me?"


    I''m pretty certain that he didn''t, and the "discussion" is just a polite fiction for "hand your shop over, bitch" kind of negotiations. He certainly isn''t looking to buy me out. Given how his expression changes, I''m guessing he expected objections, if maybe not so abrupt. "I wouldn''t be so hasty, Lady Gillespie." - he offers, still sticking with his polite fiction - "Handling a shop is a full-time occupation, no matter how easy it might seem right now. Sooner or later, you will find yourself out of time if you want to keep your Academy studies going. I daresay I know what I am talking about, I have been managing the shops all my life after all. I implore you to defer to my experience on the matter."


    "Defer how?" - I ask him, more to make him say what he wants out loud than out of any actual need in clarification.


    "Ah well, I would be glad to take over the management for you. I can get proper results out of your endeavor, mark my words." - he sleazes on. Goodness, do I REALLY come across as na?ve?


    "Mhm. And how do you plan to report profits to me?" - I am genuinely curious just how dumb this is going to get. It''s like watching a trainwreck. You know it''s going to end in pain, tears and death, but you just can''t look away.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    "Do not worry yourself about such minor details, milady, I will work things out with your father, man to man. It would be a relief for him too, I''d wager, to know your shop is in dependable hands." - he forges on, standing up and fetching a bunch of papers - "Just sign here, milady, and I will take care of everything."


    I peer at him. Pick up the papers. And slowly riiiiip the whole sheaf in halves. "Right. I guess it''s my turn to negotiate." - I tell him, smiling tightly - "I believe I''m going to keep my shop to myself, thank you very much. And if I find any of your men poking around, I will have them whipped and thrown into the ditch as common thieves. Understand, pissant?" Oh, fuck it. Sometimes, it''s just downright pleasant to cut loose and play the role of a stuck up aristocrat.


    He clicks his tongue. "I was hoping you''re smarter than this." - he says mock-compassionately, as he picks up a bell from the table and rings it. The door opens, and... ooh, that''s a big ork you have there. Going to try and threaten me now? He turns to the ork in question, and utterly butchers the language - "<dfn title="Uz, to fuck bitch stronger.">§µ§Ù, §Ö§Ò§Ñ§ä§î §ã§å§Ü§Ñ §ã§Ú§Ý§î§ß§Ö§Ö.</dfn>" Ok, that is... a lot of escalation at once. And I think I get a hint for what''s his hard plan is. Good news, time to stop holding back. Bad news, now I''m really angry. Actually, come to think of it, did he call that ork Uz?... Is the game fucking with me? Why would a conman HERE suddenly employ an ork that was supposed to lead a raiding warband on the confederacy border? Are other DLC characters heading here too? Fuck, I could really do without Vlad fucking Tepesh in the mix. Because I will eat his fucking head on the first meeting and that would be all sorts of awkward and complicated afterward.


    "<dfn title="Sweet slut...">§³§Ý§Ñ§Õ§Ö§ß§î§Ü§Ñ§ñ §ê§Ý§ð§ê§Ü§Ñ...</dfn>" - Uz interrupts my musings. He... Really shouldn''t have said that. REALLY. Because that particular phrase in that particular situation... reminds me of a similar situation in a previous life. And I react the same way as back then.


    Standing up, I proclaim confidently - "<dfn title="Shit yourself, animal!">§µ§ã§â§Ú§ã§î, §ã§Ü§à§ä§Ú§ß§Ñ!</dfn>" and kick him in the stomach with all my might. The previous life situation deteriorated badly, a whole mess including knives, struggle, long and unpleasant talks with police about the acceptable limits of self-defense and a long scar on the forearm that made wearing anything with short sleeves an unpleasant reminder. In this life, well... Let''s just say that for a shoggoth, "all my might" means something a liiiiittle different than for an ordinary teenager. Uz doubles over around my leg for a moment before the momentum carries him backward. The impact shakes the whole room, and when he falls down from the wall, there is a very obvious imprint left by his body, plaster caving in hard enough for drywall to break around it, splinters circling the indent.


    I.... might have not thought it through entirely. Because the very next thing Uz does is vacate his... well, everything. I think I actually smashed his abdomen contents into a mess, because the salty tang of blood is clearly distinct among the sour stench of vomit, shit and urine mixing together. Konistan peers back over his shoulder, stupefied. I can see him breaking through his confusion and conjure a knife. It sails through the air and sinks into the door frame next to the handle with a solid thunk, making him yelp and jerk back. "Try to open this door and the next knife goes into the back of your neck." - I tell him, flipping the second knife in my hand to make it obvious there is a knife to be thrown.


    "...Er. Parley?" - he offers uncertainly. I can actually see him sweating. The fuck? Is this visual gag day? Am I being pranked by the universe again? THE HELL?!


    "Come take a seat, Vole." - I tell him softly - "And I''ll tell you how things are going to be."


    He swallows, but starts towards the seat. "I can scream for help, you know?" - he tries.


    "Sure. Go ahead and try, if you want to roll the loaded dice." - I agree blandly - "Chances are, by the time someone ELSE makes it here, you will have a dagger in your throat, and I will quite honestly claim you and your brutish accomplice here had conspired to rape me. Which, even if you survive the dagger to the throat, will see you beheaded in short order, because the king has no compassion for people trying to rape the fianc¨¦es of his children."


    "Your engagement to prince Edward was broken." - he points out, regaining a little bit of confidence, as he sits - "For a good reason, I dare think. What would a king say on finding out a fianc¨¦e of his son were to sleep with an ork, I wonder?"


    "I think he would ask why are you trying to lie to him." - I point out - "You see, my engagement was switched from Edward to Lily-Anne by mutual consent. So yes, the king is fully aware I prefer girls and would find your story to be wildly outrageous. That is, if you were able to say anything to begin with, mind. As things stand, by the time someone else makes it in here, there will be nothing but me and two dead bodies. You did send everyone else out of the second floor specifically so your accomplice could do whatever it is you had in mind without anyone poking up to ask what the strange noises are, isn''t it so?"


    He flinches, his confidence evaporating. "How do you know that?" - he demands hoarsely - "What kind of sorcery is this? WHAT ARE YOU!? No woman should be able to kill a grown ork with a single kick!"


    "Oh, he''s alive." - I object - "I think he sorely wishes he wasn''t, though. Having your gut smashed into mincemeat sounds remarkably painful." As if to underline me Uz gurgles something. He is curled up on the floor, clutching his stomach, and both my ordinary and magical senses tell me the same thing - he is dying, and it will be a long slow road. With the current medicine states, priests could probably ease his pain, but not put in enough of fix-it magic to prevent him from croaking from kidney failure. And if that is fixed, there is a pretty thoroughly smashed liver, seven different intestinal ruptures, and I think his gall bladder outright burst and is currently adding more to the mess inside of him. Kids, pro-tip, never get kicked in the stomach by a shoggoth experiencing a traumatic flashback. You will die in a thoroughly agonizing manner if you do.


    Sighing, I walk up to him, lift his head a little by the hair and slide the dagger into the concave hollow at the very tip of the neck, severing his spine and pushing the blade deep into the brain. A quick twist, and I pull back, leaving him expressly dead. Konistan watches with wide eyes. This is likely not the first murder he ever saw, but he''s still pretty darn shaken up.


    "Now that we have amended the unfortunate fact of your accomplice being alive, let''s talk about your fate, Vole." - I begin - "As it so happens, I have prepared my own papers for you to sign. But before we get to that, a little demonstration." He hops up and stares around in panic as the room... fades away. "What... Where... HOW!?" - he yelps, as he stares across the void. Rocks floating through the sky, violet vegetation, strange three-legged beasts with one huge eye and a very strange screech...


    "This world is called Xen." - I tell him - "A nice place, isn''t it? Entirely outside of our world, no chance to ever go back unless you''re a mage. No chance at all if you don''t come prepared, Xen does not have flowers."


    The illusion fades. I am fairly sure Xen actually exists somewhere, but I wouldn''t want to poke there, much less use it as dumping ground for malcontents. But it is a perfectly serviceable alien land to scare morons with. "What you''ve seen now is but a momentary glimpse. Just so we''re clear - if you do not show utmost cooperation, I will toss you there and cancel the spell without taking you back."


    He shivers, holding his shoulders. "What do you want?" - he demands sullenly.


    I put the papers down on the table. "I want to buy you out. Your business, your trading house, your employees. I have had compiled some notes on you and know exactly how much you''re worth." - I tell him. He scans through the papers slowly, paling as he descends.


    "This is a robbery! You would take my life''s work for but a tenth of its value?" - he explodes, only to back off and fall into the chair as I wave the knife in front of him - "Gods damn you for that!"


    "Oh? Weren''t you about to have your muscle have his way with me? I find it funny that a rapist would blather about the injustice of not being paid premiums." - I object.


    His face is... very much displeased as he spits out - "He wouldn''t have done anything to you that you''re not craving anyways!" Oh. One of those types, I see.


    "Right. So, here are your options. Option one. Don''t sign anything. I''m just going to toss you into Xen and leave, then buy out your trading house as it goes on auction in a month. Option two - sign the papers, take the chest of gold that''s already been placed at your house, tell everyone you''re leaving on a business trip, and leave. So long as you leave Champagne within the week, I wash my hands of you. But once that week passes, if you are ever within Champagne for whichever reason? Next time you wake up, you will wake up on Xen. Order someone to be raped or murdered, or do it yourself? Same deal." - I tell him.


    "...You... You... You can''t just exile me from my own homeland!" - he yelps.


    "What exile? I''m just giving you options." - I smile at him - "If you know what''s good for you, you''ll take the money option and leave."


    Slowly, unwillingly, he picks up the quill and starts signing the papers.

 Interlude 5. Double Double, Toil And Trouble!

    This would be the third time. At this point, Klaus wasn''t even trying to pretend he''s doing serious work there. He was incredibly intrigued what other weird finds would a spell produce. Of course, he wouldn''t dream of abandoning his actual duties for this lark, the events were already in motion for some genuine spying on the ever so elusive lady Gillespie. Given what his contacts had told him, she had successfully "disappeared" an assassin sent from Alamut. Which, well, was something very remarkable. Those fellows were exceptionally well trained, and managing to ambush one without anyone being wiser of it? A LOT of skill and secrets had to be involved. Honestly, he had no clue what actually happened to the assassin in question, the extent of his data was "ventured to case the Academy and disappeared". Which means Old Man probably didn''t know much more on his Mountain. Or maybe even this much.


    He himself had made a resolution to avoid any personal contacts. Lady Gillespie was proving herself to be a ruthless and cunning operator, someone possibly on his own level. Despite himself, Klaus felt some excitement about this. Spycraft was not for lily-livered nor for stupid. A proper mix of cleverness, bravery, cunning, audacity and ruthlessness was something he truly valued in his subordinates and respected in his opponents. His previous instance was misled by the guise of effete noble and paid dearly for it. Klaus rubbed his neck absentmindedly as he recalled the supremely morbid examination of his own severed head. It was not as preserved as he would have liked, prince Hiram for all his merits was not a trained inquisitor nor was he a trained undertaker and thus did not do more than just place the head into an ice chest. Which admittedly helped, but putting it under stasis would be even better. Anyway, while the finer traces have had been erased by mana dissipation and early decomposition, he was able to take a fairly decent plaster of the cut. And that plaster was very interesting. His previous instance was not beheaded with a blade, as it was surmised. Rather, if he read the cuts right, it was done with some sort of serrated pair of blades. Something like giant scissors. Or crab claw. Self-transformation? Exotic weapon? Summons?


    So, he was playing the long game here. His contact at Konistan''s trade house would cause some minor altercation, get Vole Konistan to step in as arbitrator. Smarmy bastard would love that, he operated on the favors owed and blackmail first and foremost. Draw the target in, get them involved, then blackmail the hell out of them. Tried and true scheme. And this time, if things go sideways, it''s Konistan who''s going to get beheaded.


    Win-win. Today, he was doing to do something special, though. His people had managed to find a two-headed dandelion by accident. Not too important, dandelions were low-level air and light foci, and therefore not particularly sought after, but it was useful in scrying spell, and two-headed flower could produce some interesting results. He was not quite sure what exactly would happen, but he was looking forward to it.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ...Well. Apparently, using two-headed dandelion produced TWO distinct objects. In essence, scrying twice for the effort of one spell. Useful data, that. He jotted down the observation and then went ahead with examining what he got back. Item number one was... deliciously smelling, actually. Klaus swallowed, his mouth suddenly filling with saliva as the smell reminded him of missed lunch. It was a loaf of bread. Regular, ordinary, freshly baked loaf. Maybe from that bakery she opened recently. Giving it a bit of a poke with diagnostic spells did not show anything out of order. It was bread. With walnuts. Walnut bread. Klaus looked left. Right. On the table again. Sighed. "<dfn title="Gods damn it! The witch is twisted.">Geter farshiltn es! Di mekhasheyfe iz verzwickt.</dfn>" - he muttered as he gave in and started stuffing his face. It went surprisingly well with a bit of wine he had left over in the alcove.


    Thus fortified, he examined the second item. In a way, he was slightly glad he gave in and ate the bread first. The bloody hammer was distinctly unappetizing. Picking it up gingerly, he hit the hammer with his usual bevy of detection spells. The hammer itself was nothing special. Oak handle, forged iron head. The blood was much more interesting. According to his examination, the blood was several days old. And yet, still wet. Curious. He took a piece of rag and carefully wiped the end of the hammer. But while he was confident that he left the end clean, pulling the rag away revealed it to be just as bloody as it was, in spite of rag soaking up a good deal of it. Several bloodied rags later, Klaus had set the hammer aside and focused a much more comprehensive bevy of investigative spells on it. Ohohoh, how curious. This hammer was used to commit a senseless murder. The bloodiness is simply an expression of its inherent foulness. Klaus could not tell who was murdered with it, but he could be entirely certain that the murder was committed for the sake of murder. Very rare, that. People usually needed more reason to kill than just a desire to see a dead body.


    Since there were no good traces otherwise, he set the hammer aside after a while, and called in a servant. While he did not expect any gains from this lark, he would not look a gift horse in the mouth, and a minor dark artifact was a respectable gain for a spell cast to tickle one''s curiosity. He''d have to think on the possible uses of this find, too. It had obvious merits as an anti-vampire tool. Any vampire who had a stake hammered in them with this will not be coming back, no matter what. For that matter, simply nailing a coffin shut with this hammer would deny it to vampire forevermore, even if he were to find living underlings to pry it open. Metaphysical junctions were interesting like this. And, of course, there were always political uses for things like these. He''d have to think about it.

 Chapter 46. Tying Up Loose Ends

    Spying on Konistan is surprisingly amusing. He never realized I generously seeded his whole place with eyespiders. By now, they have had dispersed to every place he has dealings with. So, to sum it up. He is rattled by our meeting and intends to pretend he is doing what I told him. Taking gold and leaving. Of course, the instructions he leaves are different. He instructs that I am to be listened to, smiled at and politely ignored as much as possible, or in case I give direct orders - do bare minimums in a way that makes it easy to reverse, otherwise stick to normal operations, wait for instructions from him. I believe he is intentionally promulgating the idea that he is using me to take the fall for something he did, and would be back to take control as soon as I''m arrested or assassinated. His second in command, notably, receives the same instructions, but unlike everyone else, also sends a letter about it somewhere else. The guy is also notably rattled. I think he expected a somewhat different outcome of the meeting.


    I wonder where Konistan is going. Given the arrangements he made, I surmise he intends to travel by sea, because he travels south. Confederacy, perhaps? Or further on? Or maybe he just doesn''t want to get near dad''s duchy and intends to get to Kraut via Mittelzea? Anyway, he has a carriage prepared for him... And, apparently, he decided to pick up some extra cash taking passengers. Why, hello there, former professor Hardlock, long time no see. I think I''m going to kill two birds with one stone, here. Ooh, they''re talking! And Hardlock just started ranting. Ooh, and here Vole goes wide-eyed. Wonder why. Did he not expect to pick up someone else who has a grudge against me?


    The carriage stops outside the town a good ways off. Huh. This must be Vole''s pal handling illegal matters more closely. Interesting kit this guy has. I gotta nab him soon. The rest of the day proves to be a boring one, but things start heating up in the evening. Vole and his pal step out for a word.


    "So what''s the deal? I read your letter, did you seriously run from one prissy bitch?" - his pal begins - "What''s going on? I don''t believe this shitty story you spun one bit, Vole! If she were truly leaning on you that hard, you have enough people willing to slide some knife into a noble back for a bit of coin."


    "Shh. Not so loud. Yeah, I was thinking things over, and I''m smelling a rat." - he retorts - "See, this whole thing? Maxie''s tip. He found the bitch, he told me she''s easy pickings, he ''forgot'' important details like she''s still fucking betrothed to the royal family. Just to the princess instead of the prince. Geez, I''d love to be a fly on the wall on that wedding night..."


    "Yeah, yeah. Vole, head in the game, pal. You think Maxie''s setting you up? He''s been operating real loose for a while, yeah, but he never did anything that overt before." - his fellow grumbles - "This stinks. Why would he suddenly set you up like this? Think that broad''s got him over something?"


    "Damned if I know, Kaste. I think we''re going to lay low for a while. If they''re in cahoots, then we can expect Maxie to start getting his mitts on the shops and drop my name in every ear. Then we''ll just have our local associates pull him in for a nice lazy talk." - Vole replies with a shudder - "Damn, it''s chilly when the sun''s down. I''m more worried about the witch. She could do some crazy shit without any flower showing up. So either she has something to keep''em nice and safe, or we''re really screwed."


    "Might be second, actually." - Kaste offers - "I''ve put out some feelers, and get this? The rumor goes, that whatever is that bee shit going on in Sultanate? Gillespie''s the one who tossed it their way."


    "Crap. Shit. Merde. Drek. Scheisse! §¥§¦§²§¾§®§°!" - pacing around, Konistan starts waving his arms as he considers the implications - "Meaning she might have NOT been fucking bluffing that evening when she killed Uz and told me to get out of country or else. Ok, change of plans. That fucker with me? Has her attention on him. Didn''t find out until he started ranting on the road, or I would''ve told him to find someone else to ride with. He needs to... get lost. I gotta go be seen at the hall. Take care of him for me? I''ll owe you one."


    Kaste scratches his head - "...Fine. But you''re going to owe me solid for this one, brother. It''s sad enough I have to pretend to be your lackey."


    Vole waves his hand dismissively, as he heads back in - "Once we''re in Mersaille, pick your pub and drink all you want, I''ll cover the bill." His brother (Huh, they don''t really look alike... But share common features. Different living standards really turn things around.) grins and steps back into the alley. The conversation he has with Hardlock is surprisingly simple - he simply tells the prissy idiot that someone knocked over his chest and Hardlock flutters out of his seat to go check. I guess petty thievery is a common problem.


    Or maybe Hardlock is having some sort of glassware in his chest and is doublechecking on it. Huh. Go figure. Why is he so protective of those vases? Must be antiques or something enchanted maybe. Kaste steps behind Hardlock. Quiet-like, he obviously is used to not being heard. I wonder what... Ooh. Huh. A knife makes an appearance and introduces itself hilt-deep into Hardlock''s liver, a short twist and jank ripping the liver in two halves with the tip of the blade, and is swiftly pulled back, while a free hand muffles the surprised yelp. An experienced murderer, it looks like. I can see him lowering the body on the ground silently. The knife is stuck into the ground between the paving stones, ostensibly to clean off the blood... and this is when I strike. My eyespiders have not been idle and had collectively eaten enough out of the inn''s larders to give me a full body operational mass. So when I step out of the alley behind Kaste, I do it in my human form.


    He... Is surprisingly light. I''m not exactly confident in my ability to land an instant kill with a knife, and so I opt for a conjured loop of steel wire. Garrote is a very convenient tool. Especially if you have some idea how to use it. And DOUBLY so if you can grow extra arms on demand. So this is exactly what I do - grow a pair of extra arms and step up. The lower pair grabs Kaste under the armpits and holds him aloft like a kitten, while the upper pair loops a wire around his neck and pulls on it. Not too hard, I remember about having superhuman might this time and opt for slow and steady strangulation instead. Admittedly, it might be less pleasant to Kaste than an instant wire decapitation that would happen if I just yanked on the wire hard, but his personal feelings on the matter are less important than the fact he''s not going to make a mess... I SAID, NOT GOING TO MAKE A MESS, GODS DAMN IT! Why did you have to go and piss yourself... oh, wait. Heh. This is not piss. Dude actually had a hangman''s boner. Go figure.


    Dropping the dead body unceremoniously, I turn to check on Hardlock. He is... still alive. Barely. Just enough to make a gurgle and go silent on seeing my face. Oh well. I daresay, there are less pleasant sights to die to. Still... I close Hardlock''s eyes with my fingers, and sigh. I guess I need the last actor in this here. But to do that... Oh. Gah. Ew. Ok, SO... Let''s quickly dispose of Kaste. I don''t want to eat the body whole, it would be extremely weird and unnecessarily sexual and morbid and oh gods why did I have to think of that. Ew ew ew ew. Ok. Pulling one of the Hardlock''s spare sheets (Yes, he has bed sheets in his chest. Don''t ask me why.), I start dealing with Kaste piece by piece. Brain, eaten. Musclemass - mostly eaten. Bones - partially eaten. Internal organs - ew no, bad condition, low nutrients, dump dump dump. Blood... ew, no, he has a pretty nasty case of malaria, boil and evaporate, dump the dry remnant. Skin, shred and dump. In the end, I have a nice little roll that I''m going to take somewhere really secluded and burn the fuck out of.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Stretching out, I take the shape of Kaste and stroll into the inn. Vole grins upon seeing me, but his grin falters when I motion for him to come and disappear back into the backyard. He shows up a moment later, huffing. "What do you want!?" - he hisses - "I can''t be seen next to the.... grrk!" The last is said when I turn around and run a knife through his solar plexus, squeezing his throat to silence him with the other hand. "Brother, WHY!?" - he manages to choke out, and I let the shape flow back to form my own. His eyes widen comically and I can feel him starting to shut down, as excitement runs out his last few bits that much sooner.


    "Did you honestly think I''d settle for just kicking you out of the country, you little shit?" - I tell him pleasantly - "I just wanted you somewhere quiet, dumbass. For fuck''s sake, you should have been running day and night and have four people watching you at all times if you wanted to live long enough to cross the border." He dies without comprehension, I feel, because his face remains a mask of painful surprise even as I detect his brain shut down for good. I drop him on the ground and continue with the plan ''Highway Robbery''. The aforementioned plan includes me nudging bodies to be closeish, and adding some scuffle to make it look like Hardlock was stabbed in the back while he was poking through his chest, and then his assailant was in turn grabbed by Vole who got stabbed in the chest for his troubles. Then the assailant grabbed the obvious valuables and hightailed it, leaving the knife stuck in Vole''s chest in a hurry.


    But this leaves me with a burden. I have a bunch of vases from Hardlock''s chest (want not, waste not and all that, besides they''re obviously expensive and I had to take them because otherwise my set up stage would look odd), the whole chest of money that Vole "got" from me in exchange for his businesses and a bunch of assorted knick-knacks that look obviously expensive (Hardlock''s coat clasp and cufflinks, Konistan''s neck chain and a couple of rings from his fingers, a fairly nice pocket watch, I might even keep that one for personal use, an ornate knife from his belt... Nice haul.). How to carry it homewards without being seen? After some rumination, I take a cue from yet another game I played, morphing myself into something vaguely resembling an organic cargo blimp. It actually works better than I expected, I''m making good time. Squids have a pretty good propulsion system, if you really think about it. If the wind keeps its current direction, I estimate I''m going to be back at the estate two hours before sunrise. Yesss, all according to keikaku.


    Far away, in a comfortable bed, I mumble something nondescript, pulling whoever is in front of me a little closer. I think it''s Bridgit. Or maybe Lily-Anne. Too asleep to care.


    ___


    Morning presents me with another problem. I have located Maximilien Verwaand, and would you guess it? I recognize him. He is the dude who suggested the idea and hired the brigands to kill Bridgit''s dad. Second in command of Konestan trading house is apparently answering to Klaus, if the clues I found at his place are of any indication. I have decided to check on him after hearing from Vole that it was he who pointed me out as a potential mark, and I was not disappointed. Oh, was I ever NOT disappointed. Apparently, he had served Klaus since his teens, always presenting himself as a merchant (and let us be fair, getting pretty good results out of it), while acting as a spy.


    Maxie is found in bed, tied, gagged and taken back to my estate before the sunrise. This is my present for Bridgit. Now, let us make the final act of this drama happen. Taking on his shape, I visit several of the businesses he is expected to have free reign of. Each one, I visit, act like I''m in a hurry, "check ledgers" and grab as much gold as I can out of coffers. The story will be that Maxie indeed planned to doublecross Vole, got him successfully killed, and then disappeared with the money. Later on, he would be fished dead out of the river, and the remains of Vole''s organization will hopefully arrive to the conclusion that Kaste took offense to Maximilien murdering his brother, did the revenge and then took the moneys and went off into retirement somewhere far away. I can see people starting to be suspicious as I clean out the last business, but they are not fast enough to stop me. Maybe if they were a little quicker on the uptake, I''d have to do a runner, but as is, the narration is "and you let him go!". Good. That will give me a good starting issue to legitimately apply pressure over.


    Lessons pass slowly. I spend this time using my alternate self to interrogate Maximilien on all that he knows. Pro-tip. It is entirely possible to conjure sodium thiopental in the accompanying syringe. Maxie readily remembers Christoff and admits he was "a problem" and that he "wouldn''t cooperate". He also admits, somewhat curiously, that the idea to kill Christoff was his. Klaus was actually displeased with the suggestion once the consequences became obvious and had forced Maximilien to become second in command to Konistan instead of being his own boss. Admittedly, Klaus was mad not because someone died, but because having someone killed for not cooperating had fractured the merchant guild in Kraut into factions that proceeded to wage cold war on each other, making it necessary to cultivate a separate network of contacts within each faction. The split is still going strong, by the way, Maxie really fucked things up. This is also why he ended up in Champagne - keeping him in Kraut merchant circles was just too divisive for Klaus to tolerate.


    In the afternoon, I pick up Bridgit and venture to the estate, on the premise of "handling some domestic issues". She is more then a little surprised to see Maximilien tied to the chair in the cellar.


    "Mistress, who is this?" - she frets, obviously discomfited by the situation.


    "This, Bridgit, is the man who killed your father." - I tell her and her whole countenance changes like I flipped some kind of switch. "Oh? Tell me more, please." - she offers with a smile that shows no warmth, but all the teeth.


    Over the next fifteen minutes, I explain to her the sequence of events, inject Maxie with fresh dose of thiopental so he could confirm (he''s beaten down enough that he would talk even without it, but I wanted to show Bridgit that I have a way to make people talk without torturing them) and gag him again.


    "Do you want to kill him yourself?" - I ask Bridgit - "Or watch me do it? Or you''d rather step out while I handle it?"


    She sighs. "...I... Don''t think I can do it myself, mistress. But if you are going to do it, then I believe I owe it to you and to my father to see it happen."


    I hug her. "Shh. It''s alright. I''m actually glad you don''t want to do it yourself. I need someone to be a voice of conscience at times." - I tell her before pulling back - "Alright then."


    She... winces as I step around the chair and throw the loop of wire around Verwaand''s neck, biting her lip and looking away as he chokes and wriggles, his legs beating against the chair as I strangle him. I try to do it as quickly as it is reasonable without splashing everywhere with blood. As he stills, I drop the wire loose and return to Bridgit, hugging her around the waist with one hand as I point with other and snap my fingers. The chair disappears from under the freshly made cadaver and it falls on a sheet of tarp I put there just for this. Another gesture rolls the body up and deposits it into the corner to be disposed of later.


    Bridgit sighs deeply, and turns to me, hiding her face against my chest. "I was thinking of this so long." - she sobs - "And I finally have my revenge. Why does it feel so bad now?"


    I pat her hair. "Because you''re a good person?" - I tell her simply - "Because you understand that two wrongs don''t make a right, even if justice has to be served. But mainly, because now you have to acknowledge that your father is truly and completely gone and avenging him did not bring him back. I''m sorry you have to."


    She sighs. "Thank you, mistress." - she offers softly - "For seeing after me, no matter what it takes."


    I smile at her - "You''re welcome, my dear wife." As corny as it was, it seems to cheer her up a lot.

 Chapter 47. Consolidating The Assets

    What follows is absolutely nightmarish. A whole month of me wrangling all sorts of ends and means Konistan had under his thumb under control. He was the sort of fellow with some semblance of brain, but critical lack of oomph, always falling short on what he started. The sad thing is, he didn''t realize that, because everyone is still falling short and thinking it normal in this society. So I push things. Hard.


    Konistan trading house is no more. Now, it is simply Northern Bank. I have had decided to split off the banking into a wholly separate organization and incorporate other things as affiliated companies, all of it under the generic aegis and oversight of Northern Trading Incorporated, a non-stock for-profit organization. Konistan did the "boxes stacked one into another" model. On paper, he owned four shops, a commercial stable and two mid-sized carracks anchored in Mersaille. De facto, those shops were in turn owning other shops. No, not the people in the shop. Shops themselves. An inspired bit of tax evasion, all things considered. Abraham swore a blue streak once I brought him the details. We hammered out a little agreement - he calls the old tax debts void in exchange for bulk payment of about three months worth of collective taxes at once (partially in products, he loved the idea of getting his army rearmed with proper steel as a tax obligation), I handed over half a dozen people I had some nasty dirt on (Two rapists using their status to hush things up, three embezzlers and one genuine serial killer. That last one was a REAL piece of work. Minor noble, major headcase, all-out nasty bastard. He had something against tall people, would capture them and saw their legs off at the knee to be "proper". The fact they all died from shock, blood loss or sepsis didn''t seem to register, he had cadavers in his "hostel" years old that he still brought meals to and tsked about them being picky over food. Normally, this kinda folks would get outright smote if they ever showed up in a temple, gods in this reality DO pay attention when someone this vile shows up, but apparently nutso had wisely avoided being anywhere near the temples or priests.) for public executions (Medieval times, people. Execution at this time does not necessarily mean death. Rapists were hung, the serial killer was beheaded, embezzlers were merely whipped raw.) and things started settling down.


    I had a good initial trump to browbeat Konistan''s people, with ''Verwaand'' taking out money and no one even trying to stop him, and I used this trump ruthlessly to root out the initial resistance. After that, despite the grumbling over the new company requirements, things went smoothly. And my requirements were many. Smiles, politeness, indifference to social rank - be you a lord or a peasant, you will be treated with the same high standard, uniforms. The last one was actually stupidly popular. I initially introduced it as a bit I could retract if I needed to make a show of giving a concession, but turns out that wearing my uniform is a social status in itself. I''m honestly more than a bit flabbergasted, but also spread the idea back to the duchy. I also altered the uniform to include the flower embroideries and started distributing a copied pamphlet that explains several basic spells anyone can pull with those that have home utility value, after it became clear to me that people are not just willing but also eager to wear the uniform. Dwarves started to show up in their own version of the uniform, and... reported about a 5% increase in profit. Like... What? (Dwarven version of the uniform includes chainmail woven into the heavy leather overcoat and actually looks pretty spiffy. But good luck moving in this unless you make your living swinging pickaxe.)


    I... might have bitten off more than I thought there was. Thankfully, I can stretch my maw as wide as I want, so chewing is not a problem. Also, it is now common knowledge that I can teleport (Ironic, because I didn''t actually use that one.), because I added a bunch of my matter to each initial letter sent with pigeons and subsequently massed up in assorted... extraneous biomass in the respective cities. As of now, I have clusters back home (Dad was flabbergasted when I popped in for a spot of tea. He was even more flabbergasted when I told him I took the spell from the Sultanate mage. The only place I actually teleported to, used that nook in the attic no one ever comes to that I remembered.), in Bakarat (Konistan turned out to have a shop in Ed''s lands. Nothing big, just a general reseller store. I bamfed it up with new products and instituted a 5% discount for Ed''s workers. Ed came by the next day to ask why the hell his governor sent him a letter of gratitude for "enlightened foresight in picking your allies".), in Mersaille and in Grenwille. The rest of the shops are near those four, and I can reach them easily enough via local means.


    In Mersaille, Konistan''s carracks are in a state of horrible disrepair, I''m surprised they can even sail. Paid to have them docked and rebuilt extensively. Worked out a deal with the dockmaster, he gives me preferential treatment and timber discount in exchange for blueprints for carrack to galleon conversion. Mostly, streamlining the top structures and better sail rigging. I also gave him the plans for proper galleons. Won''t be faster than my brigantines, they''re nearly a century behind, but will be a good improvement over the square sail only karracks. Decent update for bulk shipments. He apparently knows Selene''s stepdad and has good things to say about him, so when I mentioned he''s gonna be showing up with new ships, well... Let''s just say that dockmaster is going to listen to me very well. The shops here are getting an update and a turnover of employees. Some aren''t up to it. Have to work slower here, the road is still extending towards this area. I had a discussion with the crew of two ships. They''re obviously beached while ships are being refurbished. Officers and captains are fine, most of them agreed to take a couple months off (I did pay them some to keep them around, and it seems they are rather glad to have time to spend with their families), a few had left for greener pastures. They got severance packages. Except one who thought he had a bright idea to steal the ship''s coffer. That fellow was introduced to a good-sized boulder, a length of chain and given a permanent place of residence in the bay. Sailors don''t like thieves, who knew?


    The actual sailors of the ships? Most of them don''t have the savings to live on for a couple months, and even if I gave them payment for the time, a good deal of them will just crawl into the bottle and will be unsalvageable by the time the ships are ready. So I gave them an offer. Option one - they get a monthly pay as a severance package and are free to look for a new ship to hire themselves on. Option two - they can spend the time getting paid for working on the road crew. Food, clothes, soap, reasonable amount of liquors, magical healing in benefits. Much to my surprise, I had a grand total of FIVE people wanting to leave out of ninety six sailors. The rest grabbed on the road crew offer with both hands. Konistan was not generous paying them, but he DID pay, and I made sure the payment reached the people properly, so... why? Oh well. I''ll find out later, I guess.


    Grenwille is a mess. Konistan had a protection racket there involving rich farmers and blackmailing the lord of the lands who nominally oversaw the farmers. Meeting with the lord was awkward. He was obviously expecting me to continue the extortion. Getting the letters back (Apparently, marquis Sadoux enjoys unconventional sex.) and my assurances that so long as he limits his exercises in bondage to willing participants, I''m not going to poke my nose into his bedroom leave him rather... flabbergasted. Another five awkward minutes are spent clarifying that no, I''m not interested in bondage myself and in fact have a harem that satisfies me entirely. As it turns out, he is also a theater aficionado, but the public has a hard time with the explicit nature of his performances. I suggest to him to write books instead, explaining that openly attending a performance that will brand you as a pervert is much harder than buying a book where only the shopkeeper is privy to your depravity. He is... rather taken by the idea, especially after I mention that there is a book-copying machine available for sale for discerning patrons in the Parsee. The agreement about farmers is more of an afterthought than anything else. To sum it up, I''m building a couple mills and farmers use my organization as their wholesaler.


    Meeting with farmers goes... interesting. They are obviously sullen and suppress hostility in the beginning. Not surprising, Konistan treated them like shit. It is rather pleasing to see their faces gradually slacken and elongate as I outline new policies, explain the transparency measures and lay out several options that they can take. By the end of the meeting? Most of them are smiling, and all of them look thoughtful. Apparently, Konistan insisted they all produce the same grain, and my suggestion they vary things up a bit to avoid the dangers of monoculturalism leaves them much more accepting of me as their business partner. They put forth a surprising request, though. Apparently, they already heard about my uniforms, so they asked that I think up some kind of token to award to farmers who are affiliated. After some consideration, I offer them a sash with Gillespie Crest, a sigil of Northern Trading Inc. and again a bunch of embroideries accompanied with a pamphlet on basics they can pull with it. It is accepted with enthusiasm I frankly find more than a little... excessive. Honestly, is my protection by affiliation worth that much? I''m guessing they are used to people squeezing them for all that they have now, rather than investing to make sure they are a source of profit for years to come.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    In Parsee itself, the change of leadership goes... squeaky. People here enjoyed most of the illegal benefits, and my insistence that no, there will be no more thuggish policies leaves them feeling threatened. I have to fire more people in Parsee than in the rest of the holdings taken together. A good deal of managers and overseers, to be honest. Solving that mess is... a mess. Thankfully, Roxolane pitches in at this point. She is obviously gifted with mathematics and loves using that gift. Still, handling the accounting... gah. Just.. gah. To help along, I pitch the idea of a magical arithmometer to Moon Unit. It''s still in the works, but promises to be a significant improvement over the abacus that is currently the best calculation device available. Banking is currently on a holding pattern until I can introduce calculation machines and double-entry accounting properly. Shops are so far not that complex to keep track of, but that will change soon as the economic network grows stronger. Oh, Northern Bank still offers loans and takes deposits that can be recovered in every city with the department (Parsee, Kalos, Mersailles, Bakarat and Grenwille, so far. In negotiations to open additional branches in Tolosse, Nant, Haver, Antverp and Verdan, that should cover the country reasonably well.).


    Dwarves deliver the parts I requested for the large scale printing press. It is... massive, honestly. Magic helps, but there is only so much enchantments can do if I''m not willing to shackle up a mage to the machine to provide the juice. Therefore, the press is also a fairly extensive flowerbed. Thankfully, the gossip trio are too awed with the rate of printing to object, and are well off sufficiently to afford buying up a decently sized building to install the press in. Inauguration newspaper is printed at two thousand batch to begin with... And subsequently reprinted two more times at twice the volume, because the demand is just crazy. I need to look into setting up some kind of paper manufacturing, because current facilities are barely keeping up with once a week newspaper. Meeting papermakers... Annd they are ridiculously eager to sign up as an affiliate company. Hello, Northern Paper Manufacturing. Situated in the village two hours by horse north of Parsee, takes in mulch and sawdust and bark and other wood castoffs, grinds them down in waterwheel-powered shredders, then presses the paper sheet out of papiermache. Their previous method involved a fine mesh on a frame and produced sheets as big as the frame. Obvious limitations. Rotopress extruder allows to create rolls of paper. Still very primitive and slow by my measures, but two rolls per week is enough to supply the weekly newspaper and they can keep the third roll to sell in parcels to bookbinders and as loose paper.


    Inaugural roll is delivered to the palace, and I''m treated to a rather rare sight of Abraham outright gaping at the thing. He then requests a separate copperphone pair so that he could have direct access to the newspaper. Gossip Trio are... more than a bit nervous about suddenly getting summoned, and MORE then a bit weirded out to find out that king himself finds the newspaper idea very intriguing and would in fact like to rent a permanent space for his own proclamations, paid for by furnishing courier carriages to disseminate newspapers to several major cities. They''re... a little bit freaked out that their "house project" is suddenly a national enterprise, but accept the decision with surprising aplomb. I find myself sorely wishing for that aplomb when I''m treated to triple squealing in the carriage as it clears the palace gates. Apparently, DeeDee, MeeMee and LeeLee consider this a coup of coups and swear their eternal friendship for landing them this gig. I take the opportunity, and suggest to them the idea of "Newspaper Club" - an organization of noble ladies who get the discount on newspapers in exchange for providing the gossip. They will have to train some dedicated reporters eventually, but to begin with, crowdsourcing is just the thing to take this media project off the ground, and the idea of belonging to a club suggests certain exclusivity that would keep them well-supplied with gossip and news.


    My surprise project is progressing apace. It is shaping up to be nice and comfortable and is one of the areas where magic is a big help, in no small part because I personally enchant the thing to the gills. It helps that the construct is big enough to afford hosting several ceramic flowerpots. That should explain away the power requirement coverage.


    Up north, I take advantage of my now known mobility to do some personal inspections. Dwarves are really getting things on track there. I am shown the prototype steam engine. Unfortunately, the ratio of power is not favorable to keep it powered solely off flower magic, but it IS possible to create a coal enrichment facility that would stuff the coal processed in it chock-full of fire magic to raise its heat payload. Actually, some experimentation later, we settle on two kinds of plants. One produces high-yield coal that burns almost as hot as magnesium, but burns out as quick as regular coal. Other produces high-endurance coal that burns a quarter less hot than regular, but lasts almost five times longer. Magic is hella useful. I also take some time to test assorted enchantments on stovepipe grates to capture the escaping carbon and redirect it - either to the carbon collector, or back to the furnace, depending on construction.


    The first rail line will be ready for testing by the end of autumn and will connect the Grand Forge (Dwarves are so-so at naming, they just call the new settlement Grand Forge) and the port of Kalos. The second line will connect Kalos with Parsee, and it will be ready by early spring, tentatively. I''m not putting too much emphasis on throughput for now, I want the concept lines laid down to prove this is a viable thing before I start ramping up, and if Roxolane''s theory of portals proves itself, we just might replace the ore and metal shipping with portal networks. Unfortunately, the more complex the thing is, even chemically, the less useful portals become.


    I''ve received a letter from the viceroy of Albion, most honorable Cromwell (WHAT?... By all accounts, this version of Ol'' Ironsides isn''t as militant as I remember from previous world''s history, but is rather well-known as capable, if somewhat miserly administrator.), and he is requesting for terms on which I''d agree to sell cure for cold for his cold cold isles. I reply to him with a letter that if he were to collect acolytes from temples and send them to Parsee, they will be taught how to prepare it in the local temple and give him a figure for bulk shipments of ready cure, honey, ouzo and mint. Prelate Iohann... is exasperated, but mollified with my offer to donate some gold to the temple to afford the housing, because Cromwell sends no less than a hundred of acolytes. I''m guessing colds are a big problem up north, doubly so at the sea. Dad is also... exasperated, asking if I ever plan to stop turning up even more profit, or my goal is to fill my family estate with the gold to the attic. Both of them double down on the things to handle this. Then I get a call from Abraham, who is sheepish. Apparently, Cromwell wrote to him first, but the letter came in the middle of the mess with Ed and got misplaced until now. So he calls in and asks if there are any problems with dealing with this on short notice. So I ask him to keep a watch on the temple and help prelate Iohann if the temple has any problem housing so many extra acolytes.


    Goodness. I thought one shop was a hassle. Neverfucking mind that, the financial empire is ORDERS of magnitude more hassle. I''m so thankful I nabbed Roxy, I''d go nuts slogging through all the accounting without her help. Note to self - do something nice for all of the wives, their support and help is the only thing that gets me to crawl out of bed in the morning.


    Academy studies are... Eh. I basically badgered professors for advance assignments, turned in stuff the next day and apparently made more than a few of them wonder the hell I''m still doing in Academy. In particular, Alchemy professor is... vocal. Apparently, some of the basic chemistry I''ve used to handle the assignment is something not yet known, and she is... insistent on me dropping "all that nonsense" and writing a book on "new discoveries". I admit, I was more than a LITTLE miffed at her. And responded... a little bit mean. Because my response was to split into a dozen, write down a reasonably comprehensive textbook on inorganic chemistry over the evening, make a dozen copies and turn them in (well, I turned in ten copies, I kept two for my own library references, one with me and another one sent off to estate). Which, apparently, caused her to lock herself in over the weekend and show up hungover and wild-eyed to her lesson on Moonday.


    Ever since, alchemy class is in use well after classes are over and there is apparently a freshly budding club of "Mineral Alchemists" poking at all sorts of rocks and ores to try and disprove my book. Well, they STARTED trying to disprove. Right now, they are enthusiastically adding more data and discovering new stuff. I might toss a primer on organic chemistry at them next semester, see what they make out of almighty Carbon. Oh, I also had been confronted by the professor (thankfully in private) about how it shouldn''t be possible for coal and diamond to be the same thing. Long story short, the professor in question is now in possession of an artificial diamond and a severely cracked worldview. Thankfully, it is profligately expensive of magic to create diamonds like this. I can handle it, maybe a dozen more people on the planet can handle it (once in a couple years), and that''s it. What I don''t tell her is that I''m going to be creating an artificial diamond dust machine next spring, dwarves should advance the metallurgy sufficiently enough to have use for diamond-tipped tools.


    This morning, I wake up with a distinct feeling that I need, deserve and MUST HAVE a day off. And oh, would you look at it? It''s Caturday.

 Chapter 48. No One Expects An Inquisition

    Unfortunately, the expected relaxation will have to wait. No, I mean, I am all for starting right now, really. I''d relax so hard you wouldn''t be able to tell where I end and the floor begins, if I could. But I can''t. Because apparently, sir Malachi is in the Academy and has something to discuss with me. Which is all sorts of interesting, because I can''t think of anything NOT interesting that Grand Inquisitor would care to discuss with lil''old me. Especially so, in person.


    "Good morning, sir Malachi." - I offer to him politely, as he lets me into Ambercrombe''s office (Good grief, dean just can''t catch a break. It seems like everyone is set on commandeering his office every now and then.) and starts casting immediately. That... is curious, because he is doing a lot of privacy-ensuring spells. Huh. Guess it''s going to be one of THOSE kinds of conversations.


    "Good morning, lady Gillespie. I had a number of questions and requests for you piling up, so I''ve decided to visit to try and settle some of that. Hope I''m not intruding on any plans?" - he offers absentmindedly, as he finishes the last - "Phew. Sorry about that, some of the things I need to ask are not for public ears."


    "Do tell." - I quip at him, setting into the chair comfortably. He grins and takes the other one, putting a bunch of papers on the table as he does so.


    "Well. First of all. On behalf of Inquisition, I would like to place an order for half a dozen sets of copperphone. We need sets of four, specifically." - he begins - "I understand you need copper and lapis lasuli to make them. Two livres of copper, four onces of powdered lapis lasuli, four spans of wood and eight ecu per set of four, right?"


    I shrug. "Since you''re ordering in bulk, I''ll give you a bit of discount." - I offer to him - "Twelve livres of copper, two livres of lapis lasuli, twenty four spans of wood and ten gold for the whole lot."


    He nods - "Deal. One of my pages will bring you the materials on Moonday. It is not that urgent to take up your free days. Now, second... I believe you are familiar with a certain Vole Konistan, correct?"


    Huh. "I''m... aware of him." - I offer back - "Familiar would be too strong of a word."


    Sir Malachi nods thoughtfully - "I thought so. Over the last month, I''ve come to realize he is not well liked by most people. I believe you had a discussion with him shortly before he disappeared. Would it be possible for me to inquire what was discussed?"


    "Eh. He tried to talk me into giving him control over my freshly opened shop." - I admit - "I came to the meeting expecting he would offer to buy the shop from me, but his offer was just insulting."


    "Let me guess. He harped for a while about the hardships shop owners tend to have, then insistently suggested you sign the enterprise over to him, right?" - he offers, nodding - "You''re not the first person to get this sort of offer from him. I am assuming you refused to follow his suggestions, right?"


    "Indeed. It is barely disguised swindling." - I tell him - "And before you ask, yes, he did attempt to threaten me with his ork servant next. I had to kick some sense into him."


    Malachi makes a note. "Vole or his servant?" - he asks distractedly.


    "Servant. I think Vole called him Uz, but I''m not sure I remember it right." - I explain - "I mean, honestly, what would you expect? He had the gall to call me a whore to my face."


    Malachi winces. "Yeah, given what I was told about your duels, it was foolhardy. Wait, Uz?... Uh. Just what did you do to him, lady Gillespie? I have a record here that an ork by that name died in Konistan''s service roughly at the same time."


    "I kicked him in the stomach. Once." - I continue blithely, - "To the best of my knowledge, he was still alive after the kick, if not particularly willing to stand up again. Though, considering Vole''s character, I wouldn''t be surprised if he elected to dispose of a failed servant."


    He nods again. "I concur. Konistan was a vile person. Did you discuss anything else with him after that?"


    "Well... I did tell him he will find his life in Champagne hard from now on, and suggested he find another country to live in. I''m a vengeful person, I''m afraid. He protested, citing a number of shops in his care, so I offered him to buy them out on the condition he takes the money and leaves the country for good. He, well... was not enthused by the offer but consented to sell, when I outlined the alternatives." - I suggest - "Only a fool would not realize that offending someone about to marry into the royal family is not conducive to being a successful merchant in the country."


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Malachi smirks grimly - "That''s borderline extortion, lady Gillespie, but I will admit you had good reasons for it. Considering he made attempts at your property AND at your dignity, I daresay his highness would rule in your favor, if the case were ever to make it in court. You did pay him, correct?"


    I nod - "That''s right. I''ve actually used monsieur Tomino''s moneycounting services to certify the payment, he can confirm the sum and the recipient."


    He nods back at me. "Ah. That explains some things." - he hums - "The best we can tell, Konistan had elected to leave Parsee for a while, at least. He was traveling in his own carriage with a paying passenger, one Gileas Hardlock... Come to think of it, didn''t you cause the man to be fired from Academy for ineptitude?"


    "Yes? What of it?"


    "No, no, nothing. I just find it amusing that two people with grudges against you found each other like this." - he retorts - "Anyway, we have some witnesses claiming they picked up someone along the way. Unfortunately for them, that man was a brigand, who likely noticed the riches both men were transporting and decided to rob them. From what we found at the inn, monsieur Hardlock was tricked into opening his chest and then stabbed in the back with a knife. It was someone well used to stabbing, there was only one wound on the body, right into the liver. Konistan apparently overheard something or just followed Hardlock and attempted to wrestle the murderer down, only to get stabbed in the chest for his troubles. We have found no money coffer within the carriage, so it seems likely it was taken by murderer along with a number of precious items from bodies and Hardlock''s luggage."


    He pauses, and then sighs - "To be frank, we started on assumption that murderer was sent specifically to recover your payment... And if not for other clues, we would be talking about it much sooner and probably in less amiable circumstances. But, well, it appears that the intended target of robbery was Hardlock instead, given that he was specifically lured outside and tricked into opening his chest before he got stabbed. Konistan was just a victim of circumstances." Malachi smirks viciously - "And, just between us two, I daresay it couldn''t have happened to a better person than him. However, this brings us to the next point. Were you aware that Vole had a brother?"


    "He never mentioned any relatives to me." - I quip back - "What of it?"


    Malachi sighs - "Vole was a vile man, but he still feigned the veneer of a respectable merchant. His brother Kaste? Brigand from head to toes. Be on your guard, lady Gillespie. He is a dangerous man and he might target you in revenge for his brother, misguided as it may be. We haven''t had any reported sightings of the man recently, so he may have gone into hiding. He looks like his brother, but after ten years of being a drunkard and wastrel. So much more gaunt and unkempt. If you see a man matching the description, please tell the nearest guard. You are a fearsome duelist, but that brigand follows no rules nor gallantry, so if at all possible, do not try to confront him on your own."


    "I see. Well, if I see anyone like this, I will do my best to notify the guards." - I agree - "Though, a fair warning, sir Malachi. If I catch him trying to harm my family, you might get back naught but a corpse."


    He laughs. "If so, I will gladly pay you twenty gold for it. That man has a bounty on his head." - he replies - "Enough about criminals. I have a third matter I wanted to bring up with you."


    "Oh? Do tell."


    "Recently, I have received a number of magnifying glasses from prince Edward, and I found them to be eminently useful in my line of work. Clues are often minuscule, after all." - he continues - "Some of my traveling men had also procured looking glasses for their own needs, which gives me an idea. Looking glass is simply a set of magnifying glasses in a brass tube, is it not? So, could it be possible to create a similar tool with a different arrangement of glasses? Not for seeing far, but for discerning the smallest details up close? If you look on a grain of sand through the magnifying glass, it is like a pebble. Could a device be made to see it like a boulder?"


    Huh. He wants a microscope? Actually, I can see why he would want it. There are spells that can establish a relation between a hair and a person, after all. Having something that lets him pick out a flake of skin or a stray hair would give him a lot more clues he''d otherwise miss.


    "Ostensibly speaking, yes." - I tell him after thinking about it for a bit - "I will mull over the design over the weekend and send back the word with your page. It should be possible, but might require some experimentation with lenses to ensure clarity. Actually, while we are at it, can you do me a bit of a favor?"


    "If it is within my power and not against the law, then certainly, lady Gillespie." - he retorts easily.


    "I have devised a number of tools sir Pasteur might be interested in. It just occurred to me that some of them might be of use to you too. Could your page pick up the two sets of tools for evaluation? One set should go to sir Pasteur, obviously, and I''d be glad if you take the other set and consider the uses in your own craft. I believe there might be a bit of overlap in the tools that might come in use to both of you." - I tell him, and he brightens up.


    "Goodness, lady Gillespie. Only you would ask for a favor and offer a boon." - he chuckles - "Yes, I daresay I would be very interested in seeing what you have come up with."

 Chapter 49. Family Time (With Unfortunate Side Adventures)

    Having finished the conversation with Grand Inquisitor, I have had discovered that I''ve been left behind. Moon Unit left to work at the temple, Roxolane opted for sleeping in, Lily-Anne is visiting her parents and Bridgit had firmly settled herself down with an embroidering kit. Selene and Ed were out on a date, and much to my amusement, so were Rafiqa and Hiram. Gossip trio were present, but deep in the throes of hammering out next week''s newspaper layout and thus not a welcoming company. Lemand was out somewhere, and Al... yeah. Let''s just say the guy was beset by thirsty bitches. I sympathized, but decided not to brave that asp pit. Out of anything better to do, I have opted for a visit home. Well, stocking up on the sweets and other delicacies first, obviously.


    Appearing in the attic like a proper boogeyman, yeah! ...Oh. Shit. SHIT SHIT SHIT! Why are people here? Who are the people here? Why... AAAARGH, oh FUUUUUCK YOU SALAADIN! I drop the baskets and step forth, dropping the concept of "human form" along with the baskets. All four stiffen and I can hear several hoarse Oijan curses as I wrap all four in copious tentacles, gagging them a moment later. It... does look more than a little suggestive to someone who''s been to the internet, but right now, all I care about is to find out what the fuck is this. So... the first attempt at me had failed, and Salaadin in his infinite wisdom had decided that... Wait, no. According to the mental probing (I have four enemy combatants restrained, you bloody well believe I had tentacles in their brains by now.) and recovered documentation, the inspiration behind this dick move was the leader of hashishins. Old Man On A Mountain, as the sobriquet goes.


    OK, this is... not going to work. They had two more people maintaining a base of operations nearby, and I could expect more to show up. Hashishins were nasty nasty pieces of work with one trait that made them absolutely insufferable - damn bastards never knew when it''s time to give up. And I mean it, because all four continued to struggle even now. In the face of eldritch abomination casually slurping at their fucking brains, they were still trying to do something about it, instead of just breaking down and gibbering in despair like a normal person would. I form a bit of maw on each tentacle and bite through their upper spine tips absentmindedly, to settle them down. I''m not going to let any of them go, for obvious reasons, so there is no particular point in not paralyzing them. Pretty good eats, actually, a lifetime of ascetic physical training leaves people with healthy bodies, who knew?


    I''m done with my impromptu meal twenty minutes later, strolling down the forest trail casually, a dripping sack in my hand. My plan was easy. By now, hashishins were likely aware that engaging me face-to-face was simply a fancy way to commit suicide, so they likely will pull back and regroup if I make a "threatening" move. I already knew, of course, that handing in four heads as a warning would not in fact make them back off. But most of the world would not think so much of their dedication, so it made sense for them to feign backing off and instead depart for reinforcements. And I am going to further "humiliate" messengers to make sure they need to go in person, of course.


    So when I enter the encampment, I do so with fanfare and magic. Namely, disintegration magic. Everything not alive in the radius promptly splits into its component parts. Clothes fall into threads, knives become piles of rust, paper reverts to sawdust and water, leather.... just loses stitches holding the pieces together. I guess they will have something to cover themselves up, then. "Hello there." - I tell them with a bright smile, even as the two guys cross their hands over their groins and start backing off awkwardly. I toss the bloody bag in the middle of the encampment, close to the two fellows.


    "Go back to Sultanate and tell Salaadin that if more assassins show up, I will alter the terms of curse from ''anyone armed'' to ''anyone with a nose''. Now git." - tell them and turn around. Aaand one of the guys just sorta crosses the whole clearing in three giant leaps and grabs on to my neck from behind. Silly bean. I casually elbow him into the ribs on the right side, wince at the very audible crack and the half-choked cry of pain, and... he''s not fucking letting go. Moron, stop, you''re not even inconveniencing me.


    "You do realize you''re not strong enough to strangle me, do you?" - I quip, giving another three elbow strikes in quick succession. His entire right side is by now one deep bruise... and the idiot still hangs on. Fine, if that''s how you want to play... I take a hold of his fingers and sloooowly pull them apart, breaking his palms in the process. "Now, what did that gain you, you abominable moron?" - I demand. The answer comes a moment later. Apparently they were smart enough to stash some supplies outside the camp, his friend is now sniping at me with a bow. Tossing aside the mutilated cretin, I ram a bolt of electricity through his fellow, making him gibber in place for a few moments, then fall over as uncontrollable convulsions and heat trauma end his life unceremoniously a few moments later. Sole survivor FINALLY seems to get the point when I kick him down (not that hard, mind, he''s already dealing with several broken ribs and fingers). "I guess you lot must be particularly thick. So let me explain that again in small words. LEAVE. ME. AND. MINE. BE. OR. ELSE." - I tell him and finally leave. Goodness gracious, it seems that devotion is way higher on the list of desirable traits than brains in the assassin selection process.


    Now I''m worried the sole survivor won''t make it back. And I NEED him to make it back, because otherwise he''s going to just deliver a payload of my matter (secreted inside the four heads masquerading as brains) to some random wilderness that he''s going to die in. Thankfully Sultanate has a strong tradition for recovering their bodies for funeral rites whenever possible. Including available parts, like heads. Still, I like to double-hedge my chances, so a bunch of my matter is secreted through their remaining supplies (I did not disintegrate absolutely everything, come on. Just what they could immediately access. Armed and armored assassin feels much more confident than naked one. Not that it mattered much with that bunch.)


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    It is curious, however, how I''m so exceptionally lucky to have had nabbed them just in time. Oh, they wouldn''t be able to do anything to my family as is, I have more than enough of me hidden away masquerading as domestic rodents and odd knick-knacks throughout the household to end them decisively regardless of what they do, but still, having lucked on them just as they finished infiltrating through the attic window... Weird. (Note to self - try and talk to gods at some point. If they''re indeed responsible for this, assume they''re also subtly nudging odds in my favor in other cases. Offer treats.)


    Getting back home is a non-issue, though I believe some people might find it odd that I just casually stroll out of the forests when it''s common knowledge I''m in the capital well away from here. Dad''s manservant notices me first. He usually does, Giacomo is an observant fellow. "Milady! We didn''t know you''re back." - he hastens to bow, - "Would you be joining your family for lunch?" I shrug and nod. Might as well, and the time is right, they''re about to set the table. I pass a basket of treats to Giacomo and tell him to make use of it. He hefts it curiously, looks inside and breaks into a smile, promising to "make sure everything is presented appropriately". Might as well check up my old room. I''m using it as a document storage and backup study at the moment, during the few visits I paid recently. Hm... There''s more stuff in here then... Oh. Oh, right. Dwarves insist on making some kind of present at each major milestone (as they perceive them). The newest addition is funny, however. An aeolipile designed to take in background magic. It takes no water, the reactive "mass" it expels to rotate is actually a stream of mana... Huh, that''s pretty promising. Not quite the perpetuum mobile yet, but it can lead to some interesting developments. (Note to self. Make copies, give a copy to Lamand and have another one installed in my room as an inspiration to Moon Unit and Roxy. Maybe consider using the expelled manastream to enact some kind of comfort service, like... hm. Air ventilation? Air conditioning? I''m onto something here, I just know it.)


    Ah well. Getting back to our muttons. I''m in the corridor outside the room just in time to hear boys questioning who else is going to be taking lunch. "Hello, everyone." - I offer, stepping into the room - "Don''t mind me, just stopping by for a family visit on this fine Caturday."


    "Sister, you''re weird." - is the verdict of boys. Honestly, they grow so quick. Soon they''d be complaining about me putting cooties all over them. Heh.


    "I know!" - I reply gleefully - "Jean-Paul, Antoine, have you been practicing your magic properly? I have a bit of free time today, so I''ll show you some new tricks, if I''m satisfied with your progress."


    Father raises his finger - "Actually, Alyssa, this is a good time for you to show up. I''ve been hearing about odd people poking around the estate from servants, so I intend to investigate..."


    "Don''t bother. Already found them and settled the issue. They will not be coming back." - I tell him. Gerard quirks his brow at me questioningly. I draw a finger across my throat and repeat - "They''re NOT going to come back. Period." Considering that everyone gasps, stares or swears quietly, they all get what I said.


    "This bad, huh?" - father drawls thoughtfully - "Do I need to increase security measures? Who are they, even?"


    "Salaadin''s pushback attempt. And not really, I have been in the area since morning. Plenty of time to scout things out and uproot any undesirables. You might want to tell the guards they might be finding some caches of arrows and assorted sundries in the forest. Tell them to be careful, hashishins might be boobytrapping them." - I explain - "They''re not going to be a problem for much longer."


    Dad moves to say something, looks me in the eye, swallows and sighs. "Gods, I never wished for you to see the ugly side of being a lord that soon." - he offers softly - "I had hopes for you never having to learn. I understand, though. We''ll tighten security here a bit, just to keep folks on their toes while you sort them out. Any hints on what you''re going to do?"


    I smile. "Dad. The less you know about that, the better you will sleep." - I tell him, and he looks away with another muffled curse. Then chuckles wryly - "Your grandfather would approve. He would hate for you to need to know this, as well as I do, but he would be ecstatic to know his legacy is not forgotten." He is not wrong, per se. Philippe Gillespie was infamous for his lasting grudges and inventively cruel and thorough revenges. Forget revenge cycles, families he feuded with entered extinct lineage listings with terrifying regularity, and usually in a way that made one facepalm and think ''Welp, there goes another Darwin awardee.''


    Mother clears her throat. "Dears. While I''m glad we''re so ferociously protected, let''s.. not discuss this further over the meal, alright?" - she offers, and honestly, I''m entirely in agreement with this. Things are already handled anyways. And that''s when I remember something.


    "Mom? Do you have some free time today?" - I ask her - "I had some additional ideas about womanly products you might want to add to your perfume line. Lip balm, for example."


    She leans in, suddenly radiating intense interest - "OOh? Do tell, dear. Lip balm sounds intriguing."


    "Well, you know how in winter your lips can crack from the cold? These sores can be prevented with a coat of pleasantly tasting wax composite, I have found." - I suggest to her - "Other than that, there is an intriguing line of research into colored lip balms. I know for a fact some women resort to berry juices to make their lips appear redder and more luscious. Colored balm should do that and protect one from cold sores in the same time."


    She claps her hands excitedly - "That sounds very useful, darling. What else? Actually, wait, don''t tell me. Why don''t we have a bit of, ah... study session after the lunch? You can show me all those interesting new compounds you''ve thought about without boring the boys."


    I nod to her. "Certainly. Oh, before I forget." - I did bring something over for dad and boys. A little present, if you will. "Here you go." - I offer as I give each of them a spyglass. Father turns it around in his fingers curiously.


    "What is this, Alyssa?" - he requests, after initial examination fails to give him a clue. I chuckle and explain how to use the device. Before I know it, all three men are practically glued to the window, looking at all sorts of distant sights. Sharing a bit of commiserating look with mother, I pass her a good magnifying glass. She won''t need a spyglass much, given she prefers to stay at home, but a magnifying glass can prove useful for many small tasks. ...And she''s examining the top crust of breadroll with considerable interest. "I never realized just how much detail is hidden in plain sight..." - she murmurs wonderingly.


    Family time - a big success. Making a note here.

 Chapter 50. Ship it!

    I would stay overnight, but I didn''t warn my girls, and they''d likely not appreciate me vanishing for the night without any explanation. So I teleport back in the evening. Actually, while we are on the topic, I think I''m going to teleport a lot more. It turns out to be one of those ''practice makes perfect'' spells. The flash of unreal on exit and entrance is still unavoidable, but how fast I can clamp it down is entirely trainable, it seems. I should probably invest some time in figuring out some sort of snooping, so I could survey the LZ and determine it''s clear of anyone I do not want to wreck.


    I had enough time to put several things into motion, though. Mother is appraised on the notion of producing lip balms and skin cremes, and will be expanding her cosmetics line soon. Boys are progressing in magic nicely, and I taught them some nifty-looking cantrips to impress their peers with. Father''s been appreciative of the shortcuts teleporting permits, even though he is bemoaning the necessity of blindfold. Not really want to risk his sanity, though, and he agrees, if grudgingly, that chancing that is not worth it. I also got two more mana aeolipiles from the dwarves. Apparently, they made a couple of them and some of the local scholars commissioned more upon seeing them. I have to admit, something about the mana engine is mesmerizing. Sadly, its practical load is negligible as is. Maybe something could be gained out of observing and modifying it, though. For now, I simply tag the ends with simple enchantments, one of which slowly amends the air around it towards "pleasant scent" while the other does the same towards "pleasant temperature". Not quite the climate unit, but they can fill out the desk fan niche, at least. And of course dwarves want the schematics for this. Well, it''s their business. If they think there''s a market for that stuff, more power to them.


    Lemand is utterly mesmerized by the thing. Oh, he gives his thanks and everything, but I can see his eyes turn towards the gizmo each time he gets even a little distracted. Still, he does possess enough of wits to ask me why I''d gift him that. He seems to be duly impressed that my answer is "for inspiration, to see if you can figure out something else that might come of use". Back in my dorm, I see six girls clustered around the whirling thingamabob. Apparently, Rafiqa and Selene visited for an evening meal and got caught by the lure like everyone else.


    "What is this?" - Selene demands as soon as she sees me - "That thing gives me... IDEAS. Like, like... Like..." She trails off stammering as she stares at her own palm, a cluster of light motes forming on it. According to what I sense about it, this is, hah... Well. That would be amusing. A moment later, the saturation peaks and the swirl of motes explodes in all directions, pelting everyone present with "feel good" projectiles.


    "Congratulations. You get to document and submit a new spell you just invented. If you''re unsure about a name, I suggest using something simple. Like, for example, Joy Invocation. Get to writing while you still remember how you did it." - I tell her with a smirk, as I hand her a sheet of paper and quill. She starts to write the thing down, grumbling.


    "Fine, fine, but what IS this?" - she demands, as she furiously scribbles the formulae on the paper. It''s not that complicated, but... an interesting quirk, actually. You usually don''t see detonation being configured on a primary level like this in anything other than war spells.


    "Prototype mana engine." - I tell her, and she jerks up.


    "WHAT!? ...I... this... holy shit, does your train even had brakes installed!?" - she yelps, as she pokes in the direction of aeolipile with her quill - "I was expecting maybe ten years till anything like this cropped up! Are we getting railroad over the winter too?!" She casts one glance at me, doubletakes and continues at rising volume - "...WE ARE?!"


    "Not... that fast, I think, but in two years we will have something connecting major cities, yes." - I admit, and she facepalms - "Oh, while we are at the topic, Selene. Your dad got back at me last month. They have the sloop on water and are pretty darn happy about it. I expect them to finish the first brigantine by the mid-winter."


    "Wait, wait, back up a bit. I thought you were just going to hire dad to ferry stuff?" - she objects.


    "Well, yes, but then I found out he only has two cogs. Which are fine boats for cabotage, but for the open sea, I wanted something more robust. So he got the plans for sloops and brigantines with mixed sails, and enough money to build two of each. He wrote back saying they''re so happy with sloop they might sell the cogs to afford one more brigantine built. Or, maybe, depending on the circumstances, they might give clipper a try." - I explain. Selene stares at me, then slowly sets the quill into the inkwell.


    "...You gave my dad plans for the clipper." - she repeats slowly - "As in, the fastest sail ships ever devised. And he might be building one soon if other ships pan out well? Did I understand that right?"


    Lily-Anne pipes in - "Wait, wait, what do you mean, fastest? How fast?"


    "From Mersaille to Pharos in a week, roughly speaking, in favorable winds." - I tell them absentmindedly, as I run the calculations in my head. Top speed for clippers is somewhere around twenty knots. The distance between Mersaille and Pharos is roughly eight hundred leagues, and one knot is demileague per hour, roughly. So twenty knots means ten leagues per hour. Which means eighty hours. Which, in turn, means three full days and eight hours. This is the absolute best result that could be possibly achieved. Double it to account for conditions not necessarily being good, and you get a week. Not bad. Very good, by local measures.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Ooh, huh. I take a look at the astonished faces and sigh. "Girls, settle down. It will take a while to build it. Yes, it''s a good speed, but getting there is not going to be happening until next summer, give or take. Maybe not even then. Clippers are complicated. I''d much rather monsieur Dantes learns the craft on building simpler sloops and brigantines before committing to the clipper." - I tell him - "Oh, almost forgot. I bought two, ah... second hand carracks that are anchored in Mersaille. They''re currently being retrofitted to galleon standards. If your dad''s ready by the time they''re done, I''m going to turn them over for his fleet and just have him handle all the seabound transportation."


    Selene slumps in her seat. "...Four, and two or maybe one and two more..." - she counts slowly - "Alyssa. That''s SEVEN ships. Are you intending to sponsor my dad for admiralty?"


    "You catch on quick." - I tell her, and she groans.


    "Of course you are. Why did I expect anything different." - she mutters - "Fine. Whatever. So not the problem."


    Rafiqa finally pitches in. "So... can you explain what those sloops and brigantines and clippers are? Beyond being magically fast ships, I mean." - she inquires.


    I scratch my head trying to figure out how to explain best. In the end, I settle for a combination of illusion and conjuration to create some models and pretend they''re floating in the sea. First, current cogs and carracks. Then sloop and brigantine. Then clipper and galleon. And then, just to be a complete troll, a heavy lift windjammer.


    "Ok, so here are some basic ships." - I start explaining, - "Cogs are your everyday boat with a sail. One mast, crew from five to twenty seamen, depending on how much you''re hauling and where." Cog lights up and starts bobbing on illusory water as I drag it in a rough approximation of sailing - "While this ship is seaworthy, people rarely venture far enough from the coast to lose sight of it. It''s best suited for small loads and local movements. Also a decent ship for fishing."


    Carrack is next. It is obviously bigger. "Those are carracks. The most common ship in the Mittelzea. They come with three masts, have crews anywhere from thirty to a hundred seamen and are the usual kind of ship one thinks of when talking about a journey across the sea." - I explain - "Those two are the common ships today. I intend to add some newer variations in use. First is a sloop."


    Sloop is about the size of a cog, so I race both side to side, making sure to underline sloop is much faster. "Sloop is a ship of the same class as a cog. One mast, ten to thirty crew necessary. Crew requirements are a little more than with cog, but it carries more, does it faster and can be sailed much further than cog safely. The advantage is mainly due to much bigger sails and a different way of using them, allowing a ship to sail even if the wind is not favorable."


    Brigantine is next, and I line up cog, brigantine and carrack to show the difference in size. "Brigantine is a medium ship with two masts, which is uncommon for the Mittelzea. The current seafaring philosophy is to go big or go home. Brigantine will change that." - I explain - "The advantage of the speed and a better ratio of cargo to crew will ensure it. For really big loads, there''s galleon." I line it up next to carrack to showcase the similarities - "Galleon is just an updated carrack, streamlined for better speed and easier cargo handling. Also, has a better crew per load ratio."


    Clipper comes out all on its own. "Here''s clipper." - I offer - "Three masts, sometimes four. Smaller than galleon, bigger than brigantine. Has more sails than two galleons put together. Needs a crew of a galleon, has a cargo capacity of a brigantine." I rotate the model in the air slowly, showing off how many different sails the clippers have - "If my calculations are right and the construction holds without bucking, clippers should be the fastest ships anyone ever sailed so far. I intend them for passengers and precious cargos like spices and exotic fruit."


    Finally, I lift the model of a windjammer. "And this is a windjammer. I haven''t shown anyone this project just yet, I''d like to have my credentials as a shipwright to be confirmed on smaller ships before I try anything like this. Five masts, huge cargo lift, has surprisingly little crew. Not as fast as a clipper, but should carry loads well beyond any other ship currently existing." - I explain, letting the ship rotate in the air slowly.


    "This is not everything I have thought of, once I am satisfied with the sail ships, I shall be introducing designs for powered ones." - I explain, pointing out the engine - "Dwarves are already working on the engine prototypes. Sadly, it is unlikely that mana-only engine will be viable for heavy duty in the foreseeable future, but I''ve already been shown good results with steam engines and magical enhancement of coal for use as a fuel."


    Judging by the looks, only Selene has a decent grasp on everything I said, but everyone looks more than a little stupefied. I clean up the models and clap my hands, bringing them out of reverie.


    "So... how was everyone''s day, since you all heard about mine already?" - I quip cheerfully, causing a hubbub of conversation to erupt once again. Ah, home. Good times.


    ___


    Selene corners me just before everyone is about to disperse for the night. "I just want you to know that there''s NO way you can hold dad from building a clipper." - she tells me - "He loves sailing fast. Had been organizing sailboat races when I was little. He''s happiest when he''s on the ship going full tilt. So, count on him building a clipper as soon as he is done with ships he had an obligation to build."


    "Oh? Is this a bad time to mention I also plan on creating a hydrofoil boat once I have the engine licked?" - I tease, and she slumps - "Please don''t mention that to him until I''m actually married. He might try putting me on your harem if you do!"


    I chuckle. "Fair enough. No tempting your dad with ridiculously fast boats until you''re married." - I tell her. She narrows her eyes at me - "Why are you suddenly so obsessed with ships anyway?"


    "Selene, have mercy. It''s not sudden. I''m planning to rule a domain that consists of nothing but islands. Why wouldn''t I want to be on the top of ship game by the time I get the isles under my control?" - I explain to her, and she dons an enlightened expression.


    "Alright, that makes more sense than whatever it is I was not thinking." - she mutters, hitting my shoulder - "And no, I don''t want to share what I was not thinking. Because I was not thinking and it came out as garbage."


    Snickering at her earns me another swat. "Well, good night, Selene. Oh, before I forget. Mom sent this for you." - I tell her, pulling out a vial. She uncorks it, sniffs and smiles. "Hyacinth... how did you know?" - she asks.


    "Lucky guess."

 Interlude 6. Ask And Thou Shalt Receive

    A Synopsis On Geography Of The Story World


    Kingdom of Champagne


    <div>


    The kingdom of Champagne. Currently governed by Cullen royal family. It`s capital is Parse.


    Stretches across the continent from subarctic tundras to subtropic sea. Separated from the Kraut Kingdom in the east by a volcanically active mountain range.


    To the west of Champagne is Grand Ocean and in it, the isles formerly of Albic Dominion. Legends claim there are lands to be found far beyond the Grand Ocean, but no one was brave enough to confirm the legends and write down about their experiences doing so.


    To the north, the Ice Blight. Ice Blight is a shallow ocean covered in floating ice. While ice cover may seem solid enough, it is in practice extremely treacherous. People daring to venture within Ice Blight easily find themselves cut off from the shore they just left by ever-shifting ice floes.


    To the south, Mittelzea separates Champagne from Oija Sultanate. Mittelzea is dotted with islands, collectively called "Thousand Isles Archipelago". Most of the archipelago presently belongs to Oija Sultanate by conquest.


    Albic Dominion


    <div>


    A collection of isles to the west and north of Champagne in the Grand Ocean. A part of Champagne.


    The story of Albic Dominion is a curious one. They begun as a nation of seafaring barbarians independent of ancient Campagna, and often raided the country in question. Over a period of about hundred years, Campagna had the misfortune of having progressively more weak and debonaire kings, while Albic Dominion was on the rise both with their leadership and their military power.


    Things came to head during Grand Conquest, when a concerted military push by Dominion had them seize major cities by storm and effectively conquer Campagna. Those Albic are the root of current Champagne nobility.


    The truth of the matter is, Dominion just did not have enough of population to hold the entirety of Campagna, which was at least fifty times the grand total of land available to Dominion to populate prior to Grand Conquest. While the language of Albic did supercede the native speech of Campagna (new tongue and old tongue respectively, in vernacular), the populace of Dominion had effectively dissolved itself in Campagna. Merely fifty years later, Dominion was simply recognized as yet another province of newly reminted Champagne.


    As of today, Albic isles are the outskirts of Champagne. They supply much of coastline with fish and make a steady profit exporting seasalt to the rest of the kingdom.


    Ashenvale


    <div>


    Ashenvale is a new name.


    In the last, the vale in question had been called Asul Tal, literally "Valley of Sanctuary" in old Kraut. An ancient homeland of dwarves, it used to connect Champagne and Kraut, the most spacious and convenient landbound route through the mountain range between them.


    Things have changed when Red Mountain erupted. The peak towering over the valley had suddenly disgorged a cloud of fire upon the valley. Pyroclastic flow erased the dwarven settlements in a few hours, leaving but a handful of survivors fleeing towards Champagne. The reason for that was simple - due to geographic position of Red Mountain relative to Asul Tal and Kraut kingdom, the mountain pass leading towards Kraut had been flooded with superheated pumice first, cutting off that route of escape. From there, the wave of glowing dust and smoke roiled over the valley, driving dwarves out of their domiciles with but the clothes on their backs. Most of them did not outran the wall of ashes bearing down on them.


    Currently, the vale is known as Ashenvale, and is being tentatively reexplored. So far, simply entering the valley is problematic, as the Red Mountain still periodically belches out more pumice. Being caught in the vale during such firestorm is imminent death unless you can outrun the ashes. As such, any exploration within the vale is only concluded from horseback and with dedicated observer in order to vacate the ashpit if the blowout occurs.


    Evergreens


    <div>


    Extensive woods in the heart of Champagne. Also ancestral elven domain.


    Evergreens is a dangerous area. Everyone in the vicinity knows that when the forest changes from green and brown to black and blue, it`s time to turn around, and march right out. Do not stop, do not pause and for the love of gods, do NOT look back.


    Elves that dwell within Evergreens are dangerous sort. They recognize no allegiances but their own and they tolerate no trespassing. An interloper in their lands will have no warning - an arrow entering their eye will be the first sign of elves being around.


    While there exist many legends about supposed elven prowess in just about anything, the truth of the matter is that they are poignantly insular people. The very few elves ever wandering outside of the forest are either exiled criminals or wide-eyed idealists. Even those typically consider themselves well above "mortal" laws and usually run afoul before long. As such, the typical fate of an elf outside the woods is several days of curiosity, followed by them offending the local lord and being hanged or decapitated for it.


    Those few elves who shown the basic survival instincts in learning and abiding the law of land typically don`t find themselves lacking. While they could sustain themselves barely on the novelty of being an elf in a lord`s court, their great ability with floral magic usually sees them snapped up as scholars or court magicians before long.


    Elves in general are not keen to speak of Evergreens, but it is known that the official language of Evergreens is a dialect of old tongue and that the matters of Evergreens are decided by the Conclave, though who makes up the said Conclave remains a mystery to this day.


    Kingdom of Kraut


    <div>


    Kingdom of Kraut is in many ways a counterpart to Champagne. Currently governed by the Hohenzollern dynasty. It`s capital is Berlinger.


    Occupying the opposite side of the shared mountain range, Kraut also stretches from polar circle to subtropics. Unfortunately, while northern and southern borders of Kraut are the same as Champagne - Ice Blight and Oija Sultanate respectively, the situation in the east is more problematic.


    In the east, Kraut shares an uneasy border with Grand Confederacy of TransBalcan - a very uneasy alliance of thirty different small countries, some of them boasting more then a third of population being entirely non-human or of part-human origin. The Confederacy is constantly torn from within by all the old feuds, revenges and retributions against each other.The only reason why the Confederacy doesn`t get people bowing out is due to "better the devil you know" thinking.


    Further on and to the north, Transbalkans are hugged by Orkish steppes.


    Grand Confederacy of TransBalkan


    <div>


    A collection of minor nations huddling together, Grand Confederacy occupies territory between Kraut kingdom and Endless Steppe.


    The best way to describe Grand Confederacy would be "teeth-clenched teamwork". All of the nations making it are notoriously nationalistic and suspicious of their neighbors, having had been at war over the scraps of land with each and every of them. It is said that in TransBalkan - "A master, a slave, an enemy, a friend, a wife and a husband - each of those can be said of every neighbor we have. Which one is the current? Ask me tomorrow, I might have a different answer."


    TransBalkan countries are notorious for having the most non-human populace density. Some of the countries are at least a solid third non-human by population. Which non-human it is vastly depends on the country in question - racial tensions between the different countries are as abundant as national ones.


    Grand Confederacy maintains nebulous trade connections with kingdom of Kraut, Endless Steppe and Empire of Pharos by the dint of being their landbound neighbors, but generally can not reach enough of a consensus among the members to truly hammer out an encompassing trade agreement.


    Endless Steppe


    <div>


    Endless Steppe is not a country, even though in many ways it has to be treated as such.


    The reason why it is not a country is simple - it has no defined leader or government. The people inhabiting the steppe are predominantly orkish tribes and those few who had been accepted into them. Orks are naturally nomads. While they possess remarkable skills in metalworking, leatherworking and animal husbandry, their farming abilities are very subpar. As a result, Endless Steppe is the domain of migrating nomads and their herds.


    A conflict between two tribes is usually resolved either by their respective elders hashing out some sort of agreement after secluding themselves in a yurt for a night with copious amounts of spirits or by all-out combat if negotiations fail.


    In the event of global threat, the tribes convene and elect a Khan - a military dictator who commands absolute authority during the crisis. Once the crisis is over, Khan steps down voluntarily or is killed by his advisers if he makes no attempt to step down on his own.


    Orks are capable cavalrymen and consider not fighting from horseback to be cowardly and meek. The magic in their society is underdeveloped and is mostly under the provenance of shamans, who fulfill the roles of mage, alchemist and adviser to tribe leader. As a rule of thumb, a well-off tribe will have up to five shamans rotating the duties between them and up to ten apprentices. Apprentices are handpicked out of babies exhibiting magic outbursts while below five years old.


    A tribe that has an excess of shamans and their apprentices may elect to split into two or more allied tribes that would maintain cordial relationship but generally adopt diverging migration routes - this much is necessitated by the fact nomadic lifestyle impresses an upper limit on sustainable tribe populace.


    Empire of Pharos


    <div>


    Bordering Oija Sultanate on southwest, Grand Confederacy on northwest and stretching far into mysterious Orient, Empire of Pharos is something of a mystery to people of Champagne.


    While nominally, Empire of Pharos is not at war with Oija Sultanate, neither of the two countries ever considered the other anything less then a bitter enemy laying in wait. As such, a ship from Pharos is a rare sight in Champagne. Kraut has better circumstances for trading with Pharos, but even in Kraut, Pharos wares are a prized find.


    Pharos rivals Sultanate on zukerrohr trade, though they can`t compete on cava market. On the other hand, Pharos is the only source of wares from far Orient. The silk, in particular, is something they corner the market on.


    Empire of Pharos possesses much of eastern coast of Mittelzea and a number of islands of significant size in the vicinity of the coast. In the east of Mittelzea, their naval power rivals that of Sultanate. Unfortunately, that does not extend to the west of Mittelzea, where Sultanate ships reign supreme.


    Oija Sultanate


    <div>


    Oija Sultanate is a grand empire spanning the breadth of southern continent. Separated from the kingdoms by Mittelzea, it enjoys an unparalleled amount of political and economical power.


    Much of Sultanate`s wealth comes out of being in control of exotic wares such as zukerrohr and cava, both of which command significant prices in the northern countries. Sultanate is also most advanced in marine technologies, save for perhaps empire of Pharos. Much of Sultanate`s naval power comes out of being in control of overwhelming majority of Thousand Islands Archipelago.


    As the dominant power in the world, a distinction held by Sultanate for a significant time, it`s officials and politicians tend to somewhat look down on the "northern barbarians". The less said about the amount of respect (or rather lack of thereof) the members of sultan family have for the laws in the rest of the world, the better.


    The only known land border Oija Sultanate has is a span of land in the east between them and Empire of Pharos. According to tales of travelers, the further south you travel, the less of an influence Sultanate has, until you are in untouched wilderness.


    Oija Sultanate enjoys a significant populace of imps. It is said that one out of five subjects of Sultan is an imp. Despite being a significant part of country, imps are commonly discriminated against, mostly on the grounds of their perceived indecency.


    Thousand Isles


    <div>


    Thousand Isles is a major Archipelago in the western Mittelzea. Though geographically it`s closer to the shores of Champagne then to the shores of Sultanate, they are under Sultanate`s rule. Islands are big enough to support considerable amount of agriculture, including extensive cava plantations.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Akgand Bharat


    <div>


    A country occupying the southeastern parts of continent, Akgand Bharat is arguably just a half-step above the Confederacy in fragmentation.


    Functionally, it is not as much of a country as a conglomeration of smaller kingdoms ruled by their respective maharajas, who in turn comprise the ruling counsel for the whole of Akgand Bharat. The counsel in question leaves most questions of economic and demographic management to the province rulers, serving primarily as a war room and a forum for determining the foreign politics of the association.


    The country in question is largely rural and agricultural. They have tense relationship with their northern neighbor, the Divine Empire, trade relationship with Empire of Pharos and distant relationship with everyone else.


    Divine Empire


    <div>


    A polity in the far east. Divine Empire stretches from the northern tundras to the subtropical swamps, the northern reaches being typically seen as "ruling lands". This comes in no small part due to Divine Empire being founded by the northern nomads conquering the lands to the south of them until they run into organized resistance from Akgand Bharat.


    Divine Empire is wholly and completely subservient to their Emperor, who is considered to be a living conduit of divine will and the object of worship. This, in turn, negatively impacts empire`s relationship with other polities, whom are all viewed as uncultured barbarians.


    While haughty might as well be the national trait, Divine Empire is not above trading with Pharos Empire and Akgand Bharat, whom are their land neighbors. In the north-west, Divine Empire is separated from the Endless Steppe with great mountain range, which is considered to be not traversable for the purposes of conquest or trade. While it is not unheard of for orks to cross the mountains to trade, Divine Empire does not view Endless Steppe as a polity that can hold any diplomatic relationship.


    <hr>


    On Measurements, Races and Conventions


    Measurements of Champagne


    Weight


    <div>


    8 drachme = 1 onse


    12 onses = 1 livre


    4 quarterons = 1 livre (archaic)


    1 livre = 1 pound/ ~0.45 kg


    1 stone = 12 livres (archaic)


    1 quintal = 1000 livres


    1 quintal = 1000 livres = 12000 onses = 96000 drachmes = ~450 kgs.


    Coins are typically minted to weigh one drachme.


    Spices and medicines are sold by drachme, salt and tea by onse, bread and cheese by livre, grain by stone. Quarteron is not used anymore, but used to be official unit by which salt was being sold before. Stone as a measure of weight is used exclusively for grains.


    Liquid volume


    3 fl. onse = 1 posson


    8 posson = 1 pinte


    1 pinte = ~ 0.95 liter


    1 quarte = 2 pinte


    1 velte = 4 quarte


    1 barrel = 8 velte


    1 barrel = 8 velte = 32 quarte = 64 pinte = 512 posson = 1536 fl. onses = ~60.8 liters


    Hard liquor and wine is traditionally served in 1 posson glasses. Beer and milk - in 1 pinte mugs. Fluid onse is used exclusively for alchemical and medicinal wares. One fluid onse of ouso weighs 1 onse.


    Length


    <div>


    12 pouse = 1 pied


    1 pied = 1 foot = ~32.5 cm


    1 demitouse = 3 pied


    1 touse = 2 demitouse


    1 perche = 4 touse


    1 arpent = 10 perche


    1 demileague = 20 arpent


    1 league = 2 demileague


    1 league = 2 demileague = 40 arpent = 400 perche = 1600 touse = 3200 demitouse = 9600 pied = 115200 pouse = ~3120 m/ ~2 mile


    Historically, 1 perche by 1 perche is considered minimal space needed to erect a hut. 1 arpent by 1 arpent is considered the minimal space one needs to erect a hut and grow sufficient food for one person to sustain themselves off the field.


    <strong style="font-size: 1.3em">Coinage of Champagne


    <div>


    Champagne uses coins as their primary currency. Available coins are as follows...


    Gold (D`or) - contains a drachme of pure gold. Often used as a weight when purchasing spices.


    Ecu (Silver) - contains a drachme of pure silver.


    Sol (Copper) - copper token.


    Denier (Petty copper) - small change.


    1 Gold = 4 Ecu = 48 Sols = 576 Deniers


    1Ecu = 12 Sols = 144 Deniers


    1 Sol = 12 Deniers


    It should be noted that Gold is usually referred to as Gold. If it is referred to as D`or, then person doing so is either incredibly old-fashioned (or feigning so) or that person is from the very deep Champagne province. Ecu and silver are used interchangeably. Sol and Denier are never referred to as copper.


    Calendar of Champagne


    <div>


    Winter:


    Nivos - first month of winter, aka "snowy month", also usually the coldest month of the year. This month is typically downtime, dedicated to domestic chores and repairs of gear worn throughout the year. People commonly stay indoors for days at an end and venture outside only in case of necessity.


    Pluvos - second month of winter, aka "rainy month". This month sees the weather gradually warm up, shifting the precipitation from snow to slush and then to rain. Also considered an indoor month.


    Ventos - third month of winter, aka "windy month". During this month, the weather is typically moderate enough to carry out lengthy activities outdoors. This month is typically the month when early cereal crops are planted. Also, the month with highest danger of thaw floods.


    <div>


    Spring:


    Germinal - first month of spring, aka "budding month", characterized by germination of the assorted seeds that were dropped previous year. Long-standing tradition considers germinal to be an auspicious month for new beginnings, particularly so - romantic ones. First Sunday of Germinal is a romantic holiday known as Valentinian`s Day.


    Floreal - second month of spring, aka "flowering month", the month that sees most flowers in the whole year. Consequently, Floreal is considered the most magical of all months, and a lot of rituals and traditions revolving around magic are to be held sometime during Floreal.


    Prareal - third month of the spring, aka "ripening month". During this month, the priority number one is assorted preparations for harvest. Not much else is going on. Socially, this is the slow-down month before the midsummer frenzy of postharvest mingling and trading. Also, this is the month when the late cereal crops are being planted to be collected mid-autumn.


    <div>


    Summer:


    Messidor - first month of the summer, aka "harvest month". The all-encompassing harvest frenzy. This month is where the absolute majority of grown crops is collected. As such, all other considerations fall to the wayside. It is not uncommon even for countries at war to set aside hostilities entirely for the duration of this month.


    Termidor - second month of the summer, aka "heat month". This is, strictly speaking, a misnomer, as the peak sun activity falls in the second half of previous month. Nonetheless, this is the month when temperatures are consistently at their highest. This is the lull between crop harvest and fruit harvest, both socially and economically, and is typically treated as "a break" month.


    Fructidor - third month of summer, aka "fruiting month". The month that sees the majority of fruits ripen and be collected. As the proverb goes, "summer begins and ends with a harvest". Somewhat informally, this is also "baby month", as disproportionately large selection of people count their birthday sometime during Fructidor.


    <div>


    Autumn:


    Vendemar - first month of autumn, aka "vintage month". This month is closely tied to previous ones, as the majority of time during this month is typically spent on preparing the fruits gathered the month before for conservation. Wines are laid to age, jams are cooked, fruits are dried, pickled, marinaded, baked and candied throughout this month.


    Brumar - second month of autumn, aka "foggy month". This is the month when weather begins to cool down significantly, sporting extensive fogs in the mornings and sometimes evenings. This is the time for the last small harvest, collecting and storing the late cereals in preparations for winter.


    Frimar - third month of autumn, aka "frosty month". This month sees the frosts set in and people retire indoors whenever possible. Informally, also known as "babymaking month", which reflects in unusually large share of birthdays being celebrated in Fructidor.


    Year`s Unending:


    <div>


    Five day long festival held between Autumn and Winter and formally not assigned to either. This is the time of year where all activities whatsoever are shut down and postponed in favor of celebrations. Those days fall on solstice.


    Reflection is the first day of festival, upon which one must reflect on the passed year.


    Farewells is the second day, traditionally a day of remembrance for all dead.


    Ignition is the third day, and the one during which the heyday of celebration takes time. It is traditionally marked by huge bonfires in the evening.


    Grand Turning is optional day that occurs once every four years. When it is present, it extends the celebration of Ignition.


    Ashes is the fourth day, traditionally held as the quietest day of the year, the time when people recover from the hangover after last night`s celebration and sleep in.


    Morning Glory is the last day of festival, during which people traditionally decide on their goals for the year and reaffirm alliances and friendships.


    Weekdays are completely disconnected from monthly calendars and serve as a convenient way to keep track of time and maintain healthy work/break ratios.


    Moonday -> Tuneday -> Whineday -> Thornday -> Freeday -> Caturday -> Sunday.


    Moonday`s name comes with "raise with the moon" assertion that workers have to get up extra early on Moonday to fullfill week`s work in timely order.


    Tuneday is unclear, though some believe it is reflecting the fact that most people are still cheerful enough from weekends to hum the tune while working.


    Whineday is the middle of workweek, and is named for the whining that is wont to crop up half-way.


    Thornday is named because it is typically considered the hardest day of the week, of the "walking on thorns" sentiments.


    Freeday is the last day of workweek, and traditionally is held as the day where the work is kept light and main focus is on finishing up what was started during the week.


    Caturday is unclear, but the implication that this is the day where one imitates a cat and lounges in the sunspot is common.


    Sunday follows up on that, as the second day of the weekend.


    A List Of Sentient Races And Their Comparative Lifespans


    <div>


    Social races:


    Humans - up to 90 being the common lifespan, up to 200 in certain cases.


    Dwarves - 150 is common, up to 400 rarely. Though, it has to be said that pretty much everyone who lives to 200 will live to 300, unless they die to violence or sudden disease. Venerable elders are separate social class for a reason.


    Elves - 200 is average, due to social customs. Outside of Evergreens, 400 is common. 1000 and more for select individuals. Generally speaking, history is uncertain if there ever existed an elf that expired from old age. They tend to find some sort of violent death before getting to that point.


    Orks - 70 is average, due to social customs and primitive medicine. In civilized conditions, 90 and 200 like humans.


    Imps - 75 is average due to being all-female race in Sultanate conditions. In civilized conditions, 120 is average and up to 250 is possible.


    Thinking monsters that do not establish societies of their own kind:


    Vampires - technically immortal, but most don`t survive longer then 20 years due to fledges having voracious appetite and little discretion. There exist legends of ancient vampires pushing their third millenium, but no one had been able to decisively pinpoint one. Legends excuse that by pointing out that ancient vampires are notoriously reclusive and tend to cultivate their own bloodstock in form of closed-admittance personality cults.


    Selkies - immortal via normal means, but can be imprisoned in specifically crafted lanterns, which leads to their mental death via boredom and subsequent dissipation. Average age of Selkie Lantern - about 30 years.


    Doppelgangers - up to 30 years in captivity, up to 70 years free range if permitted to freely imitate.


    On Religion


    Pantheon (Short List)


    <div>


    <ul>


    <li>Orlag - god of sun and crops.</li>


    <li>Manoc - god of winds and weather.</li>


    <li>Sineval - god of oceans.</li>


    <li>Gia - goddess of earth.</li>


    <li>Kinov - god of business.</li>


    <li>Argyl - god of crafts.</li>


    <li>Marra - goddess of medicine.</li>


    <li>Lothak - god of laws.</li>


    <li>Zali - goddess of war and politics.</li>


    <li>Memiri - goddess of dreams.</li>


    </ul>


    Worship


    <div>


    Most known polities are aware of the same pantheon. There might be local distortion of names, but generally everyone knows the same gods.


    The METHOD of worship differs per country. Champagne, Kraut and Confederacy tend to view gods as the sources of greater good, and worship mostly by attending temple to donate money for blessings and to partake in temple-offered services that depend on the god in question.


    Priests usually specialize in serving one or several gods in particular, though they all acknowledge and venerate the whole pantheon.


    Prayers are mostly the short beseechments of favor from specific god, rather then long-winded venerations.


    Sultanate treats gods much the same with the caveat that all temples in the Sultanate are subservient to sultan, who is considered to be unequivocally favored by gods. As such, temples in the Sultanate charge the foreigners about twice over what they would charge from the locals for the same services.


    Akgand Bharat and Pharos Empire are a little more fractured in religious regard, instead of unified temple to all gods they favor constructing smaller shrines dedicated to specific gods in separate locations, the distribution depending on what gods are considered more relevant to the local needs. As such, rural areas tend to have a clear prevalence in shrines to Orlag and Manoc (gods of sun/crops and weather/winds, respectively), seaports have a high concentration of shrines to Sineval (god of oceans) and so on.


    Divine Empire venerates their Emperor and constructs Imperial Temples. Nominally, all the priests in the Divine Empire are the priests of Emperor, whom they all consider to be the one and only true conduit of gods` will. As such, regardless of what kind of blessing the person wants, they pray/donate to Emperor for it, and assume Emperor will parley with gods on their behalf if their prayer was true.


    Orks don`t have much of organized religion, but they do acknowledge the existence of gods and if they consider themselves to be on receiving end of one god`s largesse, they typically offer up a symbolic part of it as thanks. For example, if an ork manages to sell horses at good price, he would buy a bottle of wine and pour it out into the ground while saying thanks to Kinov.


    While some polities do practice sacrifices, it is common knowledge that gods do NOT appreciate wasteful or criminal sacrifices. In particular, trying to sacrifice a sentient being is one of the easiest ways to get smote.

 Chapter 51. Quarters

    It is Sunday. And I am working. Woe is me. Well, not really, nope. Just poking fun at it. I''ve done my casual teleportation to Grand Forge and brought back half a ton of steel and brass ingots, then did another jump to Bakarat and got a load of prepared glass mix. Well... I went to Bakarat, got told off, found Ed, got him to write me a letter, hopped back to Bakarat, was apologized at profusely and THEN they brought out the glass mix. On the other hand, Edward had shown unexpected foresight in that he wrote me a letter of introduction instead of order. Said letter being more or less "this person is my ally and friend, try to meet her reasonable requests to the best of your ability, she will be working with us for foreseeable future". Finally, a stroll to the marketplace where I emptied two big jewelries of all unworked silver they were willing to sell. Not going to mess with mercury amalgam just yet, but silver should be the next best thing for a couple mirrors. I suppose I could have just melted a bunch of ecus for silver, but that occurred to me right as I laid the silver ingots on the worktable. Hindsight - nature''s way of letting you feel stupid.


    I promised a bunch of tools to the royal doctor and grand inquisitor, and darn it, I''m going to impress the bejeezus out of them. Simple things first - a selection of lancets and scalpels of assorted shapes and sizes. All of them are made from composite steel - harder core, milder envelope. Should be mildly self-whetting, though not quite to the degree I could get out of metalloceramics. Unfortunately, while I can get make it happen via shoggoth bullshit, I need to craft things dwarves can reproduce, and they''re a long way off from composite metalloceramics yet. Though they''ll get there soon enough - magic is a hell of a booster.


    Now, let''s see what I can do about optics. A pair of articulately mounted magnifying glasses. Should be useful for examinations. Microscopes... hm. Copper hulls, lenses... easy enough. I don''t want to push the envelope on this. Oculars are 5x and objectives are 20x, giving the grand total of 100x maximum magnification. After a little consideration, I add fine adjustment screws to the beds. Just to be fancy. Magnification can be made higher, but glassworking needs to be more mechanized to provide consistent lens grinding. Something to work up to. Now, some things I didn''t mention to either of them. First is a head mirror... GAH! Making a concave mirror is surprisingly tricky, I only manage a passable one on the fourth try. Then again, I am making them from glass, silver and a backstop of brass on a leather band - a bit more steampunk than plastic and plastic.


    I round out the selection with a number of Petri dishes, specimen glasses, inspection mirrors and an assortment of surgical forceps. Actually, on consideration, I add a couple different scissors into the mix. There, now the kits are well-diversified and should serve well for medical or forensic diagnostics. Now to pack them up...


    ___


    It''s ridiculous. All this finicky work, and it''s barely half to midday by the time I''m very much done with it all. Then again, I could use some rest and relaxation, and I had been preparing for this for a while. No, not the big surprise that I''m building, that''s gonna take another week to finish completely. But, I have had been messing around with my "be in several places at once" trick, and I am confident I can handle four instances casually. Which is important, because... Well.


    So, I tell Bridgit I''m going to take a bit of a walk, and go out into the garden, where I split into four identical instances. And promptly march back... Oh. Oh dear. I do not know why dean''s been out, but I think he was... more than a little discomfited by seeing four of me advancing on him in a synchronized march, if his fading expletives are of any indication. A bit of inconspicuous monitoring tells me he run right back to his office, swearing all the way, locked himself in and busted out brandy again. Oh well. Sorry about that. Totally not intended, if hilarious.


    Why I''m doing this? Well, there is a simple explanation. While I am quite satisfied with my harem as is, I do want to give each of the girls some personal attention. A one-on-one date, if you will. And since I can not figure out any way to do this sequentially without giving false impressions of favoritism, I''m going to do all four at once. Hence four of me.


    We troop in, maintaining a poker face just in case someone else spots us (no one does, sadly) and enter the rooms. Bridgit looks up to greet me and stumbles over her words once she sees the increase in numbers. Then she YELPS. Lily-Anne shows up first, entering from the bedroom, and gapes at me, poking a finger in my general directions several times wordlessly. Moon Unit and Roxolane show up a few moments later, coming out of Moon Unit''s room together. I think they were hashing out something with Roxolane''s portal theory, because both of them have fingers smudged with ink. (Note to self, invent fountain pens.)


    In the end, the only one who took my newest trick with aplomb was Moon Unit. The rest were apparently under the impression splitting in two is the most I can do. Silly of them, honestly. I thought I had already demonstrated common sense may as well go out and have a smoke as far as me and my matters is concerned.


    "Hello, Ladies." - tell all of them... and pause as I realize all of them simultaneously twitch. Lower volume, because quadruple voices apparently is too much. "Would you like to go on a date with me?" - I offer them - "I was thinking that going everywhere as a group might get a little inconvenient, so the natural conclusion was to split up."


    "...Only you." - Moon Unit mutters, as she facepalms at my horrible pun - "And yes, I would like to." She links her arm with the instance closest to her and marches back to her room. Once there, she chuckles wryly, and nudges me - "The best of all worlds, isn''t it? Every time I think I''ve seen everything you find some new way to make me stare in awe." She lets me go and saunters off to the handwashing basin to rinse the ink off her fingers - "Give me a bit of time to put on my coat and shoes and we can go. I take it you also planned each of those to match our personal interests, didn''t you?"


    Back in the room, Lily-Anne snaps out of her befuddlement and grabs her own instance, dragging me off back to the bedroom - "Yes! Come on, help me get ready! Why didn''t you tell me before, I don''t even know what to wear!" She is already pulling her "home" shirt off as she speaks. Weirdly enough, Lily-Anne has probably the least body modesty out of all my wives. The rest of them tend to sequester themselves when changing, but Lily-Anne shows no hesitation in getting naked in front of any of us in any combination. I wonder why. Just feeling self-confident, or she actually wants to flaunt her body at me?


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "Come on, don''t just stand there. Help me!" - she demands, as she throws on a corset - "Agh, I wish blasted thing had ties in front!" Chuckling, I step up to help her with the stubborn garment... And we''re not off to a great start. "Pull harder!" - she says, as she exhales. Yeah, no.


    "Lily-Anne, I''m not going to squeeze your everything THAT hard." - I tell her - "Inhale, relax. You look best when you''re not struggling to breathe."


    She gives me a very nonplussed look. "It''s not going to hurt me." - she pouts - "I want to look nice for you, alright?"


    I wrap my arms around her midsection and run my fingers over her belly. "And I think you look nicer when you''re not squeezing yourself like a sausage, dear." - I whisper into her ear - "Your natural shape is much, much, MUCH more enticing than the waspish figures those court dames sport."


    She slumps. "I''m not a kid anymore, you know?" - she objects sullenly - "I can wear a corset properly."


    I sigh. "Look." - I tell her in my "serious" voice - "I honestly do NOT like it when girls tie themselves up so hard. All that I am thinking when I look at one is ''gosh, she looks like she''s about to faint''. I know what it''s like to wear a corset, and I honestly prefer the ties to be tightened exactly as far as your figure goes, no more. It should accentuate what you have, not force you into a shape you''re not."


    "Really?" - she offers... Not quite accepting yet, but willing to entertain the notion.


    "Of course." - I confirm, whispering in her ear - "Natural shapes is where it''s at. Haven''t you noticed I never wear any of those?"


    "That doesn''t count." - she objects immediately - "You can make your waist as narrow as you like."


    "I can." - I agree placidly - "So the real question is - if I could have a waist a wasp would be envious of, why am I not sporting it already?"


    She doubletakes at that notion. "So, wait... Are you seriously telling me you prefer it just like... this?" - she exclaims incredulously, smacking her sides lightly.


    "Yes. Yes, I do." - I tell her, as I run my hands over her sides and on her hips - "Honestly speaking, I prefer seeing you without this torture contraption at all."


    "Hmph!" - she retorts - "Well if you are so sure, why don''t you take it off me?"


    Ah. I had been slow about making things sexual, and I''m guessing Lily-Anne is having doubts about her attractiveness. Welp, that just won''t do. I lean in and nab the tie with my teeth, pulling it loose, my fingers working under the corset and pulling it open, tossing it up and over Lily-Anne''s head on the bed. "Much better." - I murr, as I slowly run my hands over her sides upwards, cupping her pert breasts and giving them a gentle squeeze - "The girl as nature intended. Can you think of anything more enticing?"


    Back in the room, Bridgit is being bashful. "Mistress..." - she mutters - "This is too much. People will talk if you''re seen with just me." An instance wraps an arm around her waist - "Shh. There are also three other dates I would be seen on, at the same time. I highly doubt anyone would manage to persuade everyone else they had the right account of it, you know?"


    Roxolane has doubts of her own - "But I don''t even know the city properly. I..." Instance hushes her gently with a finger to her lips - "You don''t need to. I''m the one planning this date, remember? You can always ask me out later once you get a good idea of where you''d like to take me out to. But for now, I''m the one with the plan."


    Bridgit gives in easily enough and chuckles wryly - "Only you, mistress. Very well, I am all yours." She gets a gentle kiss for her troubles and a coat held out for her to slip in. Which she does, blushing as she does so. "No one ever pampered her maid as much as you do, you know?" - she offers, as she walks out of the room with that instance, leaving the last of me alone with Roxolane.


    They are followed moments later by a pair of Moon Unit and me, giving Roxy a cheerful wave before departing in a different direction. Roxolane bites her lip. "You know, I was about to ask for something like this." - she admits - "I... just didn''t expect you to beat me to the punch." She stands up, and leans over to me, hugging me around the waist. "Can we go somewhere quiet?" - she offers softly.


    Back in the bedroom, Lily-Anne is much less nervous now. I... probably should have been a bit more generous with intimacy, if her reactions are of any indication. Oh well, giving her some fondling and kissing had fixed things right up. She still wants to wear corset, but consents to having it tied loosely. The dress follows... And requires a lot more of ties handling. I need to invent zippers sometime, this is tedious.


    Roxolane is still washing her hands when Lily-Anne and me emerge from bedroom and depart, making me and her officially the last couple to start the date. The preparations are surprisingly simple for something she hesitated over so much. And... she might be having a bit of the same problem as Lily-Anne, because now that I''m aware of it, I can see her flip-flopping between rather shy attempts to ''show me more'' and periods of obvious unsurety.


    "Oh, before we go." - tell her, and she stops, turning to face me slowly. I don''t give her time to overthink this, leaning in to give her a nice and deep kiss. She is shocked initially, her eyes snapping wide before slowly closing as she tenderly reciprocates. And if I gave her hips a bit more of stroking then strictly necessary, well, she does seem to be appreciating the confirmation of her sex appeal. Not pushing her for more, though. I''m very determined to let her set the pace on intimacy. She needs to be in control after her misadventures in Sultan''s seraglio.


    "Why don''t you touch me like this more often?" - she demands suddenly, pushing away a bit.


    "Well, I don''t want to pressure you past your comfort zone." - I explain, and she frowns at it... Huh.


    "I''m not made out of spun glass, you know." - she whispers - "I appreciate you, I really do, but sometimes I can''t help but wonder if you really want me."


    "Of course I want you." - I object - "Sometimes, it''s very hard to resist."


    "But... I would like it if you wouldn`t resist more often." - she retorts - "Honestly, I''m... fine! I''m better then fine. I''m free. I''m happy. I am with a wonderful person, in a loving family. I can handle more... I want to do more."


    Yep, confirmed. Roxy got thirsty too. Welp, I guess I''m getting laid four times this evening. I suppose this is the point where I reaffirm she is very much sexually appealing to me. But... I just can''t seem to find good words. So I settle for action, grabbing her in a tight hug and kissing her again. This time, without holding back on lust. She squeaks into the kiss, squirming as my hands roam over her shapely rear and round hips.


    "...Let''s go, Roxy." - I offer to her after a few more minutes if pretty frantic kissing and fondling - "I''m honestly about to just throw you on the bed and have my way with you right now if we continue, and that would ruin all the plans I made."


    She pouts. "Would it be so bad?" - she asks me.


    "NNngh. No. No, it would be very good." - I admit - "But I really want to take you out first."


    "First, hmm?" - she teases - "I''ll hold you to it, then."

 Chapter 52/3/4/5. Bridgit

    I have many wives. Out of them all, Bridgit is the easiest and hardest to romance. Easiest, because her aspirations are modest. She neither wants nor likes extravagance. Hardest, because her aspirations are modest - there are only so many low-key activities one can resort to before things start getting repetitive. However, some staples are just asking to be used. The staple number one - going out to dinner. The question is, where? Well, this is Bridgit. So, the tavern we visit comfortably straddles the barrier between commoners and nobles. Fancy enough for any noble to visit, affordable enough to enjoy a fair selection of commoners. The rules within are equally egalitarian - so long as you can pay for your meal, your social status is of no concern.


    There are already several obvious couples out there, so I don''t quite feel out of place. Bridgit, on the other hand, is still a bit uncomfortable. I''m guessing she is feeling the difference between "also me" and "just me". She doubletakes as I pull out the chair for her and looks on me imploringly before sighing quietly and taking the seat. I grab the chair opposite and flag for a wench to make an order. "Why so nervous, dear?" - I tease her - "No surprises here, honest. Just good old fashioned meal and music." The tavern is one of the few that has permanent in-house musicians, putting up pretty respectable fiddle quartet. The tunes are not exactly the most elaborate, but once again they''re very traditional. Something Bridgit is very familiar with. The whole point of this outing is to put her into environs she knows what to expect of, because I can tell she''s been rattled weary by all the unusual stuff I do.


    "Yes, well... this is still the first time I''m actually getting courted like this, and well..." - yep, stammering Bridgit is adorable. She pouts lightly - "Mistress, why are you always doing this?"


    "Because you''re adorable?" - I tell her and she blushes. The fact wench heard it and is giving her a grin is just adding to it.


    "What will it be, ladies?" - she inquires in an accent I''m unable to place - "A full meal, just a dessert, some drinks? Chef''s special is tartiflette, if you''re interested."


    I look at Bridgit, who looks back and shrugs lightly. "Very well. Tartiflette it is. Bring us some ale to go with it." - I suggest. Wench beams.


    "Ah, you''ve had it before?" - she quips - "A fine choice milady. It will be a few minutes, please."


    I wait until she''s gone before resuming my conversation with Bridgit - "The dinner''s self-explanatory. I was thinking a stroll in the park, then some meandering in the People Square? Should be some kind of performance today, I think."


    She nods slowly. "That''s... very ordinary, mistress." - she quips then - "Are you certain you won''t be bored?"


    "Bored? When I have you all to myself?" - I tease her - "Don''t sell yourself so short, dear."


    ___


    Well, I stand corrected. We are being boring. Well, we are not bored ourselves, no. Having pleasant company to spend leisure time with is nice. But to the observers? Boring as fuck. That guy on the roof is definitely not feeling sanguine. Of course, he would have different opinions once he gets back to his fellows and they all collate their observations. Because that''s when they''ll find out they had observed several of me in the same time being in different places with different girls. Funky, that. I will also get rid of all of them at once. Maybe. I need to figure out something. I can always eat them, but I''m starting to feel more than a little monsterish about it. And getting into the habit of eating inconvenient people is not a habit I should nurture. Occasionally is fine, I suppose, but if my go-to method becomes "eat them", I''m going to gain a lot of weight. And probably will be eventually discovered. And I''m not even sure what gods would think on the issue. So far, I have avoided eating anyone who wasn''t the kind of person they''d consider smiting, but... yeah, well. Let''s be mindful of slippery slopes.


    So then, what I can do about the guys? I mean, I might want to take a break from the whole murdery thing, it is honestly getting to me. Not in the sense of feeling regrets about it, but... I MIGHT end up being way too cavalier about murder being the best solution to everything if I keep on like this. Let''s vary it a little. Maybe I should... I dunno. How many of those assassins are there anyways? Alamut is not big and their training is supposedly harsh, I honestly don''t think they could send more than a few dozens after one target. I mean, they probably count several hundred in total, they''re a serious organization, but not every one of them is trained for wetworks and... I''m probably overthinking this. Sod this, I have a quadruple date, I''ll think on what to do with hashishins later. So far, I have eyes on all of them and can make them fail hilariously if they try something that might endanger my wives, that''s enough.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    For now, my attention is entirely on Bridgit. Who is cheering and clapping as the show wraps up. It was a pretty neat spectacle, all things considered. A sort of cross between theater and circus, they tell a story, but also do things like juggling and other assorted amusements weaved into performance. Pretty creative, actually.


    The story itself, however, is pretty cliched. The dragon terrorizes the people, the hero gets his ass handed to him by the dragon, is nursed back to health by a pretty elf healer, gets a mighty sword from grumpy dwarves, has an epic showdown, slays the dragon, rescues princess, marries princess, the end. Honestly, some cliches are transcending the universal boundaries. Speaking of dragons... Sultanate supposedly has some. Another big stick they have in store. Thankfully, dragons are really stupid, so sending one after me wouldn''t work out well. Dragon would just get bogged down hunting sheep in the southern Champagne, if Salaadin tried. But once I get to Thousand Isles, I''d need to be on guard for this. Probably should research optimal dragon-slaying methods prior to that. If push comes to shove, I can do a pretty good impression of railgun as is, but that''s finicky and I''d need to find some iron, conjured stuff might vanish on approach...


    I lean on Bridgit lightly, and whisper to her - "Let''s go see what else is good? I think they''re about to take a break for the evening." It''s true, by the way, it''s already close to sunset, and most businesses are packing up. Street lighting is not exactly a big thing yet. I mean, there are some lanterns on major streets, but people still view the sunset as the signal that it''s time to head for the bed. Nobles, admittedly, have more of a nightlife, but due to specifics of society it takes forms of balls and soirees, not bar-hopping.


    Bridgit sighs, and leans back, offering - "I''m actually thinking about turning in for the night. It was pretty fun, but I''m honestly about ready to rest my feet." She pauses, and blushes, as she adds quietly - "Though, I was thinking maybe we can..." She trails off and groans softly - "I mean... I understand Lily-Anne and Roxolane need more time to get really used to... things, but I''m missing the more... lewd things." By the end of her admission, she''s a blushing stammering mess. Adorable.


    "Mhm." - I murr - "That was the plan, dear. Don''t think I didn''t notice you and Moon Unit sneaking glances and gropes when you can. More to the point, I do owe you all some extra one-on-one time after all the busy running around I did in the last two months." She perks up and giggles shyly, as I guide her down the street. "So we''re not going to the academy for tonight, dear. I''ve rented four rooms in four different inns." - I tell her, as I dangle the key in front of her - "Tonight, you''re all mine."


    She echoes softly - "All yours, mistress." For some reason, Bridgit gets excited when I act possessive towards her. More than other girls, I mean. All of them like me being somewhat possessive, but Bridgit really likes it when I tell her she''s mine. Not sure what''s up with that - simply her fetish or she finds it reassuring for other reasons. The inn I have selected to take Bridgit to is one used by rich merchants, and it is clearly obvious from their d¨¦cor. Quality and comfort, but little in the way of exotics. Sensible and practical luxury, that''s where it''s at for them. Not a bad attitude, really.


    ___


    As I lock the door, Bridgit hugs me from behind, kissing my neck. Wow, bold. I chuckle at her and then turn around to give her a proper hug. "Sorry about taking so long about it." - I quip to her - "I really should have thought up something for you and Moon Unit sooner."


    She sighs. "Mistress, did I ever tell you that you have the most pampered maid ever?" - she tells me - "Because it''s true. I honestly don''t think any of the noble ladies had ever considered apologizing to their maids for not taking time to... er.... skinship, yes. I mean, I''m supposed to be at your disposal for it whenever you want, not the other way."


    "Yeah, but those ladies have maids, not wives." - I counter, as I slip my hands over her hips, and stroke them softly - "Bridgit... I understand the social mores are telling you something different, but to tarnation with them. You''re not a maid that occasionally is used to slake my lusts. You are a wife, who deserves equal consideration in every matter. Including, yes, the matters of lust. I love you and value you and I desire to make you happy as much as you are making ME happy. Hint-hint, it''s a lot."


    She bites her lip, her own hands finding their way into my shirt, sliding over the skin slowly. "I know, mistress. I know. You spare no expense nor effort in making sure of that." - she offers - "As I said, the most pampered maid ever." She shrieks and giggles as I lift her bodily in response, holding her in my arms as I step towards the bed, depositing her on it carefully.


    "And that''s exactly how I like it." - I tell her with a smile as I crouch down and pull her boots off, making her squirm and blush harder. Her breath hitches as I press on, my hands sliding over her ankles and onto her hips again, this time under the skirt. And then, I kiss her properly, pushing her on the bed in the same time, sucking on her tongue as the kiss grows passionate. She grabs my shoulders, pulling me closer, moaning as I slooooowly divest her of the underwear while keeping the kiss going. By the time I have to break to let her breathe, she''s well and truly aroused and lunges for me without hesitation, pulling on my shirt. I''m.... more than a little loathe to get my hands out from under her skirt, but consent to the necessity, if I am to get naked for her. The moment the shirt''s off, I go right back for it, taking my sweet time caressing her thighs and rear, while she assaults my breasts with a flurry of kisses and licks.


    A few moments later, as she pulls back to get some air in, I take the opportunity to slip her skirt off entirely. "Mistress...." - she whines softly, embarrassed at my very obvious "appreciating the view" pause.


    "Looks like it''s time to eat a maid." - I tease her, as I lean in. Whatever comments she had on my sense of humor are smothered by her sweet moans shortly after.

 Chapter 52/3/4/5. Roxolane

    I have many wives. Out of them all, Roxolane I perceive to be the most fragile, as of yet. Unlike the other three, she did endure quite a number of days in captivity, and that is bound to affect her, no matter how much of a brave face she''s putting on for me. So for her, my plan revolves around making sure she feels secure. I already put in a lot of effort in making sure she feels appreciated and protected within the family. In fact, she might be a little irritated with me, if I perceive things right, for being overprotective. So for the outing, I go for the other part of it. I take her to the castle. Not to see the king, but to publicly available part of the palace to showcase the political power I wield. Then, a visit to the palace library (Abraham was mighty bemused when I asked about it and had issued me blanket permission to peruse the library and bring people I deem worthy with me.). And to round it off, a stay in the diplomatic corps. It is actually a funny tidbit - the palace has a part of it set aside as an inn catering exclusively to people who have been permitted to attend the court. It''s normally used by visiting dignitaries and assorted nobles lacking the domicile in the capital that have some business to bring before the king.


    "...We are going to the palace?" - Roxy inquires curiously, as we pass through the gates, the guards giving us polite nods. They probably recognize me on sight by now, given how many times I ended up visiting the palace for one reason or another. Roxolane seems to be taking this in good stride so far, although I can see her being a little surprised by the choice of the palace as the dating location.


    "Yes, I thought you might be interested to see it." - I explain - "We''re going to attend the luncheon for courtiers, then I have permission to show you around the royal library and gardens. There will be a late dinner reception, and after that, I''m going to show you around the diplomatic corps. Don''t worry too much about it, the king is not going to be in attendance today, so it''s just assorted courtiers milling around."


    She frowns. "I''m... not so good with nobles." - she admits slowly - "Are you sure I won''t be an embarrassment?"


    "Roxy, relax. Primo, no one would dare to offend me. Secundo, your manners are actually better than a good deal of courtiers ever managed. So do not worry." - I tell her blithely - "Besides, there is a purpose to our visit. You are the most mysterious member of my harem, people are going to be curious. By introducing you to high society at our terms and on our time, we can circumvent some of the more annoying rumors and wild mass guessing about you before it crops up. Dealing with the crowd is annoying, admittedly, which is why I finagled library and garden visitations to give you something nice to look forward to after that. Dinner reception is going to be a quiet affair, most of the nobles without a reason to be here leave the palace in the afternoon."


    She clearly still has reservations, but seems to be willing to trust my judgment. Good, I''ll do my best to ensure this goes smoothly for her.


    ___


    Well... I tried. And mostly succeeded, actually. A number of nobles are simply curious, and their introductions and questions bear that much out. But then again, there always is that one asshole who just has to try being an asshole. Case in point.


    "My, my. I have heard the rumors, but I couldn''t believe it until I saw it with my very own eyes." - says the problem. He is one of Ambercrombe Junior''s pals. Ambercrombe Jr. himself had obviously remembered the oath I forced out of him and keeps his distance, but he did take some time to find pals and speak to them as soon as he spied me. Thankfully, most of them had turned his suggestions to interfere down cold. Good job guys, showing that survival instincts are not dead in the society. Unfortunately, this one decided to go for it.


    "Goodness, I never realized lord Ambercrombe''s word is valued so low." - I riposte - "Then again, he did show an appalling lack of self-preservation and bore the brunt of it. Wonder what he promised you to wear the bullseye in his stead."


    Guy''s heckles rise obviously, as he tries to wave it off - "You''ll find I''m not quite as easily cowed as he is, lady Gillespie." Heh. I guess Ambercrombe Jr. is pretty pathetic even to his own chums, come to think of it.


    "Sure, sure." - I continue - "Say, I have procured a number of interesting promissory notes from Konistan trading house. All of them writ by viscountcy of Dragele. Would be a shame if all of them got called in immediately, wouldn''t it?"


    Guy pales as I make that threat. Not so easily cowed, huh? Guess that bluff just got called. To be fair, he is far from the only member of this particular house making debts, and he knows it. He also knows that having a good chunk of their debt called in at once just might end with viscountcy gaining a new lord in short order.


    "So that''s it?" - he demands - "You are going to hide behind the gold?"


    "I''m not hiding behind anything, little man." - I object - "I am reminding you that I have the means to exert pressure, if needs be. Want to make something out of it? I''m sure you can ask Ambercrombe how his duel went. Now run along. I have promised Roxolane to show her the best and brightest of Champagne. If you''ll insist on ruining that impression, I''m not above ruining you right back in every way that counts."


    "I do believe you''ll find me much more capable opponent on a piste than lord Ambercrombe." - he objects - "Besides, I''m not doing anything objectionable. You, on the other hand? Aren''t you betrothed to princess Lily-Anne? I wonder what she would think about you courting someone else so blatantly."


    "Princess Lily-Anne is well aware of me, good sir." - Roxolane interjects finally - "So I daresay she would look at you and ask why did you think it would be news to her to begin with."


    He jerks up to object, pauses as he realizes there is no purchase in this topic, and sneers - "I see. Very well, I will leave you to your courtship then."


    I smile at him. "Much obliged." - I agree - "And a word of advice? Try not to stick your neck out for Ambercrombe again. His wits are quite, ah... suspect."


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    He huffs and finally leaves. Well, that was not so bad. I was half-expecting him to do something monumentally stupid and end up getting locked into dueling me or losing all of his honor in one fell swoop.


    "Aaand that''s the bad side of the court." - I quip softly - "Not so threatening when you have them by the bollocks, innit?"


    Roxy bites back a surprised laugh, shaking her head. "No, that was... oddly amusing." - she agrees - "Though I''m glad he had the wits to back off. If he didn''t, well... I fear you might have done something spectacular to put him in his place and we''d be scrutinized for the whole day after."


    I nod to her. "Which is why money threat came out first and dueling threat second. If I made the dueling threat first, he might have been foolish enough to take me up on it. But knowing that I will ruin his life regardless of duel outcome? That gave him enough of a pause to step back and think it might be not worth it. Especially so, given he has nothing to gain out of this but approval of Ambercrombe Junior, whom he doesn''t respect all that much to begin with."


    She nods. "Say, can we swap things around? I think a stroll in the gardens would be just the thing right now." - she offers, hooking her arm with mine. I''m more than happy to oblige.


    ___


    We... missed dinner entirely. Between a surprisingly long and enjoyable stroll in the gardens and an afternoon in the library (Yes, sharing a book is romantic. Low-key romance is a science all of its own, and I fucking dabbled in it. I''d say mastered, but that would be so arrogant gods just might smite me for that level of hubris. If I didn''t explode like a balloon from the sheer size of it first.), we have completely lost track of time and regained some semblance of it only when one of the librarians had approached us with numerous apologies to remind us that it is the high time for us to clear out because that section of the palace is going on night curfew in a few minutes.


    Well, that might actually be even better, in retrospect. I did ensure the suite reserved for us has some snacks just in case, and not having to deal with more nobles being nosy is probably better for Roxy anyway. She''s been shown to society already, after all, if anyone has questions after this, Gossip Trio can cover it. They''ve been surprisingly helpful in managing PR, to be honest. Admittedly, I do treat them very well in return, but hey, reciprocity. Scratch my back, I''ll scratch yours and all that good jazz. And, since no one else had yet stumbled on a brilliant idea to run their own newspaper, they have a monopoly on disseminated news. And, to be honest, their Newspaper club is working out beyond well. So much beyond well that sir Malachi had approached them (with my permission, amusingly enough) and worked out a little deal with them under the table. Well, that''s not quite right, actually. It''s not as much under the table as simply not public. The gist of it is that they collate the factoids passed on by their growing network and give the digest on it to sir Malachi. Who, in turn, trawls the data for insights for his line of work. Klaus, eat your fucking heart out, you ain''t got shit on the infonetwork sprawling the whole of Champagne kingdom now. And you never will. Because you''re dead. Well, maybe your replacement is getting curious about it, but what exactly can they do? Grab random housewives for interrogation? Idiotic, to put it mildly. None of them actually know anything beyond being in Newspaper Club and passing up interesting local gossip in exchange for a subscription. And trio themselves are by now VERY well guarded. Both by sir Malachi''s subordinates and by my eyespiders. Anything at all tries to happen to them, and... yeah, well.


    Roxolane is a little bit overwhelmed by the opulence of the room. I have intentionally picked one that is decorated in the most northern fashion I could find, because the last thing I want is for her to think back to her time in Sultanate, and that means fur rags everywhere, silver goblets and absolutely fuck-off huge fireplace and equally huge canopied bed. Thankfully, she is promptly distracted from it all when her stomach growls.


    "Yeah, let''s get some food in us." - I agree, cheerfully overlooking her embarrassment - "Let me check... oh, wonderful, the lamb roast is still hot. I knew it was a good idea to request it placed next to the fireplace."


    She opens her mouth to say something, pauses, and then giggles. "Yes, I could use some food right now." - she agrees, her embarrassment forgotten. A few moments later, we''re sitting on the bearskin in front of the fireplace and doing our best to empty the clay pots with wooden spoons. Rustic and opulent, that''s how north rolls. Our hunting lodge is in this style. Good memories.


    ...There is something I notice. Well... Sort of. As we progress through the meal and drinks, Roxy moves closer. By the time the meal remains are put away, we are very literally cuddling. Which is fine and nice and... I think Roxy is ramping up for more. And I''m STILL not sure if she''s doing this because she wants to, or because she thinks I might kick her to the curb if she doesn''t start ramping up the affection levels. So... annoying. This was my trouble in the last life too. I picked up strays all too often, and some times, the feelings ended up being bruised because I would miscalculate just how ready they were. A few times, moving too fast. More than a few times, moving too slow. Some of those ended up being mended by having a frank talk. Some... ended up in pretty ugly breakage. Not often, thankfully, but I''m still very much NOT IN FAVOR of this happening. No. Not at all.


    "You know... I want to ask something of you." - she muses suddenly - "Why are you so... duplicitous? On one hand, you take me out to the palace. You show off the palace to me, and you show me off to the palace, you send all the flags that I''m yours to all and sundry... And yet, you shy away."


    ...Fuck it. Blatant honesty is the best policy. I''ve been burned enough trying to softpedal this kind of stuff before. "Same answer, Roxy. I do NOT want to try taking what you''re not ready to give." - I tell her simply.


    "Is that so." - she hums - "Very well then. Could you please explain to me just how in the name of gods I''m supposed to tell you I''m more than ready to give, because I already tried all that I could think of and you still don''t grasp the hint!" Oh. Ow. What begins as a gentle question ends up as enraged hiss as she rolls over on me and pushes me over, hovering over me... angrily. Oh. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Overdid softpedaling. Darn.


    "...I''m sorry." - I tell her, putting my hands on her waist - "Sometimes, I''m just not grasping hints. Blunt declarations tend to work in this case." She huffs, still angry, then leans closer and starts kissing me hungrily, her tongue invading my mouth without much ado and any hesitation. OOokay, message received loud and clear, I think and I slip my hands under her shirt, slowly tugging it upwards as I stroke her sides. She moans into the kiss, rubbing against me as she starts to return the favor, pulling on my clothes with an intensity I honestly didn''t expect out of her.


    As the kiss breaks at last, I smile at her and roll us over, slipping her shirt off in one smooth pull (a bit of tentacle assist here to make sure she gets no rag burns, I''m a gentle monster), then I divest myself of my own shirt to give her better access. Skirts follow a little later, as hands begin to roam over each other. Roxy is not entirely sure what she''s doing, but she shows a lot of enthusiasm taking clues from me. So I take her through the paces, playing with her body as she plays with mine. The "study session" lasts well past midnight, and Roxy is a very attentive and diligent student. I''m proud of her... AND fucking horny.

 Chapter 52/3/4/5. Lily-Anne

    I have many wives. Out of them all, Lily-Anne is arguably the most sheltered. Some would think this title should go to Moon Unit, owing to elven famous isolationist tendencies, but... Moon Unit is more than three times older, and spent enough of time outside Evergreens to be well-rounded in her erudition. So for Lily-Anne, I picked the trip over the most exotic places I could think of. A bit of boating followed by dinner in a restaurant specializing in Pharos cuisine, a bit of thoughtful trawling through the Merchant Square and to round it off, an evening at the brothel. Why brothel? Because I think Lily-Anne is in just the right sort of rebellious mood by now to find this exciting. Besides, they have pretty good burlesque. Again, not a local thing, the concept of erotic dancing had been imported from the south. Much to my convenience, the brothel was entirely willing to reserve a room for me on the understanding I''d bring my own partner. Really, madame Cocoshon was very accommodating and entirely unphased about my admission that the room is to be used by two girls who might or might not do more than sleep and cuddle there. I might consider bringing all of my harem to the brothel sometime. Just to see their reactions, if nothing else.


    Boating proves to be an adventure. Wet wet adventure. I do manage to keep the boat from capsizing, but not without copious splashing. Lily-Anne is... both amused and alarmed, because the unstable nature of the rowboat apparently is new to her and she is not ready for the way it sways with the shift of weight. Still, it''s not that hard to get used to, as we demonstrate as I row us to the middle of the river without much effort.


    "Won''t we get carried away by the stream?" - she asks curiously, dipping her fingers into the water as I let the boat float idly.


    "A bit. I''ve arranged for the boat to be picked on the moor downstream, though, so no worries." - I tell her, and she grins back.


    "Crafty! I was wondering how do you intend to row all the way back against the stream." - she admits.


    I snort - "Oh, I paid some burly men to do it for me. The joys of money - it''s a power that anyone can wield."


    To be honest, it might have been... a little too simple. I should have considered a bigger boat. At least, I did not misjudge the length of boating and we had arrived to the pier just as Lily-Anne began to get bored of the river. Climbing out is, strangely, much less troublesome than getting in. I wave to the men I hired and they jump into the boat to get it back in place, though not before offering cheerful (if bawdy) salutations. Lily-Anne clearly notices, if slight blush is of any indication.


    ___


    The restaurant is a hit. Turns out they not only serve Pharos dishes, but also have a selection of foods from further east. Not big, but they did have soy sauce and udon. Which went wonderful with a big platter of seafood and meat cuts. Lily-Anne seems to be vacillating between recognizing some of the foods and being utterly clueless about others. Soy sauce, in particular, is declared a "must have". (Note to self - look for a dependable Pharos merchant to procure soy sauce from. I could use a bit of that in my menu too. Also, udon just reminded me something... there is no pasta! Must invent.)


    "Mm. Now I''m wondering just what do you have in mind for the rest of the day." - Lily-Anne muses as she sips her plum wine slowly - "And where are we going to spend the night."


    I grin at her. "Ah. Caught up on that, did you?" - I quip - "Yes, we''re sleeping in a different place today. I figured all of you deserve some one-on-one interaction."


    She pauses, and then quips - "Does that mean I''ll have to go on a date with Roxy, Bridgit and Moon too?"


    I shrug. "Have to? No. Might? Sure." - I then offer to her - "You''re all getting along remarkably, and I definitely would be glad if you all start connecting to each other on the same level as to me. No pressure, obviously. Relationships are like flowers, you have to let them grow on their own."


    ___


    Prowling around the bazaar is fun. I might have to hire a porter to carry the stuff back to the dorm, however, because I''ve already bought a bag solely so I could hold all the trinkets and curios we pick up here and there. Some of them are pretty amazing, all things considered. And some... are the stuff I made. Which I don''t bother Lily-Anne about, because she''s having fun finding oddments and I don''t want to spoil that. I do talk her out of trying to buy stuff for everyone. Mainly by pointing out that we already have that in some form. Or that none of us needs it. For example, what exactly would any of us need beardclippers for?


    Some of the things she finds are.... curious. And some are downright alarming. For example, this little quartz geode on a stand. Table decoration? Yes. But also a tool to covertly sap someone''s sanity. It is enchanted to poke at the senses of whoever has it, slowly but surely driving them to neurosis through sensory overload. A deadly gift, if there ever was one. I make a note to disassemble the fucking thing as soon as we get back home. For now, it''s in the box that I''ve sealed with a bit of me to keep it contained.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Lily-Anne, would you happen to remember where you got this decorative crystal from?" - I ask her, trying to sound casual.


    "Hm... I think it was that merchant with decorative stones..." - she muses - "I asked for something special, and his assistant handed this thing to me. Pretty, isn''t it?"


    "Assistant? I must have overlooked him." - I muse back - "Wait, are you talking about his porter maybe? That small man with the funny mustache?"


    "No? Assistant. Tall man, taller than you even. I thought he must be somewhere from the north, he has eyes and hair like yours. Different nose though, I looked at him and my first thought was ''Kraut, no doubt!''." - she chuckles - "I think merchant sent him to attend to me while he was trying to sell you half his stand."


    Fuck. I guess Klaus DID bring up some worthy successors, that was an inspired piece of nasty. Not sure if it''s retaliation for a head in the bag or a start of a new op to get something from me. Need to increase surveillance. No doubt merchant had no fucking idea he had an assistant. If not for my habit of scanning everything for possible inspiration, I''d pass this thing up and assume the enchantment is just for it to look pretty. Great, now I have to dodge hashishins and Kraut spies in the same time. Speaking of hashishins, those fucks had shown up in all four dates. Always on the rooftops, keeping distance, watching. I obviously tag them, there''s going to be a mass incident this evening, because Alamut clearly didn''t get the message yet.


    ___


    HAH! THAT FACE! Priceless.


    "Aaaaaa." - Lily-Anne offers eloquently as she vaguely gestures towards the brothel we''re approaching languidly - "Eeeeeeeh!?"


    "I thought I''d take you to a place you definitely never visited." - I tease - "I think you''ll find it memorable."


    "...That''s one way to describe it." - she mutters, stopping forcibly - "Good grief, what were you thinking, Alyssa? Brothel!? What are we here for, even!?"


    "We''re here to drink wine, eat fruit and watch girls dance and take their clothes off in enticing ways." - I explain to her as I stop next to her - "And then, we''re here for quite a comfortable room set aside just for us two, for more wine and fruit and cuddling before sleep." She blinks at me, and I chuckle - "This is not a knocking house, princess, and I certainly don''t think I need to hire additional people. You''re more than a handful all on your own."


    She permits herself to be ushered on, her face retaining its incredulous and somewhat embarrassed expression even as we are greeted, led in and situated in plushest chairs I have ever seen in this reality so far, a low table laden with fresh fruit between us. An attending girl shows a bottle of wine to us. "For the first serving, we have some sweet red Megas Drys from the isles of Levant, if it pleases you miladies. Please enjoy the wine and the selection of fruit, the dancers will be here shortly." - she proffers, as she pops the cork and holds it for us to sniff. I nod at her casually.


    "I''ll have that. How about you, Lily-Anne?" - I offer, holding out my hand for a flute full of deep red wine. Its taste makes me think the wine was made from raisins. Deep, sweet and with just enough pinch to it. Very nice. Lily-Anne accepts her own glass without commenting on it, her eyes firmly riveted to the carpet in front of us. I guess she did not expect something of the sort. I have to admit, the choreography is very nice, and the fact there are three girls at once does spread out the attention. This is a private performance for obvious reasons. Lily-Anne is not ready to handle her peers seeing her here. In a few years, sure, she''d be worldly enough, but right now, she''d implode. Then explode.


    Lily-Anne is surprisingly silent throughout the performance. As one dancer replaces the other, she simply watches, nibbling grapes and becoming progressively redder. And more aroused, I think, if her quickened breathing is of any indication. I give her some time to marinate in her own juices, as it were, but then discreetly notify the attendant to withhold the next dancer. She nods to me thoughtfully, and slips out quietly. The dancer of the moment finishes her routine, and leaves the room a few moments later, leaving us alone.


    Lily-Anne continues to sit and stare in some sort of stupor for a while longer, then with a violent startle she shakes herself out of reverie. "...I... Just... What... ARGH!" - she offers, and I suddenly find my lap full of girl wound up to the thrum, blushing and horny and all but bursting with arousal and embarrassment. So I kiss her. She reciprocates with great eagerness, squirming against me as we make out passionately. Clothes hit the floor soon after, in no small part due to me worrying Lily-Anne might just try ripping them off ourselves if they''re not removed via less complicated means.


    "Did you plan this?" - she pants, breaking away for a moment.


    "You mean, teasing you into a frenzy with the titillating show? Consider this a little payback for winding me up all those days." - I quip at her, as I pull her closer, teasing her breasts with licks and nibbles.


    She groans and shivers under the attention, finally mustering the wits to answer - "Could''ve responded sooner, you know?"


    "Ah, but group sex is much more complicated, and I know for a fact neither you nor Roxy had any experience whatsoever. It would be cute, I admit, but would also be awkward and possibly sap either of your confidences." - I explain to her - "Besides, I needed time to figure out how to combine the ''want each of you just to myself for a night'' with ''don''t want to give false impressions about favoritism''."


    She wilts slightly, muttering - "...Darn it. I just realized I really have no idea how to proceed past the ''kissed a lot and tore the clothes off'' stage." She jerks up a moment later, as her sentence registers with her brain - "I mean, I''m figuring it out as I go, really! No need to stop!"


    I snicker, and pull back slightly, letting my eyes roam all over Lily-Anne shamelessly. "What. You think I''d go so far to wind you up only to leave you hot and leaking? Nah. We''re going to spend all night figuring things out, dear." - I tell her, and if the enthusiastic expression she leans in with is of any indication, she is well in favor of my plan.

 Chapter 52/3/4/5. Moon Unit

    I have many wives. Out of them all, Moon Unit is the most worldly. It was a surprise to find out, but she had wandered the world for two full decades before coming back to Champagne to enroll in Academy. Elves tend to have a different perception of time. To her it was but a fleeting fancy of getting some experience. To a human, it is a lifetime of experiences as is. However, as she admitted to me once, she never had a good opportunity to truly partake in southern cultures. And this is what shapes our outing with her. To begin with, a long stroll in the hills outside the city, because while Moon Unit is not mentioning it out loud, she DOES feel better after reconnecting with nature, so to speak. I have noticed her taking a day every now and then to just wander the fields outside the city, and she hasn''t been out in a while. Why not share the experience? Then, as we come back to the city, it will be close to evening, and we will have a big meal and lodgings in the inn that caters mostly to rich visitors from Sultanate. Carpets, pillows, hookahs... The works. They even agreed to prepare coffee to my specifications. Admittedly, the owner was flabbergasted to find out how the taste of coffee changes via roasting, so from now on, the inn offers "broiled cava".


    Moon Unit is more than a little surprised when she finds out I intend to just wander around with her. Then she smiles. "It''s been a while since I had anyone to share this with." - she admits - "Come to think of it, it''s been... AAAH!?" Ok, maybe that was a bit mean of me to shapeshift into a tree while she was looking the other way. Ooor, maybe not. After the initial shock, she clearly appreciates the new form. So I lean it and pick Moon Unit up to sit in the branches. She''s laughing as I do. A couple minutes later, and I squish back into human shape, neatly catching Moon Unit in bridal carry as I do.


    "That was silly." - she tells me with a smile - "Did you know you make a very good tree if you put your mind to it? You could possibly hide in the Evergreens just by pretending to be a tree and no one would have gathered otherwise." She''s not wrong, come to think about it. Making a note of it in case I have a very good reason to hide for good.


    We take time to poke around the little forest. It''s pretty barren of anything useful, to be honest, being so close to the city means it''s picked clean of mushrooms almost as soon as they show up. The goal is to poke around and "grow as the leaf", as elves put it. I''d be hard-pressed to explain the details of this, but the rough gist is that elf barren from interacting with natural area for a while will become irritated and moody after a time. In short, a usual body reaction to lack of something. Untouched nature (or possibly significantly big chunks of artificial landscape, I suppose) alleviates the symptoms.


    ___


    Out here in the fields surveillance is hard. Which is probably why the hashishins are not around this instance of me. However, someone is watching, and I can''t quite decide who. Making our way back into the city does not diminish the feeling. But I finally find the guy responsible. An elf. No wonder I didn''t find him out in the field, he could probably blend in any natural environs with much ease. On the pavement, however, he stands out enough for me to keep him in view at all times. And he is closing the distance. I wonder why, the bazaar is the most populated spot in the city, he should be falling back further not to be noticed... OOh, shit, things are getting WAY too real.


    I sidestep as the guy delivers a dagger stab into the area that in his estimation should have had my kidney in it. His eyes widen as his hand passes harmlessly by my side. He has little time to do anything else other than curse as I grab his arm by the elbow and wrist and TWIST, forcing him down on his knees on the pain of losing an elbow joint for good. "RUN, sister!" - he demands through clenched teeth, no doubt intending to fight it out with evil evil me. Wonder what he assumed.


    Although initially spooked, Moon Unit quickly ascertains the situation. And facepalms. Hard. "Dweezil, what are you doing here?" - she demands then - "And, separately, what do you think you are doing to my fianc¨¦e? It better not be what I''m thinking, because if it was, then I just might make good on my threat to end your dreams. You were not seriously trying to backstab the woman I love, Dweezil, now were you?" The last words are so sweet and venomous even I''m feeling a little spooky. This is the voice of little sister who''s vengeance is going to make you regret you were not aborted.


    "...Fianc¨¦e?" - he bleats, rapidly shifting his eyes from Moon Unit''s pendant (which bears the sigil of my house, as a not so subtle suggestion for other nobles to fuck off or else) to me and back to the pendant. Back to me. Back to the pendant. Moon Unit sighs. Pulls the thing off. Dangles it in front of... Dweezil, I suppose? Who groans deeply and looks down. "...My sincerest apologies, I have acted on a hunch and it almost ended in tragedy." - he then offers formally. Fine, I guess things are resolved a bit. I let him up, and he stands, flexing his arm gingerly. "That was one damn good grip." - he comments as he bends over to pick his dagger and hisses, rubbing at the elbow - "Really good grip. Makes you reconsider everything that led to this unfortunate moment."


    Moon Unit rolls her eyes - "One of the many good reasons why this is my fianc¨¦e. Come on, brother, let us find a place to converse." A short while later, all three of us are sitting around the table in the southern inn. Entirely unplanned, that. Moon Unit takes the reins on this conversation. "So. I assume you had mistaken my pendant for slavery collar, right?" - she levels at Dweezil squarely.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    He winces and nods. "I have been told that you''ve been appropriated by lady Gillespie and presumed worst. The fellow who furnished information seemed rather gleeful to suggest all sorts of unpleasant fates for you and I have had been... wary." - he continues - "Your condition does not seem to bear that out, though. In fact, sister, I have to commend you''re looking remarkably well for someone who had been out of treeshade for decades." He then continues in a lower voice - "<dfn title="Are you under duress or coercion?">¨¨ske ou kenbe anba kontrent oswa presyon?</dfn>"


    Moon Unit facepalms. "No, I''m here entirely out of my free will. No slavery, no collars, no mind magic." - she insists formally - "And please, use Albish. It would be rude to my fianc¨¦e to talk in a language she does not understand."


    In a way, she is wrong. While I am not on a speaking level, I can puzzle out the general gist. Like the "are you being held here?" in the question he tossed. "Why are you in the city?" - I offer a question of my own - "Moon Unit had been out and about for years without anyone showing up to check on her. So what''s up? Must be something important to make a conclave member show up in person."


    "<dfn title="Shit!">Merde!</dfn>" - is his response. Then he calms down, and continues - "You are unsettlingly perceptive, lady Gillespie. Which, I surmise, is another reason why my sister is so taken with you. Yes, I am here to buy cure for cold. Winter is coming, and many of us had become ill with flu. It should help take the edge off."


    I exchange glances with Moon Unit. She nods. "Yeah. Well. Come over to Academy tomorrow in the afternoon, and we''ll teach you how to mix it." - I tell him and he jerks up in surprise.


    "That... would be a great boon, but..." - he trails off. Moon Unit smirks at him - "No butts here but you, brother. Alyssa invented it, she can teach anyone she desires to mix it."


    "Aaaand that''s a third good reason." - he immediately ripostes - "A brawler, a diplomat and an alchemist? What else, while at it?"


    "Well, there''s helping dwarves regain their standing as a nation by helping them rediscover the lost arts of smelting and forging." - Moon Unit adds - "Anything I forgot, dear?"


    "Well... did you mention that curse on Sultanate is also me?" - I offer, and she giggles. Her brother, on the other hand, promptly smacks his chin on the table as his mouth falls open in surprise.


    "WHAT? You cursed Sultanate!?" - he hisses, obviously strangling the surprised yelp. As I nod, he groans and shakes his head - "Gods damn it all, I need something stronger for this conversation. Anything else I should know?"


    "Well... I joined a harem?" - Moon Unit offers teasingly and the guy just... faceplants on the table. He is so very done with this. Very much done.


    "So... To sum it up, you and a selection of other girls are set to marry someone who is a prolific scholar and inventor who also has great physical force, stupendous command of magic and ambitions that involve pretty successful cowing of most powerful polity in the known world." - he sums up wryly, looking at Moon Unit - "Anything else?"


    She hums - "And I strongly suspect Alyssa is actually one of the Tools of Gods. And I learned that Tools of Gods self-refer as Shoggoth."


    Now it''s my turn to peer at Moon Unit in alarm. I didn''t think she''d blurt that one out.


    "I... see." - he offers with some difficulty - "Eventually, sister, you might want to invite your fianc¨¦e or maybe by that time wife to the Evergreens so that you could be interviewed for Thread of Creation. No pressure, though. Come at your own leisure." He pauses, and then asks cautiously - "If I have succeeded with stabbing, would I''ve had my head eaten?"


    I chuckle. "Nah. I''m pretty sure Moon Unit would recognize you before then. Now, if I were alone on the street and you tried that? Then yes, it''s not out of the question that I might reply by eating your head." - I tell him back simply, and he shudders.


    "Message received loud and clear, milady."


    ___


    The conversation continues for a while, but then Dweezil bows out and insists he must see to the needs of his own delegation. Apparently, he brought four other elves with him, so that he would have labor if needed to haul big amounts of potion. That''s fine with me. Let him settle his men, he already flubbed his schedule to hell with unscheduled family time. Between talking to Dweezil and reminiscing, we''ve both had some food. In a way, retiring to the room is all that is left of the day, the sun on the verge of the horizon already.


    As we approach the lavish room, Moon Unit quips softly - "If it''s just me and you then it''s fine to make love?"


    I nod at her. "That was the idea, yes." - I admit, and she grins brightly - "Oh, goody. I was hoping you''d be amenable."


    I wrap my arms around Moon Unit''s waist from behind, hugging her close as I murr into her ear - "Dear, I''m always amenable."


    She turns her head sideways to get a kiss. "Maybe talk about some, ah... ideas I had?" - she offers, winking. Oh huh. Elves. So in response I pull back slightly, my hands drifting over Moon Unit''s sides and onto her hips, slowly gathering her skirt up as I offer - "Oh?"


    "Ah, well... I was thinking about maybe having some extra fun with your shapeshifting abilities..." - she proffers, rocking her hips from side to side teasingly as I finally get under that skirt.


    "We can always try, dear." - I suggest, busy getting into her underwear. She lets me cop a feel but then slips out of my hands and saunters over to the bed, slowly shedding her clothes as she goes. I am reasonably certain Moon Unit DID see striptease before, she certainly knows a thing or two about it. I... Just... ooze out of my clothes entirely. She tends to have that effect on me.


    "Come on here, then. Let''s try making some things grow, shall we?" - she teases, and I''m all too happy to oblige.

 Interlude 7. Klaus Finds Another Puzzling Thing

    Klaus looked at the calendar and grinned. Truth to tell, he began to grow fond of those little peeks. Lady Gillespie had proved herself to be an enigma beyond everything he had ever encountered, and the things scrying gave back? Just out of this world. Literally, maybe. He had commissioned a wall board and a number of small nails so that he could organize his scrying results and other accompanying info. Differently colored threads provided a handy way to connect them. So far, he was not able to unite everything into a single web, but with each thing garnered, he was getting closer. And, not to put too fine a point on it, he had never gotten anything entirely useless out of it. Odd? Every single thing. But useless? Nope. The most mundane item also proved itself to be delicious, for example. The papers had given him some interesting insights into collating dossiers on his people of interest and he had instituted some changes to their usual procedures. For example, he had hired a dedicated painter to create the portraits of the most important people to attach to their dossiers. This was seen as extravagant at first, but the utility of being able to just show the person of interest to an agent had proved the utility almost immediately. In fact, Kraut diplomatic corps had picked up the idea for themselves and used it to great effect.


    The fire spewing artifact was sadly spent, and Klaus was not able to reenchant it to throw the glob of green fire as it was doing originally. But, once he had carefully cut the bottom off and placed a piece of enchanted quartz inside, it had turned out to be a perfectly serviceable holdout weapon, and he had artificers create other similar artifacts out of bone. Agents, again, had quickly appreciated the utility of being able to launch a pre-prepared combat spell with no warning and decent accuracy. Bloody Hammer was currently on loan to Inquisition, who had been having troubles with vampires from the Confederacy. As it turned out, vampires were outright terrified of the thing after it''s been used to nail a couple of coffins shut.


    As the spell ran its course, Klaus became even more excited - it had summoned some sort of vambrace. And... A rather complicated one, he mused, as he turned the whole thing around in his hand. Not just a piece of armor, but also a weapon, apparently. He poked at the mechanism curiously, swearing as the blade slipped out suddenly, almost cutting into his hand. More examination revealed a rather clever mechanism. But... it was awkward. Trying the vambrace on, Klaus had quickly realized that there was something wrong with it. It took him a long while to figure out what, exactly, but in the end he came to a realization (after a number of self-inflicted cuts and stabs) that this vambrace was designed for someone missing a finger on their hand.


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Furthermore, the whole thing had no magic in it, period. It was just a very elaborate hidden knife. Useful for an assassin, but hardly anything groundshaking. Setting the thing aside, Klaus sighed. That... posed more questions than answers. As usual. Why would anyone connected to lady Gillespie have an assassin''s tool? One designed for a hand missing a finger, while at it? No one he knew of in her acquaintances had that kind of injury. Someone he is not aware of? Or maybe someone who is connected to lady Gillespie in a different manner? This vambrace made him think of Alamut hashishins, when he thought about it. None of them used anything quite like that, but hidden blades were definitely their kind of thing, and given what Klaus himself knew about assassinations, it would be pretty effective, if one could stealthily approach the mark. The way the blade would be mounted on the wrist allowed for some impressively strong stabs, as the movement was quite alike to that of a punch, and thus could be delivered with significant force.


    Unfortunately, there were absolutely no personal details on the vambrace, so the only thing Klaus could determine in the end is that the owner of this had to have a missing finger. Supposedly, ring finger, though middle finger was also a possibility. An intriguing, but overall, not particularly revealing find. Putting the vambrace into his chest, he sighed. Oh well. It''s not like every attempt was bound to yield more clues. He closed the chest and went on to note that lady Gillespie might be having an access to a trained assassin, or a small organization of thereof. The rate at which known hashishins disappeared in her immediate vicinity certainly bore that idea out.

 Chapter 56. Visitors Pileup

    The lessons pass like they''re greased. Admittedly, I have a lot on my mind. As always. The tools I promised to sirs Malachi and Pasteur? Packed, that''s fine. Elven delegation? No word yet, but I had my own word with servants and the door attendants now know that if elves show up, they are to be escorted to Moon Unit''s room, to avoid any unneeded altercations. Well, the elves themselves would be told it as ''we were expecting you, please come with us''. Make them feel important and all that simple jazz. Moon Unit is appraised of that and promises to be there in case I''m busy showing off tools. What else... Oh, yeah. Hashishins. It''s funny, actually, they''re more paranoid than I expected and never meet up. Instead, they have drop-offs where they leave notes for each other. Encrypted notes. That alone wouldn''t be a problem but the fact they were written in Oijan? Yeah. So instead of bothering with notes, I simply have each person that pays attention to dropoffs tagged with thread. As in, snip of me formed into literal thread and placed onto their clothes by eyespider to wiggle into textile and sit there as a tracking beacon. Between that and capital being generously seeded with eyespiders, I have a good idea on where all of them are and their current activities. Which seems to be a pretty in-depth observation of me. I guess they got a lot more cautious after initial losses.


    For now, I''m not doing anything about them, but the moment they make any aggressive moves, well... I''m going to wreck them. Kraut spies are proving much harder to locate. I think I have a tentative bead on the guy who gave the cursed crystal to Lily-Anne, but it''s not something I am entirely confident in. Could be an entirely innocent guy with excessively Kraut features, I suppose. Though he has some very interesting stuff in his inn room. Oh well, back to our muttons.


    I... am a bit surprised. I expected a courier. I got sirs Malachi and Pasteur. Just walking up to me in the middle of Academy yard, how do you do. In front of... a good deal of Academy''s populace, students and teachers alike. Hah. Ok, so... I think everyone already had SOME idea I''m having big deals going on, but there''s still a hell of a lot of hushed (and excited) whispers all around as they greet me cordially and ask if now''s a good time for demonstration of the tools I promised... Well, shit. Contingent on their acceptance, I need to get Ed''s people and dwarves on producing more like... post-haste, because we''re gonna be SWAMPED with requests after that show and pony. But hey, cha-ching, right?


    I end up taking them to my own rooms. Girls are... well. Lily-Anne obviously recognizes both of them and greets them by the name. Bridgit, Moon Unit and Roxolane, on the other hand, decide to make themselves scarce and hide in Moon Unit''s room. Well, fine then. I pull out the prepared bags and open them both, showing that the contents are identical. Scalpels and lancets garner moderate praise from both visitors, as they test the blades on the conjured block of wax. Then I bring out locking forceps and scissors, and sir Pasteur gets... excited.


    "Just look at that! Marvelous. Simple, yet functional. The very idea of locking forceps, why, this is... goodness gracious, I was missing this all my career and I did not even KNOW I''m missing this." - he exults, as he pinches a wad of gauze and dabs with it at the plate with a bit of honey on it, simulating a bloodstain - "And the assortment! This alone would make removing objects from wounds so much easier. Low bend, sharp bend, wide head, needle head, lunar head... Outstanding. Simply outstanding. I trust I would be able to order additional sets from Grand Forge? Because my apprentices will be getting trained on this equipment, by gods."


    "I have the plans prepared for production, yes." - I confirm - "Once this demonstration is over, I will send them in so they could begin production in bulk." He beams. Malachi is in the meanwhile examining one of the forceps very closely.


    "Could this be made for deeper... Ah, thank you." - he mutters, as I hand him the longest set of forceps in the bag - "Aha! With this, we could extract swallowed items!" Oh. Wow. That''s actually a thing they do often? Weird.


    Next, I bring out the mounted magnifying glass. This gizmo snags both of their attentions very firmly, as they exchange exclamations examining the blades of scalpels under the lens. Showing them the articulation again excites sir Pasteur enough to launch into a diatribe about the ingenuity of it. While they are at it, Petri dishes make an appearance. They''re met with polite interest, but muted excitement. While this is certainly convenient, they already had the concept of this in form of bottles and platters. Inspection mirrors, on the other hand, raise the interest right back.


    "This should be very handy for finding tooth rot." - sir Pasteur comments, as he fiddles with the mirror. And that''s a good segue to headmirrors. Initially, both of them (and Lily-Anne, who until now was politely interested, but not overly excited, though articulated lens interested her as well) were puzzled about it. Then I showed the principle of it. And now we''re faced with a somewhat surreal picture of sir Pasteur peering intently through the mirror pip into sir Malachi''s ear.


    "Incredible." - he finally offers, as he lets go of Grand Inquisitor much to his relief and leans back, lifting the mirror from his eye - "Unbelievable. This will revolutionize medicine. The ability to clearly see into all sorts of body cavities? And coupled with the inspection mirror? Goodness, this is... divinely inspired, no other word for it."


    Sir Malachi, in the meanwhile, had donned his own head mirror and began a thorough examination of his own coinpurse. "I never quite realized how much lint I have inside." - he comments thoughtfully, as he plucks the wads of lint out with forceps - "I agree with sir Pasteur, this is stupendously convenient. I don''t even have to adjust the mirror, the reflected light follows my sight as it is. Lady Gillespie, I beg of you to pass the plans for those to the craftsmen as soon as possible. I shall require at least one set per inquisitorial team, and if possible, one per each inquisitor."


    Finally, I bring out the star of the show. The microscope. The results are... Well. Suffice to say, both microscopes are set up right now, one is examining an edge of a scalpel, while the other is directed at the leaf of lettuce, and everyone vacillates around the two devices peering at the items in wonder. Not just sirs Pasteur and Malachi, but all of my girls as well (Lily-Anne was so excited after looking into things she went and fetched everyone else). It is in the middle of this conversation when the door is firmly knocked on. And, of course, I am on the other side of the room, so it is Bridgit who opens the door, and... there are two elves in the mix now. Dweezil and another one whom had not been introduced yet. Both of them dragged by overall enthusiasm over to microscopes. At which point they both promptly lose their marbles and join in on exulting the marvels of scientific exploration.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "Well, that was... an experience." - sir Malachi offers half an hour later, after most of my room had been microscoped in one way or another - "Honestly, I never expected there was so much to see when I asked for a better magnifying glass."


    Pasteur is still hunched over the microscope, looking over the piece of moldy cheese. "Fascinating! Mold appears to be a sort of... fungus!" - he mutters excitably. Malachi shakes his head bemusedly.


    "I believe he will be spending days and nights hunched over this... what did you call it?" - he turns to me.


    "Microscope seems like a good name." - I suggest.


    "That. The microscope is going to be sir Pasteur''s favorite instrument for months to come, I am confident." - he offers - "A hundred times closer, why, this is a whole new world to see. And if my hunch is right, you already have plans for even more magnifying microscopes, aren''t you?"


    Sighing, I nod - "Once the lens grinders get used to making consistently curved lenses, we should be able to achieve magnification up to five hundred times. Maybe a thousand, with some time and practice. For now, hundred is the best I can guarantee consistency on."


    Malachi grins - "Ah, but if I''m hearing you right, it should be possible to grind, say, a dozen lenses calculated for two or three hundred magnification and have at least one in a batch that would meet the necessary curvature and clarity, isn''t it so?"


    I nod. "The ocular and objective..." - I begin, pointing out the respective parts on the microscope - "Are designed to be removable and you should be able to swap out lens sets per necessity. I have included alternative sets that give you forty times magnification. If you really want to try, you can talk to prince Edward about getting in touch with his glassworkers in Bakarat to grind you the batch you''ve mentioned."


    He nods. "I believe we will, once we exhaust the possibilities of current lens sets." - he agrees solemnly - "But for now, I''d like to rectify the lack of manners and finally greet the newest guests. I am Grand Inquisitor of Champagne, Malachi, and this is Royal Physician, sir Pasteur. Now, who might you be?"


    Dweezil finally snaps out of scientific fervor gaze. "Ah! My name is Dweezil, and this is my comrade Sparrow Jack. I am here to visit my little sister Moon Unit." - he explains, gesturing towards Moon Unit in question. Who smiles and waves back. I take the cue and introduce my entire harem at this point.


    Sir Malachi grins. "Ah, so your family got news about the harem then." - he quips - "That''s a doozy."


    "Sure is." - Dweezil confirms - "I, ah... didn''t make the best first impression on the mistress of harem either, so you could say this is a peace negotiation talks too."


    Malachi squints at him. "Boyo, there might be easier ways to die than pissing off lady Gillespie, but so far I''m drawing a blank on what they might be." - he gruffs back.


    "So I''ve found out." - Dweezil confirms with a chagrined smile. I''m... missing something in that exchange. It''s not until Dweezil and Malachi suddenly clap their hands and grin at each other I realize they are actually familiar with each other already.


    "Still the same hotheaded bastard you''ve always been, eh?" - Malachi rasps at him, and Dweezil shoots back - "And you''ve become even more of a cantankerous geezer since I saw you last."


    Malachi finally directs his attention back to me, explaining - "My apologies, lady Gillespie. We''re actually old friends. Met back when I was but a green knight two weeks into Inquisition. Me and Dweezil have some history together." He turns his attention back to the elf, continuing - "So your sister''s actually in the harem? Good for her, if she leans that way. Ain''t many places safer than next to lady Gillespie."


    Moon Unit groans and rubs her forehead - "It''s not like this! Alyssa, I''m not just..." I shush her with a strategically timed kiss.


    "I know, dear. I know." - I tell her, as I direct my attention back to the visitors - "Sir Malachi, if I leave you here, would you be able to pack up the tools and escort sir Pasteur back to his chambers in the palace? I believe I need to have a private talk with Dweezil here, given he came all the way to check up on his sister."


    Malachi just waves at me - "That''s fine, lady Gillespie, I do believe I can handle the situation. This is the last of tools you meant to show, right?"


    I confirm that microscope is the last indeed and retreat to Moon Unit''s room in the company of three elves.


    "Well, that''s that." - I sigh, and stretch - "Did you buy the cure you wanted?"


    Sparrow Jack nods. "We did." - he offers - "Dweezil mentioned you are willing to teach us how to compound our own? If so, I will be the one who is taught, I have alchemical training."


    Moon Unit brings out honey, ouzo and mint, and I walk the elf through mixing the cure. He is more than a little surprised at the simplicity of it.


    "Surprisingly easy. It''s a wonder why no one thought about this before." - he comments - "Probably because mint is not usually considered suitable for alchemy. I wonder what other ''unsuitable'' herbs are actually miraculous cures just waiting for an alchemist to discover them." He nods, sighs, and pulls out a dagger, lifting it over his hand - "I, Sparrow Jack, hereby give a blood oath that..."


    I yank the dagger out of his hands before he cuts himself. "...What are you doing?" - I demand of him.


    He blinks. "...I was about to give you a blood oath that I will keep the secret of this compound..." - he offers - "We had discussed it and agreed it would be better if a member of the conclave is not the one to bind themselves with such a promise."


    I groan. "That''s nice, but I did not ask for oaths." - I tell him - "In fact, I would very much prefer if you teach the recipe to everyone trained in alchemy in Evergreens."


    He blinks at me owlishly. "But why!?" - he yelps - "I thought you agreed to teach the recipe solely because you''re engaged to a sister of three conclave members!?"


    "No? I want the recipe to be spread as far and wide as it can be." - I tell him - "I taught the temple and it will be included into acolyte curriculum as one of the alchemical basics everyone learns. Anyone should know how to mix it, cold is a problem anyone can have, so a cure should be something everyone can make."


    Much to my surprise, he bows deeply - "I... haven''t believed Dweezil when he said Moon Unit thinks you to be the Tool of Gods. But now I see why she would think so."


    I''m... a little bit irritated by this. A little bit. "I think you should TRUST Moon Unit a bit more." - I tell him and wince when I realize I''ve let a bit of full vocal range slip through. Well, on the other hand, neither Dweezil nor Sparrow Jack are dubious anymore. In fact, they''re on their knees and holding their heads. Whoops?

 Chapter 57. A Long Talk, A Couple Revelations (And A Surprise In The End)

    Oh shit shit shit shit shit. This is... not good. Not good. The hell is wrong with me, why did I get so irritated over a minor thing?... Admittedly, I have had been on edge lately, dealing with all the shits around... And I''m touchy about anyone impugning on my wives, but still, why did I go straight ahead for a mind-whammy?... This... Is NOT GOOD. If I were your stereotypical manga protagonist, I would run out right now and stage the whole production about not trusting myself with powers, and... yeah, let''s not go there. Let''s instead think logically. The command, such as it was, was relatively mild. They were simply told to trust Moon Unit. Which they already do, so it should not impact them in any noticeable way. Unless they''re in a situation where they have reasons not to trust Moon Unit and yet continue to do so. Which is not an immediate concern, but might crop up later if I''m not careful. Aaand... they''re up... And bowing. Goodness, this is not good.


    "My apologies." - I tell them calmly (which, admittedly, is maintained by the vice-like grip I have on my own mounting panic over the situation) - "I... have protective issues regarding my fianc¨¦es, and they tend to crop up in... undiplomatic ways sometimes."


    "...Nothing to apologize for, lady Gillespie." - Dweezil offers after a bit of silence, his voice cracking a little as he continues - "If anything, I am glad my little sister is involved with someone so protective... But what in the name of World''s Tree was that?! I .... you... when you said trust, it was like a hammer blow to the face."


    "Conceptual language." - I explain to them. Slow and methodical deescalation with plenty of explanations, go. "I try not to use this among regular folk, because simply hearing that might cause defilement."


    Sparrow Jack blinks. "...Defilement?... Oh, I see. As Tool of Gods, you are inherently otherworldly, right?" - his voice is also strained, but it seems like they are recovering nicely.


    Moon Unit chuckles - "You don''t truly grasp it until you catch a glimpse of Alyssa''s true nature. When I first heard... and saw? I..." She trails off, her face sporting a silly grin. Goodness, Moon Unit, why. Don''t tell me you caught tentacle fetish from that.


    Dweezil coughs. "I''m not ready to see." - he says resolutely - "Just one word knocked me down to my knees." Sparrow Jack nods next to him.


    "I''m somewhat envious of you for being able to behold, but... I daresay you might be one of the very few who can among us." - he tells Moon Unit - "You should visit Evergreens sometime to speak with the Spinners. This... you have to tell them what you can, to weave this into Thread of Creation."


    She giggles softly - "In time, I will. I might bring Alyssa with me, too. Spinners are bound to have all sorts of questions."


    Sparrow Jack grins - "Indeed! Who knows, maybe we can even puzzle out some clues about the name of World Tree..."


    And this is where I let my mouth run away for the second time. "YGGDRASIL? What''s so...." - I begin, trailing off as all three of them sit where they stand, staring at me with open-mouthed shock.


    "...I did not even THINK I could simply ASK..." - Moon Unit moans, as she covers her face with her hands.


    Dweezil shakes his head and, with visible effort, turns to look away. "Lady Gillespie, please." - he begs - "Enough revelations for today. Especially..."


    Ok, what''s going on? "What is so important about the Yggdrasil? I was under the impression you had records of it in your Thread of Creation?" - I ask.


    Sparrow Jack sighs. "We did, Lady Gillespie, but we did not know the name. That part of tapestry was singed during the Time of Ashes, and we had been searching for a way to regain the knowledge of it for almost six hundred years by now." - he offers quietly - "You have no idea just how significant it is to us. And now, we find out that the world tree is named Yggdrasil simply by chance, because I was making smalltalk... I''m... more than a little flabbergasted just how easy it was, and how close we came to never learning it simply by the dint of never thinking to ask you."


    I chuckle. "Well, it''s not quite as bad, you know." - I tell him - "I mean, I did plan on visiting Evergreens with Moon Unit sometimes. Getting to know my extended family and all that. I''m sure one of the Spinners would have mentioned it then."


    Dweezil snorts. "I suppose, but that does not change the fact we will be hailed as heroes for simply stumbling on something so momentous by accident." - he replies - "I would feel like a fraud, I can already sense that."


    "Does it matter how you found it?" - I object - "Sure, it was an accident, but that does not change the fact you did. Tell the story straight, and I''m sure no one would think less of you. Explain to the conclave that Moon Unit had managed to be courted by me and go from there."


    "Conclave would insist on talking to you then." - he retorts.


    "What''s wrong with that?" - I ask him - "I already intend to visit someday, I would not be averse to speaking to Conclave and Spinners and answering all that I can."


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    He pauses. Hesitates. "They would want to hear your soul aria." - he admits.


    I shrug at him. "So what? Do you suspect I might not have one?" - I ask of him.


    "Goodness, no, you definitely have one. You''d be dead to magic if you didn''t." - Moon Unit objects - "It''s just that... it''s an intensely private thing. No one but family members is usually permitted to hear one''s soul aria."


    I raise my brow. "Moon Unit, correct me if I''m wrong, but if you''re my wife, doesn''t it mean I''m related to a part of conclave by default?"


    Both she and Dweezil are brought short by question. Then Dweezil smiles slowly. "...You''re right." - he says - "Your relationship to Moon Unit means you''re... my sister?" He looks like he doesn''t know how to feel about it.


    I shake my head as I sit down next to Moon Unit and hug her shoulders. "Very well. Let''s put it off for a bit, shall we?" - I suggest - "Here is the plan, Dweezil. I''m going to give you a copperphone, so you could keep in touch with Moon Unit. You''re going to take the cure and go back to Evergreens and tell them everything you learned here. I imagine such news would make the conclave want to talk to us personally, so... Given the permission of conclave, you will call Moon Unit next weekend and I will teleport with her to your location. This way we can settle the matter quickly and easily."


    He blinks. "Teleport?" - he repeats.


    "I have taken the secrets of instant travel from Sultanate mages and refined spell so it doesn''t kill the mage on use." - I tell him, and his mouth falls open - "Yes, I can instantly move to any spot I have seen before. Or, any spot where someone with one half of copperphone pair is. Copperphones maintain a permanent connection which I can use as a guide for teleportation."


    Sparrow Jack chuckles wryly. "Why so surprised, Dweezil?" - he quips - "Tool of Gods. Of course she would be capable of ridiculous feats of magic, it''s pretty much a given. I have to ask, though, what is copperphone?"


    I bring in one of the pairs I keep handy just in case there are people I need to keep in touch with and demonstrate the operation. Both elves are extremely fascinated with the design. "This is..." - Sparrow Jack begins, as he rotates the receiver in his hand - "...Yeah."


    I... decide to try and keep the pair from any more outrageous news, they look more than a little shell-shocked by now.


    ___


    Sending elves off is a bit more involved than I thought. Apparently, they came with intention of stocking on the cure because they were not counting on just being given the recipe, so their expedition is actually geared for the cargo. Which means that three of them are on horseback and two are driving a wagon. Which, as far as I can see, contains six full barrels. I have a moment of terror when I think all six of them are full of cure, but thankfully, Dweezil disabuses me of this crazy notion. Only one barrel is the cure, the rest are wine and flour. Second of which is, apparently, a bit of culture shock for elves, who expected to buy grain in sacks. The availability of barrels of flour floors them, if you pardon the pun, and they quickly snap up three of them. According to Dweezil, they trade for grain fairly often, as Evergreens is not exactly conducive to fields of wheat.


    I get introduced to the rest of the expedition. Two of them are clearly guards, if the bows behind their backs are of any indication. Dweezil introduces them as Hawk and Astoria. The remaining person is... interesting. Magnolia is, apparently, a bard. And is currently entertaining herself and a fairly noticeable crowd by singing and playing something similar to a mandolin. She''s pretty good. Good enough that the crowd shouts entreaties to come back again once they finally mount up and start their trek to the city gates. Dweezil and Sparrow Jack apparently been telling stories, because all three newly introduced elves were extremely polite and formal to me. The kind of formal you do when royalty suddenly shows up in your pub and asks what''s on tap. I hope they will ease up if they''re going to pop up in my life again. This is seriously nerve-wracking for them, as far as I can tell.


    ___


    I barely get to my dorm rooms, when a servant starts knocking on my door.


    "I beg your apologies, lady Gillespie, but there is an irate man demanding to see you!" - he breathes out - "He insists that he is owed money and is not afraid to go to the king to get his dues. What should we do?"


    Hm. I don''t think there actually is anyone I owe money to, but that doesn''t mean I can just dismiss the situation. It might be someone trying to swindle me, which is best nipped in the bud. It might be also someone genuinely misled about things. It might even be someone who had been swindled by Konistan and seeks me as the new owner. Whichever it is, I''d better deal with it.


    "Take him to my rooms." - I tell servant - "I''ll sort him out personally." He is visibly relieved when he dashes away. I, meanwhile, settle myself down in business mode. At the table, paper and quill handy, inkwell opened, ready to talk money. The guy who is brought to my rooms in short order is... impressively thick. Now I can see why the servant was so nervous, he looks like he can benchpress a horse and call it a warmup.


    "LADY!" - he begins from the door impatiently - "I need to speak to Vole Konistan. This vor owes me money, and I will go to the king himself to seek justice if you won''t."


    I sigh at him. "Have a seat." - I offer - "I might be able to help, but I have no idea what are you talking about. If Konistan stole anything from you, I''m listening."


    He... is apparently a little surprised someone is willing to just listen, and cautiously takes a seat. The chair creaks alarmingly under his weight, but holds up valiantly. The story that spills out of him is so mundane I have to sigh. Konistan had been buying up horses in Confederacy. He started by picking one or two, paying for them promptly. Then placed a huge order for about fifty of them at once and... at this point everyone involved suddenly developed amnesia about the deal and had been kicking the guy out of offices by force. He did not hold back and almost got arrested in Mersaille for it, then someone clued him in to go to Parsee to seek justice. And here he is now. Annoying, but manageable. I should be able to find where the horses were taken and either release them back to the guy or pay him the proper price if they''re actually put to something useful.


    "Roxy?" - I shout to the adjacent room - "Come on out here and bring me the black ledger, please. We have another of Konistan''s victims here."


    She comes out of the door, smiling... and her eyes widen at the sight of our visitor. Who, in turn, is pale like he just saw a ghost.


    "....Ivan?" - she gasps, as the ledger slips out of her fingers and falls on the floor with a bang.

 Chapter 58. Tiresome Conversation

    So... Roxy and the visitor who apparently goes by Ivan are hugging it out. And if my impromptu DNA comparison is of any worth, they''re related. That.. is not as awkward as I feared... Then again, if Roxy DID have a lover she left behind when she got kidnapped, I imagine she''d tell me before getting into a relationship with me. At least, if it was a lover she could see resuming romance with, at least. Anyways, not important. I pick up the ledger from the floor and begin to leaf through it, seeking the horse deal. And... here it is. And for once, Konistan didn''t do the stupid thing, horses are already in and around Grenwille pulling plows. I''m guessing he realized... Oh. Oh. Wait, no, nevermind. It was my doing. Konistan had them in the stable, I put them up as farmer aid. Nevermind, Konistan still has the absolute idiot title. Aaanyways, I guess I''ll just give Ivan the gold, that''s what he wants anyway...


    Oh, wait, no. I gotta dodge this first. I lean away from a VERY hefty fist heading for my face and grab the wrist attached to it. Squeeze. Ivan''s face goes red, then pale when he realizes I AM capable of holding his wrist immobile, no matter how hard he tugs. Admittedly, I had to root my legs to the floor in order to pull that off, what the hell are they feeding this guy?


    "While I realize you''re hotheaded by nature, I would very much appreciate if you clamp down on that urge while in my presence." - I tell him wryly - "Otherwise, you risk ending up having to make some very awkward apologies."


    Roxolane finally snaps out of her surprise and proceeds to whap Ivan up the head, yelping at him - "<dfn title="What are you doing, you ruffian? Stop immediately, she`s stronger than you.">§»§à §Ø §è§Ö §ä§Ú §â§à§Ò§Ú§ê, §Ò§Ö§ê§Ü§Ö§ä§ß§Ú§Ü§å? §¡ §ß§å §á§â§Ú§á§Ú§ß§Ú §ß§Ö§Ô§Ñ§Û§ß§à, §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §Ø §ä§Ö§Ò§Ö §ã§Ú§Ý§î§ß?§ê§Ö.</dfn>"


    "<dfn title="What are you saying, why should I stop? It`s bad enough she stole horses, let alone you!">§´§à §ñ§Ü §è§Ö §á§â§Ú§á§Ú§ß§Ú, §ë§à §ä§Ú §ä§Ñ§Ü§Ö §Ü§Ñ§Ø§Ö§ê! §®§Ñ§Ý§à §ä§à§Ô§à §ë§à §Ü§à§ß? §á§à§Ü§â§Ñ§Ý§Ñ, §ä§Ñ§Ü §ë§Ö §Û §ä§Ö§Ò§Ö!?</dfn>" - he shouts at her. OK, time to step up.


    "<dfn title="Maybe hear me out first? My patience is not long. Try swinging your fists again and I`ll tie you to the ceiling to cool off somewhat.">§®§à§Ø§Ö §ã§á§à§é§Ñ§ä§Ü§å §Ó§Ú§ã§Ý§å§ç§Ñ§Ö§ê§î? §¢§à §Þ?§Û §ä§Ö§â§á§Ö§è§î §ß§Ö §Ó§Ö§Ý§Ú§Ü. §Á§Ü§ë§à §ë§Ö §â§Ñ§Ù §ã§á§â§à§Ò§å?§ê §Ü§å§Ý§Ñ§Ü§Ñ§Þ§Ú §Þ§Ñ§ç§Ñ§ä§Ú, §ñ §ä§Ö§Ò§Ö §Õ§à §ã§ä§Ö§Ý? §á§â§Ú§Ó''§ñ§Ø§å, §ë§à§Ò §à§ç§à§Ý§à§ß§å§Ó §ä§â§à§ç§Ú.</dfn>" - ooh, and now they''re both staring at me flabbergasted. Let''s hope I won''t have to tie him to the ceiling as threatened.


    I sigh. "Right, let''s get back to brass tacks. First, and most important... Konistan is DEAD. I bought him out, he tried to leave the country and run into brigands." - I tell the guy - "Second, I found out where your horses went. I need them where they are, so we''re going to finalize the purchase. I''ll toss in a ten percent bonus for having to take the trip. Third, and most important, yes, I kind of stole Roxolane. Out of Sultan''s seraglio. I don''t think she finds that objectionable. Finally, last, what exactly is your relationship? I can tell you are relatives, but not the degree of relationship."


    She shakes her head lightly, before offering - "Ivan is my brother, Alyssa. He''s always been hotheaded, sorry."


    The guy finally gathers enough wits. "Wait, wait, what?" - OK, not the most reasonable line, but hey, at least he snapped out of stupor.


    "The horses are already put to work with farmers." - I tell him - "I honestly do not want to disrupt the whole area again by collecting them, so we''re going to settle this with gold. Normally, I give people a choice of if they want whatever Konistan cheated them out of back or its price in gold, but in your case, I don''t think I can collect your herd of horses to begin with."


    "Wait, what?" - ookay, apparently the guy just sheared mental gear. I sigh. "Roxy, can you handle your brother while I write him a promissory note to take to the bank? Because that''s going to be a lot of gold, best if they prepare a coffer." - I ask, as I set about writing the money order for the bank. It... is slightly worrisome that this is literally a drop in the bucket for me right now. I need to find more things to invest in. Maybe get the guy here to start some kind of business over at Kraina?... Eh. Details, details.


    "Wait, so... You''re just going to give me money, just like that?" - he finally offers, after some rapid-fire exchange in Krainian whispers with his sister. I level explicitly unamused gaze at him.


    "You had a deal, didn''t you? Since I need the horses, you get the money, simple as that." - I tell him, sliding the paper over to him - "Look it over and tell me if the terms work for you."


    He takes the note, apparently still shocked, and peers at it. "This is more than we asked." - he then offers, only to doubletake and groan as he realizes he just tried to bargain himself down.


    "I know. Extra is to make up for the fact Konistan tried to cheat you and made it necessary for you to travel here. It''s not like a trip from Kraina to Champagne is easy or cheap, innit?" - I tell him, and he just... stares at the paper.


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "I, uh... didn''t think it''d be that easy." - he finally offers.


    "Well, if Konistan was still in business, it probably wouldn''t be. But, luckily for you, he had managed to annoy me and I forced him to sell everything he operates to me." - I explain bluntly. This finally gets him to brighten up.


    "AAAh, so he tried to cheat you and got his trading house taken for the affront?" - he finally clues in - "Gosh, I''m sorry then. Was expecting someone listening to the bastard."


    Roxolane pipes in - "Nah, Alyssa isn''t the kind to take orders from anyone."


    Ivan wrinkles his forehead. "The question is, sister, how come you are here? We all believed thrice bedamned Sultan got his filthy hands on you." - he asks, his face darkening - "We brought the ransom and that gods-cursed bastard laughed in our faces, said you belong to Sultan now."


    She giggles. "Alyssa stole me from seraglio." - she says with a smirk - "She''s been making Sultan vomit blood and shit bones lately." My oh my. Is that just a Krainian idiom, or Roxy is... more than a little vicious when thinking about Oija? Admittedly, I can understand where she''s coming from.


    "Daring." - he quips - "But what happens when Sultan is not beset by those bees...?"


    "I don''t intend to lift the curse until he bows." - I tell him simply, and his mouth falls open as he stares at me.


    "You... bees... curse... WHAT!?" - oh dear. Ivan, why so excitable.


    Roxy whaps him again, lightly, saying proudly - "Alyssa is amazing."


    He sighs deeply. "So... what will be the ransom for my sister then?" - he asks me. Gah. One-track mind, that guy.


    "She''s free to go, if she wants to." - I tell him - "The question is merely in if she wants to. I have promised to put her through the Academy here, and she already passed the entrance exams, so she might not want to leave right now. An education in Parsee Academy of Magical Arts and Sciences is nothing to sneeze at."


    He raises his finger, opens his mouth... thinks. Closes mouth. Opens again. Thinks. Lowers his hand... Goodness, I''ve never seen someone SO torn.


    Roxy giggles at the sight, telling him - "I''m fine here, Vanya. Alyssa is absolutely amazing. She already promised we can visit once I''m done with Academy here. I''m working with her, I''m a part of the household, I have a say in everything, it''s just... everything I ever wanted."


    He grumbles - "You sound like you married."


    She... blushes and looks away. Ivan jerks back and stands up - "....YOU DID!?"


    "She saved me from Sultan! And gave me everything again! Give me one good reason why I shouldn''t have!?" - Roxy tosses back fiercely.


    "Your father didn''t agree to it, that''s why!" - he thunders back. Aaalright.


    "I''m confident Roxolane is entirely capable of deciding this on her own merits." - I inform him icily - "I will fight for her rights with anyone, be it Sultan or her father."


    He shouts something back.. and pauses, when all that comes out is a mouse-like squeaking. A simple air spell that tweaks the air around him to distort the volume and frequency. I look at him.


    "Sit. The fuck. DOWN." - I tell him - "And stop acting like you have the right to shout at anyone. If it was up to your family, she would still be in Sultan''s thrall."


    He glares at me, and sits down slowly. "This isn''t right." - he says as soon as I remove the muffling spell.


    "And not your call." - I tell him right back - "We will discuss this with her parents once we get there, but I will not tolerate you or them deciding on anything Roxolane does not agree with. As far as I''m concerned, you''d be no better than Sultan, if you did."


    He flinches. Then sighs. "I... fine. Just... fine." - he mutters - "Marrying without blessing is... fine. Better than that southern bastard forcing you..."


    Roxy whaps him. Again. "I thought you''d be happy for me." - she admonishes.


    "I am! But... What am I supposed to tell father now? Roxolane is rescued, but decided to marry without asking your permission?" - he retorts.


    I slap my palm on the table. "I have to ask something." - I offer - "Is your father the kind of person who would deny the happiness to his children out of petty spite?"


    Ivan shakes his head. "No, he''s a good father." - he objects.


    "If so, why do you think he would disapprove?" - I ask him.


    "Because she did not ask first!" - he explodes - "It is just not done!"


    "Ah, but what reason did she have to think there still IS anyone to ask?" - I ask him - "Remember the circumstances of her departure from Kraina? When I rescued her, we had NO idea if anyone else of her family even survived the raid to begin with."


    He grumbles and looks away, muttering - "It''s still not right." OK, I had just about enough of his dogmatic idiocy.


    I stand up and rifle through the fireplace bin. He jerks up when I plop down two fist-sized chunks of coal in front of him.


    "Examine those. Then pick the one you like better and try to crush it." - I tell him - "No, don''t argue. Just do it. I want to see if you have the strength to be worth listening to."


    His face purples. He paws over two chunks, then grabs one and STRAINS, squeezing it. It takes about a minute of concentrated effort, and his face is sweaty when he is done, but he manages to break the chunk in halves. "I. HAVE. STRENGTH." - he rasps out.


    I smile at him. Pick the other chunk. And SMASH it between my hands. Just like in that demonstration a while ago for the professor. Shoggoth bullshit is very bullshit. When I pull my hands apart, what falls down is an uncut diamond. "Correction. I have strength. You have mediocrity." - I smile at him - "Please stop trying to tell me what is right and wrong. I might insist and by golly, you ain''t gonna like me insisting, y''dig?"


    He looks down on the diamond. On me. On diamond. Pokes it with a finger. Pales. "I''m just trying to look out for my sister." - he insists nonetheless.


    "Have you asked her if she wants your assistance in this?" - I quip. Roxy takes that moment to whap him upside the head one more time.


    "I will talk to father about this myself." - she says with surety - "If he loves me, there will be no issue."

 Chapter 59. Whole Lot Of Nothing

    Roxy sidles behind me and starts rubbing my head once the door behind Ivan closes. The guy has... an infuriating combination of boneheadedness and jumping to conclusions, multiplied by his willingness to translate conversation into a fistfight at a moment''s notice. At times, I was sorely tempted to just let him start swinging and use it as a pretext to beat the everloving shit out of him. Thankfully, the "crush coal into diamond" trick had given him enough of a pause to at least start with shouting instead of conveying his hasty conclusions with fists. Oh well. In the end, we had settled on following - aside from money, he also gets a copperphone, so that Roxy could talk to her parents once he gets back to Kraina. He also has a bag of uncut diamonds I''ve crushed out of coal as a present slash bride price. He did not recognize the diamonds, but according to Roxolane, her father definitely will. That should get me some leeway. Besides, if she is remembering right, while Ivan inherited hotheadedness from his dad, his dad is also old enough to know when to crimp the attitude.


    "I can''t believe everyone is alright." - she mutters softly - "I mean, I have seen Petya being struck down by a saber. To think that all that came of it was a scar... gods, I''m..." Her hands start shaking, and I turn around just in time to pull her on the lap once she starts crying in earnest. Tears of relief, I think. We had some discussion about what to do if her family is not around anymore, to know they''re all safe and sound now must be a mountain of worry off her shoulders. So I return the favor of stroking her head and muttering something vaguely supportive as she lets her fears drain out.


    "Goodness, I''m going to be visiting families a lot." - I chuckle - "Moon Unit''s and yours both cropping up in pretty much same day. Crazy coincidences, huh?" She giggles, wiping her eyes gingerly.


    "I''m sure my father will approve of you." - she offers softly - "I mean, I can''t even think of anyone else I''d rather be with, you know?"


    I lean in and kiss her, offering - "Flatterer. I''m just lucky to be in the right place and time to get you."


    ___


    The rest of the week passes uneventfully... Which, I have to admit, is a load off me. Now, I am quite happy with all the outcomes, but getting things sorted out was more than a little problematic, and I''m glad I can take a few days with nothing but low-key classwork and business management. The restructuring of the trading house proceeds apace, I have mostly weeded out the truly disruptive elements, and while not everyone is thrilled with my decisions, the overall mood in the former Konistan employees is cautiously optimistic. I had an oh so amusing little conversation with the receptionist girl that greeted me prior to my first meeting with Konistan, while at it. Silly bint was convinced I''m going to somehow punish her for uppity attitude. In a way, she is not wrong - I have sent her back to the office with a pamphlet on corporate ethics I would be expecting from everyone under my employ. Which, apparently, was a mercy she did not even dare counting on, if her little breakdown back in the office was of any indication. Amusingly enough, that also improved loyalty over there, mostly due to my treatment being taken as a sign that they''re now under "fair but tough" ownership.


    In another news, the overseer of carpenters reports to me that my leisure project had been finished, as far as their part in it was concerned. Which brings us to this bright and early Caturday morning.


    ___


    "Girls." - I say, clapping my hands - "We have all worked valiantly through the week, and are richly deserving of some rest and relaxation." It is very much true, by the way. While me and Roxolane had wrangled the business, Lily-Anne and Moon Unit had pitched in with Rafiqa''s lessons and as of yesterday, Rafiqa is a fully-accepted student of Academy. Bridgit had valiantly handled food and other domestic issues for all of us.


    All of them perk up, turning their heads into my direction. "So..." - I continue - "Today, we''re having a party at Gillespie manor. Lily-Anne, can you visit Ed and Selene and ask them if they want to join? Maybe grab Alistair too, if he''s around. Roxy, ask the same of Rafiqa, if you please, and find out if Hiram wants to join in. Moon Unit, same with Newspaper Gals and Lemand, please. Bridgit, you and me are going to put together some treats. Everyone, tell your respective quarries that the meeting is midday at the Academy gates. We''ll stroll over to the manor, it''s close by, no reason to drag the carriages into this."


    Everyone scampers. I have been preparing for this, and a good deal of sweets is already packed up and waiting at the manor. So we''re just going to bake a dozen of different pizzas and have servants deliver them to the manor. Bridgit''s face clears up once I explain that much to her, and she pouts at me for making her think I expect a full party catering on a few hours notice from scratch. I buy my way back into her good graces with some gentle flattery and kisses.


    As I step out to call a servant in, I stumble on a pair I haven''t seen in quite a bit. Lincoln and Cordelia. Apparently, they''re at the loose ends, if their low-key bickering is of any indication. "Hello, you two." - I offer to them, as I pass by - "If you have nothing better to do, I''m having a bit of party at the manor. If you''re interested, be ready at Academy gates at midday. Don''t bother finding carriage, manor is within strolling distance."


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Lincoln finds his wits first. "Good day, lady Gillespie." - he offers jovially - "A party, huh? Why not." Cordelia bops him on the head lightly, and continues - "We''d be glad to."


    ___


    As it turns out, everyone decided that they have no more pressing business on this Caturday than my party. Which means there''s a grand total of sixteen people not counting me. I''m somewhat tempted to try and get people to form ranks, but that would be just too silly. As it is, we reach the manor... And proceed through it into the backyard, where my surprise had been prepped for operation since early morning by a couple of my instances.


    "...What is this." - Lily-Anne voices everyone''s question.


    I chuckle, as I trigger the mechanism throwing the door open. "Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the maiden flight of my new airship." - I tell, as I sketch a bow. Aaaand the jaws are falling open. Priceless. Functionally, it''s a rigid zeppelin, and not a big one at that. Well, not a big one as far as zeppelins go. The envelope is still almost a hundred meters long and about twelve thick in the middle. The inside is pretty luxurious for something I did my best to shave every extra ounce of weight from. Metal filigree, balsa, rattan furniture... Not cheap, not by any means. But the sheer impact of it, oh yeah. Such a power trip.


    My guests file into the cabin, like entranced, eyeing everything. Thankfully, with Ed''s glassblowers, I was able to pull off a nice belt of windows around the cabin. The engine compartment is empty right now, actually, I''ll be powering the propellers by my own magic power. In the commercial variant, there will be a double-stroke steam engine working off enriched coal. But that''s in the future. Thankfully, the arrays for drawing the air out are much simpler. Feeding off the on-board hydroponic flowerbeds, the whole thing is a combo of two simple patterns repeated over and over inside the lifting envelope - the structural rigidity pattern that keeps the zeppelin in the shape, and the air removal pattern, maintaining vacuum inside the envelopes. Not hard vacuum, mind, only about 1/8 of normal air pressure. With grand total volume of envelope being slightly over six million liters, it gives me a lift of about six tons. The weight of the zeppelin, due to a lot of magic and weight-saving measures, is a little over three tons, meaning I can have about two tons of useful weight, and some reserve of lift to work the altitude. Two propeller props in the rear, some rudders and a few minor propellers in front and end for steering and tangage, and I''m all set to fly.


    There are some shrieks (mainly from the Gossip trio) as I push on the buoyancy slider and the air is voided out of the envelope, complete with "stomach sinking into heels" feeling usually present in an elevator. Not something anyone other than me and Selene ever experienced, I suppose. Then, the excited murmurs, with everyone glued to the windows, watching as the city sinks below them. And a bunch of people on the streets gaping at the "impossible" sight. I gun the propellers, the rudders tilted sideways, setting the zeppelin into a slow ascending turn to fly over the Academy. Satisfied with the course, I lock the controls and turn around to face my guests.


    "So... what do you think, people?" - and, OK, I''m more than a little proud of pulling this one off. I''m treated to absolutely gobsmacked faces. All sixteen of them. Oh, yeah. Fuck yeah. I''m going to treasure that sight till the end of my life. This is what awaits you, people. The march of progress that can not be stopped, can not be diverted and can not be opposed. Your future will be brighter than anything you ever imagined. Period.


    Selene finally finds some words. Or, rather, word. "How!?" - she croaks, gesturing around vaguely. Ed next to her just stares at me with eyes open so wide I start worrying if there is anything in the on-board apothecary to treat excessive eye drying.


    "Vacuum zeppelin." - I tell her, grinning widely - "Magic is so magic, you know." Altimeter bings a hundred fathoms, and I pull the buoyancy slider back until it stops rolling noticeably. We''re suspended in the air, well above the city.


    "Have fun watching the city for now." - I suggest to them - "Once the novelty wears off, we shall have dinner, alright? Does anyone want a looking glass?"


    Hiram blinks at me. Works his jaw visibly. Coughs. Then starts talking - "Are we held aloft by your magical power, lady Gillespie?"


    I shake head at him - "Nope. Natural laws. I''m using magic to guide them into the desired result, but it does not require of me to constantly push power into the airship. Even if I stop feeding power to the airship entirely, we''re going to smoothly descend about as fast as you go when you take a lazy stroll. So don''t worry. We''re not going to plummet out of the sky even if I decide to take a nap."


    He stares even harder. Coughs again. "...Are... you going to build more airships?" - he finally manages.


    I wave my hands vaguely. "Maybe? Not anytime soon. This is my personal yacht, so to speak. It can''t lift much more than us and some basic supplies. I mean, if I really tried, it might be possible to fit in another, uh.. eight to ten people, but that''s it. Building bigger is possible, but will get profligately expensive pretty quickly." - I tell him - "So don''t worry. It might be a fine example of magical craftsmanship at its finest, but hardly an empire-shattering creation on its own."


    Ed objects feebly - "...The very idea of taking to air like this... Gods, if you weren''t already infamous as the most dangerous magician in the world, that alone would cinch it."


    I chuckle - "Well, if it helps you feel better, I prefer peace. I know, I know, my experiences with Sultanate are telling a different story, but... Sultanate is the only country left that considers slavery lawful. That''s just plain evil."


    Rafiqa suddenly claps her hands. "Well said, lady Gillespie." - she says firmly - "Well said."

 Chapter 60. Social Airs

    It takes quite a while for everyone to get enough of the view. I have four looking glasses, and I passed them all around, people pointing stuff out to each other. In a way, it is good that they are preoccupied, because a copperphone is wobbling in my pocket. Direct line to the king. Figures he''d call me to find out what the hell is going on.


    "Hello, your highness." - I murr into the receiver.


    "Lady Gillespie! Thank gods." - he sounds worried - "I have just received a report that... something had ascended into the sky from your manor. Are you alright? Is it a monster attack? Do you need support?"


    Whoops, worried him a bit more than I expected. "Ah, no, I''m quite fine, thank you for asking." - I tell him demurely - "Please stand the guard down, it is not a monster attack at all." I pause, as I hear him shouting orders to chill out, then continue as he audibly returns his attention to the receiver - "I''m testing out my airship, that''s all."


    "...Airship?" - he repeats in a strangled voice - "...You mean to tell me that this... shape is a... boat? And you made it rise into the air?"


    "Nnnnot quite, but you''re not wrong in general, your highness." - I confirm - "There is no need to worry. If you''d like, I have Lily-Anne and Edward on the ship, you can speak to them if you want to? They''re duly impressed, I hazard a guess."


    He bites off a surprised chuckle. "Only you, Lady Gillespie. Only you." - he then offers - "Just to reconfirm, you''re confident that the monsters pulling the ship will not break free?"


    "Ah, I do not have any monsters here, your highness." - I object - "It''s simply magic craftsmanship taken to the peak. Before you ask, there are flowerbeds embedded into the frame, so even if I were to go and take a nap, it will simply descend at a walking pace. I''ve locked the rudders, so in case of that happening, the ship will simply settle down outside the city in the fields."


    He chokes. "...Just... that... Gods and stars, is there anything beyond your reach?" - he yelps - "I... just... HOW... Gah! Lady Gillespie, why are you so fond of making me doubt I woke up in the right world?"


    "I like inventing things." - I tell him back with a chuckle - "So... Should I call Lily-Anne or Edward so that they could give you their own impressions of my latest flight of fancy? Oh, prince Hohenzollern is also attending, we''re going to have a bit of a party. Newspaper gals are here too, so you can count on everything being explained in the next newspaper issue."


    He snorts. "Very well. Give the receiver to Lily-Anne, if you please." - he offers. I find Lily-Anne, tug her away from the window gently and offer her a receiver.


    She peers at the receiver, mouths "Dad?" at me and takes it. "Yes... hello, daddy... Yes! It is amazing. I can see the palace from up here and the Academy and the Market Square and just, the whole of Parsee at once, it''s so, so... Oh? Um... Well, There''s me and Alyssa and well all of the harem really, there''s brother Ed and Selene, there''s kronprinz Hiram and sheikha Rafiqa, there are Newspaper Gals and a couple of other Alyssa''s friends from the Academy... No, we''re not on top of this, haha, no... There''s a, uh, cabin built into the ship, very nice actually. Lots of glassen windows, steel filigree, those weird chairs that are like baskets... yes, rattan!... Hm? Well, yes, definitely. You should talk to Alyssa about that though, daddy, I don''t know if anyone else knows how to fly an airship... No, she just... No, we didn''t know at all, Alyssa just invited everyone for a party at her manor... Yep, well, her surprises are different I suppose... Oh, yes, immensely! Dad, you should really take a flight sometime soon, it''s... just... no words. You have to see it yourself to understand. Uh...Oh, sure, handing it back."


    I take back the receiver and listen to it. Abraham starts talking after a moment. "Lady Gillespie, I wish to confer with you tomorrow about a possible use for the airship." - he begins - "Namely, if you are amenable, I''d like to see it, take a short flight and provided the accommodations are suitable, discuss with you a possibility of using this airship for a diplomatic mission to Kraut." O-ho. That sounds pretty nifty.


    "Fair enough. Though, you should know that I never trained anyone else to control the airship yet, and I''m not confident there are many people who can do it as is." - I tell him, and he chuckles.


    "Lady Gillespie, you of all people would be present there regardless. We are finalizing the agreements between Kraut and Champagne regarding all matters concerning dwarves and about the expansion of your tar roads into Kraut kingdom." - he offers - "Would it be possible to collect your father on the way, and how long would the trip take, by your estimation?"


    I hum as I run mental mathematics. If we run from Parsee to Gillespie estate, then set the course straight for Berlinger, it would be something a little over three hundred leagues. I''m confident I can put out forty leagues per hour at cruising speed. Which means... eight hours. Of course, nothing ever proceeds ideally, so...


    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    "If we depart around midday, we should make it to Gillespie estates by mid-afternoon. After a layover there, so we could have meals and pick up father, if we depart in the early evening, we should cross over the mountains overnight and arrive to Berlinger in the morning." - I tell him. And wince, as the receiver emits quite a bit of clatter. Did he just... drop his or something?


    "Excuse ME!?" - he shouts into the receiver after some fumbling - "Are you saying we can make a trip OVERNIGHT!?"


    "Yes. Travel by air is convenient that way, your highness. No need to circle around the impassable terrain, sidetrack to use bridges or camp overnight. Airship can fly just as well while you''re sleeping on board." - I explain to him, and I can see Hiram next to me paying attention. I guess he was alerted by the mention of his home city.


    "I see... Lily-Anne mentioned prince Hohenzollern is also on board? Could you ask him to take the receiver for a minute?" - he asks after a bit of thoughtful pause. I grin at Hiram, and extend the receiver to him.


    "Hold this to your ear." - I tell him - "His Highness Abraham wants a word." Hiram takes the receiver slowly, fumbling with it a bit.


    "Yes, your highness?... Yes... Really?.. So soon?...." - he says, casting a sharp glance in my direction - "Well, I have no objections to that, if lady Gillespie is amenable. Would it be possible to take a guest with me, though?... No, just someone I would love to introduce to my father... Yes." He returns the receiver to me with - "I believe we will need to speak soon, lady Gillespie."


    I lift the phone to my ear, and ask - "Am I right to surmise prince Hohenzollern will be a part of the diplomatic party?"


    "Just so." - Abraham confirms - "Sorry to bother you even more, but could I also have a word with Edward?"


    I make my way across the cabin to where Selene and Ed are watching the clouds in the chairs, and tap Ed on the shoulder. "Your dad''s on the phone." - I tell him as I pass him the receiver. Selene gives me a hooded look.


    "You know, I''m not even mad." - she says - "I''m just, agh... flabbergasted. Now if only you invented microwave oven next..." She trails off and winks at me, as Ed talks to Abraham. His opinions, while more muted, seem to align with Lily-Anne''s - airship is a marvel, he is fine, the party is memorable and goodness gracious can''t get over the fact we''re in the air. Taking a glance around, I verify that people had finally gotten their fill of the view, more or less and are finding themselves places around the two tables hugged by corner couches. DeeDee, MeeMee and LeeLee are already at one of the tables and had taken over one side of it with copious paper. Are they writing an article about the airship while on the airship? Goodness, girls. On the other end of the same table, Lemand, Moon Unit and Roxolane are having an animated conversation about the enchantments they spied on the airship - and ones they believe might be of use or they think were already used, or... I start pulling out the pizza dishes, and Bridgit rushes to help me with it. Between the two of us, we manage to set the table before anyone takes a specific notice of it. I''ve had enough of foresight to install a sizable water boiler to provide drinking water to the passengers, and its shrill whistle serves well as a dinner bell.


    I end up being seated next to Cordelia, my harem equally dispersed among the cabin still engulfed in their conversations. Bridgit apparently feels the maidly call and enters a state of quantum superposition, because I can see her at the boiler, at the table and next to the snack cupboard in the same time. Wait. It''s NOT a fucking joke, actually. Bridgit IS probability unstable right now... And apparently does not notice herself. But... Oh shit. Ooooh shiiit. Narrative causality, you''re a BITCH! I''m not ready for superpowered maido! ...Oh well. I will talk to Bridgit later about this. Give her the superpowers talk. With great power comes great amusement and all that.


    "How are you two?" - I quip at Cordelia and Lincoln, who are strangely silent. Cordelia shakes her head violently, as if waking up from a daydream.


    "I don''t know." - she offers softly - "I''m still trying to accept that we''re flying. That we''re about to dine above the Parsee. That there are four different royals from three different dynasties at the table with us."


    Lincoln leans over her and pats her back lightly. "I think we''re fine. Just... trying not to be overwhelmed by all this." - he offers - "And trying not to think about the veritable torrent of questions we will have to endure tomorrow at the Academy."


    I snag nearby Bridgit and pull her close, despite the squirming. "Bridgit, you should calm down a little and sit down to eat something. You''re running yourself ragged." - I admonish, as I kiss her on the nose before letting go.


    Cordelia giggles at the display softly. "You know." - she whispers to me conspiratorially - "Everyone in the Academy thinks your harem is the most spoiled harem in history."


    "Well, I love them. Why shouldn''t I spoil them?" - I answer entirely reasonably. I mean, it''s kind of bloody obvious I would spoil my harem to the hilt. Who wouldn''t want to spoil such lovely girls?


    "Yeah, well..." - Lincoln pitches in from his spot beyond Cordelia - "Half the guys in Academy crib notes off you and other half moans you''ve been setting the standards of courting way too high for them to even try."


    I turn to look at him, my brow quirked. "Lincoln, if they can not be arsed to put their mind and heart into entertaining their dates, why are they trying to date to begin with?" - I tell him - "Courtship is all about showing your best sides. And if your best side is being lazy bastard, well... let''s just say I wouldn''t rate your romantic chances high."


    Cordelia titters - "Some of my friends wish more men were like you. Some other of them are starting to size each other up as potential dates. You might have started a bit of a skinship boom among the maidens in Academy, lady Gillespie." She pauses, and then turns to face Lincoln, reassuring him with a gentle kiss - "I keep telling Lincoln here that even you wouldn''t find fault with his courtship, but he remains unconvinced."


    "Hey, I resent that." - he objects playfully - "I''m not thinking my courtship is faulty, I merely think I could stand to improve on it when I can."


    "And this is why I love him." - Cordelia concludes proudly.

 Interlude 8. Elves React: Divine Revelations

    (Out of mercy for the casual reader, the original dialogue in haitian creole patois had been replaced by english translation.)


    <hr>


    Dweezil straightened his ceremonial robes and sighed. They had arrived to Evergreens late in the evening, and were spared from the necessity of saying anything beyond "yes we succeeded". However, now he was to make a full report of what he saw and learned in Parsee. Next to him, Sparrow Jack fidgeted in his own robes. While Dweezil''s set was well worn in, Sparrow Jack had used his all of three times, two of which were his own naming ceremony and soul aria recital. This was literally the first time he was involved in a situation warranting the attention of the whole Counsel to hear him out. Admittedly, as far as reasons for reporting to the whole conclave go, "I have been entrusted with sacred knowledges" is hardly the worst.


    "Nervous, bud?" - he offered casually, swatting Jack''s back lightly - "Relax, I will be there right next to you. Don''t panic, think through the question before you answer and if you''re unsure, I''m right next to you, you''re allowed to ask me to clarify or confirm something you''re not sure of."


    ''As you say." - he replied quietly - "And... I''m honestly more worried about revealing the world tree name. Are you sure it''s fine for me to do so? Shouldn''t you be one to..."


    At Dweezil''s gesture, he trailed off. "When all is said and done, it was your comment that garnered us the knowledge. It is only fair that you announce it first." - Dweezil told him - "Now come along, the meeting''s about to start."


    ___


    As he stepped into the chamber, Sparrow Jack looked around apprehensively. He was standing next to Dweezil in front of a crescent-shaped table, sitting the members of Counsel. Today''s attendance was quite dense, he noticed with a bit of surprise.


    "Ah. Greetings, Dweezil, Sparrow Jack." - the current head of conclave, the eldest Tamaya smiles at them - "You have managed the task very well. The cure is already being distributed as needed. Now, we have some questions. First of all - flour. Where did you find a merchant who sells already ground grain?"


    "Ah, it''s a recent development in the kingdom, actually." - Dweezil replies casually - "We were shown a building they called windmill. It is like a grindstone but much bigger, and instead of a handle to turn it by hand, the millstone is attached to a sail of clever shape that makes it rotate. So now there are barrels of flour available at the market at nice prices. We were told that the barrel of flour requires almost three barrels of grain to create, so we opted for barreled flour to get as much of it as our wagon could fit."


    "Even so?" - she hums - "That is good news. Now, I understand there is a number of news you desire to report?"


    Dweezil nudges Sparrow Jack forward. He swallows and starts talking - "Members of the Counsel. I wish to report that we, by a chance meeting, ended up conversing with the inventor of the cure for cold, one lady Alyssa Gillespie." Jack takes a breath and continues - "She had offered to teach me how to compound the cure on condition that I am to pass the teaching to everyone with an inclination to alchemy."


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Several of the conclave members doubletake. Eldest Tamaya doesn''t, but even she quirks a brow. "Pardon me?" - she asks mildly - "Did I hear that right? You were given a secret on condition that you spread it?"


    Sparrow Jack winces. "It''s... not a secret, eldest." - he admits - "As we found out, Lady Gillespie put in an effort to disseminate the recipe and methodology among the temple acolytes and given them a direct request of the same nature - to spread the knowledge on how to prepare it far and wide. Lady Gillespie expressed a belief that since the colds are a common problem, the cure should be common knowledge."


    Murmurs arise from the table. Eldest listens in for a while, then nods - "While the gesture is overly generous, we have gotten other reports about lady Gillespie, and by the sound of it she lacks not for the gold. I suppose she does not really need the income from the cure, if her incomes from other venues are of any indication. We obviously accept such a gift, and endeavor to fulfill our obligations at the soonest. Sparrow Jack, starting tomorrow, you will be giving instruction to our alchemists until every glade has at least two persons capable of mixing it."


    "As you say, eldest." - he agrees - "However, that is not all. Lady Gillespie had given us more information of interest to the Counsel and elves, but first, I''d like to give the floor back to Dweezil to explain the relationship."


    Dweezil shoots him a dirty look and steps forward hastily - "Not MY relationship, I hasten to clarify. As we found out, lady Gillespie is attending Academy with my younger sister Moon Unit." He pauses, takes a deep breath, and plunges in - "Moon Unit admitted that she had willingly joined lady Gillespie''s harem. Yes, lady Gillespie has harem. No, it is comprised solely of women. No, entirely consensual and willing. No, lady Gillespie had explicitly mentioned that any of her wives may leave her at any time at their own will. It is unusually permissive and even-footed, when compared to a typical Sultanate harem, but matches well to the enlightened and generous character of lady Gillespie. Who else? Lady Gillespie''s maid, princess of Champagne and a former wife of Sultan she stole out of his seraglio. No, I''m not jesting or being flippant, lady Gillespie seems to be the kind of person that serves as inspiration for bards for centuries upon centuries past her time. Also... Moon Unit believes Lady Gillespie to be Tool of Gods."


    The murmur is much louder now. After the conversation settles down, eldest Tamaya gestures towards Dweezil - "Tool of Gods? Were you offered any proof?"


    "Lady Gillespie had demonstrated the speech that matches well to our descriptions of Tools of Gods - a sound of deep profundity and meaning that brings unprepared to their knees." - Dweezil offered, his voice getting dull as he recalls the event - "Additionally, Lady Gillespie and Moon Unit each had revealed a piece of profound knowledge, Moon Unit admitting she learned hers from lady Gillespie. According to Moon Unit, the word Tools of Gods use to refer to their own kind is ''SHOGGOTH''." He blinks and clamps his hands over his mouth as an odd sound bubbles forth, making everyone perk up and take vivid notice.


    Sparrow Jack steps forward as Dweezil backs off. The attention is well and truly on them, time to reveal the most important bit of news. "During the conversation, which turned to Thread of Creation after we expressed an opinion spinners might be interested to listen to Moon Unit''s story, I have offhandedly exulted about the possibility of maybe learning of some new clues about World Tree''s name with Lady Gillespie''s help. She asked me, what is so important about YGGDRASIL."


    And that''s when the meeting devolves well and truly into pandemonium.

 Chapter 61. A Quick Trip To The Sea

    ...I may have not quite thought it through. I mean, yeah, a great time was had by everyone, but I just signed myself for more work... Admittedly, I''d have to do this sooner or later regardless, I just moved up the timescale. By a lot. Oh well. The good part is, my harem is awed, my guests are awed and the whole royal palace is awed in the background. While it devolves into everyone doing something for a while, we all eventually settle down at the table and pizza is brought out. Which prompts hungry looks from my harem, Selene and Rafiqa, and puzzled looks from everyone else.


    "Everyone, this is called pizza. You are supposed to eat it with your hands. Be careful, it''s rather hot and has plenty of cheese in it." - I explain as Bridgit helpfully sets out a couple napkin holders around the table. I catch her before she skips away and in spite of her protestations, pull her on the seat next to me. "Shush. You''re supposed to enjoy this with everyone, not hover behind everyone''s backs." - I tell her and she subsides with subdued muttering about mistress that takes far too much delight in spoiling her faithful maid. Selene sets the mood by grabbing a slice with ham and scarfing it down. Ed, not to leave her hanging, repeats the movement, on the other side of the table Moon Unit grabs a slice and soon everyone is chowing down.


    "This is a very interesting dish, lady Gillespie." - Hiram comments from his seat, waggling a slice with mushrooms and bellpeppers - "How come one pie contains vegetables and the other is nothing but meat?"


    "Ah, well... To put it simply, pizza is a base of sourdough with tomato sauce on it and a covering of shredded cheese." - I explain - "Meat, veggies, mushrooms, more cheese, sauces, seafood? That''s all called toppings, and chefs are generally encouraged to mix and match toppings to meet the specific eater''s preference. For example, I like mine with an even mix of ham, bellpeppers, tomatoes and mushrooms, Selene likes ham-only pizza, Moon Unit prefers vegetable assortment without meat and so on and so on. Since I didn''t know which variety will work best for most of you, I''ve opted instead to make enough of differing varieties to ensure everyone can taste this and that and make a decision which topping selection they prefer."


    He hums. "Quite egalitarian." - he agrees - "Though, I suppose there is a practical limit of what can be reasonably expected to go well as a topping."


    I snicker, and Selene across the table mirrors the bemusement. "Not really." - she drawls - "Some people put pineapple slices on it."


    "Beg your pardon? Pineapple?" - he inquires curiously.


    Selene doubletakes, then relaxes. "Sorry. I suppose it''s pretty exotic fruit for someone who did not grow up in the port city. It looks like a huge pine with greenery coming out on top and does not keep well. If you''re really curious, inquire with Pharos or Oijan merchants, they are more likely to have it than anyone else." - she explains. Nice going, Selene, no lies, but in the same time a decent evasion.


    I catch everyone''s attention by clapping my hands. "So... Once we are all sated, what do you want to do next?" - I offer - "I was planning to descend above the river and show off the speed the airship can reach, if everyone''s fine with it. Then a straight voyage over the fields back to Parsee, we should be back at the Academy in the evening. Sounds good to everyone?"


    "Ah... Just how fast do you intend to go?" - Ed inquires cautiously.


    "Well, I rated the propellers for up to forty leagues per hour." - I tell them and jaws are falling open again. I suppose this is ludicrously fast for this age. Oh well.


    Selene works out the destination first. "...Just... how far up the river do you intend to take us?" - she inquires.


    "Oh, just to the seashore. I want to see the sloop your father mentioned in the last few letters." - I tell her innocently and she shudders.


    "Oh gods why." - she whines - "You know he''s going to want to see how fast you can go."


    "I''m sure I can indulge monsieur Dantes in a little demonstration. He is doing quite a lot for me after all. Besides, I''m reasonably sure seeing one of my new ships on the water is of some interest to most guests here, ne?" - I quip back, and I see Hiram making a "mental note" expression. I''m guessing he, of all people, has quite an interest. "So? Does anyone have a problem with a quick trip to Haver?"


    I''m guessing there is no problem, but plenty of incredulous flabbergastment going around, if expressions are to judge by.


    ___


    ...Ooh boy. There was plenty of problem, just not for us. Well... thanks to the quick thinking of Lily-Anne and some spellwork, we had jury-rigged a banner to fly under the ship so that people could spot it and realize it''s something kingdom-affiliated, if not what it is. But yeah, there''s going to be plenty of fishermen and barge drivers telling tall tales tonight. And that old fellow who outright fell off the pier where he was fishing. Some noble, given there were like four manservants jumping in after him immediately after. Oh well. He also has an adventure to tell his folks about tonight.


    My guests are being... subdued. Oh, I mean they''re talking, drinking, eating and such, but there''s always someone or several someones looking down on the scenery rushing below us in deep thought. DeeDee, MeeMee and LeeLee bowed out after a bit. Turns out they pulled an all-nighter on Freeday and, yeah. They were very appreciative when I took them to the cabins in the back. Cordelia and Lincoln had snuck into another while no one was looking, and... yeah, well. Guys, next time hang a sock on the doorknob. Lemand, Moon Unit and Roxolane had somehow ensnared Hiram, Rafiqa, Lily-Anne, Ed and Selene into an extensive conversation on the futures of air travel. Bridgit (at my insistence) took a bit of rest in the third cabin (along with an instance of me that I spawned in there doublechecking on her). She''s a bit exasperated, but I don''t want to alarm her about her newfound abilities just yet. She seems to be unaware of them for now. She eventually comes out to rejoin the conversation, though like me, she is content to sit there and toss comments every now and then. And then I see the sea shore.


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    And here''s the sloop. Nice, fancier than I expected. Apparently, putting filigree on ships is a long-standing tradition, and I am starting to see why - it''s low-end enchantments that power themselves off the world''s ambiance and sailors not doing much of magic. And their effect? Reinforcing the structural cohesion of the ship. Nice. And that set is lowering the hull friction... Also nice. I take my time slowing down and descending in a lazy spiral, while everyone rouses up, fixes their clothes and rejoins the party in the lounge. Thankfully, there is a nice big area right next to the docks that is quite empty of anything. Cargo yard, maybe?


    ...Ooh, and there''s the militia hiding in the two warehouses. They''ve seen the flag, which is probably why we''re not getting arrows yet, but I''d better... actually. I wave to Selene, as I do the last few bits, bringing the airship to stop, just hovering above the yard, liiiiiiighly nudging the envelope pressure control to let us touch down... AND the landing gear is engaged. An inspired bit of enchantment, if I say so myself, molecular bonding of the landing gear to the surface.


    "Hey, Selene, let''s go out and tell hi to your dad." - I tell her, as I kick the door open and hop out of the ship - "Easy there, fellows, no dangers here. Just visiting to check on my investments. In case someone has doubts yet, I''m Alyssa Gillespie."


    A number of men cautiously step out, spears still on the ready, but not quite pointing them at me yet. And that''s when Selene hops down, facepalms, and waves. "Everything''s alright, papa!" - she shouts, and men visibly relax, lifting the spears to face upwards. A stout man in the middle steps forward, blinking.


    "Selene, is that you?" - he calls out uncertainly. Selene simply runs up to him and hugs him around the waist.


    "Hey. Sorry about the ruckus, Alyssa is a little bit crazy." - she quips, and the man chuckles.


    "Hey, what''s life without occasional moments of mortal terror." - he jokes, sketching a bow in my direction - "Lady Gillespie. I was expecting you to visit someday, just... not so early, and not quite so extravagantly."


    "My apologies, monsieur Dantes. I''ve been excited about trying out my airship for all that it''s worth." - I offer to him, and turn around, shouting into the ship - "Come on out, people, everything''s fine."


    My guests file out of the airship, and introductions happen. Which, apparently, intimidates the fuck out of men, including Dantes, though he at least manages to feign a nonchalant attitude. I guess they''re not used to royalty suddenly descending from the sky. To be fair, Dantes himself quickly adapts to the situation and leads an impromptu tour, showing off the finished sloop and then taking us to the dock nearby where one of the brigantines is being built. I have to hand it to him, the process is pretty quick. Even now, there are carpenters working on the hull detailing. According to my shoggothy instincts, the ship will be ready in a month, give or take. The second sloop will be ready in two weeks, at which point they will start building the second brigantine in the dock they freed up.


    "Lady Gillespie." - Dantes begins, as he dawdles a bit near me, letting everyone else walk ahead - "Regarding the clipper blueprints..."


    I look at him. "You want to know if I approve of your plan to sell cogs and use the money to build a clipper instead?" - I ask and he nods, scratching his head sheepishly. I continue - "That''s fine. But... There are other matters I also need to discuss with you."


    He cocks his head to the side, reminding me vividly of a dog who just heard something interesting. "Did something happen?" - he asks, worry well-hidden but present in his voice.


    "Yes, but it''s more of a good news." - I tell him - "First of all... Clipper is going to be expensive. While two cogs are not exactly cheap either, I do not believe you will gain enough out of it. I surmise you intend to make up the difference with your personal savings and possibly loans?"


    He nods, his face gaining this terse expression. "...Yes. I do not have enough of savings to cover it, but Konistan trading house agreed to furnish me with necessary funds... though their terms are quite harsh." - he admits uneasily - "I have been hearing they are going through some sort of problem lately, but I have high hopes they will be ready to loan me the necessary sum once I''m actually ready to start building."


    "Ah... Yeah. About that." - I begin - "First of all, Konistan was a grifter and you''d likely lose the ship before you can even sail it." His face hardens at this, but I continue before he interjects - "Second, he is dead. Finally, third, I have bought out the trading house in question and renamed it to Northern Trading Incorporated." And now his face is going through all sorts of expressions, vividly mirroring the storm of emotions he is currently experiencing.


    "So. Here are the facts as of now." - I tell him - "Konistan had owned two carracks. They are... not in good condition, so I had them put into Mersaille shipyards for refurbishing and provided upgraded plans. Once they''re done with this, which should be sometime around mid-winter, newly refurbished galleons will be put back into use. You are doing a good job here, keep up the good work and those two galleons will be added to your fleet. I have already vetted the crews and ensured all of them are agreeable with the idea."


    He blinks. Blinks again. Swears quietly, as he thinks it over. "Two... carracks?" - he then offers in a strangled tone.


    "Upgraded to galleon standards." - I correct him - "I will send you the blueprints for galleons so you could familiarize yourself. They are too big for your docks here, which is why I didn''t give you the blueprints before. Once you finish building up the ships we had agreed upon, there will be six ships under your command, a spread of sizes suitable for a plethora of contracts."


    He nods, swallowing - "This is a big responsibility, lady Gillespie."


    "Selene vouches for you, and I trust her." - I tell him - "Besides... here." I pass him the copperphone and instruct him on its use. He is... very curious about it.


    "This is ingenious." - he breathes after giving the thing a try - "Lady Gillespie, could something similar be installed on the ships?"


    "Sure. Which brings me to my next point. Sometime soon, I will come back and bring you the seven piece communicator, for installation on each of the ships you will command." - I tell him.


    "...Seven? But... Wait. Are you saying...." - he trails off with dawning hope.


    "Once you put all six ships I am entrusting you with into operation, I will furnish you with the requisite funds to construct clipper." - I confirm - "To be clear, this is not a loan. This is a bonus for a job well done. I will need a suitable nucleus for a fleet, because my plans revolve around taking Thousand Isles from Sultanate, and those plans are well underway. And yes, it was me who cursed the Sultanate with bees. Once you construct the clipper, it will be your personal ship - and a flagship for the trading flotilla."


    I see gears in his head starting to turn. "...But..." - he begins uncertainly, caught somewhere between incredulity and hope.


    "Are you interested in the job, admiral Dantes?" - I ask him with a smirk.

 Chapter 62. Whirlwind Of Events

    As it turned out, Edmon Dantes IS interested in the admiralty position. He is obviously cautious about it, and given what I managed to gather about his interactions with local nobles, he has more than enough reasons to be, but I have had already bought myself a lot of goodwill by dealing with him up front and financing his fleet expansion. Not to mention he is absolutely smitten with all the new ship schematics I''ve given him. He introduces me to the dockmaster, one Jose Faria. Apparently, monsieur Faria had been interested in the blueprints and seeks my permission to license them for producing ships.


    We reach preliminary agreement reasonably quickly - Faria would have to travel to Gillespie estates to finalize this, however. The gist of the agreement is that his docks are licensed to build sloops and brigantines, and he pays a tithe to Gillespie county in return from each ship sale. He also gets the right to maintain up to one brigandine and two sloops for the needs of docks, tithe being deferred until he actually sells them. I promise him several more schematics for small and medium ships once he finishes the construction of ones Dantes is to take command of. And this is where we get interrupted.


    The ruckus from the outside suddenly increases in volume a lot, and I hear shouting. So naturally, we all step outside to see what is going on. And... I''m NOT pleased by what I see. Because what I see is about a dozen armed men on horseback menacing my guests with pikes, while a rather gaudily dressed fellow prances around giving commands that I''m fairly sure he is not fucking authorized to give. So, naturally, I step in, grabbing two of the more audacious armsmen by the hafts just after the spearheads and yanking them off the horses. As they land on the ground with a clatter, the rest of armsmen visibly back off and turn their pikes in my direction, while the gaudy fellow grows red.


    "Good day. I am Alyssa Gillespie, firstborn of count Gillespie." - I tell them with a tight smirk, flinging the pikes away from me on the ground - "Now, mind telling me who you are so I''d know who''s house I''m about to start a blood feud with?"


    Gaudy fellow reddens more, then pales, swallowing, as the idea hits his brain at last. "I wouldn''t be so hasty, lady Gillespie." - he finally offers - "As I am baron Lancaster, and I am the sheriff of Haver. It is well within my purview to investigate the oddities."


    I smile at him. "Is it also within your purview to menace several different royals at once?" - I quip, pointing out - "Prince Edward Cullen, princess Lily-Anne Nortrop-Cullen, crownprince Hiram Hohenzollern, sheikha Rafiqa bint Salaadin. That''s four times the beheading as is, sheriff Lancaster. Unless, of course, this is all a horrible mistake and you are about to offer your utmost apologies."


    He pales, goes green, red, pale again and... topples off the horse, clutching at his chest. Armsmen around him back off nervously, their pikes now raised towards the sky as they look at each other, probably trying to figure out which of them is to speak now. God damn it. Jackass just HAD to go down with infarction.


    "Selene, Moon Unit!" - I bark, as I stride over to the lump of arrogant flesh - "Healing magic now, jackass just had a heart attack."


    It takes a bit of an effort, and ends with Moon Unit and Selene being escorted back to the airship by Bridgit and Edmon respectively. Ed makes a move, but peters out as he comes to the obvious conclusion father has a bit of precedence over him in this scenario. I, meanwhile, browbeat armsmen into complete obedience, sending off half of them to fetch the carriage and manservants, while the rest under my command bring in a bale of hay, cover it with their capes and move insensate sheriff onto the makeshift bed. It takes better part of an hour before he regains consciousness.


    During this, I finish talks with Faria and Dantes, apologize to my guests for the unseemly display sheriff had ended up causing and feed everyone a five-o''clock tea/coffee with significant sweets. Dantes comments on my coffee favorably, while Faria seems to have had fallen in love with raisin bread. I... make a horrible mistake of joking with Faria that he might want to invest in a bakery if he likes it so much... and he takes me at face value. So now I''m also apparently planning to open a bakery shop in this town. Well, at least I already have the know-how on how to make it quickly and easily. We end up with an agreement that Faria would scout the locale for good shop place and potential employees and notify me via Dantes, at which point I come in, buy the building and take the potential employees to Parsee for a crash course in confectioneries in my shop. Then return them to Haver once I''m confident they got it downpat.


    And that''s when one of the cowed armsmen comes in, bowing and saying sheriff had regained consciousness. I come out to find him still sprawled on the hay bale, his breathing obviously labored. He croaks something that might have been a question but is too incoherent to figure out. A couple of manservants are around, and that woman looks like his wife.


    "Right. Listen closely." - I tell both sheriff and his wife - "I have discussed the incident with my guests, and since baron Lancaster is obviously ill, we will tentatively consider the matter being simply a case of unsound mind caused by heart about to fail. It''s in your best interests to support this version, because all alternatives I can see include baron getting beheaded for multiple L¨¨se-majest¨¦." His wife bites her thumb, obviously distressed. Baron''s breathing quickens, he begins to choke. Fuck. I hit him with a healing spell, a generalized normalization stuff, useful in therapy. He... slows down, thankfully.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    "You need to change your life, if you want to survive this." - I tell them - "Baron is overweight. Not fat just yet, but well into the plump territory. This is a problem when the heart is weak. In the following two to four weeks, baron should be fed easy neutral foods. Vegetable soup, oatmeal, cooked chicken and fish. Avoid fried meats, spices, ease up on salt. Bed rest for the next three days, taking it very easy for the next two weeks. Slow walks in the garden, reading books, playing with children. Absolutely no worries. If you survive the first month without recurring chest pains, you can consider roasted meat again. Remember - any situation that worries, annoys or angers you might be the last thing you see in your life. Until your heart had time to heal, you can end yourself with something so petty as getting angry about stumbling over a cat."


    His wife nods quickly, looking worried. Huh. I guess even jackasses have someone who loves them. "Right. Once you are strong enough to walk around freely, consider going to the temple and offering a donation in thanks. This issue with your heart had been long in the making, and you probably wouldn''t survive it if it didn''t happen in close proximity to three experienced healers who already dealt with that sort of problem before. Anyone else? Kaput." - I tell them - "Don''t bother poking around monsieurs Dantes or Faria. They are currently busy doing work for me and will remain busy for the foreseeable future. Rather, once you are well enough to stroll around, come and check out new bakery monsieur Faria had persuaded me to open here."


    "Bakery, milady?" - his wife bleats.


    "You might have heard about Sweet Dream confectionery? I''m going to open a branch here as a test. If it pans out well enough, I will open branch bakeries in other towns and cities." - I explain, and I could have sworn the woman just had stars in her eyes. A quick poke to Bridgit, and she brings out a box with a raspberry shortcake in it, which I hand over to lady Lancaster. "Here." - I tell her - "You had a bad scare today, treat yourself." She peers into the box and squeals, muffling herself with her hand once she realizes it.


    "My deepest gratitude, Lady Gillespie." - she offers with a deep bow - "Is this... from Sweet Dream?"


    "Yeah, raspberry shortcake. Your husband won''t appreciate it right now, but give him a day or two to recover, and he should be fine enough to share the sweets with you. This goes well with tea." - I tell her. Well, the baron is a jackass, but apparently his wife is a fan.


    ___


    It is getting late, and everyone has had enough of excitement by now. Well, almost. We all pile into the airship, along with Dantes and Faria. They''re too curious to let us go, so we agree on a quick jaunt along the coastline, to show them the capabilities of the airship. To that end, they stand next to me in the nose, while my guests partially park themselves in the lounge to partake in still laid out sweets and beverages, and partially spread into the cabins to nap on the way back. Both men are visibly biting back swearing as the ship lofts up easily, and accelerates along the coastline. There are some cliffs on the coast a few minutes in, and I raise the airship further. And this is when Dantes (who had been peering around through one of the spyglasses) curses horribly and points downwards into one of the smaller fjords.


    "I''ll be keelhauled! Those bastards are hiding THIS close? Just wait till I get back to town, you sons of bitches, there''s going to be a reckoning tonight or my name isn''t Edmon!" - he grouses.


    "What''s the matter, monsieur Dantes?" - I inquire, as I peer through another spyglass towards whatever he had spotted. A ship there, looks like one of his cogs, but built obviously bigger. Much to my surprise, it has a black flag. Good grief, are those pirates?


    "Pirates! This is the gods-damned crew of captain Peg-Leg Cauzak, I''ll recognize his ship anywhere." - he replies - "To think their hideout is so close. No one ever thought of trying to hide in the cliffs, the waters are treacherous there. Crafty bastard."


    Hm. Why not show off? I tilt the rudder, sending the airship in a big circle around the fjord in question, as I quickly run through mathemagic formulae, shaping the spell matrix. Faria sees this and pokes Dantes in the ribs, pointing at me. Edmon has just enough time to widen his eyes as my spell fires off. Aaaand HIT! It''s pretty high level magic, I admit, to call down a bolt of lightning from the sky. Thankfully, there were clouds that could provide at least a part of charge for it. The results? Oh, the results are spectacular, as the bolt impacts the mast of the ship and travels down its length into the hull, setting the mast and a good chunk of the hull on fire, several figures too close to the lightning strike falling over on the deck spasming.


    Faria and Dantes swear synchronously, and raise their spyglasses to look at the fjord. "Gods and stars, lady Gillespie." - Faria offers finally - "That was..."


    Dantes picks up where he left off, yelping - "...bloody terrifying, that''s what it was." He lowers the spyglass and peers at me - "That was a war spell, lady Gillespie, wasn''t it? To just.. smite the ship like that, snap and... Gah." He pauses, then continues - "Where should we send the reward for defeating Peg-Leg, milady?"


    I chuckle at them, as I manipulate controls to set the airship back to Haver. "What are you talking about, gentlemen? It was a clear case of a natural disaster. A random bolt of lightning finding a pirate ship, solely by accident." - I offer to them - "Naturally, you''d want to investigate the lightning strike so close to the city, and with sheriff ill... Who knows who might have been on board tonight." We share a look of understanding, and both of them begin to grin. Pirates managing to set shop so close means that someone''s aiding them. Someone from the nobles. Having a legit reason to "stumble upon" this would go a long way towards undercutting the noble influence in Haver.


    As the town grows beneath us, Dantes lets out a sigh. "Today was insane." - he mutters - "I don''t think I ever had so many events happening in one day."


    I snicker - "Well, it could be worse. You could''ve also learned Selene is engaged, on top of everything."


    There is a pregnant pause. "...What do you mean, Selene is engaged?" - he then demands quietly, but very intently.


    "..I mean Selene is engaged to prince Edward?" - I repeat. I mean, it''s not like it''s news to him, is it?.... IS IT?!

 Chapter 63. Homewards

    As it turned out, Selene''s engagement WAS news to monsieur Dantes. Thankfully, he had retained enough presence of mind not to shout, but... yeah. Right now, he and Selene are discussing things in one of the cabins, after a very tense hissyfit at each other. I... have a suspicion they''re pretty used to solving their problems like this. Aaaanyway, I''m going to... Nevermind, Dantes just poked out and asked me to come and join them for the discussion. I... suppose.


    "So." - I begin, as soon as the door is closed - "What exactly do you need from me?"


    Edmon scratches the back of his head - "I''m... Not sure I understood Selene''s story correctly."


    Selene grumbles back - "Or, translating from dadspeak, he wants to know why Edward went from your fianc¨¦ to mine." Edmon gives his daughter a glance that could likely be translated as "why are you being so informal with a woman who stands square above us in the social order?".


    "Well, the most basic explanation is ''I like girls''." - I tell him blithely, causing a doubletake - "The long story is that while yes, me and Edward used to be engaged, this engagement was decided on by our respective parents back when we were still toddlers. Due to series of misunderstandings which I will not be detailing on, in part due to me still not understanding them completely myself, Edward went on through his childhood believing I heartily dislike him, while I was quite certain I''ve nailed my part perfectly." Pausing for a moment, I pop open the concealed minibar, prompting two doubletakes this time, pour myself a nice glass of wine, and continue - "To put things in perspective, I had not really spent any time with Edward since I was nine. Meanwhile, Selene had met him in the Academy as it just started, and hit it off. As we later discovered, Ed''s dislike of me was magically reinforced at some point during last year, probably because I started making waves with my new inventions on the market."


    I pause, and realize I forgot something important. "Oh, help yourself to the drinks if you feel like it." - I invite them - "Anyway, once the magical part of it was discovered... And yes, Selene had played a role in this. She noticed Ed''s behavior was off and with the help of his best friend, one Alistair McGregor, had persuaded his highness to investigate the matter properly. The magical influence was discovered and eliminated, again with the help of Selene, sir Pasteur and yours truly, but not before Edward shouted out loud in the presence of his highness that he refuses the engagement. I elected not to object, since I have met Moon Unit by that time and I was far more interested in courting an elven maiden than trying to rekindle some kind of nonexistent romance with cold fish Ed. I have given my reasons to his highness and suggested that Edward should be engaged to Selene instead. It makes sense, because any royal family would not say no to the addition of light magic talent to their bloodline, and I had by then accumulated enough of political weight to inspire his highness to treat my opinions with suitable gravitas."


    I pause again, take a sip of wine, and continue - "So, anyways. Since I am not interested in Edward and since it is rather obvious he and Selene have considerably tender feelings towards each other..." Edmon has a very complicated facial expression after the explanation. He begins to say something, thinks better of it and instead takes me on my invitation to get himself a drink, pouring a shot of stout brandy, which he then downs.


    "I... am not comfortable with just... passing fianc¨¦s around like this, but I suppose there were good reasons for that decision." - he finally concedes - "But I have to ask, what would have happened if his highness insisted on upholding your engagement to Edward?"


    I shrug - "Most likely? I''d try my best to coopt Selene as his concubine in that case. Political marriages like this end up with a mistress in equation more often than not, and honestly, I''d rather Ed has a mistress I can find a common language with."


    He chokes on the follow-up shot and coughs, as Selene swats his back. "Alyssa is... very practical kind of lady, dad." - she offers, - "It goes without saying she''d have her harem in any case too, and Ed would have simply smiled and looked past it. Tit for tat is rather common among nobles."


    "Harem?" - he repeats, dumbfounded.


    "Remember the introductions? Moon Unit, Bridgit, Lily-Anne and Roxolane are my... well, fianc¨¦es at the moment. As far as I''m concerned, they''re already wives, but I''m holding off on ceremony and reception until I have my own palace to hold it in." - I tell him - "You are an important part of those plans, by the way. One can not govern isles without a fleet."


    "Wait, wait a second. Isn''t Lily-Anne Edward''s sister?" - he questions.


    "Princess Lily-Anne Northrop-Cullen, yes." - I confirm for him - "Essentially, I''m still marrying into the royal family, just to a person better suited to my preferences. It does help that Lily-Anne apparently had feelings for me for a good long while, and seized the opportunity as soon as it presented itself."


    He grumbles. "I''ve half a mind to forbid everything, but..." - he trails off, waggling his hand in the air vaguely - "One does not just deny an engagement to the prince without damn good reasons to. Better reasons than hurt feelings, anyway."


    Selene looks away - "I''ve been planning to tell you all about it, just... It''s not the kind of thing to say in a letter, so I was waiting till winter vacations to discuss it properly." She sighs and shrugs - "I didn''t expect Alyssa to just... fly us all out here on a lark like this."


    This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    I snap my fingers - "You know, I just realized something. We are missing one person who really should be a part of this talk." And since they''ll probably start hemming and hawing, I just step out of the cabin, and enter one on the opposite side. Ed''s been napping... though, it has to be said, he snaps awake the moment I open the door.


    "What?... Oh, it''s you. Something I can help you with, lady... Alyssa?" - he offers, as he sits up.


    "Mind coming with me, Ed? I just realized Selene''s dad had not heard about your new engagement yet, so we''re filling him in." - I explain, and he hops off the bunk.


    "Goodness gracious, it completely slipped my mind." - he quips - "We were talking with Selene how to break news to him, just... didn''t expect the opportunity to crop up quite so soon." He follows me to the cabin, where Selene and Edmon had settled themselves with glasses of wine. I glance at Ed and pour him a glass as well. He could use the drink. He smiles, takes the glass and closes the door.


    "Monsieur Dantes." - he begins smoothly, sketching a polite bow to startled Edmon - "Let me start off by apologizing for dropping the matter on your lap in such a haphazard manner. I... we made plans to talk to you and receive your approval over the winter holidays, and neither me nor Serenity were quite in the right headspace to bring it up right now, so it slipped our minds. While I understand that you might have reservations both about the engagement and about objecting to it, let me assure you that your opinion on the matter is valued and is to be sought. Insofar, this engagement is not yet announced, and will not be put into action without your permission. That being said, I do sincerely hope that you will permit it, because I am in love with your daughter and can not think of anyone else I''d rather marry."


    Dantes coughs. "Not even lady Gillespie here?" - he offers rasply.


    Ed sighs. "Truthfully, no." - he offers - "I have wronged Alyssa here greatly with my treatment of past engagement, and I admit that much without reservation, but when all is said and done, I... do not yearn for her in a way I yearn for Serenity. I am and will remain forever thankful to her, however, for putting her significant influence and persuasion to the task of... reshuffling the arrangements to everyone''s satisfaction. Also, one has to remember that my sister is much happier with the new arrangement, and there is no good reason to stand in the way of her and mine happiness."


    "In short, everyone is satisfied with the revised arrangements, and frankly speaking, I do not see a way for Selene to marry better than this anyway. She''s marrying into the highest bloodline there is in the country, AND in the same time marries out of love. One could hardly envision a more satisfying union." - I conclude.


    Dantes grunts. "Well... In all honesty, I really would have preferred to be consulted before anything happened..." - he begins - "But with things being as they are, I suppose this is really the earliest this discussion could be held to begin with." He pauses, then waves his hand through the air abruptly - "Aw, to tarnation with it. I hereby give my acknowledgment and blessing to this engagement. But, your excellency? Please treat my girl right. Selene is my pride and joy."


    Ed nods solemnly. "Monsieur Dantes, you have my word on it that Serenity would be treated as befits of a princess." - he vows - "As my father always told me, happy wife is happy life."


    ___


    With all the things happening in Haver, it is almost midnight by the time we finally fly back to Parsee. Everyone is tired, and I make an executive decision to touch down my airship in the Academy gardens to let everyone get back to their dorm rooms as soon as possible. As for the airship - I imply that it will be magically guided back to the mansion on itself. In truth, I simply leave an instance of me back on the airship to drive it where it needs be, while the other instance disembarks with everyone.


    As we enter the rooms, my wives are quick to divest themselves of clothes and fall over into the bed. I... really tired them out, I suppose. Then again, I kind of made this whole trip a whole load of business instead of just partying in the clouds. Though none of them seem to be particularly upset by this, everyone is tired. And so, everyone hits the sack without much ado. Including, yes, me. And while I go get some sleepy gropes from all of them, it quickly becomes a sleepy cuddle pile. Which suits me just fine.


    Meanwhile, back on the airship, my other instance is hard at work, eliminating the remains of the party and instead stocking the airship with necessary supplies and tidbits for royal demonstration and diplomatic mission. Some of the new wares I put on the market are put on board, squirreled away in the cargo compartment as diplomatic gifts. I am obviously going to run the list through with Abraham before gifting anything to make sure he is aware of what might be offered. He might have insight on what he might want included, too. The supplies are made in expectation of twelve people on board doing an overnight trip and return. While I''m certain foods and such could be purchased in Kraut for the return trip, being prepared for all sorts of oddness usually pays off in this world.


    That being done, I also write a letter to father, sending it off with a pigeon. Obviously, Abraham will talk to him on copperphone to set the date of the diplomatic mission, but having him appraised of the situation beforehand will help dad stack his deck appropriately and ensure he has made the necessary arrangements for his absence at home. It might be a good time for twins to be given a bit of a task, they''re at the age where they are beginning to want to prove themselves as nobles. Mom would oversee, obviously. I do my best to describe the airship as accurately as I can, but I still think there will be an incredulous phonecall in the morning. I... underestimated the impact, apparently, because the whole city is abuzz, in spite of the late hour. I have, out of curiosity, stepped into the pub to hear out what city folks think of today, and everyone and their fucking cats are talking about the airship. Hell, I have stumbled upon a bard busy composing a new song about "the magical sky chariot". He... ah, was at first a bit rude, when I mentioned that the airship is not a chariot at all, then he looked up and almost swallowed his quill in his hurry to apologize. Silly goose. I spent five minutes describing the airship to him in detail from outside and inside - if the folk are gonna buzz, I might as well make sure they are buzzing in the vein I approve of. I also hinted to him that tomorrow, the king himself will take a ride on the airship. That is, in part, to give him more ammo for the song, and in part to see if there is anyone opportunistic or stupid enough to try something cute.


    I... probably am going to meet the successor of Klaus in Kraut. Inviting spymasters to such pow-wows is a common tactic. I wonder if they would acknowledge the attempt with enchanted crystal or not. Probably not. The only feasible strategy for failed assassinations is deny, deny, deny, after all.

 Chapter 64. Sunday Inspections

    I''m... feeling a little guilty right now. Not for something I did, mind, just for being an eldritch abomination. Because all of my wives (yes, including Bridgit) are looking and vocalizing like they went through a weekend bender, while I''m fresh as daisies. In spite of being busy all night somewhere else. I never really paid it much attention before, but apparently stamina is not something I need to be concerned about. Physical stamina, obviously. Mental stamina is an entirely different concept, and I am not impervious to feeling tired of socializing. Particularly so, if socializing in question happens to occur with people taxing my patience.


    Case in point, extremely fruitless discussion with dean Ambercrombe right now. He, for reasons I am not really grasping, appears to be unable to comprehend the idea of a vehicle that is not pulled by some manner of creature, and is pretty set on trying to take me to task for bringing monsters into Academy at night. My offer to bring the airship back and let him poke around it until he finds the beasts he is bleating about meets rather cold reception, for some inane reason. In the end, I''m forced to invoke the king''s name again. Thankfully, while Ambercrombe is utterly clueless about magitechnology, he is reasonably savvy in politics to comprehend the folly of making the king wait. Honestly speaking, I strongly suspect that his refusal to go and find the beasts in question can be summed up as ''I''m going to ignore the facts that deprive me of leverage'', nevermind that he never had any to begin with.


    I''m... feeling rather ambivalent about him right now. On one hand, he is a passably competent administrator... In the moments where he is not trying to score one over me. On the other, he seems pretty deadset on finding fault with me by hook or by crook. The question is, therefore - am I willing to tolerate his inept attempts at getting me in trouble for the duration of my stay in Academy, or would it be less hasslesome to deal with a new administrator asserting his administrative authorities by reviewing every single decision Ambercrombe made and revoking them willy-nilly? Because that is the usual modus operandi here - new broom sweeps in new pattern and all that. Bleh, let''s keep the annoying bastard for now. Better the devil you know.


    So... Agenda for today. Primo, take the airship to the castle. Secundo, pamper wives. Tertio, investigate Bridgit developing superpowers. Let''s get cracking. First is easy, I spent most of the night making sure the airship is ready, though some of the things have to be procured in the morning due to needing a market visit. So, the instance of me in the manor collects the groundskeeper and a couple manservants (I''ve hired three more guys when the airship was being built, due to increased traffic in the manor, they''re proving their worth so I''m going to keep them for now.) and hit the market. Foods are bought, loaded and brought back to the manor, where they transfer the supplies to the larder in the back of the airship. Also, while it is not really important, the guys in question seem to be taking being in the employ of the airship owner as serious bragging rights. Why, I''m pretty sure one of them scored a date just off that. Well, none of my beezwax, they''re all adults here.


    Second is also easy, though much more pleasant. In order to keep Bridgit from huffing at me, however, I let her take care of the table setting, while I put on a big breakfast for everyone. ...And put up with being grumbled at by my maid for being so ridiculously ''not noble'' about it. She definitely appreciates the omelettes, however. After breakfast, I poll the harem on their preferred activities. Moon Unit and Roxolane express an intent to veg with books. Lily-Anne asks about airship demonstrations and insists on being taken along for a ride. Fine, not an issue. I tell her to be ready in an hour to be picked up at the gardens. Why, yes, I''m still feeling salty about Ambercrombe being a git. Let''s see him point out the "obvious beasts" in the daylight. As for Bridgit, I ask her to stick around for the powers examination.


    She starts off by denying everything, of course. So I show her my memory of yesterday as an illusion. Which, in turn, jogs her memory and she readily demonstrates the "being in two places at once" by thinking hard about it. Which results in two Bridgits standing shoulder to shoulder thinking at the illusion. Which I dismiss and gently but firmly turn both instances of Bridgit to face each other. Cue stereo doubletake and collapse back into singular. Still, having had consciously achieved it once does help to put Bridgit into the right mindset to reproduce it. Before long, she splits into two locations at will. Which, as we discover, is not in any way blocked by walls or line of sight. My next suggestion is to make an instance behind the wall and then dismiss the original location... Aaand I have teleporting maid now. Who is, after some initial shock, extremely giddy about her newfound abilities and demonstrates them by blinking around the dorm apartment repeatedly.


    What''s more galling is that I can not determine the exact nature of this trick. Insofar, as far as my senses and detection spells tell me, Bridgit is doing the same thing I do with copper bits when I make copperphones. However, I''m still rather puzzled as to how she achieves the spatial displacement. What we DO find out, however, is that distance matters to her - blinking around the apartment is effortless, but blinking to the garden and back leaves her feeling tired, which she dutifully reports to me, Moon Unit and Roxolane, who had abandoned their books in the face of such unusual development. We also find out that Bridgit can move stuff this way, but is limited to what she can bodily lift. Which, yes, includes living critters, such as a chibi version of me. She reports no perceivable increase in strain or difficulty from taking the objects along and appears to be able to decide if she wants to move with the object or without. Which, in turn, leads to Moon Unit making an incautious remark, and Bridgit attempting to act on it. Which, in turn, leads to buck-naked Bridgit falling on Roxolane''s lap and so much blushing I start worrying about their blood pressures. Then Moon Unit ups the ante by placing herself on Bridgit''s lap and asking her to blink away without her, but with her clothes. While Bridgit''s still naked and stammering.


    Conclusion? Moon Unit is an incorrigible tease and I''m lucky this did not devolve into a full-on orgy. Also, Bridgit just became terrifyingly dangerous and it might be best to keep her abilities out of the public spotlight. Also, she is taking a hell of a lot of advantage of this already. Unfortunately for her, however, being in two places at once means she gets tired twice as fast. Which changes the focus of our studies. So far, I was giving her generic magic lessons, but now, the focus is going to be shifted to body enhancement, haste and other support spells that would compliment her ability nicely. I also ask Moon Unit to teach her some basics of knife fighting and throwing. It might come in handy.


    ___


    Meanwhile, the other me lands the airship in the Academy gardens. Or, more precisely, sets it to hover and drops the ladder, because ruining a good chunk of flowers by landing this thing on top of them would actually give Ambercrombe a legitimate reason to bother me, and that is not something I want. Let the man make a fool of himself... oh, and there he goes. Face like I just forcefed him a bag of lemons. And, what''s worth to notice, straight away from the gardens. I guess he had time enough to run through the conversation we had in the morning and realized there is no way I''d just fob him off if I couldn''t back up everything I said. Nice.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Lily-Anne clambers onboard eagerly and greets me with a hug and a kiss. Very nice. After making sure everything is alright and no one is attempting to climb the ladder (no one is, though there are plenty of eyes staring from all the windows), I reel it up and turn the dirigible into a lazy ascent towards the palace. If memory serves, the plaza in front should be empty enough and big enough to properly land there. Of course, I remembered to call ahead, though Lily-Anne is more of a last minute addition. Really, not planning on anything much, here, just a quick jaunt around the city to show off the ship, and back to the Academy I go.


    Hm... a bit of a crowd there. I wonder how - while I did mention the inspection, I didn''t specify the plaza as a place for it. People doing the logical conclusions or Abraham didn''t bother making a secret out of it? I wonder. I''d worry, but I have preemptively cased the area. The perimeter is maintained by, well, me. So far, everyone close enough to be a problem is within my awareness, is constantly observed and will suffer a "mishap", should they attempt anything hostile-like.


    So... if I were a king, where I would expect the boarding ramp to be?... Probably right in front of palace doors. So... ....So I can''t quite land like this. But I can hover over the desired position and veeeery slowly descend until the people grasp the hint and clear the fuck out of the LZ. And... it works. Mostly. Except for this child, who is by my consideration about eight, who just stands right under the landing gear (which is good five meters off the ground still, and not advancing, mind), stares at it and quite enthusiastically screams his head off. Good grief. I''m not Austin Powers, this is not a steamroller and you''re not a mook. Get out of there.


    I... think the child in question begins to feel more than a little silly after the five minute mark, given that I keep on serenely hovering well out of reach. Eventually, a couple of guards march in, grab the kid by the arms and march him out. Now, I am wondering the hell was that all about? Just kid being eminently stupid, or someone put him up to this? Possibly misleading him to think that even if the ship were to land on him, it wouldn''t be much of an issue? Something to inve... oh for crying out loud. Malicious intent confirmed. Because the moment I triggered the descent again, that same kid twisted out of guards'' hands, and run right back under the landing gear to resume his screaming. Very well, kiddo, if that''s how you want to play it...


    I let the ship drop to hm... locally, that would be three demitouse. Aka, a little under three meters. Which is where I leave it to hover, and drop down the ramp stairs instead, which thunk down a good distance off from the kid. Who, once again, shuts up and looks annoyed before the guards march him back again, this time keeping a hold on his collar. Just in case. I guess there won''t be much to find out from the kid, at best he''s going to point a finger at one of his relatives. And probably not even that, it''s highly likely to turn out to be "a guy paid me to do that". Admittedly, given the second try, I think the boy is in for a whipping in a guard barracks, he kind of tipped his hand here. Oh well, maybe that''ll learn him not to do that. I wonder if he realizes he''d be a smear on the pavement if I really landed on top of him.


    I come out, because, well... the king. Everyone comes to greet the king, not vice-versa. Thankfully, Abraham is mindful of hijinks after this debacle with the kid, so he simply introduces me to his party and everyone hustles into the ship, letting me lift the ramp and hover up again, well out of the reach of casual observers. Aside from Abraham himself, there is Monika (I would be more dubious about having both king and queen on the airship in the same time if it was not Alexander who''d step in in case of Abraham being incapacitated instead of Monika. Firstborn is the first substitute, not the spouse. I might need to finagle something about my spouses to make sure they get authority in case I''m not around for some reason.), there''s Malachi, there''s a couple other people whose reason for being here is more or less ''I was in the court and I''m prominent enough to secure myself a place next to the king''.


    Lily-Anne inside greets her parents enthusiastically, and engages everyone in conversation, relaying to them the trivia I myself gave to the people yesterday, while I guide the zeppelin to ascend slowly. The hubbub increases as people start noticing the palace sinking below the windows, and conversation breaks off in favor of everyone staring outside. The initial silence is broken by excited whispers soon after, as people start pointing out landmarks to each other. Lily-Anne grasps the moment splendidly by bringing out the spyglasses. Abraham obviously gets the first pick, then Monika, then everyone else. Sir Malachi impresses everyone by pulling his personal spyglass out of his coat.


    I take advantage of the distraction to set some basic refreshments on the table. Fruit, water, cold slices, juices, sweets, wine... A nice assortment for lunch that''s not really lunch. It takes quite a while for Abraham to break out the main topic. No wonder, everyone''s riveted to the windows, as I set the airship to slowly circle the city along the wall line.


    "Impressive as always, lady Gillespie." - he offers to me finally, passing his spyglass to one of the guests and sitting himself resolutely in the middle of the lounge, out of the way for window-gazers - "I assume this trip yesterday was a test on how well your airship handles the distances? I am curious - just how far did you get last day?"


    "Not that far, your highness." - I offer back lightly, as I lean back on my own chair - "Only to Haver and back." The smugness on some of the faces when I mention "not far" and the consequent doubletakes when it is "just to Haver" are eminently pleasing. And I take a note of which people were pleased with "limitations". I am turning things on their heads a lot, I believe I''m quite due for some conservative pushback by now.


    "Only to Haver." - Abraham repeats sardonically - "I love that ''only'', lady Gillespie. As usual, you''re doing ''only'' the nigh impossible."


    "It''s not that far. Or that fast." - I object. Honestly, he overstates the case.


    "Lady Gillespie, I know for a fact that a courier on the horseback would take the whole day to reach Haver from here. If he were to depart in the morning, gallop the whole way and change horses every two hours, he would be in Haver by the evening. At best. You had departed after midday, went there, had some adventures there from what I was able to understand from Edward''s report and returned back before midnight. That''s beyond fast. That''s ridiculously fast. Add to that the fact that you were all as comfortable as one could be at the palace... I think you understand where I''m going with this." - he proffers - "So. Having had seen the interior and experienced the feeling of air travel... HM?"


    I raise my hand to stop him. "We''re currently drifting, your highness. If you want to see how it went for travel, I''d need everyone to sit before I push the props into cruising speed." - explain to him... apparently, in the middle of everyone''s attention, because the moment I say that, there is a shuffle, and when I take a look around, I see everyone seated at the lounge table securely, sampling the foods from the plates. Fair enough. The plates themselves come with high edges and ribbed bottoms to keep them stable on the table in case of acceleration, so... here goes. I take a hold of the controls, and push on the throttle, setting course over the grassland and steadily accelerating until I hit the cruising speed.


    "And this is the conditions at which the ship travels." - I explain - "I suggested everyone to sit to make sure no one is wrongfooted by sudden movement. I''m sure all of you felt it." I get back a number of nods and some mutters of ''could have taken it''. Oh well.


    "Alright then. Now I can really say I experienced the travel." - Abe continues in fine mood - "I believe this is eminently suitable to visit our neighbors. So, what do you say, lady Gillespie? I believe the first day of next week is a good time to depart."

 Chapter 65. What Would You Do For A Sweetroll?

    The rest of the trip out is spent hashing out the details. Abraham, thankfully, keenly grasps that there is a limit of people who can be taken on the airship at a time and wisely limits the delegation to people who are vitally important. And support staff, of course. So, the final roster is me, Bridgit (because apparently no one even thought that I would travel anywhere overnight without a maid to attend me), Abraham, his personal manservant Giacomo (The guy is positively ancient - and ridiculously spry for his age. He was recruited as a runner boy by Abe''s grandfather during the war, came back to become his manservant, was passed on to Abe''s father and finally to Abe himself. And if my take on him is correct, he has pretty good chances to be Alexander''s manservant as well. Which is easily explained by the fact that he is half-elf and will likely live to two hundred years before he starts to really feel the age.), Hiram, his personal manservant Jacub, father plus whoever he takes along and last, but not least, Mihel van der Klaas and whoever is his manservant. Ten people. I thought the diplomatic party would be more extensive, but apparently this is an "inner circle only" kind of meeting. The positive sides of a feudal monarchy - committees aren''t really a big thing up top.


    Speaking of the last. I was wondering where''d Marceu went. He was supposed to be in Academy...... Wait, no. He was initially thought to be the secret route character because he does not make an appearance until the winter holidays, and by that time, it takes a truly dedicated player not to be already deeply embroiled in another route. Huh, I wonder if Selene is going to remember. Van der Klaases can be a problem. From what I remember from the game, they''re pretty ruthless for people who do not believe in armed conflicts as a viable diplomacy option. His daddums is actually more moderate of the two, Marceu is far more willing to set people up for... unpleasant consequences. Now that I know where Mihel is going to be, I''m going to "bug" him and spread the "bugging" to Marceu as soon as they''re in the vicinity. Because of all the game characters, Marceu is only beaten out on his willingness to do underhanded tactics by Klaus. Which is pretty damn memorable, and I''m going to watch him until he goes senile.


    I also inquire about adviser van der Klaas because, well... I have legit reasons to ask why the hell this is the first time I''m hearing about a supposedly important dude in the kingdom''s power structure. As it turns out, he is a fresh appointee. Weird, the game sort of implied van der Klaas was a trusted adviser... Oh, it''s an elective position from merchant guilds and he just won it? Huh. Oh? An emergency election? You don''t say... and the old head was..? ...Phew. For a little bit, I was afraid Konistan''s name is going to pop up. That would be weird. No, apparently the previous adviser was a really old geezer by the name of Antoine Gaspar, and he had inconveniently kicked the bucket in early autumn. That... explains some things.


    Anyway, aside from muted adulation from the courtiers, the rest of trip is fine, and we do land in the plaza properly this time. Of course, I''m not about to leave an airship unattended for every Tom, Dick and Harry to prowl over, so I split off an instance... Well. Sort of. I''ve foreseen the situation, so I placed a couple of inconspicuous grates on the floor. They''re even serving ventilation purposes, so no one pays much attention to them. But they''re also conveniently spread all over the floor and I can always inconspicuously step on one of them and "leak" some of my mass into the ventilation shaft in order to do all sorts of covert things. A set of controls on the inner side of the control panel is placed there precisely so I could "remotely" control a ship simply by splitting off a small instance to control it from the crawlspace controls.


    As the rest of the guests disperse, me and Abraham detour to the guard barracks to discuss the matters with the kid. I have my suspicions on who was so rankly stupid to put him up to this, but I need a confirmation. And we get it. But by all the gods, the kid is stupid. One would think that getting your king cross with you would be more than sufficient to make one reconsider their stance on the idea. Not so with this kid, no. He also refused to believe guards would whip him right until the point where he did get whipped. This is the point where we get all the story out of him. He is the third kid of one marquis de Brege (Abe promptly summoned a runner to fetch the marquis at this revelation) and he fully expected the guards to let him go "any second now" because all the earlier mischief he ever ended up in had ended like this.


    Abe pointed out rather reasonably that he really should have mentioned his name if he expected the guards to be impressed with his credentials, and the kid had a face like he just had a revelation. Apparently, he''s sufficiently stupid to not realize palace guards might not know his face the way local constables do. He also mentions rather proudly this is the first time he went "so far", which turns out to mean so far from home, not so audacious as we initially assumed. However, sadly, he is very recalcitrant to provide us with the name of whoever put him up to do this. At this point (the back and forth negotiations and clarifications had taken whole lot more time than I care for, to be honest, but I''m pretty sure Abe''s going to be cross with me if I eat the little shit''s brains to accelerate the process of investigation), there is a great deal of noise from the outside, and I''m faced with a middle-aged man that... ehhh. If he was more even, it would be rotund. As is, he looks like a pregnant frog. Vast belly, spindly limbs.


    Oh gods WHY. Why is his voice just as ungainly? "...and I do not know who do you think you are, lady Gillespie, but you would do well to remember I still outrank your father! Now, I expect to hear why did you think it prudent to detain my son, and what do you intend to offer as restitution for this affront!" - he finishes, more due to being severely out of breath than anything else.


    "Daddy, daddy! She also ordered me whipped!" - the little shit helpfully tattles. His aforementioned daddy purples and...


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    "Ahem." - offers Abraham with an expression of irritated bemusement - "I see you''re holding true to your tradition, marquis."


    He whirls around, pales and starts stammering apologies. Apparently, marquis de Brege is infamous for managing to overlook the presence of the king in ridiculous number of social engagements.


    "Enough of that. Now, to the matter at hand." - Abraham interrupts him impatiently - "Your son had attempted to interfere in my affairs today, and I want to know who put him up to it and why."


    "I''m terribly sorry your highness, but... I mean, Lady Gillespie..." - he attempts something.


    "Marquis, take a look around. In case you haven''t noticed it yet, this is MY PALACE. Not Lady Gillespie''s manor. One would think it stands obvious it was on MY orders your son was detained and interrogated." - the king grinds out - "He had, for reasons we were unable to discern yet, elected to stand UNDER the descending airship and scream at it instead of attempting to flee. Furthermore, once the ship''s descent was halted, and about five minutes passed, he remained under the ship, continuing his vocalizations. Ship at the time was at the height of three touse, well out of reach even if one were to jump up in the air, much less walked out from under it. Finally, once my guards went in and bodily removed your son, he had ducked right back UNDER the ship as soon as it began to descend again, and started screaming once more. Tell me, what conclusions am I supposed to reach about this event?"


    Marquis gapes like a fish for a while, then snaps out of it with... "Why does she want to hurt my son!?" - apparently, a choice idiocy.


    Abraham facepalms. Turns to me. "You see what I have to work with?" - he asks of me rhetorically - "No middle ground. All the nobles I have are either blisteringly brilliant like you and your father or.... like this."


    I have to admit, I don''t even know how to console him. Promise a genetic program to weed out the gene of stupidity?... Yeah, well... No. I might be a monster, but not quite THAT monstrous to introduce this world to the idea of eugenics. Elementary schools, perhaps? Nah, too... "oppressive", I''ll have to introduce those to commoners first to make nobles go "the fuck are we missing out on this?". Hey, i-dea! "Have you considered social clubs for youths? Detail a couple of your knights and scholars to be present in the club providing their expertise on basics. The first steps of fencing, the proper handwriting, the intricacies of etiquette and tactics, the critical reasoning and observation? Maybe invite a couple acolytes and healers, both to introduce children to divine rites and to take care of possible injuries in situ. Or maybe even answer medical questions, if it so happens a specific child takes interest in medicine. Not as a school, we''re well covered on this ground already, but as a more informal place where youth ages, hm... six to fourteen can mingle and recreate and get qualified advice on the topics they might be in need of extra helping on? Make it mixed, might as well get kids some practice on proper interactions with the other gender, under the watchful eyes, of course."


    Abraham blinks. Pauses. His expression changes from irritated to intrigued to calculating. "That... sounds like an interesting idea, lady Gillespie." - he retorts - "You''re right, children need all the help they can get. But, that does not help us at the moment." He casts a jaundiced eye over the shaking marquis, and continues darkly - "Marquis de Brege appears to be rather... slow-witted. I wonder if viscount de Brege would show more alacrity. After all, the lands in question had been steadily shrinking...."


    "Mercy, my liege!" - de Brege yelps - "Julien, why don''t you tell us everything about this? I''m certain once the truth comes out the guilty will be punished and the deserving rewarded." He is glaring at me rather intently during the second line. I wonder why. Does he sincerely believe there is any wrongdoing on my part here?


    "But father! I will not get the sweetroll if I..." - and the stupid kid trails off. So... he does have some... rudimentary semblance of a brain, I suppose.


    "A sweetroll, huh?" - I offer - "That wouldn''t be a sweetroll from the Sweet Dream shop, would it?"


    "Mm, yes!" - he exults, somehow managing to forget both his circumstances and a rather recent bout of corporal punishment - "The best sweetrolls! No one else makes them well, anyways. Must be some kind of kitchen magic!"


    "Ahh. Well, yes, there are certain tricks to making those." - I admit blandly - "Out of curiosity, would you happen to know that I''m the OWNER of Sweet Dream?"


    Kid STARES at me. What''s more worryingly, his father''s stare is maybe a notch less in hungry intensity, but still very... obvious.


    "Further out of curiosity, did you happen to realize that if you fail to tell me the name of the person responsible for this, I just might respond by banning you and your family from my shop for life?" - I continue, intentionally keeping my voice at it''s most bland and apathetic.


    "It was lord Ambercrombe!" - he squeals immediately, quite literally shaking in his boots - "He said that if I get the airship to fall on me, he''ll give me a sweetroll!"


    I exchange incredulous glances with Abraham.


    "Julien, my airship weighs close to six quintals unladen. I use magic to make it fly." - I explain slowly - "If you actually managed to be landed on, you would be quite dead and Ambercrombe wouldn''t be able to give you a sweetroll even if he tried. He wouldn''t be able to even put it in your casket, because your remains would have to be scraped off the pavement with knives in order to remove your gibs from the plaza. And, honestly speaking? I rather imagine Ambercrombe counted on you getting yourself killed and didn''t even bother to buy the sweetroll to begin with."


    He visibly remains unimpressed, likely unable to grasp the concept, though his father does pale a lot. Oh well. I think I''ll just... resort to bribery here. So, I pick up a piece of paper, and start to write on it.


    "Very well. I''m going to make you a deal, Julien." - I offer, as I slide the completed contract across the table - "If you keep quiet about mentioning Ambercrombe to us, you get one sweetroll in the end of the week. If you also honestly report all times Ambercrombe tries to talk to you to the head of the palace guard over here or honestly report he did not approach you during the week once the week is over, you get two sweetrolls."


    He grabs the paper off the table and hands it over to his father. Marquis de Brege squints at the paper suspiciously, as he reads it through. "...It is really just a contract for two sweetrolls." - he mutters finally - "Was that truly necessary?"


    "Of course, marquis. I''d like your son to have a physical memento of who delivered and who welshed on their promises once he is all grown up, after all." - I tell him with a smile.

 Interlude 9. Klaus Has No Time To Scry

    Klaus sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose irritably. He honestly thought there is more time to prepare for this visit. Much more, in fact. The realities of travel between Kraut and Champagne involved a choice between going by sea, using one of the mountain passes, or braving Ashenvale. First was complicated due to Sultanate and their currently... interesting interactions with Champagne, second was long and arduous, and third was far too inconvenient and dangerous at the moment to really think a king would care for it. No, Klaus was betting on a ship crossing through Mittelzea, and then a long slow travel from the far south of Kraut all the way to northern provinces where Berlinger was. Maybe count Gillespie himself would fancy himself hardier than the king and try to arrive early via mountain passes.


    Yesterday''s conversation crossed out all of his estimations AND in the same time made him panic a bit. Internally. Airship? As in, taking a gods-bedamned ship, and putting it up into the air? Just... how. WHY? And the estimation of just... "We''ll be coming over next week, prepare the papers." - what was even up with THAT? Just... fly over the mountains, just like that? An, ''overnight trip'', as Hiram put it? At his most conservative calculations, they had reasons to believe that flying thing of theirs to be capable of maintaining consistent twenty five leagues per hour. Which, honestly, was way beyond anything that could be squeezed out of horses, even if you treated them as disposable and run them flat out until they collapse. Knowing lady Gillespie''s works (Klaus winced, casting his glance over the wall opposite to his scheming board. The assortment of shelves there held samples of everything new the girl put out on sale. For most nobles in question, the number of new products they introduced in their lifetime could be easily fit on his table. In her case? He would be summoning a carpenter next week for yet another shelving addition. Because having three rows of shelves two touse long was apparently about to be exceeded. Which was absolutely ridiculous.), this airship of hers would actually hilariously outperform his expectations. She had this annoying habit of being consistently MORE than he believed possible.


    That... actually was very alarming, Klaus mused, as the idea percolated. The concept of someone consistently outplaying his wildest fantasies? Yowch. How does one even outwit an opponent like that if your own imagination just plain is not enough to envision their move? Aaactually, it''s not quite right. There IS one specific consistency in all this. All of the responses have the common trait of introducing something new. Which means that to counter that, one would need allies that oppose new. Conservatives were never in short supply in any kingdom, thankfully, there''s always a bunch of people pining for ''good old days''. The problem was that just a bunch of old fossils blabbing about how things were better when they were young is not going to impress anyone. He needed to drum up more tangible support.


    Invigorated by the idea, Klaus hollered down the corridor, alarming a couple of clerks. They jumped into frenzied action, pulling up dossiers on all the high nobles that Klaus knew to be invested in manufacturing. The way Alyssa is going about it, it is only a matter of time before her profits cut into someone else''s, and Klaus was determined to find out people most likely to be affected first and approach them while they still had the influence to alert them to the insidious threat. No doubt, some of them will elect to approach lady Gillespie to partake of new ideas instead of heeding him, but he felt that a majority of producers quite liked their established niches and were not keen on testing the mercies of an open market. Protecting one''s monopoly was, after all, a concern pretty much every noble agreed with. If it is at all possible to control the supply of something, it is better to do it, for if not, surely someone else will overtake that particular craft.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    He glanced towards the flowerbox and shook his head resolutely. While it would be nice to indulge in his usual scrying attempt, the mountain of papers to scan through and hammer out some kind of plan was far too daunting to put it off in the scant few days that remained before contact. In all honesty, he would rather not show his face at all, but Alphonse insisted on him being present as the one responsible for security on the Kraut side. Speaking of which, he''s yet to see what the trade agreement is all about. It''s obviously the sale of a pittance of ripple steel at extortionate prices, that much he already figured out, but it would behoove him to know the exact details... <dfn title="She wants how much!?">Zi vil vi fil!?</dfn>


    Klaus felt his hairs raise as he scanned through the document. How MUCH ripple steel? For how much? But... how... this... Oh gods and stars, this is a disaster. If Gillespies have a method of making ripple steel THAT cheap that they could sell it by quintals at a price... He''d think it was a swindle, but his agents had bought a number of trinkets milled out of ripple steel already, and it was very much a real deal. And... tar roads? He had his people infiltrate road crew, but the method they reported back was so primitively simple that Klaus elected to disbelieve. There has to be some kind of secret last step or spell or hidden enchantment on the tools or... something. Because if it was really just gravel and tar, someone would have figured it out before. A path through Ashenvale? Is that even... Bah, no. It''s Gillespie offering it. Preposterous as it may be, it IS her schtick to casually pull off the impossible and make it look easy. If she claims the road is possible then she likely has some idea on how to make it possible. Maybe that tar is the key to it. Or something he didn''t think about. But... He is NOT ready! Kraut merchants are NOT ready. Everyone is prepared for long and complicated sea routes through the souths of respective countries. If Gillespie''s blistering pace holds up, there will be a highway connecting the heartlands within two months, tops. That''ll change everything about the mercantile landscape in Kraut. His agents would lose relevance, the marginalized rivals would suddenly find themselves indispensable, and worst of all - no time at all to reshuffle anything to let him keep the people in vital spots. A huge setback if it comes through.


    Klaus groaned. As much as he would love to give his kingdom the trade, the questions of security stood first, and he just was not ready to deal with such a rapid change among merchants. He would lose control over the mercantile sector, and it would take years to wrestle his people back into new positions of importance. Verwaand had really shat in the soup there, much to his chagrin. The idiotic murder of Baumhoff polarized the merchant community and despite his best efforts, no deescalation was in sight. He worked with what he could, but... Naturally, he supported the faction that had more influence. Which meant southern sea traders. Who tacitly approved of Baumhoff murder. Much to the disgust of northern land traders, who banded together behind late Baumhoff initially and quite rightfully felt the murder was a travesty. Klaus agreed, but what was done was done, and his agents had ingratiated themselves with the sea traders and marginalized land traders to do so.


    He briefly entertained the idea of finding some relative of Baumhoff to prop them up and present them to land trading alliance, after thoroughly indoctrinating them to promote moderation and reconciliation, but basic investigation revealed that the only living relative, aka daughter was... lady Gillespie''s maid. He could possibly order the kidnapping, but there was just no good way to present a maid as a merchant, not without long and extensive reinvention of character with appropriate business ventures and... Yeah. Suffice to say it would be a project several years long at best, and that is not even taking into account the fact that Gillespie would push VERY hard to recover her maid. He had it on good authority that maid was also a lover... Which meant the whole plan was a no-go. Not without having some kind of influence over Gillespie first, which would make the whole mercantile sector issue superficial to begin with... Circles within circles, bah. Why does life have to be so complicated lately?

 Chapter 66. Proper Preparations Prevent Piss Poor Performance

    I''m feeling... restless. Initially, I started by preparing to be absent from Academy... Then I had a d''oh moment after recalling I could simply leave an instance and be effectively in two places at once. Problem solved. I''ve been picking up some very amusing rumors about my four-way date by now. People just can''t seem to agree whom I was with and where. And since each version has its own proponents who claim to have had clearly seen me? So far, only the Newspaper Trio proved themselves intelligent enough to approach me for an answer. So I leave the room and come back times four. They gape. Then stammer. Then get very giddy and the next day I see a contest announced in the newspaper for whoever has the "truest idea" of how it went, with the promise that the idea closest to "real account by lady Gillespie herself" will receive a prize. Out of curiosity, I ask WHAT kind of prize next time I see them in Academy. It is, drumroll please... it is a sweetroll.


    I''m... Not sure if it''s the gods pulling a fast one, or if the universe is naturally predisposed to hilarious coincidences here. I also find myself pestered by people wanting details, which peters off quickly once I explain that anyone getting the scoop from me would be reported to the trio as ineligible for the contest. The rest of the week passes in doublechecking the condition of the airship, conferring with everyone involved on their personal needs and generally preparing for the trip. It is surprisingly simple, so I have time to explore Bridgit''s trick further. We find out one amusing tidbit - so long as Bridgit is touching one of my instances, she can pop a split touching ANY other instance of me effortlessly, and once the split exists, she can keep it up without any particular strain. Apparently, the tiring part is the initial spatial displacement of her trick.


    However, this presents me with a brilliant opportunity. While both me and Bridgit will be on board, we will also be maintaining instances back in Academy. So even if something happens in Kraut? Yeah. Safety net. I really really really really approve of the quantum immortality clause and begin thinking about ways to extend or facilitate something similar for the rest of wives. Just in case. Backups are never a bad thing. The rest of the girls are running a gamut of worried to sulky, depending on how comfortable they are with high politics. Namely, Lily-Anne is sulky she''s not included into this party, Roxolane is worried about me and Bridgit, and Moon Unit tries her best to reassure everyone.


    Oh well. Things are proceeding apace regardless. Hiram comes over a day later, and ventures a... weird inquiry. Apparently, he wants to take along someone else, but was not willing to talk about that someone else in front of the whole inspection crew. I warn him straight up that I will not take along anyone Abe is not aware of and approves of. Which leads to the current situation in Rafiqa''s room.


    "So... Let me comprehend the situation." - I drawl slowly - "You want to take Rafiqa along to introduce her to your father?"


    Hiram nods. "Indeed." - he offers quietly - "I believe this is something I need to attend to sooner than later."


    "Hiram, you DO understand that doing this is pretty much flat out admitting you''re courting?" - I quip.


    Rafiqa blushes, but sticks her chin up. "It is... not that far from the truth." - she admits - "Is that a problem?"


    I sigh. "The problem, Rafiqa, is that de jure I have kidnapped you from Sultanate. Salaadin would be entirely within his rights to make demands for your return if you crop up on any diplomatic affairs officially." - I explain - "Insofar, while he has a pretty good idea where you are, he can not make any demands of king Abraham, because Abraham will just shrug and profess ignorance on the topic. But if you are seen in Berlinger attending an official meeting between kings? Salaadin will instantly place demands on Kraut kingdom to detain you and hand you over to Sultanate officials. Which, I imagine, is not a thing you want to happen."


    Hiram sticks a finger up. "A fair and well reasoned point, lady Gillespie." - he agrees - "Which is precisely why I want to negotiate Rafiqa''s presence on board not as a part of a diplomatic party, but as an unaffiliated passenger. I will pay you for her passage and expressly stipulate the request for seclusion. This way, anyone on board can simply claim Rafiqa was not a member of this diplomatic party. Leaving Salaadin with a nice egg on his face if he tries to make a ruckus."


    "This will open you up to his demands, though." - I point out.


    Hiram scoffs. "I''m under no obligation to disclose the identities of my personal guests to Sultanate ambassadors, regardless of what they may think of their reach. And thanks to you, Salaadin is eminently deprived of a chance to do something about it by force." - he retorts - "Lady Gillespie, I appreciate your caution, but I assure you, I have thought it over and will take responsibility for any consequences that might arise from this."


    I shrug - "Fair enough. Did you discuss it with Abraham yet?"


    He nods and holds up a letter to me. It''s... more of a note, but it does have the royal seal and is addressed to me. I break it open and see that Abraham is giving me permission to "assist crownprince Hohenzollern with his private ferrying needs within reason". Alrighty then.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ___


    Rafiqa is both easier and harder to accommodate than most. Easier, because she keeps trying to demur. Harder, because I''m not exactly interested in offending Hiram by offering his girlfriend obviously subpar accommodations. Thankfully, when I point THAT out, she thaws out and does tentatively make some requests. Mostly for simple stuff like northern furs and such. She has a lot of fondness for nordic cultural artifacts, I noticed. Not sure if it''s a rebellion against Sultanate or she genuinely finds fur rugs, big axes and engraved tankards to be appealing. So her room is decorated like a... well. Since she is still trying to be modest, I use my own discretion and so the walls of her room are covered with elaborate maps, a couple examples of elven scrollwork, some of the decorative dwarven daggers and hatchets and other assorted trinkets that one would associate with "adventure in rough lands".


    And since I''m not the kind of person to put things to chance, I invite Hiram and Rafiqa to inspect. I... think I nailed it, if I am to judge from the excited squeal and very approving glance I get from Hiram once Rafiqa rushes into the cabin to inspect everything. He sidles up to me and remarks quietly - "Impressively done, lady Gillespie. I''d never consider decorating a maiden''s room like this - and in doing so, I''d present myself as narrowminded and boring. How did you know such an interior would appeal to Rafiqa?"


    "Well, to begin with, I pestered her extensively on what she''d like." - I tell him with a smile - "Other than that, I paid attention to what she said and made sure to iterate on her wishes. She is acutely interested in northern things, Hiram. Everything that Sultanate wasn''t. She''s also interested in adventures and new things. Therefore, I took care to stock the room she has with things that inspire imagination about foreign lands. Well, foreign for her, that is. You might notice that while overall d¨¦cor is northern, there are odds and pieces from other cultures as well."


    ___


    Father''s requests present their own issue. He apparently needs a storage space within his cabin. Something bigger than table drawers. In considering the problem I end up stumbling upon a solution so elegant I just have to install it in all cabins. Essentially, a chest built into the ceiling of the cabin. On a need, one simply pulls a discreet lever, and the whole thing drops from the ceiling, sides unfolding up to show what''s inside. Could be shelving or just empty space, and shelves fold out when they''re not needed. Funky... But, I guess I''ll need to show this thing to everyone once they situate themselves, because it''s definitely not something commonly seen.


    Speaking of personal requests. Van der Klaas neglects to get back at me. I wonder why. Did he simply not comprehend the issue, or he doesn''t think he needs anything special for himself? Or is it going to be a power play on his side? Ignore the questions, then harangue for not "meeting the standards"? Oh well. If they''re going to act uppity, I can always kick them off the ship. ...On the second thought, maybe better not. Abe is not going to be thrilled if I kick his new adviser off the airship. Especially if we''re going at a good clip and height. Still, I''d better let Abraham know. So that there are no unpleasant surprises once we''re actually in the air. I really really really can do without power plays, and if I remember the game right, Marceu was all about them. Dunno how Mihel is going to be, he wasn''t really in the game, more like mentioned... Hm. Bother bother bother bother.


    Abe takes it philosophically. If van der Klaas didn''t bother specifying special conditions, no special conditions are to be furnished. Just give him the regular cabin. While we''re on the topic, I doublecheck if Abe has any special requirements. And what do you know, he also asks for expanded personal storage. He is bemused when I tell him I already got that request from father and spread it across the ship. Just in case. He DOES request to visit incognito to be shown the thing. Apparently, they wanted secret storage, while at it. Wondrous. Armed with that bit of knowledge, I install a simple security enchantment in the lever. If someone I didn''t authorize to use it tries to pull it, it will act to them by all intents and purposes as a decorative barelief, not a hidden lever. Should be enough. Oh, and in case someone tries to force their way into the secure compartment? Bzzt. Very bzzt.


    Just to clarify, bzzt is a magical analog of getting tazed into unconsciousness. I tried to calibrate the whole thing to ensure nothing particularly permanent happens, but I wouldn''t be surprised if getting up close and personal with this device resulted in some voided bowels. Particularly so, in people not expecting bzzt. Good? Good. Ok, so what else I can... I CAN. Birds. Let''s get those fuckers well away from my shiny airship. Hm, I do remember there were some spells for scaring animals off... OK, so... Oh. This is scalable. And directionable... Hm. So if the envelope is the focal mesh... I can have the envelope radiate low-level "this is not a good place" for everyone below a certain mass... Or I can focus everything into a huge blast of terror in front... Hm. But if I focus, the mass constraint vanishes... Hm. Hmmmmmm. HMMMMM! That has... promise.


    ___


    This is the day before departure. Which is the weekend. Which, apparently, is why the girls decided to throw a no-holds-barred orgy on me. On one hand, I''m very glad they''re getting along with each other so well group sex is an option. On the other, I''m a little worried about how much they are worried for me. This is... weird. I did more dangerous things before and they weren''t quite so listless. Maybe that''s because this is the first "realpolitik" thing? Who knows. They''re not even mollified by the fact I''m actually having an instance stay right there with them. On the other hand, why exactly I''m complaining so much about getting an orgy? Goodness, I''m... being a little bit spoiled right now.


    So. This is late night. Or early morning. The instance of me that would travel is already on the airship, lounging around in her cabin and doublechecking if everything else is already doublechecked. This instance of me has arms full of naked girls. Actually, amend that to "is entangled in naked girls", because the pile of bodies that''s currently occupying my bed would be complicated to disperse without some acrobatics. Or two of us being able to just ooze out or blink out. I''m actually fairly certain the current entanglement is in no small part due to girls taking ample advantage of tentacles. And isn''t THAT a surprise? Though, honestly speaking, I''m not sure if it''s not simply the "they like tentacles because I have them" kind of situation.


    I think... I''m happy.

 Chapter 67. Security Concerns

    ...OOkay. I''m not happy right now. I was horribly, catastrophically right about van der Klaases pulling power plays. The opener is both audacious and breathtakingly stupid, as Mihel shows up with Marceu in tow, and announces that his son would be taking the "manservant" slot. And immediately starts making digs at me for failing to anticipate that. I, quite reasonably, point out that he was sent a message asking him specifically if he has any special requests. And yes, that included the option of asking for space for actual manservants, if he was so inclined to take his son along for the trip. Not sure why, though. Then, a couple of burly servants show up with a chest that has no hope of ever fitting through the door, and Mihel tries insisting on letting them take "the wall" down so that the chest could be put into his cabin.


    "First of all, there is no reasonable way to dismantle a part of airship without rendering it inoperable for a whole day..." - I try to be reasonable and talk things out.


    "Not very well constructed, is it?" - Mihel interrupts me with a sneer. Idiot.


    "Because cabin sidings are intentionally constructed to be as monolithic as possible to ensure the safety of people traveling within." - I continue irritably - "Furthermore, there already IS an existing secure storage in every cabin."


    "Not as secure as my chest!" - he immediately objects.


    Seriously? You call THAT secure? Good grief. In lieu of an answer, I walk over to the chest, put my hand over the lock, nudge the gears inside while simultaneously suppressing the rather basic enchantment that would detect the gem set in key''s head... and pull the lid open effortlessly, making the elder troublemaker gape and stare at it. Marceu, meanwhile, emerges from the ship with a self-satisfied smirk.


    "Lady Gillespie, I do not wish to accuse you of lying, but our cabin clearly lacks any sort of secure chest." - he pushes. I pinch the bridge of my nose as the urge to just leave them behind rises. Abraham, thankfully, plays the peacemaker.


    "I have not known lady Gillespie to make false claims." - he begins with a light rebuke - "How about we come and see the storage she prepared before any more harsh words are thrown around?"


    Seeing as the rest of the people are already making themselves at home in their respective cabins, I lead the duo of annoyances and bemused king to the cabin I set aside for van der Klaases. As we come in, I demonstrate the storage by pulling on the discreet lever and the whole thing descends from the ceiling, rendering Marceu and Mihel speechless for a moment.


    Then, just as I fold it back, Mihel sniffs. "How is that secure?" - he demands - "Anyone can get into it just by pulling on the same lever!"


    I love how his face elongates when the lever he is yanking on refuses to budge entirely.


    "Biometry identification enchantment." - I explain - "Scans the person pulling the lever and does not move unless they match to the internal record. Right now, it''s keyed to me. Once you settle in, you''ll provide your own imprint, and for the duration of your stay on the ship, it will remain keyed to you. Yes, excluding me. Only one record at a time is kept."


    As Mihel hems and haws, Marceu steps out and comes back with a chair. "The lock is perhaps secure. But it doesn''t mean anything if the intruder can just break into the chest bypassing it." - he exclaims jubilantly as he clambers on the chair and jams a dagger into the ceiling, trying to pry the paneling open. I admit, I am very much satisfied when he gets a good bzzt for his troubles and falls over from the chair twitching uncontrollably. Thankfully for him, he does manage to fall in the direction of one of the cots. I catch the dagger he flung during that, and set it down on the table firmly.


    "And this is what happens to craftier intruders." - I explain, as he writhes on the bed.


    "Marceu!" - his father yelps, rushing to the bed to check on his rash son - "What have you done to him!?"


    "Security enchantment. In case of someone trying to pry in, they are hit with uncontrollable muscle convulsions. The end result is not unlike lockjaw, except lasting for maybe five minutes." - I explain - "I also get alerted about breach attempt. Between the two measures, not only the storage is secure, I also have high confidence anyone trying it can be detained and questioned."


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    Abraham chuckles. "That... is more than a little impressive, lady Gillespie." - he proffers - "Please demonstrate the arrangement to sir Malachi once we return. I daresay he has at least a dozen places that could benefit from such stringent measures. Is it limited to a person trying to breach in, or..."


    I smile at him. "Not really. You can set the trigger to many things." - I return - "Opening a specific door, crossing a specific threshold, breaking a specific object, having a specific object on you when doing anything of the former, not saying a specific word or making specific gesture while doing either of the former, etc, etc, etc. A biometric scan can be attached to any of those triggers to additionally specify the need to be a specific person when doing anything of the aforementioned."


    Van der Klaases grow very silent and worried while I outline the basics of the security suite, while Abraham beams. "Stupendous as always!" - he crows - "Expect a major commission in the near future, lady Gillespie."


    I hem. "Your highness, I have quite enough on my plate as is. May I simply write the manual and pass it over to sir Malachi with a license to apply as needed? He is in a much better position than I to establish the necessary security measures." - I demur, and Abraham beams even more.


    "I did not want to presume, but if you are willing to license the kingdom, it is even better." - he admits - "I was worried about you being overburdened with things, to be honest, but security is too tantalizing a prize to pass."


    "Goodness, no. I am in no hurry to put one more hat on my head. Let sir Malachi handle that, it''s his duty anyway." - I joke back - "Oh, just so we''re clear - I would expect of him to establish the office and pass on the requisite knowledge to vetted and loyal Inquisitors of his choosing. No need to keep all eggs in one basket."


    Abraham turns to face van der Klaases. "I believe there is a good lesson here for you to take, Mihel." - he says amiably, but with a warning undercurrent in his voice - "Lady Gillespie is a loyal and powerful ally who puts the needs of kingdom and people above her personal gains. You would do well to remember that and treat her with all the respect she deserves. Do not think I missed your little spectacle just now."


    Mihel purples and lowers his head. "...My sincere apologies, your highness, lady Gillespie." - he grits out - "It is rare to meet a person who understands the needs of many come before the needs of few so keenly."


    Abe chuckles. "We will speak no more of this, then." - he concludes - "But remember this well, Mihel. Honey before vinegar. At least, as far as lady Gillespie is concerned. I am well cognizant some of the nobles in my kingdom believe their blood makes them a valuable boon by itself, but not Alyssa. It is by her labors we have the chance to make an agreement so beneficial to everyone involved - both us and Krauts."


    "I understand, your highness." - he bows, and turns to his son, who is just now showing the signs of awareness - "Marceu? Good gods, are you alright?"


    "..Aaah ficn.." - he begins, pauses, and starts again, making an effort to enunciate every word clearly - "I... am... getting... better. This... enchantment... is... insidious. I... can''t... stop... my... limbs... from... trembling."


    "To be expected. While the application of enchantment itself is about a second long, the resulting tremors will persist for up to an hour." - I explain - "Simply rest and trembling will subside eventually. More on the point, now that you have a first-hand experience of the protection, do you still think it would be easy to bypass the lock?"


    He glares at me, then sighs. "No." - he then enunciates - "Not... without... an... accomplice... to... continue."


    "Won''t work. This is a permanent enchantment, it draws power from the internal flowerbeds on the airship." - I explain - "Hydroponic section is protected with the same measures, obviously, so no cutting the power to enchantment either. Honestly speaking, your best bet to get into the chest would be to use spells or a ballista to destroy this cabin. Which, well... For one, it would be hard to destroy the cabin without destroying the chest in the process, for two, bringing the necessary firepower to bear can''t be fast or inconspicuous. You''d have to attack from the outside, too, inside the airship the enchantment would also trigger on an attempt to fire a spell against the chest."


    I unfold the security panel from the section of the wall next to the lever, and press my hand against the palm outline.


    "Here, press your hand against it to record your signature." - I explain - "Oh, the panel opened because I''m keyed in right now. If it were someone else, it wouldn''t budge, just like the lever. Or shock you, if you tried to open it by force."


    Mihel cautiously presses his hand to the outline, and jerks it back when the panel bings at him and changes color from red to green.


    "There you go. Now the chest will respond to you." - I explain - "Close the panel now, please."


    He does so, his expression both pinched and thoughtful at the same time. "...I see." - he mutters - "I suppose that addresses my security concerns. If I could have ten minutes to have my servants transfer the things?"


    Me and Abe bow out at this point.

 Chapter 68. Ironworks

    It had taken significantly longer than ten minutes for everyone to settle in, more like an hour, but at this point, things are on track. Everyone is keyed to their respective storages, briefed on security, shown the amenities (Apparently no one but me even thought about toilets and washing while on board. People, seriously?), explained the dining arrangements and otherwise given the information necessary for the trip. Right now, the notables are seated behind the table, while servants are getting instruction from Bridgit in the compact kitchen in the rear. Time to depart.


    The airship lifts off without much fanfare, and I steer it towards the northwest, the route already mapped out. Those who were not present at the inspection flight are soon at the windows (including van der Klaases), marveling at the ground sinking below. In another fifteen minutes, we are set on course, achieved the five hundred fathoms and are pushing the wind at cruising speed. There is considerable agitation among the guests as they spot a cloud ahead, which mutates into considerable confusion as we fly into it and through it, and they realize that clouds are essentially fog. That discovery, apparently, floors some of the guests. Out of curiosity, I inquire why, and I am informed that common perception insofar was to consider clouds being something like huge piles of pillows - i.e. something notably dense.


    Thankfully, the excitement quickly fades into more sedate lounging around once it becomes apparent that at this height and speed, the ground beneath is boring after a bit of looking. Before long, Abe, Hiram and Mihel are engaged in a low-key discussion of trading agreements I''m not a part of, and therefore largely uninterested. Marceu remains glued to the window, however. He had borrowed one of the looking glasses and is currently busy trying to spy something or figure something out, if his thoughtful expression is of any indication. Bridgit, Jakub and Giacomo are doing something in the kitchen - I assume they''re busy preparing lunch. Which leaves me mostly bored. Thankfully, the instance of me in the Academy has lessons to attend to, so flying the airship is relegated to a background task.


    The lesson is interesting, however. We''re currently studying alchemy, and the professor presents the students with some practical exercises out of my book. I am, on the other hand, declared exempt from the exercise and instead invited to talk to her while everyone else is messing with blue vitriol. The first task is to turn it white and then back to blue, which is simple enough. Copper sulphate pentahydrate can be reduced to copper sulphate simply by heating to evaporate water, and adding some water back turns it into pentahydrate again. Or, more precisely, into a mixture of hydrates at first.


    Meanwhile professor Schlagenblum is quizzing me on the basics of organic chemistry. I end up explaining to her a bit about the nature of alcohol, but quickly run into an issue. It is hard to systematize the explanation without giving the concept of valence and how it works to begin with. So right back to the periodic table we go. It has a lot of empty spaces in it, because a good number of chemical elements are straight up unknown to the world at large here. I end up conjuring a couple of retorts to demonstrate the splitting of water into oxygen and hydrogen, and how they combine back together. Electrodes, gah. I simply give up on that for now and just say that pushing lightning through water makes it split. I''ll explain the idea of electricity later, she has enough issues with the concept of atomic number. The resulting conversation is fascinating and easily takes a couple hours well past the lesson''s end, ending with professor Schlagenblum deciding to set up a couple experiments that I outlined on her own to see how it works. Nothing too complicated, but gah. I guess I''ll need to write a primer on organic chemistry next.


    ___


    We arrive to the Gillespie estate shortly after dinner. Not bad, not bad. There are people outside - both humans and dwarves, standing around the edges of a large field father suggested as landing once I explained how big the airship is. They all look pretty gobsmacked at the moment... Right until I come out of the ship, at which point dwarves start cheering. The rest of the crowd joins them a moment later, just as Abraham emerges from the door, waving at people, who go quiet for a moment, then redouble their cheering. Dad comes out in front, bows to the king and hugs me. "Welcome to Gillespie county, your highness." - he enunciates clearly.


    Abraham chuckles. "Soon to be Gillespie duchy, yes. Now that your daughter possesses such a magnificent mean of travel, be sure to come to Parsee for winter Solstice, count Gillespie. I''d hate to have to promote you in absentia." - he offers, and the crowd cheers louder, people exchanging excited whispers and nudges as the king himself confirms their lord is due for promotion. In a way, it is a promotion for them too, as the merchants and the officials tend to prioritize servants based on the rank of the lord they serve. The level of promotion is yet another reason for cheer - ordinarily, dad would have to be promoted to marquis, and it would fall to one of my brothers to be promoted to the duke.


    Gerard gives the order and people quickly begin to bring in the samples we intend to showcase. Then, a couple crates are carried in. It''s a bit of a surprise for Kraut kingdom - a hundred spearheads and ten thousand of arrowheads, all forged from ripple steel by dwarves. While this is handled, someone else comes up. Rory''s been moving up in his life, I see.


    "Your highness, I''d like you to meet the trade representative of dwarves, Rory the Smith." - father proffers - "Rory had been elected by the people of Grand Forge to represent the dwarven community and their interests at the meeting."


    Abe quirks his brow. "Even so? Very well then. Rory the Smith, we the king of Champagne Abraham Cullen and the kingdom of Champagne do hereby welcome you to join our delegation to the kingdom of Kraut. May our efforts bring abundant profits for our people." - he pronounces officially. Rory bows.


    "Moity honored ta be here, yer highness." - he rumbles - "Tha sons of Dorn are grateful fer ''ospitality and foresight of kingdom and count Gillespie. Our numbers grow by tha day, as more and more of tha kin find thar way ta the Grand Forge."


    Abraham nods and frowns lightly - "I am heartened that I still have nobles with wit, Rory."


    Dwarf smiles back. "Tha kin remembahs yer kindness too, yer honor. Many of mah brothers and sisters remembah yer given tha grain and shelter in yer own lands to as many as ye could." - he replies - "Grand Forge pledges preferenshal status ta the custom of tha Champagne kingdom for as long as tha city stands."


    Abraham returns the smile. "Excellent, my good fellow." - he concludes - "With your superb labor, count Gillespie''s mercantile acumen and lady Gillespie''s most brilliant mind, bright days lie ahead of our people."


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    He pauses, then turns to me, motioning me closer - "Lady Gillespie, this is a bit of a last minute request, but would it be possible for the airship to make a brief stop at Grand Forge? I find myself unbearably curious about the new advances in metalcrafting."


    I peer at Rory. "Call up your people?" - I suggest to him - "If there is no explicit reason against it at the site, stopping by at Grand Forge is of no issue to me."


    He pulls out the copperphone, catching a knowing smile from the king in the process and pokes at it. "Elder?" - he rasps into the receiver - "...Nah, fine heah. His highness wants ta see tha city... Oh? Yah, good, good..." Hiding the receiver, he grins - "Sons of Dorn would be delighted iffen yer visit today, yer highness. T''is fortunate, ta tell ye tha truth, as we are about ta light up tha second Vagran furnace today. Having ye and gods-blessed Gillespies at tha event shouda be se-ren-di-pishous."


    ___


    Liftoff goes off without hitch, in spite of increased load. I''m glad. While I did design the zeppelin with enough of buoyancy to deal with weight, I was slightly worried about balancing issues, but between the gyroscopes and envelope balancing (envelope is split into sectors and I can raise or lower pressure in each of them separately, if needs be), things work out a treat and we ascend steadily and levelly. Father and Rory are glued to the windows, now. Meanwhile, dad''s manservant is looking at Abe''s manservant. "Granduncle Giacomo?" - he ventures hesitantly.


    Abe''s attendant smiles - "My, my. Hello, grandnephew. You''re doing quite well for yourself, I daresay." And this is the point where I realize that there are two Giacomos on the ship now. The older one sketches a bow at my quirked brow. "We are related, lady Gillespie." - he admits - "Our family has at least one Giacomo in each generation. You might say it''s a familial given name, at this point." Huh. Well, I suppose there are traditions in each family, and really, a commonly used given name is not nearly among the worst I can think of.


    Given the relative closeness of Grand Forge, I don''t bother going to altitude, and instead hover about twenty fathoms off the ground - plenty to float over the buildings and trees, but close enough to be able to see the ground below rush past. Marceu is notably interested in this, I notice, his lips moving soundlessly as he seems to be doing some maths in his head. I wonder what is this all about. Not going to ask, though. While van der Klaases heard the king loud and clear and don''t try to annoy me anymore, neither of them is particularly friendly or willing to engage in conversation. I wonder why. Just Mihel''s prejudice against nobles, or something more personal? Grudge over being used as a demonstration for my security? Who knows.


    The distance disappears within a few minutes, and I slow the ship down, bringing us to hover next to the city. The last time I was here, a lot of the buildings were clearly unfinished. Today, it is no longer the case. What is more interesting, every street is now tar paved. It takes me a bit of time to find a decent landing spot, but once I do, the rest proceeds with practiced ease. The airship touches down, people outside cheer, we come out. While on the way, Abraham had notified the rest of the delegation about our next step, so everyone files out. Well, other than servants, they stay on the ship. I obviously leave an instance discreetly, and call out Bridgit to accompany me.


    The dwarves outside, while obviously welcoming, seem to be running around with an agenda in mind, and Rory takes charge of our delegation, leading us around with confidence. He points out houses, explains the plans to which the build-up is conducted (Apparently, dwarves had pre-designated the living quarters and are building up extra houses in anticipation of immigrants, who, according to Rory, tend to show up with impressive regularity.), and then takes us to the forging hall. While we are going there, he explains the basic rules of safety (which, basically, are to stay close) and then starts pointing out the assorted workshops and mills. The guests are duly impressed as he begins the explanation by pointing out a sizable steam engine that cranks the shaft running straight through the building in question. Turns out there are four turntables and twelve cutting stations connected to the shaft via gears. The functions and uses are readily demonstrated, as dwarves around are busy milling and polishing assorted metalwares and stonewares. The forgehall itself is the next destination, twenty four anvils arranged along the walls (twelve per wall) while the center is dedicated to metal distributing and heating furnaces. Finally, we are led outside, where the smelting furnace is about to be loaded.


    Another steam engine is here, a smaller one, cranking the lift built next to the furnace. We are shown the deep steel barrows the dwarves are using to ferry coal and ore and are told that the first barrows of burning coals had already been hefted in. The sparks shoot out of the furnace top as two dwarves up top heave another barrow in, a load of coal clattering downwards. Five more barrows of it, and then it''s a turn for ore. Eight barrows. Four more barrows of coal. Eight more barrows of ore. Four more... The barrows arrive in a constant stream, dwarves running the empty ones back along the reinforced metal rails to the storage depot slightly off to the side.


    "When are they going to stop?" - Mihel asks after a while, as we observe dwarves bring in barrow after barrow.


    "They won''t." - I tell him, and in a stroke of serendipity, that''s when the smelting master hollers. Everyone turns to see what is going on, just in time to see him yanking out the heavy clay cork out of the furnace, a shower of sparks coming out for a moment before we see the first drops of molten iron sliding down the clay half-pipe. The drops multiply, merging together into a stream of liquid metal, still glowing sunny yellow as it streams past us, making everyone recoil slightly further from the weft of harsh heat. One of the dwarves pushes in a different cart, this one resembling a huge waffle iron. The resemblance is further reinforced by a very long handle attached to it, easily a touse long. Metal streams into the form, splitting apart into the square hollows. A different dwarf leans on the lever and the nozzle lifts up, halting the stream for just enough time for the dwarves to pull out the full ingot grid and replace it with an empty one. The process continues.


    "Vagran furnace allows for linear production." - I explain in the lull of activity, while the next grid fills up - "So long as fresh coal and ore are brought in and poured into the top, the furnace will continue pouring the liquid metal. Eventually, the last helping of coal will be poured without ore, to clear out the remains of metal out of the furnace, and then it will be allowed to burn out and cool down."


    Rory grins proudly. "Aye. We start tha furnace early on tha first day of tha week, and continue fer five days. On tha evening before weekend, tha last batch of coal is poured in, and tha furnace is let ta burn out and cool ovah sixth day. We clean them out and patch up tha cracks if any show up on tha seventh." - he continues.


    Mihel considers the time it takes to pour out a grid of ingots and starts to pale. "...Are you telling me that you make, a, uh... how much does one ingot weigh?" - he inquires.


    "Ten livres." - Rory answers simply.


    "Ten livres?... And you pour twenty five per batch, so... Quarter of quintal at once?" - he continues - "And it took you maybe five minutes to pour one... So... that comes out to... THREE QUINTALS OF IRON PER HOUR!? For five days straight!?"


    "More like four days." - I correct him absentmindedly - "They start the furnace on the morning of the first day, and bring it to rest in the afternoon of the fifth, and it takes a while for the furnace to ignite, so.."


    Mihel groans - "Fine, four days. But without any breaks overnight, so it comes to, what... three hundred quintals of iron per week? Just... Good gods above, that''s insane amounts of iron."


    Rory shrugs - "Ta be fair, between tha need fer regular iron elsewhere and forging, only maybe forty quintals per week become ripple steel."


    "Forty. Quintals. Of. Ripple steel. Per week?!" - Mihel enunciates clearly and slowly, as if he has problems believing the figure.


    "Aye." - dwarf grins at him - "Argul blessed our works here aplenty."

 Chapter 69. Bored Shoggoths Make Weird Stuff, Apparently

    I have a feeling that van der Klaases just weren''t ready for this. They either failed to be appraised of my existence and impact on the market, which is weird for people who are supposed to be authorities on merchant interests, or they had for whichever reason ignored or disbelieved the reports so far. Because being SO surprised? Even Hiram is not as wrongfooted as they are, and I definitely didn''t bore him with the minutiae of my businesses. Of course, it was funny when Marceu started to insist there must be some way to hook up horses to the steam engine, otherwise, how would it turn? I let him poke around the thing as much as he cared to, so that he could find his horses.


    Abe is a much more receptive and grateful audience for this, to be honest. He is duly impressed with the mechanization so far. Admittedly, it was a no-brainer to set up drop hammers to forge the steel ingots. Still, annoying and slow. Once we get back from Kraut, I''m going to toss a schematic for a converter at the dwarves and see what they''ll do with it. Granted, there will be still a necessity to forge in order to produce pattern welded steel, but that should be much less of a hassle on itself. Still, the automated forges are an impressive sight. As Rory eagerly explains, the forges operate around the clock. The day is divided into six four-hour shifts, and each adult male dwarf takes a daily shift of four hours. It is expected of each of them to spend the shift prior to theirs sleeping, and to dine as soon as their shift is over. Moreover, no one is permitted to take more than one four hours shift per day. According to him, the exact order of things other than that is up to each individual, but all of them accept the six shifts of the day as convenient time management. To aid in this, the clock tower (Abe is weirdly impressed by this one. Weird, clocks are a pretty well known thing. Why is he so amazed by the town clock?) rings a shift bell in addition to hour bell each four hours. A regular hour is a singular "ding", shift change is a chord of three bells being struck in sequence. Nice effect.


    As I find the whole "day is made out of six parts" thing curious, I query Rory on that. He cites one of my earlier collections of notes on organizing the labor, and further admits that this is very similar to arrangements in deep delvings. Apparently, dwarves used to mine some rare metals and gems in the deep caves and would set a camp for a duration of several months in a cave, using similar shift arrangements to keep the work going in spite of not seeing the sun to gauge time by. Apparently, this division is so prevalent among dwarves that even women and children stick with it. Men are supposed to sleep for two shifts, do forge or quarry labor for one, do light labor like tool maintenance or driving carriage for one more, and the last two are theirs to dedicate to whatever they desire. Women are largely the same, except they have two shifts of light labor instead of one of heavy and one of light. Finally, kids below twenty but above eight have one shift of light labor, while adolescents between twenty and thirty have one shift of heavy labor for males, or remain with one shift of light labor for females (though in their case, the labor shifts from domestic duties like cleaning or gathering firewood to assisting in shops and depots). It goes without saying that at least one of the two "free" shifts adults get is to be dedicated to domestic chores.


    Mihel promptly makes me angry by asking Rory about working women and how does that fit with dwarven customs. Rory, bless his naivete, answers the question earnestly by explaining that the shortage of manpower is still very much felt and all ablebodied men are expected to do forge and quarry duties, leaving them shorthanded at shops. He then comments that my offhand suggestion to "let the womenfolk do their part in restoring the dwarven dignity" was the solution, and that the results have been overwhelmingly positive, and no one thinks this is of any detriment to dwarves themselves, their women or their culture. Hm. Ok, so maybe he did notice the dig, and this is how he elected to handle it - by letting Mihel choose between looking like a fool or a villain, depending on how he reacts to the explanation.


    In his turn, Mihel offers reasonably diplomatic - "So I see. Hard times call for new solutions, right?" Nabad, nabad. On one hand, he defends his earlier position by presenting it as old customs. On the other, he also excuses the current situation by explaining the change with sharp necessity, while not claiming the measure to be desperate or temporary. Rory magnanimously lets him off the hook by confirming that yes, dwarves had turned a new leaf and consider all of their traditions and expectations with a grain of salt, lest they wake up to find themselves served a whole tableful of ashes again.


    In the end, it is almost sunset as we retreat to the airship, laden with more samples and trinkets. Hiram asks if we''re going to spend the night over at the city... which is not an unreasonable idea, but not to my liking. Abraham is undecided, and father passes the buck to me, so I get to call this shot.


    "Did not plan on it." - I offer simply - "We can, if anyone has a reason to want to be in the Grand Forge overnight, but as it is, my plans are to set the course to the west and have a nice late dinner, then retreat to bed. I''m going to ascend to altitude way above the tallest peaks, so there is no specific reason for anyone not to sleep overnight. We should be close enough to Berlinger by sunrise."


    The looks I get back range from impressed to intrigued to skeptical, though no one actually says anything out loud. Taking silence as agreement, I poke Bridgit to alert the servants and start setting the table.


    ___


    Flying overnight is... well, boring, to start with. Well, boring if it was all I''m doing. As is, I''m plenty entertained by having a soft and cuddly maid snuggling up to my side. Bridgit is unbearably cute when she''s asleep. And by unbearably, I mean it. She''s making me go "d''aww" each time I see her like this. Despite this, I''m idly considering ways to cut down on the necessity to travel personally like this. Or at least add extra entertainment to it. Entertainment that I can have without waking up the squishy people over at the other cabins, thus making them cranky and haphazard from lack of sleep. At least, I can entertain myself by jotting down a fairly comprehensive map of the mountain range we''re traveling over. It rates somewhere between "yikes" and "nope" on the scale of traversability, by the way, but I do spy a few places that have been visited before. A lone lean-to, a couple of stones in a pyramid... Interesting. Well, I suppose someone sufficiently determined can get up there. Ain''t much to be had up there, but climbing is an option. A long, hard, tiresome option.


    Good gods, so bored. I can''t believe it. I... don''t normally feel like this. Why can''t I just... do what passes for me as sleeping? Actually, yes, yes I can. Capital idea, really. Sleeping now!... Aaaany second now... Damn it. Is THAT how insomnia is going to be from now on? I almost forgot about that particular menace. Ok, so... What can I do? The mapping is just not cutting it, I mean, I''m still jotting, but it''s not taking enough of my attention. The instance of me back in the Academy is "asleep" and I''d rather not worry my wives by prowling around in the middle of the night. What else... Oh, fuck it all. I''m gonna spy on van der Klaases.


    ...Good grief. He made so much noise over the blanks? The only thing of note is the listing of current market prices, and that''s not something that needs to be kept in secret. Why, yes, yes I can circumvent the security. It was not designed with shoggoths in mind. Just your average people. I mean, I could make a container even I would have trouble getting into discreetly, but I''m pretty sure the effort that would go into sealing and unsealing the thing each time something needed to be put in or taken out would be considered paranoidally excessive even by professional paranoics. Well, that was a bust. I was expecting something worth the hassle to pore over. Guess it was really all about Mihel trying to pull one over the "useless noble". Heh.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Gods damn it, I''m BORED STIFF... Wait. Wait a moment. I''m thinking too narrow here. Who''s working around the clock? Dwarves, of course. Do I have an instance I can expand in the Grand Forge?... Yes, yes I do. Not right in the city, but that''s not a problem. Alrighty then!


    ___


    Hm. While dwarves DO work around the clock, it appears that the night shifts are not popular. There are notably less of them going around, and all of them are entirely too busy. On the flip side, it does mean there are free spots in the workshops I can use without interrupting the process. Oh, I get some of them to pause and inquire what''s up, why I''m here at night, is everything alright? All of them without exclusion come away scratching their heads and chuckling awkwardly when I explain I was bored and sleepless so I teleported back to the Grand Forge to tool around a bit. Some of them ask if the airship will be alright or how I''m to get back or even why didn''t I just teleport everyone to Kraut. First is "yes", second is "I''ll teleport back" and third is "can''t take more than three people along at most and besides, if you had an airship, wouldn''t you want to show it off?".


    So... what do I make? Dwarves are backlogged with my practical designs till winter, at the very least. The railroad is a helluva effort even with all the cheating I and magic can afford. Something cool then?... Heh. Heheheheheheh! MUAHAHAHAHA! Let''s do this crazy thing! Alright, so... Some iron, some coal, let''s just quickly conjure this, yep, just like that, and a filter to split air into "alive" and "dead", now let''s pump it up, ignite the mix, ooh that''s pretty flames... I have gawkers, nevermind them... Conversion at a good rate, let''s get some copper for the furnishing, alright now pour out the steel, whoops nearly forgot to conjure form... Split and shape by pressure, hm... Oh, how about this? Using ice invocations to cool is just asking to crack the thing and make it brittle, but slowing down on atomary level over the whole mass at once? Not easy, but surprisingly simple. I ignore the astonished gasps as the pressure-forged steel parts cool down rapidly. They can see things didn''t become brittle, I guess. Now let''s see. Six of those, clump them, central axis solid, splinted nut on the end to keep it secured, now this and this and that and like this, copper filigree over this, float some wood for the handles... Hm, now this and this should be engraved with this formulae, now all I have to do is to feed power into it, and... Let''s see. Make copper, shape copper, make mercury, make nitric acid (thankfully, this can be done wholesale, a substance known to alchemists well enough to be "a thing" to tap into egregor instead of inventing from scratch), heat and mix, siphon the hydrogen away into a tank, add more nitric acid and water and alcohol... Darn. I... Oh, right, nitrous oxides. Not a problem, a bit of copper, more nitric acid, get rid of copper nitrate and water, oookay, now we have mercury fulminate. Now, what to do with leftovers? Acetaldehyde, hm... OK, first of all, a cooling array here, pipe it through, into the tank, and... Hm. Hmmmm... Alright. Now, what do I do with copper nitrate solution? Well, it''s an oxidizer, so... Wait, no. Heat it. Dump the solid copper oxide, feed back the nitrous dioxide into the fulmination chamber, chill and tank oxygen... ...Hm. Now, this bit here, conjure wood, shred wood, add the lye, flash-boil. Add more nitric acid. Pack into copper, add mercury fulminate at the end. Conjure lead, cap with the lead wad. Hm. Pretty fast, but not up to the rate of use... Conjure copper, form copper, assemble into the belt, fold up, and... Hm. Ok, and here...


    So. What do I have, in the end?... Magically powered minigun? That I''m the only one able to run. Jolly good. And to add a little more WTF, there''s an underslung flamer using a mixture of hydrogen, acetaldehyde and oxygen for a torch. Which makes it essentially a close range weapon. Too bad I can''t make it detachable, no flexible liquid-tight hoses. On the other hand, the way I laid it out makes it essentially a one-hand weapon. Which is a little ridiculous, considering the thing weighs like, fifty kilo without ammo cycle engaged. With, it''s more like eighty, and I''m more than a little glad I cribbed enough of Roxolane''s notes on her portal research to fudge with the inner dimensions of the thing. Otherwise, it would be way too bulky.


    ...And I have a whole lot of dwarves watching me committing magitechnological insanities. Joy. And given the palpable "bated breath" they all have going on, they expect a demonstration. Well, fine. Sending a couple logs flying to embed themselves across the yard is not hard. Verifying the other end of the yard is looking over the empty space for a couple leagues ahead takes a bit more time, but... Eh. The faces when they hear the first BRRRRT more than make up for the hassle. That ''holy fucking shit, this a whole level up in destructive'' feeling. Amusingly enough, the mood only intensifies when I try the flamer out and set the grass on fire. So... The problem with burning gas is the fact that it''s gas. The jet looks pretty, but requires a bit of staying on the target to actually ignite. Good to discourage peeps from approaching, not so good at actually setting shit on fire, but that''s fixable if needed.


    Aaand it''s almost dawn. So I tell the dwarves show''s over, solemnly promise to send the schematics once I have the time to jot them down, and wander off towards the nearest shed with strict admonitions not to follow unless they want a glimpse of eternity and more than even chances of going nuts. Teleporting the gun to zeppelin is surprisingly low-impact. I guess it''s living beings that kick up the exposure so much, for whatever reason. The instance back in Grand Forge is then collapsed and distributed around the nearby woods as a security system. Well, bolstering the security system, that is. Mostly by pretending to be random birds and squirrels and rats and flowers and spiders in order to observe and report on any suspicious moves by whoever. I''m getting better at multitasking. I guess practice makes perfect?... Hm. I should keep that in secret until I find a good reason to shit someone up by showing up as an army.


    Just as I finish stashing the gun, the assorted noises tell me that servants had roused themselves and are about to get busy cooking breakfast. Hm. Might as well help. And by help, I mean preheat the stove and set the water boiler into action. They file into the kitchen one by one, yawning, doubletake at me putzing around with frypan and french toasts, and line up under the wall in silence. I wonder why. Bridgit comes in, and unlike everyone else makes a beeline for me.


    "Mistress, why are you in the kitchen again?" - she tells me with a pout.


    "Oh, hey, Bridgit. Check this out. Savory toasts!" - I tell her as I turn around and slip a corner of freshly made french toast into her mouth. It''s topped with a drizzle of molten cheese and herbs over a slice of smoked ham. She bites down, and chews on it, finally delivering the "Very nice, mistress, but maybe let me cook?" - she offers as she takes the toast from me and continues nibbling on it.


    "Uh-huh, sure, just... Watch this first." - I start, showing her the bowl with a mix of egg, flour, milk, salt and a pinch of baking soda - "Eggs, flour, milk, salt, some soda, whisk it up then dip the bread in. Once it browns on both sides, cover with a ham slice, drop some of that on top and let it grill a little in the oven. That''s shredded hard cheese, parsley, dill, oregano, mint and a dash of pepper all mixed in." It says something about the fact not one of the servants showed much more than raised brows at the mention of pepper.


    Bridgit nods. "Got it, mistress. Making enough for everyone, I take it?" - she inquires.


    "Yep. Including you all. And set the cava in a big percolator, please. Not sure who''ll be drinking it other than me, but I''d rather have more than less. Tea, obviously, sweets. Make preparations for oatmeal in case someone wakes up with upset belly, too." - I tell them, as I lean over to kiss Bridgit on the cheek, ignoring the scandalized looks from the rest of the servants - "Don''t hurry too much, I doubt anyone will wake up for at least an hour more. Nothing much to do. Oh, a warning. Don''t open the windows. It''s chilling and very windy up here. Make preparations in the assumption we will be touching down at Berlinger in three hours."


    As I retreat from the kitchen, younger Giacomo shakes his head. "Young mistress gets weirder with each passing day." - he mutters, getting a swat to the back of his head from his granduncle for his trouble.

 Chapter 70. Economics And Surprises

    I have miscalculated a bit. It takes a better part of two hours for all the people to wake up and find their way to the lounge and breakfast. Savory toasts are well received, though I tactfully avoid mentioning it was my idea. Cava is... less well received. In the end, only me and Bridgit drink any. The rest either demur outright, like my father and Abe, or try a thimble and refuse anymore, citing the need to keep the heart within the ribcage. Silly people.


    "So... We''re currently approaching Berlinger from the west-south-west. You can see the city on the horizon already." - I announce - "I''m taking it slow to avoid creating a panic in the city. If absolutely needed, we can land within ten minutes, but as it is right now, we''re going to drift over the plains outside the city, giving everyone plenty of time to see the flags before we cross the wall line. So... make your preparations as needed in the expectation that there will be disembarkation in about an hour. Hiram, can you give your father a call to give him a heads up on this? Unofficially-like?"


    Abe raises his brow at this suggestion. "What''s wrong with making it official?" - he inquires.


    "Ah, well... I would think that Kraut court would be dubious about our claims of crossing mountains overnight right until they see the airship with their own eyes." - I offer - "Hence, an unofficial warning from a family member so that the court could scramble up some sort of welcoming ceremony without looking like they were lazy or doubtful of my word."


    He nods - "Well reasoned, lady Gillespie. I was about to suggest the same, and it gladdens me to know you''ve been grasping the finer nuances of politics so readily."


    Hiram nods at that and excuses himself to his cabin. I suppose unofficial warning should be made in privacy and all that. Meanwhile, the rest continue to help themselves to the remains of breakfast or checking over various papers once again. Well, except for Marceu. Who ''inconspicuously'' moves little by little to end up next to me. Now, what are you up to, little wretch?


    "...Now why would you be so concerned with preserving Krauts their face, I wonder?" - he mutters softly - "One would think letting them embarrass themselves would give you leverage for better terms on that agreement, you know? Can''t help but wonder why you''d go to such lengths to deny yourself an advantage."


    "Don''t be daft. This meeting is about THEM wanting to buy stuff from us. If they are embarrassed, they will curtail the scope of their request out of pride. No one likes a condescending merchant." - I grumble at him - "Remember what king said yesterday? Honey before vinegar. It''s a good business policy in general, just so you know."


    "Isn''t getting the best price for your wares the core tenet of every merchant?" - he needles. OK, he either tries to figure out how well I''m heeled on the mercantile front, or he''s just stupid. Or thinks I am stupid, which is stupid in itself. I''m hoping it''s first, Marceu in the game was a right canny bastard.


    "Best price for wares does not necessarily mean best individual price on every single item." - I explain to him calmly - "Think about it. Suppose you have a chicken farm. It''s a big farm, you have things well considered, you can reliably grow a dozen of chicken each week to sell. Now, if you consider the price of feed, the salary of workers, the maintenance costs and everything, it costs you, say... six sols to raise a chicken. Now, you take them to market. You don''t have the time or inclination to sell them yourselves, so you take them to a merchant who has the poultry stall so they''d buy it wholesale and resell. Obviously, the merchant will sell them for a higher price than what they buy from you for, they need to have their own profit. With me so far?"


    Marceu nods cautiously. He seems to be actually interested in the example, and I can see Mihel paying some attention out of the corner of my eye.


    "Now, you have a choice in how to deal with the merchant. Primo, you can put your effort into maximizing item price, and get the merchant to pay you a gold for each chicken you sell. But he would only buy one chicken per week at that price. Secundo, you can offer your chicken at the bargain price of one ecu, but in that case merchant will buy your whole lot. In the first case, you get one gold at expense of six sols, leaving you with three ecu and six sols of pure profit. In the second case, you get twelve ecus at the expense of six ecus, leaving you with six ecus of pure profit. And in the first case you''re also saddled with eleven chickens that just aren''t good enough to sell for a gold. You''ll need to sell them for less, and this merchant is already feeling shafted over having to fork a whole gold for one chicken, so they won''t deal with you further, you''ll have to seek more merchants. There''s only so many merchants on the market who deal in poultry, and they talk to each other, as any colleagues would. If you get one of them annoyed at you, others will be wary of you and less likely to pay you a good price for your not so good chickens. That leaves you with the rivals of your first merchant. And trying to sell to both rivals in the same time? Yeah, well, if you are young and energetic and resilient, you might be able to put up with that hassle for a while. But it will get to be more trouble than it''s worth sooner than later." - I continue spinning the tale - "So... with that in mind, what are your options for maximizing your profits and minimizing your losses? Assume you can not utilize more than two chicken per week at most, there''s only so many times you can have chicken soup before you get sick of it, so any chicken over two that you don''t sell become a loss of six sols - no one wants old hens."


    He mulls over the problem for a bit. "I should be able to bargain for some happy medium." - he ventures then - "Two ecu per chicken, for example. Less than gold, more than just one ecu."


    "Ok. You made a bargain, the merchant agrees to buy four chickens from you. Keep in mind that the merchant has a budget too, and will not be able to buy even the most excellent chickens if you charge too much. In this case, your profits are eight ecus, your expenses are two ecus, leaving you with six ecu profit and eight more chickens to deal with. This merchant won''t buy more from you, he is already at his budget limits. Now what do? Stick with this, utilize as much of unsold chicken as you can stomach, and eat the three ecu loss, bringing you to three ecus of profit and being sick of chicken eventually? Look for another merchant to sell off the rest at a lower price?" - I suggest to him.


    "MMm, yes, I should first bargain with one who provides foods for high nobles and the royal court, sell the best chickens for the best price to him. Then sell the rest of chickens to merchants who peddle to commoners at bargain prices." - he concludes with a smile.


    "Very good. Incorrect, but good." - I praise him. He jerks up, blinking at me.


    "What do you mean, incorrect?" - Marceu demands hotly - "This is the best arrangement for getting the most profit out of this!"


    "Yes and no. See, Marceu, your problem is that you think as a merchant about this. You assume that dozen chicken a week is a constant that can not and will not be changed, and try to run math from that point. You need to account for the fact that supply is not a gods-given right. What if there''s a drought and you can''t buy enough feed to maintain your dozen a day pace? What if there''s a bountiful harvest and there''s so much chicken on the market that you have to lower the prices to get the merchants to buy at all?" - I suggest.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    His face creases. "OK, I understand the problem with drought. The natural consequence would be to raise the prices than to recoup the costs of feed. Same with harvest - if feed costs less, then naturally chicken price should also drop, unless I want someone else to undercut my bargain." - he admits - "How does this make my assessment incorrect, though? I agree that you can not set the price once and hold to it through summer and winter - it needs to reflect the current conditions, but the basics should remain the same. Sell the premium wares to high-roll merchants, sell the bargain wares to low-ball merchants."


    I chuckle. "Simple enough." - I tell him - "An application of ingenuity and investment can alter the supply by your whim. Imagine for a moment that you have devised a scheme that would allow you to raise much more chicken at your farm. You might have to cut some corners there, your chicken will be a bit fattier than what the market usually sells. But instead of dozen per week, you now throughput a gross per week, while keeping your expenses to maybe twice over what you paid for dozen per week the old way. Now you can afford to offer bulk chicken sales at, say, eight sols apiece, if the merchant you''re dealing with agrees to buy two dozens from you at once. They go for it, because while it''s a bit of an upfront investment over the budget, any merchant worth their salt has a reserve just for good bargains like this one, and once they sell the first bulk, they''d be able to consistently afford replacement shipments from you from all those profits. Now you are undercutting everyone on the market, because your throughput is much higher than theirs. Mass production. In the end, old way farmers all either sign up to work at your farm or buy a license from you for your method, and continue flooding the market with cheap chicken, or concentrate exclusively on raising superb chickens solely for high-roll merchants. Whereas you are controlling a good chunk of the low-ball market. Your profits are now through the roof, and you are essentially beyond competition unless competitor also uses your new method or improves upon it."


    His face slowly elongates and pales as he considers the suggestion. "This is..." - he trails off, thinking - "...I can''t decide whether that would earn you Kinov''s blessing or smiting. You DO realize that sharply increasing supply like this would flip the market over, right? Every merchant will want to buy from you, and every farmer would want to work for you or kill you for ruining their livelihood."


    "Indeed. Now, imagine you are smart enough to foresee this, and just as the market starts to tip, you start offering bails, buyouts and licenses to your competitors? Those who want can join the corporation, or receive a license for production methods at a discount. Or just have their stock bought out at good enough prices to set them up for trying their luck in a different craft." - I imply.


    "Hm. A country-wide authority on a singular product would be nice, so long as the house in charge could be counted on making the right decisions." - he hedges - "Late monsieur Konistan had attempted something similar with grain, and the results were... lukewarm."


    "That''s because he was a rank idiot." - I tell him bluntly - "He insisted all farmers under his aegis produce exactly the same sort of grain. Obviously, it created a shortage of other sorts and an overabundance of this one. Moreover, he insisted on dictating the prices at which the grain would be bought from farmers, and his prices were just a denier short of blatant robbery. Visit Grenwille sometime later, you''ll find the situation had changed a lot under my management."


    "...What do you mean, your management?" - he inquires slowly.


    "Huh, you don''t know? I bought out Konistan''s business wholesale. He was on his way to Mersaille to retire with a quite generous payment I offered him for everything he owns as a merchant, when he was slain by a brigand in a robbery gone tragically wrong. Everything he had and the stuff I started on my own or bought out is currently folded under the Northern Trading Incorporated." - I tell him, and he gapes like a fish. I see Mihel copying his expression over yonder.


    "YOU own that!?" - Marceu yelps, pawing at the chair''s armrests - "...Just... you... ugh!"


    Now''s my turn to be puzzled. Why is he acting like this is news? I did submit everything to Merchant Guild, Mihel should have been aware of this.


    "Ok. What is going on?" - I demand of both of them, turning to include Mihel into my line of sight - "I know for a fact that I have submitted the papers to the Merchant Guild in the most expeditious matter, my registration should by now be a matter of public record. Why are you acting like it''s complete news to you?"


    "...many apologies, but... I was just flabbergasted you''d marry Konistan for that. That man was vile, no matter how much he''d pretend to be a respectable merchant." - Marceu tells me with a grimace.


    "What do YOU mean, married." - I demand - "I BOUGHT the whole trading house from him, cash up front. No marriage of any sort was discussed, considered, agreed upon or enacted."


    He exchanges a helpless glance with his father. Mihel stands up with a sigh, and ambles to his cabin, coming back shortly thereafter with a thick ledger.


    "This is one of the guild registry copies." - he explains, as he cracks it open - "It contains a summary of every official registration or interaction that was conducted through the guild." His finger traces the dates back, until he points out one entry.


    "Northern Trading Incorporated, reregistration. ''Due to change of owner and overhaul, a name change was requested and granted. The old name "Konistan trading house", the new name "Northern Trading Incorporated". Registrar - XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX madame Konistan."


    He frowns, as he scratches at a large blotch after "registrar". "This is odd." - he mutters - "The name should have been written in full, not just the last name. And that blotch..." He continues leafing the registry backward, pointing out several more similar blotches followed by "madame Konistan". How interesting.


    "Go further back. There should be a registration for a shop "Sweet Dream"." - I request - "Let''s see if there was anything hinky with it."


    He continues turning pages, and sure enough, there is yet another blotch followed by "madame Konistan".


    "How very... interesting." - I drawl, as I consider the situation - "I''ll be honest, it does not look well for the guild. Let''s hope it was a case of grifter fooling whoever is responsible for filing this, not a case of willful cooperation."


    Mihel turns a jaundiced eye towards me - "That''s a serious accusation."


    I nod - "Quite. See, "Sweet Dream" was also registered as a cause for issuing my membership in the guild, and there is no mention of any transaction regarding this shop henceforth. So, either my personal entry in the guild membership had been also changed to "madame Konistan", in which case I will very literally eat the clerks of your guild with bean dip and red wine, or there exists an... inconsistency."


    It takes little time for Mihel to verify this much. "Gods damn it." - he grumbles, as he sees the pristine registration that DOES bear ''Opening of "Sweet Dream" shop'' in the notes explaining the issuance of privileged rank without prior membership - "Lady Gillespie, it seems that the Merchant Guild has done you wrong. You have my personal word that as soon as we return, whoever made the alterations will be surrendered into your custody."


    "Fair enough." - I agree - "We shall confer upon the results of interrogation to decide what to do from that point on. Was it an attack against me specifically, or just a part of some bigger effort to defraud the guild members? Is there any other registry entry regarding this madame Konistan?"


    "Lady Gillespie, as much as the guild had done you wrong, we can not surrender information about other members." - he objects.


    "I''m not asking to know what the interactions were, I''m asking you to check if there is anyone else or not." - I tell him, and after a brief stare-off, he breaks down and opens the registry again, scanning through it.


    "...No, it does not seem so. I believe whoever that is, they are targeting you personally." - Mihel finally offers, shutting the book.


    "Very well. I will deal with it once we get back." - I conclude - "But for now... Berlinger awaits."

 Interlude 10. Kraina Haps

    It''s been a long road home. Long, but surprisingly quick. Almost like he was some sort of noble. Ivan shook his head, peering at the letter given to him by lady Gillespie one more time. He already knew by heart what was written on it. "The holder of this letter is on an errand on my behalf. Give him all the assistance a lawful traveler is due in the kingdom of Champagne. Alyssa Gillespie.". Short, simple, to the point, and apparently more than enough to be permitted through any roadcheck ahead of everyone else. It did help that he was traveling alone, he surmised. One would expect that the letter would cease to be relevant outside of Champagne, but for some reason, Kraut men-at-arms had shown almost as much deference to it as their Champagne brethren. Ivan decided not to think about it too hard. After all, if his sister has someone SO powerful watching over her, it is good, isn''t it? In the Confederacy, the letter was not quite as powerful, obviously, but he had shown it to a couple guards and merchants on a lark, and their expressions and reactions DID imply they knew and respected the name on the paper. All in all, it was no little wonder that he made it back to Kraina in just under a month. Impressive, enviable, but no wonder. And now, as he was approaching the house his family lived in, Ivan smiled. As far as surprises go, his would be a good one.


    As the hooves of his horse struck the stone pavement near the porch, a woman stepped outside to see who''s coming. He was obviously not high on the list of likely visitors, given the expression.


    "<dfn title="Ivan, son... How... What happened, how did you get back already? What is going on?">?§Ó§Ñ§ß§å, §ã§Ú§ß§Ü§å... §Á§Ü §è§Ö §Ø... §»§à §Ø §è§Ö §â§à§Ò§Ú§ä§î§ã§ñ, §ñ§Ü §ä? §á§à§Ó§Ö§â§ß§å§Ó§ã§ñ §Ó§Ø§Ö? §»§à §ä§â§Ñ§á§Ú§Ý§à§ã§ñ?</dfn>" - she finally managed, visibly searching Ivan for possible wounds or other signs of misfortune. Having found none only worried her more, if the expression was of any indication.


    "<dfn title="I promised to come back quickly, mom. Did as I said.">§¯§å §ä§à §Ø §ñ §à§Ò?§è§ñ§Ó §ë§à §á§à§Ó§Ö§â§ß§å§ã§ñ §ß§Ñ§Û§ê§Ó§Ú§Õ§é?§ê§Ö, §Þ§Ñ§Þ§à. §Á§Ü §ã§Ü§Ñ§Ù§Ñ§Ó, §ä§Ñ§Ü ? §Ù§â§à§Ò§Ú§Ó.</dfn>" - he retorted, slipping off the saddle. Tossing the reins onto the peg next to the porch, he turned around and hugged his mother tightly - "<dfn title="All is fine, don''t worry. Call dad, I''ll tell you all about my journey.">§£§ã§Ö §Ô§Ñ§â§ß§à, §ß§Ö §ç§Ó§Ú§Ý§ð§Û§ã§ñ. §±§à§Ù§à§Ó§Ú §ä§Ñ§ä§Ü§å, §â§à§Ù§á§à§Ó?§Þ §á§â§à §ä§Ö §ñ§Ü §á§à§Õ§à§â§à§Ø§å§Ó§Ñ§Ó.</dfn>"


    In about an hour, his horse had been unladen, brushed down and given a nice hefty feedbag full of oats for her labors, and he himself had his face washed, fresh shirt on and munching down on a nice big bowl of pierogies with cherry stuffing. Something he sorely missed on the road. His father and his uncle sat across the table, mugs of kvass in their hands, while his two younger brothers sat on each side of him and pestered him with inane questions about the number of opponents he vanquished. Ivan shook his head at their nonsense. Mother was nearby, but she declined sitting at the table, instead busy preparing a second helping of perogies for the dinner.


    "<dfn title="Alright. Tell us, son, how did you travel, what did you find.">§¯§å §ä§à §ë§à. §¬§Ñ§Ø§Ú, §ã§Ú§ß§å, §ñ§Ü §á§à§Õ§à§â§à§Ø§å§Ó§Ñ§Ó, §ë§à §Ù§ß§Ñ§Û§ê§à§Ó.</dfn>" - his father began, his voice paced as always - "<dfn title="It is good you came back quickly. What about the money?">§±§à§Ó§Ö§â§ß§å§Ó§ã§ñ §ê§Ó§Ú§Õ§Ü§à, §è§Ö §Ô§Ñ§â§ß§à. §»§à §Ù §Ô§â§à§ê§Ú§Þ§Ñ?</dfn>"


    In lieu of answering, Ivan pulled out a sack of coins and placed it in the middle of the table with a clatter. Taras tilted his head curiously, as he took the bag and hefted it in his hand. "<dfn title="Weighty. That''s Champagne gold?">§£§Ñ§Ô§à§Þ§à. §£§ã§Ö §è§Ö §º§Ñ§Þ§á§Ñ§ß§ã§î§Ü§Ö §Ù§à§Ý§à§ä§à?</dfn>" - he mused, passing the bag over to Ivan''s uncle - "<dfn title="Vasil, count this please. I think there''s enough in the sack to cover what was stolen and some extra, but money loves count.">§£§Ñ§ã§Ú§Ý§î, §á§à§â§Ñ§ç§å§Û §Ò§å§Õ§î §Ý§Ñ§ã§Ü§Ñ. §©§Õ§Ñ?§ä§î§ã§ñ §Þ§Ö§ß? §ë§à §Ó §Þ?§ê§Ü§å §è?§Þ §Ó§Ú§ã§ä§Ñ§é§Ú§ä§î §ë§à§Ò §á§à§Ü§â§Ú§ä§Ú §ë§à §Ò§å§Ý§à §á§à§Ü§â§Ñ§Õ§Ö§ß§à §ä§Ñ §ë§Ö §Û §Ù§Ñ§Ý§Ú§ê§Ú§ä§î§ã§ñ, §Ñ§Ý§Ö §Ô§â§à§ê? §â§Ñ§ç§å§ß§à§Ü §á§à§Ý§ð§Ò§Ý§ñ§ð§ä§î.</dfn>"


    "<dfn title="Sorry to day, father, but I was unable to catch the thief Konistan.">§¯§Ñ §Ø§Ñ§Ý§î, §ä§Ñ§ä§å, §Ó§à§â§Ñ §¬§à§ß§Ú§ã§ä§Ñ§ß§Ñ §ñ §ä§Ñ§Ü ? §ß§Ö §ã§á?§Û§Þ§Ñ§Ó.</dfn>" - Ivan offered contritely - "<dfn title="When I finally arrived to Parsee, I found out that conman was killed by highwaymen. Though, just between us, I have a hunch it was assassins, because this crook seems to have been thieving from everywhere.">§¬§à§Ý§Ú §ñ §Õ§à§Ò§â§Ñ§Ó§ã§ñ §Õ§à §±§Ñ§â§ã§Ú§ñ, §Ó§Ú§ß§Ñ§Û§ê§à§Ó §ë§à §è§î§à§Ô§à §ê§Ñ§ç§â§Ñ§ð §â§à§Ù§Ò?§Û§ß§Ú§Ü§Ú §Ù§Ñ§â?§Ù§Ñ§Ý§Ú §á§à §Õ§à§â§à§Ù?. §±§â§à§Þ?§Ø §ß§Ñ§Þ§Ú §Ü§Ñ§Ø§å§é§Ú, §Ó§Ó§Ñ§Ø§Ñ§ð §ñ §ë§à §è§Ö §Ò§å§Ý§Ú §ß§Ö §â§à§Ù§Ò?§Û§ß§Ú§Ü§Ú, §Ñ §Ó§Ò§Ú§Ó§è?, §Ò§à §Ü§â§Ñ§Ó §è?§Û §à§ê§å§Ü§Ñ§ß§Ö§è§î §Ù§Ó?§Õ§ã§Ú §Ó§ã§ð§Õ§Ú.</dfn>"


    "<dfn title="Dog''s death to a dog.">§³§à§Ò§Ñ§è? - §ã§à§Ò§Ñ§é§Ñ §Ù§Ñ§Ô§Ú§Ò§Ö§Ý§î.</dfn>" - Taras summed it up - "<dfn title="So who gave you the money back?">§·§ä§à §Ø §ä§à§Ò? §Ô§â§à§ê? §ä§à §á§à§Ó§Ö§â§ß§å§Ó?</dfn>"


    "<dfn title="See, here''s the situation - Konistan was on the road for a reason. He pissed off count''s daughter and she had him chased out of Parsee.">§´§Ñ §ä§å§ä §Ò§Ñ§é §ñ§Ü§Ñ §ã§á§â§Ñ§Ó§Ñ - §¬§à§ß§Ú§ã§ä§Ñ§ß §ß§Ñ §Õ§à§â§à§Ù? §Ò§å§Ó §ß§Ö §Ñ§Ò§Ú §ñ§Ü. §£?§ß §â§à§Ù§Õ§â§Ñ§ä§å§Ó§Ñ§Ó §Ô§â§Ñ§æ§ã§î§Ü§å §Õ§à§ß§î§Ü§å ? §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §Û§à§Ô§à §Ó§Ú§Ø§Ö§ß§å§Ý§Ñ §Ù §±§Ñ§â§ã§Ú§ñ.</dfn>" - Ivan retorted - "<dfn title="I was directed to her when I was inquiring about Konistan. Her name is lady Alyssa Gillespie. Fine-looking but fearfully strong. I didn''t grasp the new situation properly first, began to shout, and she grabbed me by hand and promised to tie me to the ceiling unless I cool down. And I was unable to get my hand back until she let me go.">§®§Ö§ß§Ö §Õ§à §ß§Ö? §Ó?§Õ§á§â§Ñ§Ó§Ú§Ý§Ú, §Ü§à§Ý§Ú §ñ §â§à§Ù§á§Ú§ä§å§Ó§Ñ§Ó §ñ§Ü §¬§à§ß§Ú§ã§ä§Ñ§ß§Ñ §â§à§Ù§ê§å§Ü§Ñ§ä§Ú. §©§Ó§å§ä§î ?? §Ý§Ö§Õ? §¡§Ý§Ú§ã§Ñ §¤?§Ý§Ö§ã§á§Ñ§Û. §¤§Ñ§â§ß§Ñ, §Ñ§Ý§Ö §Ø §ã§ä§â§Ñ§ç?§ä§ß§à §ã§Ú§Ý§î§ß§Ñ. §Á §ã§á§à§é§Ñ§ä§Ü§å §ß§Ö §Ù§â§à§Ù§å§Þ?§Ó §â§à§Ù§Ü§Ý§Ñ§Õ§å, §á§à§é§Ñ§Ó ?§Ó§Ñ§Ý§ä §Ù§Õ?§Û§Þ§Ñ§ä§Ú, §Ñ §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §Þ§Ö§ß§Ö §Ù§Ñ §â§å§Ü§å §ã§ç§à§á§Ú§Ý§Ñ §ä§Ñ §á§à§à§Ò?§è§ñ§Ý§Ñ §Õ§à §ã§ä§Ö§Ý? §á§â§Ú§Ó''§ñ§Ù§Ñ§ä§Ú, §ñ§Ü§ë§à §ß§Ö §à§ç§à§Ý§à§ß§å. §´§Ñ §ñ §Ø ? §ß§Ö §ã§á§â§à§Þ?§Ô§ã§ñ §â§å§Ü§å §Ó?§Õ?§Ò§â§Ñ§ä§Ú §Õ§à§Ü§Ú §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §ã§Ñ§Þ§Ñ §ß§Ö §Ó?§Õ§á§å§ã§ä§Ú§Ý§Ñ.</dfn>"


    He was treated to quirked brows from his father and uncle, and hushed murmurs from his brothers. It was to be expected. Ivan had been by far the burliest man in the family. To hear that he could not yank his hand free from a girl''s grasp added a lot of weight to his assertion she was "fearfully strong".


    "<dfn title="A gal stronger then you? Alena, give Ivan more pierogies. Looks to me like he didn''t eat well on the road, if girls overpower him now.">§¥?§Ó§Ü§Ñ §ã§Ú§Ý§î§ß?§ê§Ñ §Ù§Ñ §ä§Ö§Ò§Ö? §¡§Ý§Ö§ß§Ñ, §Ñ §Õ§Ñ§Û-§ß§à ?§Ó§Ñ§ß§å §ë§Ö §Ó§Ñ§â§Ö§ß§Ú§Ü?§Ó. §©§Õ§Ñ?§ä§î§ã§ñ §Þ§Ö§ß? §ë§à §ß§Ö ?§Ó §Ó?§ß §Ó §Õ§à§â§à§Ù? §Õ§à§Ò§â§Ö, §ñ§Ü§ë§à §Õ?§Ó§Ü§Ú §Û§à§Ô§à §á§Ö§â§Ö§ã§Ú§Ý§ð§ð§ä§î.</dfn>" - Taras jested, weathering Ivan''s sulfurous grumbling in fine mettle - "<dfn title="Fine, fine. Joke''s over. So, what happened? Count''s daughter helped you get the money from this rapscallion?">§¥§à§Ò§â§Ö, §Õ§à§Ò§â§Ö. §±§à§Ø§Ñ§â§ä§å§Ó§Ñ§Ý§Ú §Û §Ô§à§Õ?. §´§à §ë§à §ä§â§Ñ§á§Ú§Ý§à§ã§î? §¤§â§Ñ§æ§ã§î§Ü§Ñ §Õ§à§ß§î§Ü§Ñ §Õ§à§á§à§Þ§à§Ô§Ý§Ñ §ä§à§Ò? §Ù§Õ§à§Ò§å§ä§Ú §Ô§â§à§ê? §Ó?§Õ §è§î§à§Ô§à §Ò§Ö§ê§Ü§Ö§ä§ß§Ú§Ü§å?</dfn>"


    "<dfn title="No. See, she not only kicked Konistan out, but also took over all that he had.">§¯?. §¢§Ñ§é, §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §ß§Ö §ä?§Ý§î§Ü§Ú §Ó§Ú§Ø§Ö§ß§å§Ý§Ñ §¬§à§ß§Ú§ã§ä§Ñ§ß§Ñ §Ù §Ô§à§â§à§Õ§å, §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §ë§Ö §Û §Ó?§Õ?§Ò§â§Ñ§Ý§Ñ §Ó§ã§Ö §ë§à §Ó?§ß §Þ§Ñ§Ó.</dfn>" - he clarified - "<dfn title="She has all of his ledgers. She looked through them, found out where our horses went, how much we wanted for them, everything about this business. Said she usually offers a choice between money Konistan owed or wares back, but since our horses are already in use by Grenwille farmers, she proposed money and added a tithe on top of the sum owed for our troubles. I decided it''s a fine agreement.">§£§à§ß§Ñ §Þ§Ñ? §Ó§ã? §Û§à§Ô§à §Ü§å§á§Ö§è§î§Ü? §Ü§ß§Ú§Ø§Ü§Ú. §£§à§ß§Ñ ?§ç §á§Ö§â§Ö§Ô§Ý§ñ§ß§å§Ý§Ñ, §Ù§ß§Ñ§Û§ê§Ý§Ñ §Õ§Ö §ß§Ñ§ê? §Ü§à§ß§Ú, §ñ§Ü§å §è?§ß§å §Þ§Ú §Ò§Ñ§Ø§Ñ§Ý§Ú, §Ó§ã§Ö §á§â§à §è§ð §ã§á§â§Ñ§Ó§å. §¬§Ñ§Ø§Ö §ë§à §Ù§Ó§Ú§é§Ñ§Û§ß§à §á§â§à§á§à§ß§å? §Ó§Ú§Ò?§â - §Ô§â§à§ê? §ë§à §¬§à§ß§Ú§ã§ä§Ñ§ß §Ò§å§Ó §Ó§Ú§ß§ß§Ú§Û §Ñ§Ò§à §á§à§Ó§Ö§â§ß§Ö§ß§ß§ñ §ä§à§Ó§Ñ§â§å, §Ñ§Ý§Ö §ß§Ñ§ê? §Ü§à§ß§Ú §Ó§Ø§Ö §Ó §â§à§Ò§à§ä? §å §Ù§Ö§Þ§Ý§Ö§â§à§Ò?§Ó §ß§Ñ §¤§â§Ö§ß§Ó§Ú§Ý§î§ë§Ú§ß?, ? §é§Ö§â§Ö§Ù §ä§Ö, §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §á§â§à§á§à§ß§å? §Ô§â§à§ê? §ä§Ñ §Õ§à§Õ§Ñ? §Õ§Ö§ã§ñ§ä§Ú§ß§å §Õ§à§Ô§à§â§Ú §Ù§Ñ §ß§Ñ§ê §Ü§Ý§à§á?§ä. §Á §Ó§Ú§â?§ê§Ú§Ó §ë§à §è§Ö §Ô§Ñ§â§ß§Ñ §å§Ô§à§Õ§Ñ ? §á§à§Ô§à§Õ§Ú§Ó§ã§ñ.</dfn>"


    "<dfn title="Tithe for our troubles, you say? Count bears it out.">§¥§Ö§ã§ñ§ä§Ú§ß§Ñ §Ù§Ñ §ß§Ñ§ê §Ü§Ý§à§á?§ä, §Ü§Ñ§Ø§Ö§ê? §©§Ô?§Õ§ß§à §â§Ñ§ç§å§ß§Ü§å, §ñ§Ü§ë§à §ä§Ñ§Ü.</dfn>" - Vasil murmured from his spot, sweeping stacks of ten coins into the sack one by one - "<dfn title="I think you did right. This lady owes us nothing by the law, so it''s very good luck she agreed to cover the damages caused by this tearaway.">§Á §Ó§Ó§Ñ§Ø§Ñ§ð §ë§à §ä§Ú §Ù§â§à§Ò§Ú§Ó §ñ§Ü §ã§Ý?§Õ. §¸§ñ §Ý§Ö§Õ? §ß§Ñ§Þ §Ó§Ù§Ñ§Ô§Ñ§Ý? §ß?§é§à§Ô§à §ß§Ö §Ó§Ú§ß§ß§Ñ, §á§à §Ù§Ñ§Ü§à§ß§å; §ä§Ö §ë§à §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §á§à§Ô§à§Õ§Ú§Ý§Ñ§ã§ñ §Ó?§Õ§ê§Ü§à§Õ§å§Ó§Ñ§ä§Ú §Ù§Ò§Ú§ä§Ü§Ú §Ù§Ñ§Ó§Õ§Ñ§ß? §è?§Þ §ê§Ñ§ç§â§Ñ?§Þ - §è§Ö §Ó§Ö§Ý§Ú§Ü§Ö §ë§Ñ§ã§ä§ñ.</dfn>"


    "<dfn title="I agree with Vasil, Ivan. You did good.">§Á §Ù§Ô?§Õ§ß§Ú§Û §Ù §£§Ñ§ã§Ú§Ý§Ö§Þ, ?§Ó§Ñ§ß§Ö. §´§Ú §Ù§â§à§Ò§Ú§Ó §ñ§Ü §ã§Ý?§Õ.</dfn>" - Taras offered, - "<dfn title="Alright, party in the evening? Money''s back, Ivan''s whole and healthy... Let''s tell the whole village thief got punished by gods and Ivan brought money back.">§¯§å §ë§à, §å§Ó§Ö§é§Ö§â? §Ô§å§Ý§ñ§Û§Þ§à? §¤§â§à§ê? §á§à§Ó§Ö§â§ß§å§Ý§Ú, ?§Ó§Ñ§ß §è?§Ý§Ú§Û §ä§Ñ §Ù§Õ§à§â§à§Ó§Ú§Û... §°§Ô§à§Ý§à§ã§Ú§Þ§à §å§ã§î§à§Þ§å §ã§Ö§Ý? §ë§à §ê§Ñ§ç§â§Ñ§ñ §Ò§à§Ô§Ú §á§à§Ü§Ñ§â§Ñ§Ý§Ú, §Ñ §Ô§â§à§ê? ?§Ó§Ñ§ß §á§à§Ó§Ö§â§ß§å§Ó.</dfn>"


    "<dfn title="Wait, father. Have something else to tell.">§³§ä§â§Ú§Ó§Ñ§Û, §Ò§Ñ§ä§î§Ü§à. §®§Ñ§ð §ë§Ö §ë§à§ã§î §â§à§Ù§á§à§Ó?§ã§ä§Ú.</dfn>" - Ivan offered somberly - "<dfn title="Mom, sit down please, listen as well.">§®§Ñ§Þ§à, §ã?§Õ§Ñ§Û §Ò§å§Õ§î §Ý§Ñ§ã§Ü§Ñ, §á§à§ã§Ý§å§ç§Ñ§Û §ä§Ö§Ø.</dfn>"


    His mother moved to object, but something in his expression stopped her. She pulled up a stool and sat down, suddenly feeling very vary and apprehensive. Ivan nodded, sighed... and began speaking.


    "<dfn title="In Parsee, I met Roxolane.">§µ §±§Ñ§â§ã§Ú§Ú, §ñ §Ù§å§ã§ä§â?§Ó §²§à§Ü§ã§à§Ý§Ñ§ß§å.</dfn>" - he forged on, trying to get over with the news as soon as possible - "<dfn title="She''s attending Parsee Academy and didn''t want to come back with me, but she promised to visit us the next summer. She wrote a letter about everything that happened, but in short - lady Gillespie and Oija Sultan are enemies, and Roxolane lucked out to be rescued when lady Gillespie raided sultan''s palace.">§£§à§ß§Ñ §Ó?§Õ§Ó?§Õ§Ñ? §±§Ñ§â§ã§Ú§Û§ã§î§Ü§å §¡§Ü§Ñ§Õ§Ö§Þ?§ð ? §ß§Ö §Ù§Ñ§Ò§Ñ§Ø§Ñ§Ý§Ñ §á§à§Ó§Ö§â§ä§Ñ§ä§Ú§ã§ñ §Ù? §Þ§ß§à§ð, §Ñ§Ý§Ö §Ø §á§à§à§Ò?§è§ñ§Ý§Ñ §Ó?§Õ§Ó?§Õ§Ñ§ä§Ú §ß§Ñ§ã §ß§Ñ§ã§ä§å§á§ß§Ú§Þ §Ý?§ä§à§Þ. §£§à§ß§Ñ §ß§Ñ§á§Ú§ã§Ñ§Ý§Ñ §Ý§Ú§ã§ä§å §á§â§à §ä§Ö §ë§à §Ù §ß§Ö§ð §ä§â§Ñ§á§Ú§Ý§à§ã§ñ, §Ñ§Ý§Ö §Ø §Ó §Õ§Ó§Ñ §ã§Ý§à§Ó§Ñ - §Ý§Ö§Õ? §¤?§Ý§Ö§ã§á§Ñ§Û §ä§Ñ §ã§å§Ý§ä§Ñ§ß §°?§Ø?§Û§ã§î§Ü§Ú§Û §Ó§à§â§à§Ô§å§ð§ä§î, ? §²§à§Ü§ã§à§Ý§Ñ§ß? §á§à§ë§Ñ§ã§ä§Ú§Ý§à §Ò§å§ä§Ú §Ó§â§ñ§ä§à§Ó§Ñ§ß?§Û §Ù §ã§å§Ý§ä§Ñ§ß§ã§î§Ü§à§Ô§à §á§à§Ý§à§ß§å §Ü§à§Ý§Ú §Ý§Ö§Õ? §¤?§Ý§Ö§ã§á§Ñ§Û §á?§ê§Ý§Ñ §Ó §ß§Ñ§Ý?§ä §ß§Ñ §ã§å§Ý§ä§Ñ§ß§ã§î§Ü§Ú§Û §á§Ñ§Ý§Ñ§è.</dfn>"


    His mother immediately began crying, while his brothers shouted one over the other demanding details from Ivan. Finally, Taras slammed his fist on the table, making the boys quiet down.


    "<dfn title="Both of you shut up!">§¡ §ß§å §à§Ò§Ú§Õ§Ó§Ñ §ã§ä§å§Ý§Ú§Ý§Ú §á§Ö§Ý§î§Ü§Ú!</dfn>" - he shouted - "<dfn title="Ivan, you oak log, why did you not start from this!?">?§Ó§Ñ§ß§Ö, §á§à§Ý?§ß§à §ä§Ú §Õ§å§Ò§à§Ó§Ö, §é§à§Þ§å §Ø §ä§Ú §ß§Ö §â§à§Ù§á§à§é§Ñ§Ó §Ù §è§î§à§Ô§à!?</dfn>"


    Ivan winced. This was the awkward part of it. "<dfn title="Didn''t know how to tell, dad. See, the thing is - Roxolane is in love with lady Gillespie and wants to marry. When I met them, well, it looked like they already married. Without your permission.">§¯§Ö §Ù§ß§Ñ§Ó §ñ§Ü §Ü§Ñ§Ù§Ñ§ä§Ú, §ä§Ñ§ä§å. §´§å§ä §Ò§Ñ§é §ñ§Ü§Ñ §ã§á§â§Ñ§Ó§Ñ - §²§à§Ü§ã§à§Ý§Ñ§ß§Ñ §Ù§Ñ§Ü§à§ç§Ñ§Ý§Ñ§ã§ñ §å §Ý§Ö§Õ? §¤?§Ý§Ö§ã§á§Ñ§Û §ä§Ñ §Ò§Ñ§Ø§Ñ? §á§à§Ò§â§Ñ§ä§Ú§ã§ñ. §¬§à§Ý§Ú §ñ ?§ç §Ù§å§ã§ä§â?§Ó, §ß§å... §Þ§Ö§ß? §Ù§Õ§Ñ§Ý§à§ã§ñ §ë§à §Ó§à§ß§Ú §Ó§Ø§Ö §á§à§Ò§â§Ñ§Ý§Ú§ã§ñ. §¢§Ö§Ù §ä§Ó§à§Ô§à §Õ§à§Ù§Ó§à§Ý§å.</dfn>" - he explained - "<dfn title="We quarreled a bit over that.">§®§Ú §á§à§ã§Ó§Ñ§â§Ú§Ý§Ú§ã§ñ §ä§â§à§ç§Ú §é§Ö§â§Ö§Ù §è§Ö.</dfn>" He took a look at father''s stormy face and raised his hands placatingly immediately - "<dfn title="We made up right after, dad, honest. She didn''t know if anyone of us is even alive when she got rescued...">§´§Ñ §Ó?§Õ§â§Ñ§Ù§å §Ø §Ù§Ñ§Þ§Ú§â§Ú§Ý§Ú§ã§ñ, §ä§Ñ§ä§å, §é§Ö§ã§ß§à. §£§à§ß§Ñ §Ø §ß§Ö §Ù§ß§Ñ§Ý§Ñ §é§Ú §Ý§Ú§ê§Ú§Ó§ã§ñ §ç§ä§à §Ù §ß§Ñ§ã §Ø§Ú§Ó§Ú§Û, §Ü§à§Ý§Ú ?? §Ó§â§ñ§ä§å§Ó§Ñ§Ý§Ú...</dfn>"


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Taras had a complicated expression on his face, as he mulled over the situation. "<dfn title="That... So... Quite a situation... Loves a girl, you say?... Count''s daughter... That rescued her from the sultan...">§°§ä§Ñ§Ü§Ö §Ø... §¯§å... §°§ä §Ø§Ö §Ø §à§Ü§Ñ§Ù?§ñ... §±§à§Ý§ð§Ò§Ý§ñ? §Õ?§Ó§Ü§å, §Ü§Ñ§Ø§Ö§ê?.. §¤§â§Ñ§æ§ã§î§Ü§å §Õ§à§ß§î§Ü§å... §»§à ?? §Ó?§Õ §ã§å§Ý§ä§Ñ§ß§å §Ó§â§ñ§ä§å§Ó§Ñ§Ý§Ñ...</dfn>" - he muttered aloud - "<dfn title="Weird news. Don''t even know what to do. On one hand, a woman with a woman - that''s really peculiar. Moreso, without permission. On the other, love''s a complicated thing... And if she marries, she''ll be a noble, have everything she ever wants... Darn, I need a drink to deal with this. Alena, bring out vodka and three cups. Ivan, recall everything you know about this lady. What kind of girl is she? Will she be good to Roxolane or not?">§°§ä §è§Ö §ß§à§Ó§Ú§ß§Ú. §¯§Ö §Ù§ß§Ñ§ð §ë§à §Û §â§à§Ò§Ú§ä§Ú. §© §à§Õ§ß§à§Ô§à §Ü§â§Ñ§ð, §Ø?§ß§Ü§Ñ §Ù §Ø?§ß§Ü§à§ð - §è§Ö §Õ§å§Ø§Ö §é§å§Õ§Ö§â§ß§Ñ§è§î§Ü§à. §»§Ö §Û §Ò§Ö§Ù §Õ§à§Ù§Ó§à§Ý§å. §© ?§ß§ê§à§Ô§à - §Ü§à§ç§Ñ§ß§ß§ñ §ã§á§â§Ñ§Ó§Ñ §ã§Ü§Ý§Ñ§Õ§ß§Ñ... ? §ñ§Ü§ë§à §á§à§Ò§Ö§â§Ö§ä§î§ã§ñ §ä§à §á§Ñ§ß§ß§à§ð §Ò§å§Õ§Ö, §Þ§Ñ§ä§Ú§Þ§Ö §Ó§ã§Ö §ë§à §Ù§Ñ§Ò§Ñ§Ø§Ñ?... §¯?, §è§ð §ã§á§â§Ñ§Ó§å §Ò§Ö§Ù §é§Ñ§â§Ü§Ú §ß§Ö §â§à§Ù§á§Ý§å§ä§Ñ§ä§Ú. §¡§Ý§Ö§ß§à, §Ñ §ß§å §Õ?§ã§ä§Ñ§Ó§Ñ§Û §Ô§à§â?§Ý§Ü§å §ä§Ñ §ä§â§Ú §é§Ñ§â§Ü§Ú. §¡ §ä§Ú, ?§Ó§Ñ§ß§Ö, §Ù§Ô§Ñ§Õ§å§Û §Ó§ã§Ö §ë§à §á§Ñ§Þ''§ñ§ä§Ñ?§ê §Ù§Ñ §è§ð §Ý§Ö§Õ?. §»§à §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §Ù§Ñ §Õ?§Ó§Ü§Ñ? §¹§Ú §Ò§å§Õ§Ö §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §Õ§à§Ò§â§Ñ §Õ§à §²§à§Ü§ã§à§Ý§Ñ§ß§Ú, §é§Ú §ß??</dfn>"


    A few minutes later, the table had been cleaned off and set afresh. A sizable bottle of hard liquor surrounded by four cups. Apparently, Alena decided she needs some liquid fortification herself, if she were to process the news regarding her daughter. Vodka had been poured out into four cups, which were lifted and emptied immediately.


    "<dfn title="Haaa!">§·§Ñ§Ñ§Ñ!...</dfn>" - Ivan drew a long breath, as he set the cup down. Reaching out, he grabbed a slice of bread laden with smoked lard slices and chopped onion and took a hefty bite out of it, tamping down the liquor. Thus fortified, he began - "<dfn title="What kind of girl is lady Gillespie? Complicated question. Looks pretty, speaks well, understands Krainian. People in Parsee have a lot to say about her. Has her own shops all over Champagne, made many new things to sell, considered one of the richest nobles in the capital. Other rumors say she''s favored by the king. And that she''s a capable witch. And that she has a short fuse, one step from argument to brawl.">§»§à §Ù§Ñ §Õ?§Ó§Ü§Ñ §Ý§Ö§Õ? §¤?§Ý§Ö§ã§á§Ñ§Û? §³§Ü§Ý§Ñ§Õ§ß§Ö §á§Ú§ä§Ñ§ß§ß§ñ. §£§Ú§Ô§Ý§ñ§Õ§Ñ? §Ô§Ñ§â§ß§à, §Ü§Ñ§Ø§Ö §ã§Ü§Ý§Ñ§Õ§ß§à, §â§à§Ù§å§Þ?? §®§à§Ó§å. §­§ð§Õ§Ú §Ó §±§Ñ§â§ã?? §Ü§Ñ§Ø§å§ä§î §á§â§à §ß§Ö? §Ò§Ñ§Ô§Ñ§ä§à. §®§Ñ? §Ó§Ý§Ñ§ã§ß? §Ü§â§Ñ§Þ§ß§Ú§è? §á§à §Ó§ã?§Û §º§Ñ§Þ§á§Ñ§ß?, §ã§ä§Ó§à§â§Ú§Ý§Ñ §Ò§Ö§Ù§Ý?§é §ß§à§Ó§Ú§ç §â§Ö§é§Ö§Û §ß§Ñ §á§â§à§Õ§Ñ§Ø, §Ó§Ó§Ñ§Ø§Ñ?§ä§î§ã§ñ §à§Õ§ß§à§ð §Ù §ß§Ñ§Û§Ò§Ñ§Ô§Ñ§ä§ê§Ú§ç §á§Ñ§ß§ß §å §ã§ä§à§Ý§Ú§è?. §¬§Ñ§Ø§å§ä§î §ë§à §å §æ§Ñ§Ó§à§â? §Ü§à§â§à§Ý?§Ó§ã§î§Ü§à§Þ§å. §»§Ö §Ü§Ñ§Ø§å§ä§î §ë§à §Ù§ß§Ñ§ä§ß§Ñ §é§Ñ§Ü§Ý§å§ß§Ü§Ñ. §»§Ö §Ü§Ñ§Ø§å§ä§î §ë§à §Þ§Ñ? §Ù§Ñ§á§Ñ§Ý§î§ß§å §ß§Ñ§ä§å§â§å, §à§ä §ã§Ó§Ñ§â§Ú §Õ§à §Ò?§Û§Ü§Ú §à§Õ§Ú§ß §Ü§â§à§Ü.</dfn>"


    Taras frowned. "<dfn title="So... Rich, powerful, strong, clever, pretty... but quick to smack someone down, that''s what people tell? Very well. What are your own thoughts on her?">§´§à§Ò§ä§à... §¢§Ñ§Ô§Ñ§ä§Ñ, §Ù§ß§Ñ§ä§ß§Ñ, §ã§Ú§Ý§î§ß§Ñ, §â§à§Ù§å§Þ§ß§Ñ, §Ô§Ñ§â§ß§Ñ... §Ñ§Ý§Ö §Ø §ê§Ó§Ú§Õ§Ü§Ñ §Õ§Ñ§ä§Ú §á§Ý§ð§ç§Ñ§ß§Ñ, §à§è§Ö §á§â§à §ß§Ö? §Ü§Ñ§Ø§å§ä§î? §¯§å §Õ§à§Ò§â§Ö. §¡ §ä§Ú §ã§Ñ§Þ §á§â§à §ß§Ö? §ë§à §Þ?§â§Ü§å?§ê?</dfn>" - he offered thoughtfully.


    "<dfn title="They''re telling the truth. Except she doesn''t start brawls. When we quarreled, she gave me a piece of coal and said I''m too weak to listen to if I can''t break it. I got angry, started to break it. Broke it in halves. Shouted I have enough strength. She took another piece and smashed it with her hands.">§£§ã§Ö §ë§à §Ü§Ñ§Ø§å§ä§î - §ä§Ñ§Ü ? ?. §¡§Ý§Ö §Ò?§Û§Ü§å §á§Ö§â§ê§à§ð §ß§Ö §á§à§é§Ú§ß§Ñ?. §¬§à§Ý§Ú §Þ§Ú §ã§Ó§Ñ§â§Ú§Ý§Ú§ã§ñ, §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §Õ§Ñ§Ý§Ñ §Þ§Ö§ß? §Ü§å§ã§Ö§ß§î §Ó§å§Ô?§Ý§Ý§ñ, §Ü§Ñ§Ø§å§é§Ú §ë§à §ñ§Ü §ñ §Û§à§Ô§à §ß§Ö §â§à§Ù§Ý§Ñ§Þ§Ñ§ð, §ä§à §ñ §Ù§Ñ§ß§Ñ§Õ§ä§à §ã§Ý§Ñ§Ò§Ü§Ú§Û §ë§à§Ò §ã§Ý§å§ç§Ñ§ä§Ú. §Á... §â§à§Ù§Õ§â§Ñ§ä§å§Ó§Ñ§Ó§ã§ñ, §á§à§é§Ñ§Ó §Ý§Ñ§Þ§Ñ§ä§Ú. §²§à§Ù§Ý§Ñ§Þ§Ñ§Ó §ß§Ñ§á?§Ó§Ü§Ú. §¤§Ñ§â§Ü§ß§å§Ó §ë§à §Ó§Õ§à§ã§ä§Ñ§Ý§î §ã§Ú§Ý§î§ß§Ú§Û. §£§à§ß§Ñ §å§Ù§ñ§Ý§Ñ §ë§Ö §Ü§å§ã§Ö§ß§î §ä§Ñ §Û §â§à§Ù§ä§â§à§ë§Ú§Ý§Ñ §Û§à§Ô§à §â§å§Ü§Ñ§Þ§Ú.</dfn>" - Ivan offered, thinking back to it - "<dfn title="And not just one. She kept smashing coal while we were talking. Said that''s the difference between strong and normal. No idea what to think about it. When I broke it, I had two pieces of coal. When she smashes it, she hits it so hard it turns into some kind of crystal. Maybe it''s magic, but I still have those crystals...">§´§Ñ §ß§Ö §à§Õ§Ú§ß. §´§â§à§ë§Ú§Ý§Ñ §Ó§å§Ô?§Ý§Ý§ñ §Õ§à§Ü§Ú §Þ§Ú §â§à§Ù§Þ§à§Ó§Ý§ñ§Ý§Ú. §³§Ü§Ñ§Ù§Ñ§Ý§Ñ §ë§à §è§Ö §â?§Ù§ß§Ú§è§ñ §Þ?§Ø §ã§Ú§Ý§î§ß§Ú§Þ §ä§Ñ §Ù§Ó§Ú§é§Ñ§Û§ß§Ú§Þ. §Á §ß§Ö §Ù§ß§Ñ§ð §ë§à §à §è?§Þ §Ó§Ó§Ñ§Ø§Ñ§ä§Ú. §¬§à§Ý§Ú §ñ §Ó§å§Ô?§Ý§Ý§ñ §Ý§Ñ§Þ§Ñ§Ó, §à§ä§â§Ú§Þ§Ñ§Ó §Õ§Ó§Ñ §Ü§å§ã§ß§ñ §Ó§å§Ô?§Ý§Ý§ñ. §¬§à§Ý§Ú §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §Ó§å§Ô?§Ý§Ý§ñ §ä§â§à§ë§Ú§ä§î, §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §Û§à§Ô§à §ä§Ñ§Ü §ã§ä§å§ã§Ñ? §ë§à §Ó?§ß §Ó §Ü§â§Ú§ã§ä§Ñ§Ý §ñ§Ü§Ú§Û§ã§î §á§Ö§â§Ö§ä§Ó§à§â§ð?§ä§î§ã§ñ. §®§à§Ø§Ö §è§Ö §é§Ñ§Ü§Ý§å§ß§ã§ä§Ó§à, §Ñ§Ý§Ö §Ø §ñ §ë§Ö §Þ§Ñ§ð §ä? §Ü§â§Ú§ã§ä§Ñ§Ý§Ú...</dfn>"


    He pulled out the small baggy and shook it open, letting half a dozen crystals roll across the table. Vasil blinked at those. He stretched his hand, picked one of the shards, fingered it thoughtfully... looked through it at the window. Picked up the bottle, pressed the crystal against the neck and dragged it. Everyone winced at the loud scrape, and gaped when the neck of the bottle came out cleanly marked with a groove.


    "<dfn title="That''s diamonds.">...§¸§Ö §Õ?§Ñ§Þ§Ñ§ß§ä§Ú.</dfn>" - he breathed incredulously - "<dfn title="DIAMONDS!... From coal? That''s insane. How can a coal be a diamond?... But...">§¥?§¡§®§¡§¯§´§ª!... §© §Ó§å§Ô?§Ý§Ý§ñ? §¸§Ö §Ò§à§Ø§Ö§Ó?§Ý§Ý§ñ. §Á§Ü §Ó§å§Ô?§Ý§Ý§ñ §Þ§à§Ø§Ö §Ò§å§ä§Ú §Õ?§Ñ§Þ§Ñ§ß§ä§à§Þ?... §¡§Ý§Ö §Ø...</dfn>" He trailed off, looking at the rough diamonds incredulously.


    "<dfn title="Wait, Vasil. What diamonds?">§³§ä§â§Ú§Ó§Ñ§Û, §£§Ñ§ã§Ú§Ý§ð. §Á§Ü? §Õ?§Ñ§Þ§Ñ§ß§ä§Ú?</dfn>" - Taras objected thoughtfully.


    Vasil picked up the gems one by one, testing them on the bottle, slowly covering it with grooves. The rest of family watched him in bedazzled confusion. "<dfn title="...That''s all diamonds. She gave you a bag of diamonds.">...§¸§Ö §Ó§ã§Ö §Õ?§Ñ§Þ§Ñ§ß§ä§Ú. §£§à§ß§Ñ §ä§à§Ò? §á§à§Õ§Ñ§â§å§Ó§Ñ§Ý§Ñ §Þ?§ê§Ö§é§à§Ü §Õ?§Ñ§Þ§Ñ§ß§ä?§Ó.</dfn>" - he giggled a little hysterically, unable to contain his incredulous elation - "<dfn title="That''s enough to buy our whole village three times over and we''ll still have enough for a party after.">§°§è§î§à§Ô§à §Ó§Ú§ã§ä§Ñ§é§Ú§ä§Ú §ë§à§Ò §Ü§å§á§Ú§ä§Ú §Ó§ã§Ö §ß§Ñ§ê§Ö §ã§Ö§Ý§à §ä§â§Ú §â§Ñ§Ù§Ú §ä§Ñ §ë§Ö §Û §ß§Ñ §Ô§å§Ý§ñ§ß§Ü§å §à§á?§ã§Ý§ñ §Ù§Ñ§Ý§Ú§ê§Ú§ä§î§ã§ñ.</dfn>"


    "<dfn title="Damn! Cunning, too. Ivan, show all your presents. Bet you a tooth, there are more surprises in there.">...§°§ä§Ñ§Ü§Ö! §»§Ö §Û §ç§Ú§ä§â§Ñ. §¡ §ß§å ?§Ó§Ñ§ß§Ö, §Ü§Ñ§Ø§Ú §Ó§ã§Ö §ë§à §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §ä§à§Ò? §á§à§Õ§Ñ§â§å§Ó§Ñ§Ý§Ñ. §©§å§Ò §Õ§Ñ§ð, §Ó §á§à§Õ§Ñ§â§å§ß§Ü§Ñ§ç §ë§Ö §á§â§Ú§Ô§à§Õ§Ú.</dfn>" - Taras demanded, grinning. He was obviously getting warmed up to the idea, Ivan remarked to himself, as he stepped away from his seat to bring out the sabre he got delivered right before his departure. It came with a note "A little something-something in case you find trouble on the road.". He didn''t, but now he was wondering if he maybe should have at the very least examined the sword instead of just shrugging and hanging it to his belt. But he was emotionally wrung after that meeting in Parsee, and so the sabre was overlooked initially, and after that he got so used to it being there, he really didn''t think much about it. Traveling armed was common sense, really.


    As he brought the sabre back to the table, he started pulling it out of the scabbard the first time... only to freeze and stare incredulously as the first few fingers of the blade revealed a wavy pattern he couldn''t confuse with anything else. Given how every man at the table hopped to their feet in the same time, they saw and thought the same. With trembling hands, Ivan pulled the blade out, howling in his mind about the sheer injustice of the world. How could he have a sabre made out of legendary ripple steel and never even pull it out of the scabbard before now?


    Taras extended his hand and touched the blade reverently. That... would be a family heirloom. There was simply no other way to handle having a legend-worthy sword other than this. He was so preoccupied with marveling at the subtle light play across the ripple that he ignored Ivan staggering back and outside. His attention was forcibly drawn, however, when his eldest stumbled back, carrying a fairly sizable pack, which was dumped on the table and the rope holding it together slit almost viciously. What appeared from under the rough fabric made his heart skip a beat. He gingerly stretched his hand, picking up the smaller package that had his name painted on it somehow. Slowly, he cut the rope, and unwrapped the fabric reverently. What he saw within was a beautiful flanged mace, again made out of ripple steel. A small note came with it. "It seemed fitting for a head of the family."


    Pulling his eyes from the priceless gift, Taras looked around. Vasil was holding a sabre, much like Ivan''s and stroked his fingers along the length of the blade, almost as if afraid it would suddenly melt in his hands. Boys meanwhile had found a package addressed to them both and were doing their best to pull the ropes off. Clicking his tongue, Taras assisted. This one contained two nice curved knives, yet again in ripple steel and a note "Knives for boys. We''ll get you sabres once you''re all grown up.". Piotr and Mykola were not some rubes, they heard plenty of stories about legendary wavy steel. And now, they were owners of very expensive and rare knives, and well cognizant of the fact. It would go without saying the two would be the envy of every boy in the village. Not that anyone would try to steal those. Rare weapons tended to be very distinct, after all.


    Perhaps the oddest thing here, however, was that Alena was also holding a package with her name on it. A compact one, but seemingly pretty hefty. Taras shook his head. He just HAD to see what kind of gift the lady in question thought to be appropriate for his wife. Gently plucking the package from her hands, Taras slit the rope, and unfurled it, laying out a... huh. It was, just as he expected, made out of ripple steel. And some kind of wood, in rich brown color. The note said "I''ve been told you''re not into fighting, so I sent a pepper mill." He translated the note for Alena, who had picked up her gift and was looking on it in befuddlement.


    "<dfn title="Pepper mill?">§®§Ö§Ý§î§ß§Ú§é§Ü§Ñ §Õ§Ý§ñ §á§Ö§â§è§ð?</dfn>" - she repeated incredulously - "<dfn title="Where am I supposed to find pepper?">§¥§Ö §Ø §ñ §á§Ö§â§è§ð §ä§à §Ù§ß§Ñ§Û§Õ§å?</dfn>" She nudged the handle, fully expecting it to just swing, and was startled when a few crumbs fell out from the mill on her hand with a grinding sound. Her eyes widening, she sniffed at it, and sneezed heartily, looking at the pepper mill with wide eyes. Taras exchanged glances with his wife. Both he and she could read the message between the lines very well. No one sent gifts so expensive as mere pleasantries. Honestly, any of the items were valuable enough to be considered a suitable bride price all by itself. Having each member of the family being gifted one... That implied SERIOUS intentions. And if Roxolane herself was in favor, well... He glanced at Vasil, who was clearly thinking along the same line, then his eye stopped on the boys.


    "<dfn title="Petro, Mykola. It seems like your sister is really serious about wanting to marry lady Gillespie. What do you think?">§±§Ö§ä§â§à, §®§Ú§Ü§à§Ý§Ñ. §©§Õ§Ñ?§ä§î§ã§ñ §Þ§Ö§ß? §ë§à §Ó§Ñ§ê§Ñ §ã§Ö§ã§ä§â§Ñ §ã§á§â§Ñ§Ó§Ø§ß? §Ò§Ñ§Ø§Ñ? §á§à§Ò§â§Ñ§ä§Ú§ã§ñ §Ù §Ý§Ö§Õ? §¤?§Ý§Ö§ã§á§Ñ§Û. §£§Ñ§ê? §Õ§å§Þ§Ü§Ú?</dfn>" - Taras had offered. Really, they were the last to give an opinion. Ivan had already accepted the situation, and upon seeing the facts, other adults were inclined to accept it as well. Which left the kids.


    Boys looked at each other. "<dfn title="Two sisters?">§¥§Ó? §ã§Ö§ã§ä§â§Ú?</dfn>" - "<dfn title="Agreed!">§©§Ô§à§Õ§Ñ!</dfn>"


    Ivan cleared his throat awkwardly. "<dfn title="Five sisters.">§±''§ñ§ä§î §ã§Ö§ã§ä§Ö§â.</dfn>" - he corrected, swallowing - "<dfn title="I forgot something. Roxolane gave me a magic amulet, we can talk to her through it.">§Á §ë§à§ã§î §Ù§Ñ§Ò§å§Ó. §²§à§Ü§ã§à§Ý§Ñ§ß§Ñ §Õ§Ñ§Ý§Ñ §Þ§Ö§ß? §Ù§Ñ§é§Ñ§â§à§Ó§Ñ§ß§Ú§Û §à§Ò§Ö§â?§Ô, §é§Ö§â§Ö§Ù §ß§î§à§Ô§à §Þ§Ú §Þ§à§Ø§Ö§Þ§à §à§Ò§Ô§à§Ó§à§â§Ú§ä§Ú §Ó§ã§Ö §Ù §²§à§Ü§ã§à§Ý§Ñ§ß§à§ð.</dfn>"


    In the silence that followed, the sound of Taras smacking Ivan upside the head was especially poignant.

 Interlude 10. Kraina Haps (translated)

    It''s been a long road home. Long, but surprisingly quick. Almost like he was some sort of noble. Ivan shook his head, peering at the letter given to him by lady Gillespie one more time. He already knew by heart what was written on it. "The holder of this letter is on an errand on my behalf. Give him all the assistance a lawful traveler is due in the kingdom of Champagne. Alyssa Gillespie.". Short, simple, to the point, and apparently more than enough to be permitted through any roadcheck ahead of everyone else. It did help that he was traveling alone, he surmised. One would expect that the letter would cease to be relevant outside of Champagne, but for some reason, Kraut men-at-arms had shown almost as much deference to it as their Champagne brethren. Ivan decided not to think about it too hard. After all, if his sister has someone SO powerful watching over her, it is good, isn''t it? In the Confederacy, the letter was not quite as powerful, obviously, but he had shown it to a couple guards and merchants on a lark, and their expressions and reactions DID imply they knew and respected the name on the paper. All in all, it was no little wonder that he made it back to Kraina in just under a month. Impressive, enviable, but no wonder. And now, as he was approaching the house his family lived in, Ivan smiled. As far as surprises go, his would be a good one.


    As the hooves of his horse struck the stone pavement near the porch, a woman stepped outside to see who''s coming. He was obviously not high on the list of likely visitors, given the expression.


    "Ivan, son... How... What happened, how did you get back already? What is going on?" - she finally managed, visibly searching Ivan for possible wounds or other signs of misfortune. Having found none only worried her more, if the expression was of any indication.


    "I promised to come back quickly, mom. Did as I said." - he retorted, slipping off the saddle. Tossing the reins onto the peg next to the porch, he turned around and hugged his mother tightly - "All is fine, don''t worry. Call dad, I''ll tell you all about my journey."


    In about an hour, his horse had been unladen, brushed down and given a nice hefty feedbag full of oats for her labors, and he himself had his face washed, fresh shirt on and munching down on a nice big bowl of pierogies with cherry stuffing. Something he sorely missed on the road. His father and his uncle sat across the table, mugs of kvass in their hands, while his two younger brothers sat on each side of him and pestered him with inane questions about the number of opponents he vanquished. Ivan shook his head at their nonsense. Mother was nearby, but she declined sitting at the table, instead busy preparing a second helping of perogies for the dinner.


    "Alright. Tell us, son, how did you travel, what did you find." - his father began, his voice paced as always - "It is good you came back quickly. What about the money?"


    In lieu of answering, Ivan pulled out a sack of coins and placed it in the middle of the table with a clatter. Taras tilted his head curiously, as he took the bag and hefted it in his hand. "Weighty. That''s Champagne gold?" - he mused, passing the bag over to Ivan''s uncle - "Vasil, count this please. I think there''s enough in the sack to cover what was stolen and some extra, but money loves count."


    "Sorry to day, father, but I was unable to catch the thief Konistan." - Ivan offered contritely - "When I finally arrived to Parsee, I found out that conman was killed by highwaymen. Though, just between us, I have a hunch it was assassins, because this crook seems to have been thieving from everywhere."


    "Dog''s death to a dog." - Taras summed it up - "So who gave you the money back?"


    "See, here''s the situation - Konistan was on the road for a reason. He pissed off count''s daughter and she had him chased out of Parsee." - Ivan retorted - "I was directed to her when I was inquiring about Konistan. Her name is lady Alyssa Gillespie. Fine-looking but fearfully strong. I didn''t grasp the new situation properly first, began to shout, and she grabbed me by hand and promised to tie me to the ceiling unless I cool down. And I was unable to get my hand back until she let me go."


    He was treated to quirked brows from his father and uncle, and hushed murmurs from his brothers. It was to be expected. Ivan had been by far the burliest man in the family. To hear that he could not yank his hand free from a girl''s grasp added a lot of weight to his assertion she was "fearfully strong".


    "A gal stronger then you? Alena, give Ivan more pierogies. Looks to me like he didn''t eat well on the road, if girls overpower him now." - Taras jested, weathering Ivan''s sulfurous grumbling in fine mettle - "Fine, fine. Joke''s over. So, what happened? Count''s daughter helped you get the money from this rapscallion?"


    "No. See, she not only kicked Konistan out, but also took over all that he had." - he clarified - "She has all of his ledgers. She looked through them, found out where our horses went, how much we wanted for them, everything about this business. Said she usually offers a choice between money Konistan owed or wares back, but since our horses are already in use by Grenwille farmers, she proposed money and added a tithe on top of the sum owed for our troubles. I decided it''s a fine agreement."


    "Tithe for our troubles, you say? Count bears it out." - Vasil murmured from his spot, sweeping stacks of ten coins into the sack one by one - "I think you did right. This lady owes us nothing by the law, so it''s very good luck she agreed to cover the damages caused by this tearaway."


    "I agree with Vasil, Ivan. You did good." - Taras offered, - "Alright, party in the evening? Money''s back, Ivan''s whole and healthy... Let''s tell the whole village thief got punished by gods and Ivan brought money back."


    "Wait, father. Have something else to tell." - Ivan offered somberly - "Mom, sit down please, listen as well."


    His mother moved to object, but something in his expression stopped her. She pulled up a stool and sat down, suddenly feeling very vary and apprehensive. Ivan nodded, sighed... and began speaking.


    "In Parsee, I met Roxolane." - he forged on, trying to get over with the news as soon as possible - "She''s attending Parsee Academy and didn''t want to come back with me, but she promised to visit us the next summer. She wrote a letter about everything that happened, but in short - lady Gillespie and Oija Sultan are enemies, and Roxolane lucked out to be rescued when lady Gillespie raided sultan''s palace."


    His mother immediately began crying, while his brothers shouted one over the other demanding details from Ivan. Finally, Taras slammed his fist on the table, making the boys quiet down.


    "Both of you shut up!" - he shouted - "Ivan, you oak log, why did you not start from this!?"


    Ivan winced. This was the awkward part of it. "Didn''t know how to tell, dad. See, the thing is - Roxolane is in love with lady Gillespie and wants to marry. When I met them, well, it looked like they already married. Without your permission." - he explained - "We quarreled a bit over that." He took a look at father''s stormy face and raised his hands placatingly immediately - "We made up right after, dad, honest. She didn''t know if anyone of us is even alive when she got rescued..."


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Taras had a complicated expression on his face, as he mulled over the situation. "That... So... Quite a situation... Loves a girl, you say?... Count''s daughter... That rescued her from the sultan..." - he muttered aloud - "Weird news. Don''t even know what to do. On one hand, a woman with a woman - that''s really peculiar. Moreso, without permission. On the other, love''s a complicated thing... And if she marries, she''ll be a noble, have everything she ever wants... Darn, I need a drink to deal with this. Alena, bring out vodka and three cups. Ivan, recall everything you know about this lady. What kind of girl is she? Will she be good to Roxolane or not?"


    A few minutes later, the table had been cleaned off and set afresh. A sizable bottle of hard liquor surrounded by four cups. Apparently, Alena decided she needs some liquid fortification herself, if she were to process the news regarding her daughter. Vodka had been poured out into four cups, which were lifted and emptied immediately.


    "Haaa!" - Ivan drew a long breath, as he set the cup down. Reaching out, he grabbed a slice of bread laden with smoked lard slices and chopped onion and took a hefty bite out of it, tamping down the liquor. Thus fortified, he began - "What kind of girl is lady Gillespie? Complicated question. Looks pretty, speaks well, understands Krainian. People in Parsee have a lot to say about her. Has her own shops all over Champagne, made many new things to sell, considered one of the richest nobles in the capital. Other rumors say she''s favored by the king. And that she''s a capable witch. And that she has a short fuse, one step from argument to brawl."


    Taras frowned. "So... Rich, powerful, strong, clever, pretty... but quick to smack someone down, that''s what people tell? Very well. What are your own thoughts on her?" - he offered thoughtfully.


    "They''re telling the truth. Except she doesn''t start brawls. When we quarreled, she gave me a piece of coal and said I''m too weak to listen to if I can''t break it. I got angry, started to break it. Broke it in halves. Shouted I have enough strength. She took another piece and smashed it with her hands." - Ivan offered, thinking back to it - "And not just one. She kept smashing coal while we were talking. Said that''s the difference between strong and normal. No idea what to think about it. When I broke it, I had two pieces of coal. When she smashes it, she hits it so hard it turns into some kind of crystal. Maybe it''s magic, but I still have those crystals..."


    He pulled out the small baggy and shook it open, letting half a dozen crystals roll across the table. Vasil blinked at those. He stretched his hand, picked one of the shards, fingered it thoughtfully... looked through it at the window. Picked up the bottle, pressed the crystal against the neck and dragged it. Everyone winced at the loud scrape, and gaped when the neck of the bottle came out cleanly marked with a groove.


    "That''s diamonds." - he breathed incredulously - "DIAMONDS!... From coal? That''s insane. How can a coal be a diamond?... But..." He trailed off, looking at the rough diamonds incredulously.


    "Wait, Vasil. What diamonds?" - Taras objected thoughtfully.


    Vasil picked up the gems one by one, testing them on the bottle, slowly covering it with grooves. The rest of family watched him in bedazzled confusion. "...That''s all diamonds. She gave you a bag of diamonds." - he giggled a little hysterically, unable to contain his incredulous elation - "That''s enough to buy our whole village three times over and we''ll still have enough for a party after."


    "Damn! Cunning, too. Ivan, show all your presents. Bet you a tooth, there are more surprises in there." - Taras demanded, grinning. He was obviously getting warmed up to the idea, Ivan remarked to himself, as he stepped away from his seat to bring out the sabre he got delivered right before his departure. It came with a note "A little something-something in case you find trouble on the road.". He didn''t, but now he was wondering if he maybe should have at the very least examined the sword instead of just shrugging and hanging it to his belt. But he was emotionally wrung after that meeting in Parsee, and so the sabre was overlooked initially, and after that he got so used to it being there, he really didn''t think much about it. Traveling armed was common sense, really.


    As he brought the sabre back to the table, he started pulling it out of the scabbard the first time... only to freeze and stare incredulously as the first few fingers of the blade revealed a wavy pattern he couldn''t confuse with anything else. Given how every man at the table hopped to their feet in the same time, they saw and thought the same. With trembling hands, Ivan pulled the blade out, howling in his mind about the sheer injustice of the world. How could he have a sabre made out of legendary ripple steel and never even pull it out of the scabbard before now?


    Taras extended his hand and touched the blade reverently. That... would be a family heirloom. There was simply no other way to handle having a legend-worthy sword other than this. He was so preoccupied with marveling at the subtle light play across the ripple that he ignored Ivan staggering back and outside. His attention was forcibly drawn, however, when his eldest stumbled back, carrying a fairly sizable pack, which was dumped on the table and the rope holding it together slit almost viciously. What appeared from under the rough fabric made his heart skip a beat. He gingerly stretched his hand, picking up the smaller package that had his name painted on it somehow. Slowly, he cut the rope, and unwrapped the fabric reverently. What he saw within was a beautiful flanged mace, again made out of ripple steel. A small note came with it. "It seemed fitting for a head of the family."


    Pulling his eyes from the priceless gift, Taras looked around. Vasil was holding a sabre, much like Ivan''s and stroked his fingers along the length of the blade, almost as if afraid it would suddenly melt in his hands. Boys meanwhile had found a package addressed to them both and were doing their best to pull the ropes off. Clicking his tongue, Taras assisted. This one contained two nice curved knives, yet again in ripple steel and a note "Knives for boys. We''ll get you sabres once you''re all grown up.". Piotr and Mykola were not some rubes, they heard plenty of stories about legendary wavy steel. And now, they were owners of very expensive and rare knives, and well cognizant of the fact. It would go without saying the two would be the envy of every boy in the village. Not that anyone would try to steal those. Rare weapons tended to be very distinct, after all.


    Perhaps the oddest thing here, however, was that Alena was also holding a package with her name on it. A compact one, but seemingly pretty hefty. Taras shook his head. He just HAD to see what kind of gift the lady in question thought to be appropriate for his wife. Gently plucking the package from her hands, Taras slit the rope, and unfurled it, laying out a... huh. It was, just as he expected, made out of ripple steel. And some kind of wood, in rich brown color. The note said "I''ve been told you''re not into fighting, so I sent a pepper mill." He translated the note for Alena, who had picked up her gift and was looking on it in befuddlement.


    "Pepper mill?" - she repeated incredulously - "Where am I supposed to find pepper?" She nudged the handle, fully expecting it to just swing, and was startled when a few crumbs fell out from the mill on her hand with a grinding sound. Her eyes widening, she sniffed at it, and sneezed heartily, looking at the pepper mill with wide eyes. Taras exchanged glances with his wife. Both he and she could read the message between the lines very well. No one sent gifts so expensive as mere pleasantries. Honestly, any of the items were valuable enough to be considered a suitable bride price all by itself. Having each member of the family being gifted one... That implied SERIOUS intentions. And if Roxolane herself was in favor, well... He glanced at Vasil, who was clearly thinking along the same line, then his eye stopped on the boys.


    "Petro, Mykola. It seems like your sister is really serious about wanting to marry lady Gillespie. What do you think?" - Taras had offered. Really, they were the last to give an opinion. Ivan had already accepted the situation, and upon seeing the facts, other adults were inclined to accept it as well. Which left the kids.


    Boys looked at each other. "Two sisters?" - "Agreed!"


    Ivan cleared his throat awkwardly. "Five sisters." - he corrected, swallowing - "I forgot something. Roxolane gave me a magic amulet, we can talk to her through it."


    In the silence that followed, the sound of Taras smacking Ivan upside the head was especially poignant.

 Chapter 71. Kraut Hospitality

    As far as Abe and Mihel were concerned, I put the issue with cooked books out of mind for now. I did not see any need to disabuse them of that misconception. What actually happened is that I activated all of my instances in every single place I held a legitimate business registered in merchant guild. Each of the places had been shortly visited by "messenger" with a note from me to be on the lookout for anyone claiming to be madame Konistan, and if such a person made an appearance, direct them to the backroom and await further instructions. I''m... going to see who shows up, what they will claim, what the reaction of staff on site would be. A lot of this is annoyingly vague. It might be a naively straightforward grab for cash. It might be something more devious. For example, I wouldn''t be surprised if the mysterious madame Konistan attempted to sell off some of the businesses she "owns" to assorted nobles, thus sparking a conflict between me and them. They''d be annoyed their "legitimate" deal is being challenged, and I''d be annoyed someone is trying to lay claim to my business. Which, in turn, would end in one of two ways. Primo, I concede to their demands to keep the peace, and secundo, I spend some of my political capital in order to take the ownership back, stifling the new "owners" in process. The very fact that the deal had been conducted by someone not really invested with authority to make it would be secondary at best. A cause for the losing party to lean on merchant guild to reimburse their losses, but not much else.


    Oh well. Until I get my hands on one or several of the witnesses, nothing more to be done here. Let''s see... Oh, yes, Academy. I dutifully update the girls on the situation. So far, so good. The news about forged entries in the guild ledgers prompts some worry, but I deflect that with assurances that all is good. Bridgit demonstrates her bullshit abilities by using me as a "guide" to be present both on the airship and in Academy, much to the delight of other girls. Lily-Anne ventures an idea. A fashion shop. While it has its merits, I''m unsure if I want to bother. So we come to Solomon''s decision - it''s going to be Lily-Anne''s project. I''ll pitch in with the resources and help if necessary, but the ideas, the management and the ownership would be all hers. I''m ashamed to say I realized the true purpose of her suggestion only after agreeing to it - she wanted to make a personal appearance in the merchant guild at my side to rattle whoever made the corrections. I''m not sure how effective it would be, but why not? I am already keeping an eye on all businesses.


    Moon Unit appears to be... frazzled, now that I think of it. Questioning her reveals that rumors of her book-copying machine had spread among the students, and she is beset with people vying for her attention because of that. At first, she was having fun with the attention, but right now it''s getting nasty. Thankfully, my earlier, ahem, "admonitions" had taken root among the students and no one attempted to get physical with my waifus, but she is starting to see some... less than friendly jostling between the students over her services. As in, a clique massing up to bar everyone else from access. And, what''s even more annoying, pretty much any noble wanting to use the thing intends to pay in "favor", which is an entirely unstable form of currency. The higher they are on the totem pole, while at it, the more firm the belief their attention is all the payment one needs. Last, but not least, there were some disturbing rumblings being made from the offspring of marquises and dukes. Which we have a grand total of five, across all three years in the Academy. Rumblings, of course, are about one of them "poaching" Moon Unit from me, now that she had "proven her worth". It''s not going to work, obviously, but the hassle of putting those peeps into place could be... annoying.


    In the end, me and Moon Unit visit dame Apricotte, who is in equal measures intrigued and consternated by the issue. She summons the librarian, who is quickly appraised on the situation and... shows his restraint is only barely sufficient not to rub his hands in glee. We arrive to a bargain pretty quickly. Academy library will set aside a place for four copy machines to be placed in, a fifth will be installed in the librarian''s office exclusively for the needs of the library, Academy will charge students for service and tithe a cut to Moon Unit in perpetuity. And they DO mean in perpetuity. For as long as Academy exists and owns those machines, Moon Unit or her descendants will receive a tithe from the charged fees. In a way, this is pretty nice, I like the idea of my wives each having their own independent revenue sources that can not be easily cut or targeted by association with me.


    Roxolane seems to be very distracted and busy with her research into portals, and... I might be off the mark here, but if my guess is right, she is intentionally pushing herself into her work to avoid thinking about her parents, because unless Ivan had run into some kind of unexpected problems on the road, they should be calling any day now. I did try to ensure he would get back as safely as I can, mind - he has a brand new sabre and a letter of passage from me, which should be pretty influential in Champagne, at least. I did stash a little instance among the things he got, but that one is in deep dormancy, and barring Ivan''s lifesigns dipping into critical or a stay in a single location for more than a few days, it will remain dormant. Just like the instances in hashishin heads, which are getting pretty ripe. I''m guessing a wounded man with oijan features might have a hard time securing passage on a ship these days.


    ___


    As we near the final approach, a crowd begins to gather. Per earlier negotiations, Hiram was given the location where Alphonse wants the landing. I have to admit, the place is picked pretty well. Not sure what they use this plaza next to the palace for, though. Military parades? Fairgrounds? Anyway, by the time I maneuver the airship to hover above it, there is a crowd watching, a chain of guards around the landing site keeping the people out of it and a delegation that is obviously there to meet us. Including the king himself, apparently. Alphonse is old, I have to say, he looks the part for his seventy four years. If I recall correctly, the reason for such age disparity is because Alphonse''s first wife gave him no children.


    Much to my enjoyment, the descent and landing goes off without issue. Abraham obviously leads the way, he''s the king, he has to take the first step. Hiram follows him. Me and dad are next, filing off to the left of Abraham. Mihel and Marceu are next and park themselves to the right. Servants bring up the rear. Obviously, there is an instance of me hidden on the ship, and as soon as we''re all off, the door closes up and the ship hovers back into the sky, hanging there at about fifty fathoms. Far enough to make it complicated reaching it without me helping, close enough to be seen at all times. Rafiqa is still aboard, per agreement with Hiram, she will be brought to the palace once the crowd disperses. Which means late in the evening, apparently. She''s surprisingly content to lounge around there, though. Might have something to do with the fact she has a stack of books to read and a basket of snacks from me.


    Abraham and Alphonse exchange greetings which are surprisingly modern in their appearance. I didn''t expect them to just have a handshake and say hello to each other. Apparently, Kraut don''t stand on ceremony much... Nevermind, here are the fanfares and the announcements. Golly, Abe has a lot of titles... But then again, Hiram isn''t a slouch on that either. Now''s dad''s turn... oh, huh, I almost forgot he actually holds a couple of subordinate viscountcies and baronies himself. And now''s my turn... wait, WHAT? Since when I''m the "White Witch of The North"? Good grief, where did this moniker came from? Me and Hiram exchange befuddled glances, it''s obvious he is just as puzzled by it as I am. I, sadly, can''t perform the same exchange with Abe, he has to maintain face time with Alphonse. Bother. Bother bother bother bother!


    The instance of me on the ship splits. While I leave enough to maintain surveillance and control, the rest of the split mass slithers upwards through an airlock into the envelope. Controlling instance shifts things around, flooding this section of the envelope with air while dropping pressure in the rest of them to compensate. Then, I start shifting mass to the instance in the envelope, and in the same time splitting it into little instances. The "speck of grain" big. Once I have enough to my reckoning, the envelope is depressurized again, venting the mass of me all over the palace and surrounding city. If that''s how shit''s gonna happen, I have no qualms about instituting total surveillance in Berlinger. The flecks are transparent and almost invisible. Once on the ground, they will gravitate towards each other and away from the light, clump up in dark spaces until they''re big enough to shift out some pseudopods, and then secrete themselves into convenient spots for surveillance and eavesdropping.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    As we are being directed towards the carriages, I end up sharing one with dad, van der Klaases are in other one, Abe has one all to himself and Hiram rides with his dad. No doubt using the time to report to him on matters Alphonse wants to ask in privacy. Too bad for him I bugged Hiram before we even left Parsee... Well, that is, if I can comprehend their language, that is. It''s almost german, which I have some passing familiarity with, but not really, and figuring out anything but the gist is hard. If my guesses are right, Alphonse inquires about me, and Hiram is in turn inquiring about the weird announcement of me. I might be not grasping this one quite right, but it is entirely possible Alphonse himself is in the dark about the reasons for announcing me like this? Weird.


    Much to my relief, the ceremony in the field had been mostly it, as far as the ceremony is concerned. Once we reach the castle, everyone is swarmed by servants and taken into separate rooms to "recuperate" after the trip. Largely unnecessary, but that''s how people are used to roll. There will be lunch served in-suite for everyone as they desire and generally the morning is set aside solely to be pampered by castle servants. The first public appearance is dinner around three o''clock, there will be more of ceremony before it, then after it there will be the discussion we came here for, and it will last until the six in the evening, if needed. The provisions are made for several days of discussion, presumably so that issues that arose in the middle of discussion could be addressed and people back home informed. Not bad, I suppose. Not bad. Hopefully, there are no specific hitches and we will be able to agree on everything within one meeting, but...


    On further consideration, after taking in the present amenities in the room, I tell the servants to draw me a bath. On itself, it is not a problem, even though the bath itself is, from my point of view, antique and has comparably antique accommodations. The problem, however, arises once I have the bath filled up. And the problem is overly solicitous servants.


    "...but lady! You will surely require assistance..." - we''ve been at it for a few minutes. I told them to get out, they objected. Oh, they''ve been impeccably polite, I''ll give them that, but for some fucking reason they just can''t grasp the idea that I find ONE personal maid to be sufficient help and have no wish to disrobe in front of six strangers who will spend the entirety of bathing standing around.


    "For the last time, I have my personal maid who is more than sufficient as far as attending to my bathing goes." - I snap back, getting more irritated by the minute - "Now, look. I''ve tried to be nice about this, since I''m a guest and all. But you are seriously trying my patience here. So, for the last gods-bedamned time - GET OUT! And do NOT come back until Bridgit comes out to fetch you. I see any of you trying to barge in, and there will be much wailing and gnashing teeth, do you understand?"


    By that time, the servants had gotten the hint and cleared out of the room entirely. Except for this one. And... she''s going to object again? Ok, this is getting annoying. "Lady, please, be reasona...gurk!" - she begins, cutting off as I grab her by the throat and lift her off the floor. Yep, you''ve done goofed up, gal. Struggling now is futile. Entertaining, but futile. Bridgit helpfully closes the door securely.


    "You''re not one of the servants actually." - I muse, squeezing her throat tighter when she tries to gurgle something - "No servant would be quite so brazen. So... You might be hired by one of the nobles from here or Champagne to sabotage me in some way. There are people who stand to lose from this treaty. But, I find it hard to believe they''d entrust something so delicate to a bumbling amateur. Which leaves us with the other option. You''re one of Klaus'' charity cases. Not really apt for fieldwork, but too enthusiastic about spying to fob you off to do something else. You probably thought this is going to be your big break? Sorry to disappoint, but you''re the sacrificial goat. Your boss put you here specifically so I''d see a spy and stop looking further. Well, this is not going to work. So, out you go. Tell your boss he''s gonna try a lot better than this. Oh, and if I see you in my vicinity once again? I will simply have you whipped like an impertinent servant you so flawlessly imitated. For future reference - if you want to pretend to be a servant successfully, RUN THE FUCK AWAY when you''re told to get out. Domestics who disobey direct orders usually find themselves whipped raw and chucked out of an estate in short order."


    I nod to Bridgit to open the door, walk over to it, set the moronic woman down, turn her around and accelerate her out of the doorway with a nice simple kick to the backside before she regains enough of her wits to mount any kind of ill-conceived objection. Guards turn to me with questioning expressions. "I''m... impressed." - I tell them - "Unpleasantly impressed, but impressed all the same. Not even an hour in the castle, and I already have servants trying to get fresh with me. Kindly make sure this particular one does not enter my rooms again, I have low patience for willful stupidity. Oh, and in case you get, ah... confusing orders regarding who gets to visit my rooms, be sure to remind the people talking that I won''t hesitate to move back to my airship if I find the hospitality lacking."


    The situation leaves me disturbed. This is yet another stupid attempt to raise my ire. There''s been too many of those recently. Am I being targeted? Could it be that all of this stupidity is just a smokescreen? Or maybe it''s an attempted death of thousand cuts? Bury me under a mountain of petty issues? In either case, who''s behind this? A successor to Klaus? As enticing as it would be to blame all that happens on the Kraut spy network, it makes no sense. Alphonse wants this deal, he would expressly warn his spymaster from messing with me out of fear I might reconsider. Salaadin trying to mud up the waters for me? Possible, but Oija was never particularly subtle in their approach. They either threaten by military might or assassinate. Political machinations are uncommon fare for southern mentality. Which, I have to say, is ODD for me to think, because I''m used to thinking of arabian-like cultures as cunning, cagy and calculating, not blatantly blunt like oijan culture in this environs seems to be.


    Considering this much, I absentmindedly mess with the bath. It''s... much more metally massive than it needs to be. Let''s see... Lift the water out, levitate the bath, examine the adornments. Heat up, ward off heat, redirect, split off nitrogen, inject the nitrogen into the mix under pressure to foam the brass up, reshape retaining the form and adornments but increasing size and volume, cool, set down, dump the water back in... Conjure additional water at near-scalding temperature to offset the barely lukewarm bathwater, dump in... There we go, nice hot bath. Bridgit shakes her head at me and blinks away, returning in a moment with the jar of bath salts I came up with in my spare time. Need to send the recipe to mom sometime, she could use another cosmetics line expansion soonish. My delightful maid shakes out a couple handfuls of the bath salts in and caps the jar, rolling up her sleeves to stir the salts in.


    "MMm... Bridgit, I made the bath bigger for a reason." - I remark, as I ooze out of my dress entirely, reforming myself into a naked form next to the bath. She peers at me, blushes, then blinks out of her clothes. Conveniently, right into easy groping distance. What could I do if not grab her by the hips and lift her into the bath, really? Stepping right after her, I sit down, and pat my lap invitingly. She giggles, settling down carefully, her back pressing against my breasts as she leans on me.


    "Mistress, are you planning to spoil me all your life?" - she teases, wiggling against me as she settles down.


    "Why not? Such a delightful Bridgit, and all mine. Why shouldn''t I spoil you to my heart''s content, mm?" - I tease back, as I wrap my hands around her midsection and kiss her neck softly - "Mine, all mine."


    She draws in a shuddering breath, like she always does when I act possessive towards her and confirms softly - "All yours, mistress."

 Chapter 72. Surprise!

    "Mysteriously", the overly solicitous "servant" had vanished. The rest, I noticed, had been relieved, if too professional to actually show it. Makes sense. Nobles often practiced group responsibility for domestics, and it would not be out of character for me to demand (and get) them all whipped over one impertinent pretender. Who would probably be spared the treatment themselves to boot. Not so mysteriously, I had lost track of time given that I had a bath and a maid in it, so... Yeah. Well. It is half to two when I finally remember I am actually expected to dine with everyone at three, and therefore must wrap up the overly long bath lounging. Bridgit pouts when I say as much, but she is immediately rebuffed by her stomach growling. Which makes both of us jump up a bit. Hm.


    It''s surprising just how much sudden pang of hunger is motivating one to dry off and put on clothes. Of course, it does help that drying oneself off is a cantrip so simple Bridgit uses it casually, nevermind me. I evaporate the bath water (The remains that were in the original bath. I had to conjure the majority of water for us, and letting it time out created a sort of fog out of remains. I elected to deal with it by a combination of an open window, heating spell and a bit of magic breeze to get it all outside.) and consider restructured bath critically.


    "Bridgit, come on over here." - I ask - "Can you try to lift this bath and tell me how easy it is?"


    She eyes the thing dubiously. "Mistress, I shouldn''t be able to even budge it, let alone lift." - she complains, but tries anyway. Much to her surprise, the bath is actually liftable by her. Not easily, I can see she makes an effort to lift it up, but manageable. Setting the whole thing down, she turns to me - "Is it lighter than it looks or I got stronger than I thought somehow?"


    "First, I''m afraid. Ever wondered, what if metal was not solid, but like a sponge? That''s the answer." - I tell her - "Ridiculously light for something that''s actually sturdier than solid metal. I don''t really want to revert it back to being small, but I wanted you to know it''s light in case someone wants to move it and decides size is an issue."


    She just shakes her head, as she starts to sort out the luggage. I''ve had her pack a few fancy dresses for the occasion. I mean, I could easily mimic any clothes, but I''d really prefer to keep shoggoth tricks to a minimum while I''m here. The last thing I need is Alphonse calling the talks off because he thinks I''ve been replaced by something. I, meanwhile, throw on a bathrobe, go out to the anteroom, and order a plentiful lunch to be brought in. It, of course, causes a lot of dubiousness among servants, but after the little show earlier, I believe they''re all of an opinion I''m an unrepentant domestic tyrant and tolerate no questioning of my orders. The lunch is obviously for Bridgit, because I''ll be damned if I let her dine in the servant quarters as they expect. It might cause a bit of talk, because I''m clearly showing Bridgit more favors than a maid usually warrants, but fuck them. If I''m reading this right, the conclusion would be simply that she''s my favorite maid for skinship and therefore pampered.


    By the time the lunch is brought in, both me and Bridgit are dressed and the bath is quite obviously ready to be removed. Which causes a LOT of consternation among the servants, because they presume the newly enlarged bath is well beyond their ability to move.


    "Mistress, I beg your pardon but there is no way we could possibly carry this out on our own!" - bleats the most courageous of them eventually. Hm. I wonder what his job actually is. Handyman? Valet?.. Whatever. I snap my fingers and nod to Bridgit. Who shakes her head bemusedly, but comes over to the bath and lifts one side of it, not effortlessly, but clearly without excess strain.


    "I think you''ll manage." - I tell them dryly. They gather around the bath incredulously, grasp it and... make a lot of surprised exclamations then expected weight is much less than they thought it would be, leading them to yanking the whole thing almost to chest level and consequently almost dropping it. Thankfully, the doors are sufficiently wide to make extraction a non-issue from that angle, and they carry the enlargened bath out, eliciting much surprise from the guards outside the doors. This would be making rounds in the castle rumors, I know it... And that''s fine. If it was back in summer, when I was still having delusions about being low-key, I''d revert it back to its original form, but that ship had well and truly floated away. So instead, I''ve decided to cultivate the image of a mad scientist, of a sorts. A sorceress so advanced she casually does things everyone else thinks impossible or unbelievable. The pros of this are manifold - if this kind of fame becomes common knowledge, I''ll have a much easier time introducing stuff, because common consensus would tilt. Instead of dubiousness about the "newfangled design", people would be thinking "ooh, that mad sorceress invented a new bizarrely convenient thing, I gotta see this". And as I have already experienced, the collective subconscious on this reality is a real force behind the curtain. So... I''m going to put some effort into shaping narration. And possibly examine other players in this from the viewpoint of narrative influence. Konistan, for example. I have a big nasty hunch that he was considered an elusive master criminal in a large part due to collective subconscious believing he is. And if I was not an outside context problem in his case, he could''ve very well been a very frustrating opponent to bat against simply because so long as his action fit the collective subconsciousness narrative, things would go his way.


    Come to think of it, it might also explain some other things. Like for example, how come Vlad enjoys such a fearsome reputation outside of Vallah in spite of Vallah being, ostensibly, just a county-sized fief with no grand monopolies to prop their economy with. I need to put out feelers into the Confederacy, I think. Maybe cause some reunification wars, because at the rate things are going, Vlad will eventually pull his head out of impalement daydreaming and start applying his arguably considerable army to the neighbors. I''m not sure what kicks him off. The game implied that it was the protagonist''s fault that he decided he should unite Confederacy under the Vallahian flag, but the clues in the game don''t seem to bear that out - he had his forces already positioned and agitating the neighboring countries into border skirmishes. In fact, in one of the holdovers from the game plot, Alistair complained about Vallah incursions and rising tensions in the Confederacy as early as a month ago. So it''s entirely possible that Vlad is already working through his plan of "unite Confederacy under himself and impale enough people in progress to create a lasting prejudice against sodomy in Confederacy". And not due to the persecution of gay men, which he isn''t actually carrying to the best of my knowledge, but due to the fact his favorite method of impalement seems to be "insert the tip of two meter pole into the rectum, stand it up and let the gravity handle the rest". Thoroughly unpleasant, that. Even with healing magic, there is pretty much no chance of saving someone once they''ve been "sat" like this. Pain shock, blood loss, dehydration and infection pretty much guarantee that death occurs, just over the period of several days rather than several hours.


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Gods damn it, now I just can''t stop thinking about this. To be entirely fair, while this is obviously his fetish, Vlad starts off by reserving this kind of execution for people who actually deserve it - rapists, traitors and childkillers. But as the conquest kicks off for good, he goes off the deep end and starts ordering impalements for less and less serious stuff. Like, suppressing guerrilla opposition by impaling entire villages and setting the results out in the fields outside the villages in question. I think I need to make sure Vlad dies before any of this actually kicks off. I''m not exactly responsible for those people, but knowing about impending disaster and doing nothing about it is kinda... scummy. If memory serves, Vlad kicks off his conquest around the beginning of next summer, and that''s the time when he shifts from "cruel but passably fair overlord" into "torture-obsessed madman". Enough time for me to bust in and rip his head off, if necessary. Though maybe I can do something about it in less overt ways. I wonder if there is a good way to neuter him somehow. Something to discuss with Abe and maybe Alphonse. I obviously have a better rapport with Abe, but Alphonse is the one closer to the situation.


    ___


    I''m positive now that someone''s doing hijinks. Because the guards at the dining hall doors had conveniently forgotten my name and face. I could have thrown a hissy fit, I suppose, but that would be long and annoying and probably used as a pretext to claim I''ve been unruly to begin with... So instead, I pull my copperphone out of pocket and call Abraham. He is... quite incredulous about the idea, and two minutes later, one of the guard captains runs out of the hall, gives bows and apologies and hisses at the guards in question in pretty much the same motion. The end result - guards are sent away, half-worried and half-defiant, I''ve been profusely apologized at and escorted into the dining hall, and there is some kind of... table reshufflement? No, they''re just swapping out the whole chair and utensils next to dad''s spot. Apparently, someone "misread" my name and made an assumption some kraut noble with a superficially similar sounding name would be attending.


    The dinner is lavish, but hardly anything outstanding. I was expecting something to the tune of business luncheon, maybe, but it''s a full-on ceremony-heavy dinner. No talking to anyone beyond your immediate neighbors, lots of dish changes, full-on showoff mode for the kingdom. Which is actually kind of annoying, because with all the rare delicacies, there''s a distinct lack of simpler fare to provide some kind of base. Oh well. At least I could have a pleasant conversation with dad, while at it. Unfortunately, the guy on the other side of me was clearly put there on someone''s misguided idea to "romance" me away from Champagne. Seriously, why? Oh, the dude was passably polite, I''ll give him that, but he also managed to clearly impress on me that he''s not about to consider no a valid answer nor is he discouraged by being ignored within the first five minutes. Thankfully, I had enough of unimportant minutiae to discuss with dad to be sufficiently distracted from the dude''s overtures.


    Thankfully, the ceremonial nature of dinner also meant it was run on a strict schedule, so exactly an hour later, I was free from the table and incessant flirting. Dad had begun looking increasingly tense as the dinner progressed, giving an evil eye to the flirting dude with increasing frequency, and just like me, he heaved a sigh of relief as soon as the dinner was announced over. Unfortunately... the would-be suitor was very determined... And I was very fed up.


    "Look!" - I tell him, yanking my sleeve out of his fingers - "I believe I''ve been quite upfront with you when I said I am already spoken for and have no interest in pursuing extramarital hijinks before my marriage is even finalized. Please STOP flirting with me, stop trying to invite me along to your social gatherings and most importantly, stop bothering me. I''m here for business negotiations, nothing more. Certainly not to strike up a clueless romance with a guy who thinks ''no'' means ''try harder''. Now kindly, leave me be, because you''re one compliment away from being challenged to duel!"


    He drops my sleeve and steps back like he''s been scalded. The crowd pushes back, whispers growing in intensity immediately and gaining scandalized undertones. Yeah, it was not fucking diplomatic. Not even slightly. I... do... not... care. This mission had been an exercise in patience ever since we touched down in Berlinger, and I''m quite near the boiling point. It shouldn''t be THAT annoying. Someone put a lot of effort to guide all those pushy and clueless people in my way, and by golly, they''re going to pay for that.


    "Come on, fraulein, surely you do not mean that." - he gives his best impression of a politely haughty chuckle - "Would you really force your venerable father into fighting a man half his age and twice his strength?" Dad visibly bristles at that, but then suddenly relaxes and grins, giving me a nudge and nod. I think he just had his own patience tipped over. I wonder if he also had impertinent servants bothering him, or he''s simply indignant about this guy being so blatant.


    "And here is another reason why your attempts were doomed in the crib." - I tell him - "If you had any interest in me as a person, you''d know that I fight duels personally. So. Will you kindly leave me be, or do I need to hand you your ass first?"


    He''s... looking affronted now, but visibly calms himself and gives another chuckle - "Oh, I wouldn''t want to spoil the festivities with such unsightliness, fraulein."


    "Wise decision." - I''m not giving a fuck, I''m tired of this - "So let us pause things at this. Next time you make an approach, we can resume the unsightliness. Do NOT expect anything else."


    ___


    Well, that was annoying. Alphonse just HAD to start inquiring about the situation, and then had the fucking gall to start tutting at me.


    "Your majesty, do you have second thoughts about the deal?" - I ask him bluntly. He blinks and stares at me, clearly not expecting this kind of rebuke. I forge on, not letting him retort just yet - "Because I have a distinct feeling people have been trying to drive me to indignant anger ever since I stepped off the airship. Honestly, you do not have to resort to such underhanded tactics. Just say so if you want more time before you commit to anything, I understand that there are political concerns about everything."


    "Now, now, fraulein." - he rumbles back at me - "I do not care for such accusations. Really now, if I had a reason to postpone, I daresay I would just say as much."


    "If so, then someone is hard at work sabotaging you, your majesty." - I redirect - "Insofar, I have been accosted by impertinent servants, ignorant guards and ignoble guests. Once might be a chance. Twice might be a coincidence. But three? That''s systematic. Someone is trying to sabotage the talks."


    He begins to say something... Pauses. Thinks. Leans to Abe and whispers something to him. Abe whispers back, and whatever it was asked and replied, Alphonse''s expression hardens from that. He leans back and smacks his fist three times on the wall behind him.


    "Klaus!" - he bellows, surprisingly loudly for a man of his advanced age - "Come on out here, I want some explanations."


    Klaus? No way. I killed the dude very comprehensively. Do they do the whole "man dies, identity lives" dance? Or is Klaus actually a "working name" for Kraut spymaster? I steal a glance at Hiram... And I see him very puzzled, mouthing the word back silently as if trying to figure out something nigh-inconceivable. And, of course, this is when the door opens. And I see a man who is, in oh so many ways, the same (or at least very similar) to the one I killed at my mansion three months ago. I see Hiram jump to his feet in alarm out of the corner of my eye in the same moment. He clearly was left in the dark about this particular resurrection. Hrm. I wonder why Alphonse is electing to reveal Klaus now?

 Chapter 73. Negotiations Begin

    So... Let''s see what do we have. On one hand, dad and Abe and van der Klaases who probably have some idea who Klaus is, but not about our personal altercations. On the other, Hiram, Alphonse and Klaus himself are aware that I ripped his head off, but all of them are keenly aware the circumstances of this incident are not in their favor. Admittedly, I have no idea which way Alphonse will jump. Hiram had not been aware of Klaus being back among the living - he acts well, but the physiological expressions of surprise are a wholly different thing. Why would crownprince be kept in dark about their own spymaster? Hiram''s loyalty is in question? Or there was some sort of miscommunication?


    Hm. I wonder if Klaus himself wants to make things public. On one hand, he could arouse sufficient suspicion about me if he were to claim I''m a monster. On the other, I''ve already been cleared by sir Zade before, did plenty of light magic in the Temple with literally hundreds of witnesses and shown a propensity for using body morphing in combat. Which is all public knowledge, so Klaus knows it as well. Which, in turn, means he is aware I can laugh off his accusation fairly easily. He might make things stick if he pushes on with "I''ve been murdered", but he was caught trespassing with a slave collar. That''s pretty much a guaranteed death if caught by the house owner.


    "Good day, your highness, your highness, your excellency, your grace, your grace, monsieur van der Klaas, monsieur van der Klaas." - he begins, his Albish impeccable this time around - "I have to admit, much to my chagrin, that lady Gillespie is not entirely wrong. The incidents she mentioned had occurred." Alphonse quirks his brow at this ... less than diplomatic admission, but motions him to continue. "However, they are not connected." - he does so, bowing - "Impertinent servant had been paid off by Merchant Guild to try and snoop around in lady Gillespie''s papers while she''s indisposed. Nothing unexpected, really, any merchant worth their salt would want to know the deal before it happens. Guards are, well... an oversight. They have been told to expect lord and lady Gillespie and presumed that means a lord and his wife, not a lord and his daughter. As for jungherr Falstaff, well... My condolences, lady Gillespie. He is quite an infamous womanizer. Vexing, I readily agree, but hardly malicious."


    I peer at him curiously. "You know, I''ve been told that the reason for mistake among guards was that someone misspelled my name and they interpreted it as someone well known in the court... and consequently, clearly not me." - I offer.


    Klaus shakes his head. "A plausible explanation, but I''m afraid a fiction. Captains of the guard are more than a little apt at concocting mollifying stories at the drop of the hat whenever their subordinates fail to exhibit proper manners." - he rebuffs - "Back to the topic at hand, do those explanations satisfy your curiosity, lady Gillespie? Yes, there were several minor faults that ended up coinciding. I can see how you might consider this to be the signs of an overarching plan, but honestly, each of them is an entirely independent mishap."


    "So your advice is not to attribute to malice what could be sufficiently explained by ineptitude and ignorance?" - I drawl. He grins.


    "Aptly said, lady Gillespie! Aptly said." - he agrees with a shiteating grin I want to punch in. I don''t, but it''s sorely sorely tempting. And then he continues - "I have already spoken with the guildmaster about the servant, and there should be no more attempts of the sort. They''ve been properly remonstrated and will present a delegation to tender their apologies after this meeting. Guards had been sent out to patrol the city walls as a reminder to the rest of the corps to pay proper attention. As for jungherr Falstaff, my apologies, but there is preciously little that can be done, at least by me."


    Hm. Pretty standard politician''s fare so far. Pin a part of the blame on people I''d be expecting the most from, hide the other part in an inconvenient place and phrase it as a punishment being done and flatly disavow the rest while making it look too toxic to touch. I have to admit, Klaus is a dab hand at court politics. Oh well. Nothing left for me but to accept graciously and move on. Maybe with a little zinger that reminds Klaus I''m not actually duped by the act one bit. While I mull this over, Alphonse scoffs - "Falstaff? That lech? By all means, lady Gillespie, if you want a duel, I''ll sanction one. Boy''s long overdue some educational spanking."


    "As amusing as it would be, your highness, I did already promise him to leave him be if he returns the favor." - I demur - "Though I give no guarantees for the outcomes if he decides to renege on that. Ah well, I suppose we can consider the matter closed. For good, hopefully, for now if there is another incident in the brewing." Klaus makes no expression as I say that, but something about him shifts at the mention of the fourth cockup. Good to see, that. Exchanging glances with Abe and dad, I can see both of them nodding. Next phase. For a reason I''m not entirely sure of, Abraham insisted I should be the one who formally announces the initial gifting. At my request, the footmen bring in the crates unloaded from the ship just a little while ago. I didn''t want Klaus or someone else getting too curious about the contents and left them on the ship until the last possible minute.


    "Finally." - Alphonse offers with a grin - "I''ve been trying to guess just what is that you brought the whole time." He leans forward... and then blinks when I rip the lid off the closest lid. As it so happens, this is the crate containing a hundred spearheads. It takes him and Klaus but a moment to peer in. Klaus tilts his head, looking like a stork that was fishing for a bug and caught a whole eel by accident. Alphonse merely looks surprised and giddy.


    "A hundred spearheads forged out of ripple steel. A present." - I offer simply, as I rip the lid off the second crate - "Two thousands of arrowheads forged out of ripple steel. Also a present. Along with four more crates of the same. That should serve well as a strategic reserve." Alphonse nods quickly, his hands rubbing together in barely restrained glee. Ok, this is... a little more expressive than I expected. A show? Or he genuinely is that pleased about having a little something-something stashed away in case of neighbors getting cute? Hmmm.


    "That''s... more than a little generous, lady Gillespie." - Klaus offers dubiously from his spot behind the chair Alphonse is sitting on - "You must have emptied the storehouses of your county entirely to prepare this many."


    Rory scoffs at the very idea, retorting - "Think again, lad. This here is but a three weeks effort." I.. would have shushed him if I had an idea he would pipe up so suddenly. Oh well. Given the moment of startlement on dad''s and Abe''s faces, they also had this very thought. Really, we kinda dropped the ball here. Abe, dad, Mihel? All quite used to negotiations by the dint of experience. Me and Marceu? Had a lot of education and some experience of our own. Rory, on the other hand, has only his lifetime of being a blacksmith to call upon. Obviously he had no idea what should be put forth and what should be held back.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Klaus smirks. That''s a point to him, yes. I wonder just how far he can press this advantage, though. "Truly? Only three weeks? Well, be that as it may, it is hard to imagine such a pace to be sustainable." - he ripostes - "Even the most dedicated dwarf can not work around the clock, after all."


    "Ye''d think so, lad." - Rory rasps back at him - "Fortunately fer us, lady Gillespie is just as brilliant at organizin'' things as she is in makin'' new ''uns." Oh. Wow. He did manage to leave the things as vague generalities this time. Way to go, Rory.


    "We''re pursuing a policy of labor divergence in this matter." - I step in quickly to prevent Klaus from baiting Rory into exposing anything actually valuable - "As the vast majority of dwarven survivors are apt at stonecutting, mining or forging, we have arranged things to let all of them do just that. Gillespie county has more than enough farms and farmers to produce enough food for dwarves in addition to other populace, and letting all of the dwarves concentrate on the crafts they are experts in permits to set a very generous production pace."


    "Labor... divergence?" - Alphonse repeats slowly - "Oh, I see. Setting aside a food surplus so that craftsmen could buy their food for cheap?"


    "Nnnnot quite, your highness." - I reply - "You underestimate the magnitude of decimation dwarves underwent. Eruption of Red Mountain was just the start of problems, fugitives have... diminished prospects at finding good life, let''s put it like this. At the moment, if I expected of dwarves to sustain themselves with farming or buy at the market prices, we wouldn''t be discussing any trade deals today, because there wouldn''t be anything worth trading yet. We allocate the necessary food and textiles and assorted sundries in order to allow dwarves themselves to concentrate every effort on rebuilding. It is due to this policy there is a surplus of iron today sufficient to entertain trading agreements."


    Rory coughs from his chair - "Aye. T''is not the usual ways, but lady Gillespie here had some good arguments fer doin'' it this way. Iffen mah kin started with the gardens and legume plots, we''d not last the winter gathered laike this, far too many of us woulda be stuck in the cold with nuthin'' but tents. Thankfully, it be not like this now, we have plenty of stone and metal ta sell and build. More''n''ough ta repay the support."


    Alphonse is... ambivalent, I can see. He clearly thinks the returns on my method shouldn''t be all that different from what he suggested. Whatever, there''s a reason why Champagne got the dwarves, not Kraut. Not giving him time to start waxing poetics on this lest someone says something, ah.. unnecessary, I pass over the papers regarding the initial offer on metals. "This is the amount of iron ingots, regular steel and ripple steel that we feel confident about delivering, and the asking price for it." - I tell him - "The prices in the listing are calculated on the assumption the metal will be ferried on the ships through the Icy Ocean. Obviously, this is only viable in summer."


    He frowns, looking over the paper. "It''s... not as bad as we had feared, but.. still too much." - he muses - "We are interested in buying ripple steel obviously, but regular steel and iron are just not worth the effort of moving them through northern seas. But, I seem to remember there was a second part to this deal?"


    Abe nods - "Indeed, and should we come to an agreement on this, the options for trading should expand significantly. But, first things first. I have requested of you to carry out the scouting of the western end of Ashenvale, while we ourselves surveyed the eastern half. What news? On our end, the situation looks promising. The old tract is buried under the ash, but the layer is only knee-deep or less across the whole length of the road up to the Well-met Hill. It should be feasible to clear off the ash and repave the road using tar up to that hill. Past it..."


    Klaus steps up again. "The situation is a little worse on our end, I''m afraid." - he offers smoothly - "While for the most part the old tract is barely dusted, the pass at Great Gate is entirely buried in ash. My scouts were able to circumvent the area by using mountain trails across the southern cliffs, but that path is not feasible for wagons. With some effort, it might be made passable to the horseback caravans, but it would still be a treacherous and complicated road to take. Certainly not good for masses of goods like iron ingots or grain. The pass itself can not be crossed - ash is not unlike quicksands out there. I lost two men trying to feel out a path through with the poles and their findings were pitiful. Anyone descending into the pass will start coughing, then lose vision, then slip and sink into the ashes, if they were foolish enough not to turn back after the first or second misfortune. Once you are down in the ashes, it is the end. The second of my men had the foresight to tie a rope around his waist, but even so, while he was still alive when his comrades pulled him out of ash, he began coughing blood and expired overnight. A healer couldn''t do anything useful for him."


    "Healer wouldn''t." - I interject absentmindedly, as I mull over the problem - "You need air magic for that. Ash''s an abrasive, it scours the lungs from inside if you inhale it. The only way to cure that is to pull all the ash out of the lungs with air currents first, and only then try to heal."


    ...Why does EVERYONE look like they just had a "take a note, this is very important" moment? Nevermind, whatever.


    "I think I might have an answer to this problem, but in order to say for sure, I will need to survey the area personally. There are certain measurements I would need to take to be sure." - I offer - "Other than Great Gate pass, the rest of tract is passable, right? Well, this is not as bad as I was worried about."


    "And suppose you come out there and find there is no good way to deal with the situation?" - Alphonse offers wryly - "What then? The deal''s off?"


    Abe shakes his head - "No, we discussed this. Even if Ashenvale is not traversable right now, we still offer instruction and assistance in training your own road layers, provided you commit to repaving highways like I did."


    "Oh? That''s quite neighborly of you, cousin, but why would you go to such pains for us?" - Alphonse inquires, his brow quirked - "What''s your gesheft in this?"


    "The best outcome is reopening of Ashenvale tract, obviously. If it''s not an option, then I will settle for sorting out the Southern Coastal tract. It might not be convenient enough to ensure the northern provinces can trade with each other, but at the very least the souths of our countries would have a route. I''m confident tar roads will improve the turnabout and profits, I''m already seeing a rise in trade between towns within Champagne along the highways." - Abe offers - "At the very least, if I can not buy Berlinger lager, I will have Zirich marzipan on the market."


    Alphonse tilts his head. "Huh. So... The plan is to improve roads in any case, regardless of if Ashenvale can be passed or not?" - he drawls - "Very well. We the king of Kraut and the kingdom of Kraut do hereby accept this deal provisionally. We ask of lady Gillespie to examine the pass of Great Gate and report if it is feasible to reopen it in some way to permit wagon traffic through the area, and if not, if the mountain trails Klaus mentioned are suitable to be expanded for horseback caravans. Regardless of Ashenvale conditions, we do hereby commit a hundred laborers for the instruction and training on creating tar roads and accept the obligation to repave the highways connecting Berlinger, Lipzig, Nornburg and Zirich so that Kraut kingdom may enjoy the swift passage of goods and people from north to south and vice-versa. The Southern Coastal tract will be repaved jointly. Kraut kingdom shall oversee the western half of the tract till the half-way point between Nisa and Genia. Should Ashenvale be deemed passable, Kraut kingdom commits an additional hundred of laborers to the cause."


    He pauses, draws breath and continues - "We would like to request that for the whole of Ashenvale construction, should it be undertaken, both Champagne and Kraut laborers are to be overseen by lady Gillespie as the instigator of this endeavor."


    No pressure, huh?

 Chapter 74. Threats And Promises

    The talks continue for quite a while after that. A LOT of detail about who and how and where and why. Dad and van der Klaas are asked to weigh in, then Rory is put to questioning by a combo of Alphonse and Klaus about the exact products dwarves would consider selling. Thankfully, the details themselves are not explosive. Nothing on the level of Klaus showing up, at least. Speaking of whom... I bugged the palace. Like, entirely. I want to know every last little thing Klaus does. To the best of my covert detection, he is the real deal and genetically equivalent to the version I chopped back in Champagne. Which means that he''s either a regenerator and I done goofed by letting Hiram take his head back, or that there''s even wonkier shit going on with him. Next time I kill him, I''m going to destroy the brain entirely and see if that affects the situation.


    So... as much as I''d like to fly out to the Ashenvale and survey the... Actually, fuck that. I''m totally going to fly out and survey the situation there. No need to let Klaus or anyone else know what I actually do for surveillance. I''ll show up there later, poke around, make thoughtful faces and ambiguous sounds and let them figure out how that worked. A little later, though. I can''t be arsed to do things covertly right now, I''ll just split and send off a chunk I slated for observation and analysis as a post pigeon once I''m back to my rooms. I have to handle today''s portion of mail anyhow, there should be a backlog actually. Annoying, but necessary. I generally handle things in situ, but certain documents have to be "sent" in for personal signature. Most importantly, purchase orders. The joys of controlling multiple businesses in pre-industrialized society.


    As the meeting wraps up, I beg off the "entertainment" afterward, citing tiredness, which garners me a bit of concerned clucking from every man involved and many wishes for me to "take care of yourself" and "rest well". Given that entertainment looks to be a bunch of bards, I think I got the better part of the deal. Long-winded ballads are not exactly my choice entertainment, even if I have to admit the musical tastes in this reality fare better than the contemporary options in my original world. I''ve heard some bardic recreations on renfaires, and... yeah, well. I''d assume it''s just recreators being shit singers, but the problem is less in singing and more in the fact pre-renaissance bards had no fucking sense of verse and ballads are really more of a story told along with lute strumming, without much care given to match the words and the tune. Around here, at least, poetry had flourished uninterrupted, so the songs are actually songs for the most part.


    Back in my room, Bridgit has a complicated expression... And there is a portal hovering above my table, pouring sand into a bowl. Oh. Huh. That''s more than a little curious.


    "Oh, mistress, just in time." - she tells me - "Roxolane had figured out the easiest of the magic gates. She says this is stable but doesn''t allow to throughput anything complicated. Only pure substances."


    I stick a finger into the sand. Huh, that''s pure quartz, crushed into sand. They probably raided the alchemy lab for this. Bridgit hands me the copperphone helpfully. "Roxy, good job." - I speak into receiver immediately - "I''m getting pure quartz sand here. Is that what you put through?"


    "Yes!" - she yelps back, clearly excited - "Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, it WORKS, it works, yes! And best of all, it is not me!"


    "Not... you? Oh, you managed to make it into enchantment? Doubly good, then. What''s the power source?" - I ask, as the sand tapers off.


    "A pot of petunias! Pour it back please, I''m sure it should be two-way, but testing will tell for certain." - she exclaims, and I hear some clatter on the other side. Probably putting a bowl. I scoop a handful of sand and let it trickle into the portal, figuring out its dimensions. It looks like a flat surface perpendicular to the gravity vector three pouse in diameter. This will improve logistics ridiculously for the raw stuff. A gesture, and the remaining sand clumps up above the portal, pouring into it through a telekinetic funnel.


    "Yes yes yes yesss!" - Roxy exults on the other end of the line. This... requires a bit of encouragement. I have previously arranged with the girls to keep my instance over at the academy "asleep" most of the day, with them telling people I''m feeling under the weather if asked, but for this... I wake it up, come up behind Roxy and hug her.


    "You''re a genius, dear." - I whisper into her ear. Moon Unit is right next to her, and both are grinning from ear to ear.


    "Alyssa! MM..." - she offers, snuggling back to me - "I did it! The theory was right, it''s possible to move stuff around with minimal mana expenditure!.... But, it becomes an order of magnitude more expensive with each added ingredient. I tried putting through regular sand and we couldn''t power it together."


    "Well, you could always poke me, you know." - I tell her.


    "Yes, but... I wanted to achieve this on my own." - she pouts - "And I did!"


    "You certainly did, Roxy. This is magnificent." - I agree, as I draw Moon Unit into a hug as well. Bridgit pops over and joins in the hug a moment after. "Wait, where''s Lily-Anne?" - I ask after a few moments.


    "Oh, she''s with Newspaper Gals. They''re figuring out the best way to dole out the articles on your airship." - Moon Unit offers jovially - "It''s been wild here last few days, everyone wants to know how it was to fly." She pauses, then offers in a lower voice - "And some girls have been harassing Selene over it."


    "What, why?" - it''s a legit question. The hell they''re harassing Selene for?


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    "Well, some of the highborn are complaining she took "their spot" on the airship. Ridiculous, but..." - Moon Unit explains.


    "Idiots. Well, keep an eye on her. Selene is kinda stubborn, but if someone goes too far, poke me so I could, ahem... settle the question, so to speak." - I reply, grinning viciously. This is beyond stupid, really. Selene had been invited because she''s my friend, simple as that. And they''re not. In fact, I did notice some of the highborn trying to give me cold shoulder. Of course, it doesn''t work on me, I have nothing I want on them and was perfectly content to ignore them right back. "Wait. Did any of them harass you over it?" - I ask, and Moon Unit and Roxy both look away at that. Damn. "Right. Names?" - I ask tightly - "Don''t think of this as ''giving me trouble'', by the way. If anything, I will have more trouble if I end up appearing like I''m indifferent to people harassing me and mine."


    "...Mainly Elaine de Braltar." - Moon Unit offers after a lengthy pause - "She''s most vocal about how we''re ''above our station''."


    "There''s also Vincent Gramme. He keeps insisting we''re all ''available'', whatever it is supposed to mean to him." - Roxy adds with a shudder.


    "Girls. I expect any further harassment to be promptly reported." - I upbraid them gently - "You''re not doing me any favors by grinning and bearing it."


    Leaving them in awkward silence, I step out to settle things.


    ___


    Let''s see. Vincent Gramme... son of a viscount. Generally speaking, not an opponent I should be worried about, but his insistence that MY girls are ''available''? That makes my non-existent blood boil. So I seek him out first. And I''m lucky with that, because I see him departing from some girls in the garden just ahead. So I simply wait behind the door, and as soon as he makes it in, I grab him by the lapels and yank him into an empty classroom. And, just so there are no doubts that kind of talk this is going to be, I sock him in the solar plexus right after, wait for him to bend and start coughing, then yank his head up by the hair.


    "Vinnie. I''m gonna be blunt - stay the fuck away from my harem. They''re spoken for, which means ''not fucking available'', and I will not hesitate to beat the shit out of you, on or off piste. Understood?" - perhaps this is a little harsh, but given what I know of the boys interaction, this is not far off from how it would be handled, if I were a boy.


    "Gah!" - is his eloquent response, and I add a second punch the moment he starts to unbend.


    "Ah-ah-ah. The proper answer is "Yes, milady, it will not happen again.". Now, repeat." - I tell him.


    "...Haaah! What... why.... let me go you... ugh!" - ok, a little more percussive therapy. In the soft spots and carefully measured, I do not want him to sport any visible bruises. Yet, at least. One from the left into the liver, then once he bends that way, another under the ribs from the right and a finishing knee to the solar plexus yet again. He bends over hard, retching.


    "Vinnie, I''m not hearing the response. Do we have a fucking understanding, or am I going to have to beat you until your innards give out? Because if you prefer death, just say the word." - I push at him, and he looks up fearfully.


    "Ah...ah, ah... haaah... No, please, milady, I understood perfectly!" - he manages, swallowing hard - "You made your claim very clear!"


    I pat his cheek. "Good boy. Keep your wits about you and this might be the only conversation of that sort we''ll ever have." - I tell him, departing. From what I know, this would be sufficient to cow him, and his example would keep the other boys in line. Now to handle girls... Hm. I can''t actually beat Elaine''s face in as well, no matter how satisfying it would be. Well, I can, but that would involve declaring a blood feud, and I''m not ready to exterminate de Braltars. Duke de Braltar is actually one of the competent guys at the court, and Abe will not think of me fondly if I end his line. Unfortunately, he raised a very spoiled daughter. So... instead of visiting her first, I return to my rooms and find out that letter I located in the library. It''s penned by de Braltar''s dad, and if I present it to Abe, he will pretty much have to execute the duke. Current law is that "conspiring to high treason is death", even if that conspiring fizzled out and didn''t come to anything at all. A moment with Moon Unit''s copier, and I depart for de Braltar mansion, a copy of the letter in hand.


    ___


    Getting a meeting with duke is surprisingly easy. He seems to be quite excited to see me either. I wonder why. His smile freezes and curdles, however, when I hand him the letter and he reads it.


    "...Lady Gillespie, how did you end up coming by that missive?" - he finally asks, having gone pale after finishing the read-through.


    "I''ve found it snuck away into one of the less perused books in the Academy library." - I explain - "I''ve been inclined to keep this a secret, but your daughter seems to be very intent on making an enemy of me."


    He stills, then facepalms. "...Elaine, gods damn it." - he then grouses - "...My sincere apologies, lady Gillespie, that is probably my fault."


    "How so?" - I ask. This gotta be good.


    "I have asked of her to befriend you." - he offers ruefully - "I imagine she went about it... in overly high-handed fashion, in spite of my remonstrations not to?"


    "Not even that." - I object - "Her friendly overtures, if they can be called such, consist of harassing my retainers about being above their station. Apparently, she believes she was entitled to an invitation to my airship. Which, well... If she was actually on friendly terms with me to begin with would have been furnished. Instead, she somehow seems to think my girls had "taken her spot", so to say."


    He facepalms again. "...I''m very sorry about this." - he then offers - "I will notify her most promptly to cease and desist. Gods above, where did I go wrong with that girl?"


    He is being rhetoric, but... "If I were to guess, the untimely departure of your wife had caused you to dote on your daughter to the exclusion of everything else." - I tell him - "It''s pretty common for a single parent to spoil their only child."


    He shakes his head. "I.. can''t dispute that." - he agrees - "Please understand me right, lady Gillespie. I loved Madeline with all my heart, and Elaine is all that I have of her still."


    "That''s understandable, yes. You seem to be a rational man, your grace. If you can impress upon your daughter that disparaging me and mine is not the way to befriend me, I will keep the existence of this letter a secret." - I offer to him.


    "But if Elaine continues to be foolhardy, you can end our house at any moment, for as long as king Abraham reigns.." - he continues my thought for me.


    "I very much hope it is not something I will have to do, your grace. In fact, I would very much like if we could all be on friendly terms. I imagine you had something specific in mind when you asked your daughter to establish closer ties with me?" - I ask. Generally speaking, I wouldn''t mind making some business deals with the guy, he has a pretty good head on his shoulders and won''t waste my or his time. The question is, however, what is his offer and how it would profit me.

 Chapter 75. Social Flop

    In a way, de Braltar might get just what he wanted, I suppose. In a way. It all hinges on how quick-witted his daughter is. We have discussed his business opportunities while the footman went to the academy to fetch the girl in question, and I have to say duke is pretty on the ball. His primary "I want to buy that" is a license to pave tar roads at his discretion in his dukedom. Which, admittedly, I''d provide for a purely nominal fee or entirely for free as it was. Well, last one more if king brokered some agreement and requested it. Anyway, the gist is that there was no specific reason to deny or ask for an excessive price on this. While I''m annoyed at his daughter, I''m not annoyed at his holdings. Further inquiries he makes are the possibilities to have mechanisms crafted for him to order... Which is mostly something he would need to discuss with dad and dwarves. The third is where the things get interesting - he is asking if I can develop some sort of "clever mechanism" to aid in irrigation.


    De Braltar''s irrigation issues are kinda simple - he possesses extensive grape vineyards, which are stretched along the hillsides. Grapes, for some reason, are vastly better if grown on hillsides, but he is hampered with the fact he needs to have water be carried up top on oxen-pulled carts. Designing some pumps is not a problem, I did give dwarves some basic schematics for it already, all that remains is to figure out duke''s exact needs and produce a number of pumps that can feed his hillside vineyards in a more centralized fashion. Of course, how much effort goes into it directly depends on the conversation we''re about to have. I''m not about to put effort into the prosperity of dukedom that is liable to get a belligerently minded leader down the line. Elaine de Braltar is the last and only scion of the ducal line, so whoever she marries will be adapted into the family as the next duke de Braltar... Which means she is going to marry a lower-ranking noble in all likeliness... And that more or less means that she''ll be the one wearing pants in the relationship, as it is only her children who could inherit the line further.


    We''re well past discussing the options and possibilities by the time servant finally announces the arrival of the daughter in question. So far past, that the last half-hour had been spent essentially on eating hors d''oeuvres and making inconsequential small talk. And if I''m being honest? The wait does not fill me with confidence. I heard the exact order duke gave to the runner before sending him off, he was pretty emphatic about not tarrying... But, then again, they''re still people living in the yesterday. Maybe two hours is not something they consider a long wait.


    "Father, what is going on? What was so urgent that I... oh." - hm. That''s curious. Elaine trails off pretty quickly as soon as she notices me. I wonder how it''s going to play.


    "Elaine, dear. Come sit with us." - he bides his daughter warmly, gesturing to the chair obviously set aside for her around the little round table we''re sitting at. Given the dispositions, we would end up being seated roughly equidistantly from each other. Nabad. Out of the corner of my eye, I see duke gesturing to his servants, all of whom bow and vacate the room entirely. Something that is clearly not lost on Elaine, as she pauses for a moment on her walk to the chair. I''m... not entirely sure how to interpret the way she looks at me. Wary, defiant, haughty... A little bit of everything, in short.


    She curtsies at the table before sitting down on the chair daintily, offering - "Greetings, father. Lady Gillespie. What do we owe the honor of this visit to?"


    Duke begins to speak, cuts off, sighs, then starts again. "Elaine, dear." - he offers awkwardly - "Lady Gillespie has some... things to discuss with you and paid a visit to me to arrange this talk without any undue ears." Huh, so he''s just going to toss the ball to me like this? Well, I guess. He really can''t tell his daughter no on anything, I''d wager.


    "Lady de Braltar." - I begin, keeping my voice paced and dry for now - "I have paid this visit to clarify certain actions you have undertaken recently. In my understanding, you made a concentrated effort to pick a fight with me, and I would like to know why. Your father shed some light on it, but I''d very much like to hear your input on this."


    She draws back, blinking. "...I beg your pardon, I what?" - she then demands incredulously - "The nerve! I never made a single demarche against you, lady Gillespie!"


    "You''ve been harassing my retainers and friends. Something about them going above their station. Care to explain?" - I press.


    Her cheeks flash ugly red and she clenches the edge of the table at that remainder. "It is well within my rights to upbraid uppity commoners as I see fit." - she grates - "Who are you to question me on that?!" Duke winces at that, but remains silent. Oh well.


    "Lady de Braltar, let me put it as clearly as I can. If you have a problem with my retainers and friends, then you have a problem with ME. Which, I believe, is wholly contradictory to your father''s request." - I bite back - "There are good reasons why I chose those people to be my retainers and friends, and I value them greatly. Making their lives harder is not going to make me like you, quite the opposite in fact. So I ask again. Why are you trying so hard to make an enemy of me in spite of your father''s request?"


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    "That''s preposterous! They were disrespectful to me, and so I have kindly reminded them of their station! If anything, I should be asking you why do you allow your retainers to act so disgracefully towards their betters!" - she retorts angrily. I can see her cheek twitching slightly. A lying tell? Or just an expression of anger? Curious.


    Well, let''s make this more interesting, then. A little bluff here, let''s see how you deal with it. I raise my hand and snap fingers, throwing a simple illusion spell over myself. Invisibility is advanced magic by common reckoning, but it is much easier to hide a stationary target. Like sitting me. Both duke and his daughter jump up with shocked exclamations as I vanish from their sight. "You honestly don''t think I wouldn''t verify this personally before making visits, now do you?" - I offer sardonically. And bingo! Her expression changes notably. The haughtiness is cut by half, replaced by mounting wariness and fear. I dismiss the spell a few moments later. "Yes, I can turn myself invisible to observe how my retainers are treated when they are thought to be alone. Yes, I have trailed them to make sure the rumors I''ve been hearing lately are true. Yes, I heard you making claims about "taking your place". The big question is, what is that place do you believe yourself entitled to? And why do you give yourself the trouble to seek out my retainers to make those claims?"


    She pinks, pales, pinks again. Huffs and turns away from me. No dice, huh? I glance at the duke, who is having a rather dismayed expression right now. "Elaine, please." - he begs - "I''m sure this is all a big misunderstanding and we can sort this out to everyone''s satisfaction. Just... please explain."


    "Father, why are you kowtowing to her!?" - she demands shrilly, disregarding my question entirely.


    "Because I possess information that could destroy your family entirely, if I choose to use it so." - I explain for him. I guess there''s just no helping it. Duke is too meek against his spoiled daughter. I''ll have to play the bad cop here.


    She turns around as if stung. "What do you MEAN, destroy my family!?" - she retorts - "I''ll have you know, lady Gillespie, that I am not lacking in gentlemen who would deem it an honor to fight on my behalf!"


    I wave the copy of the letter in the air. "This is a letter penned by your grandfather when he was back in Academy." - I explain, and duke swallows heavily - "It was likely written in a fit of teenage rebellion and your grandfather clearly didn''t follow through on it... but! Should this letter be presented in court, it will be considered as proof of treasonous intent, and you know what is the punishment for that."


    She sits back heavily, her face shocked. "...Are you threatening us?" - she repeats dumbly... then collects herself and thrusts a hand in my direction - "Hah, it''s a fake, and everyone will know it''s a fake! You cast a spell flowerless! You are not lady Gillespie!"


    I shake my heavily embroidered sleeve lazily. "Good try, but futile. His highness is well familiar with my facsimile casting proficiency." - I retort, and she deflates like a popped balloon.


    "...Facsimile... invisibility?" - she repeats numbly - "...why. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME!?"


    "Excuse me? Doing what? Insisting you leave me and mine in peace?" - I ask incredulously.


    She shrieks, waving her hands in the air - "THIS! All this! First you snub me, then you threaten us and have the utter gall to pretend you''re the offended party? You''re a thug! A brigand masquerading as a noble lady!"


    She''s unraveling. Good. Good. "Snub you how?" - I push her along.


    "HOW!? HOW!? A historic event, and you did NOT invite me! How am I supposed to treat that, if not as an outright snub!? I should have been on that airship of yours!" - she yells, standing up.


    "Why would I invite someone I had never spoken to beyond greetings?" - I repeat - "This was not a public ball. This was an outing specifically for my friends to show them the newest invention I made."


    "Friends?" - she repeats - "But..."


    "I never held any social outings, and I don''t intend to start soon." - I continue - "I''m a student in the Academy, I have neither space nor permission to host a ball in my dorm rooms. The trip on the airship was specifically me bragging to people I am close to about achieving success in complicated enchantment. The earliest social event I can see myself passing out invitations to would be the acknowledgment of my father as duke in winter."


    "You had TWO princes!" - she objects fiercely.


    "His excellency crownprince Hiram Hohenzollern and his excellency prince Edward Cullen, yes." - I agree - "I am on friendly terms with both of them. Crownprince Hohenzollern is my neighbor next door in the dorms and I have been engaged for a long time to prince Cullen. You might notice that I did NOT send any invitations to emir Abbas ibn-Salaadin, even though he was still in the capital, nor did I invite prince Constantine Cullen nor crownprince Alexander Cullen. For the simple reason that this was not a social event I''d invite everyone notable in the capital, but merely an outing between friends."


    "But why not ME!?" - she wails.


    "Uh... Because you never attempted to talk to me about anything at that point?" - I point out logically - "I knew you existed, but that was about the extent of interactions I had with you. If I were to send an invitation to you, I would be essentially obligated to invite the entirety of the Academy, and that is well beyond the capacity of the airship. And that is not even mentioning the fact the whole outing happened on a lark, and everyone attending simply happened to be free on that weekend. Consider it like this - if you happened to complete a particularly complicated embroidery, would you bother inviting me to show it off? Or it would be simply shown to your own friends over the tea?"


    And that''s when she flops down and starts sobbing. Yeah, well... That could have gone over better.

 Interlude 11. Predictions And Klaus

    In the wake of things not going to prediction, Klaus had resolved to do the thing he previously put off as the very last resort option - consulting with an actual seer. He did not put much stock in it, but in the face of all his expectations flying into his face, even outright gibberish would be a fair cop at figuring out the thrice-bedamned Gillespies. He needed to know WHAT was the trap, curse it all, and as quickly as possible. His expectations did not pan out at all - the amount of steel offered, the price asked, the terms suggested, the options proffered? All of them, each of them WAY more generous than he expected. Way more fairhanded. There must be some hidden catch to all of this to explain this generosity.


    He supposed that the trap could be the disruption of his control over the mercantile spheres in Kraut... But that alone seemed to be just a bit insufficient for the amount of resources they surely had to commit to fulfill their obligations. Klaus was not jesting when he asked Rory if the opening gift emptied the whole county of the steel. The sheer size of it suggested something of the sort, at least. By his estimation, the arrowheads and spearheads collectively weighted something close to a quarter of quintal. Which meant that the initial steel investment was somewhere more to the tune of half of quintal, given how easily metal was lost forging small things. Which, in turn, meant that monthly production was at least a full quintal of ripple steel. Maybe more. If that kind of pace was sustainable, Champagne knights would all be armed with swords and spears made out of it come next spring. And maybe something worse than that. He wouldn''t put it past lady Gillespie to figure out how to make a plate armor out of that steel, too. Chainmail could be pierced, and a poisoned arrow with needle tip could reliably take out a knight in full kit, even if made out of that steel... but a full plate made out of it? It would make one completely impervious. A few dozen of knights armored like this would be able to scatter pretty much any lord''s militia. If his highness Abraham possessed such a trump in his sleeve, why, he could dictate the terms to his vassals from a hereby unprecedented height of power. Why, that would make Abraham''s command within his realm almost as unassailable as Salaadin''s will was in Sultanate...


    Shaking his head, Klaus hastened his steps. Old biddy was poignantly acerbic at best of times, and he had no desire to endure her razor-sharp tongue and wit if he made her wait, not when he was there to get a favor. Pausing before a heavy door, he lifted the brass knocker and smacked it down against the copper plate a few times, announcing his arrival. The door was opened shortly and an invitation to enter was proffered in a whisper. This was the domain of old Kassandra, the southern tower of the castle. Klaus winced. On one hand, Alphonse made a sound call. On the other, well... there were reasons why things were like they were. Kassandra, who was already wrinkly by the time Alphonse paid attention to her prophecies, had been as much of a fixture around the castle as Klaus himself had been. She''s been picked up by then teenaged Alphonse shortly after his father was killed in a border skirmish. Notably, she was slated to be whipped for making a "crow''s cry" as people had taken to call her dire warnings about the king''s impending death. It was then Alphonse had made a decision that ensured he survived to ripe old age. He ordered a stay of punishment until some of her other predictions could be verified. Upon finishing that, Alphonse''s next order was to transfer the whipping to the lord of the land Kassandra was dwelling on. Prophetess herself had been cordially invited to live in the palace on the sole condition of giving any prediction regarding king''s health to her servants as soon as she''d get any.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    The problem with her predictions was simple. She never ever predicted anything in a way that made the subject of prediction feel like heeding it. In short, she was an old, stubborn, cantankerous witch who''s tongue could make a statue cry from rage. Alphonse solved the problem by never ever visiting the old biddy himself. Instead, he had a few very well paid and extremely thick-skinned servants who made note of everything old woman would say, then wrote her predictions down and passed them to Alphonse''s scholars for evaluation and summary. That system, while being far from a catch-all, had nonetheless furnished enough warnings to justify Kassandra''s upkeep for as long as she would care to live. And now, Klaus had sought her advice. The zingers would be epic, he presumed, but he was willing to endure the needling from the old shrew so long as she said anything new to add to his growing web of nonsense.


    And... just as he entered the sitting room, he jerked. Because Kassandra gave him the heaviest glare he ever received from her. Which was an achievement, considering the fact that she''s been blind for most of her life. "Klaus." - old witch rasped - "Came to ask about the thing up west, finally?"


    "The... thing?" - he ventured slowly. Being so forthcoming was NOT common for the old witch. Not common at all.


    "A piece of the void that pretends she''s a lovely girl, oh yes." - she crowed - "I might not have eyes no more, but one does not need eyes to see the hole in the gods-bedamned world!"


    Well... that was already something worthwhile, he mused. Kassandra had some specific verbal tics that made deciphering her mutterings easier - for example, the mention of void implied defilement. So, it is highly likely that lady Gillespie is highly defiled, then. Explains the magic prowess and odd behavior. Maybe explains the origins of knowledge. Peering beyond the world could be fruitful if you can withstand the madness.


    "How do I beat her?" - he ventured, opting for a blunt approach. Kassandra would mock him, but she would do so in a way that implies the solution.


    "You don''t, she beats you."


    Klaus frowned. That... was not particularly convenient. "She has to beat me if I am to win?" - he attempted to clarify.


    Kassandra cackled. "No, you dumb boy. She beats you. You lose." - she returned simply - "You try to beat her, she beats you. You try to poison her, she does not notice. You try to hurt her girls, she rips your liver out and eats it in front of you. Your only chance is to leave her well enough alone. Not that you can do that, now can you? Cocky dumbass, you can''t even grasp the idea you can''t win, can you?"


    "How do you know that with such certainty?" - he objected. Surely there was some way around that.


    "How does a moth know where the lamp shines at night?" - she objected - "Prediction''s a finicky thing, maybe, but some things are as bright and steady as a lighthouse. She shines on everything, she does. Nothing remains untouched by that radiance, no way. Not even old Kassandra. Now, git. I have a bath to take and a dress to be put on, if I am to meet the lass this evening."


    "Absolutely not!" - he objected - "The last thing the kingdom needs is you driving her away with your vinegar words!"


    His response came in the form of a cane impacting him right between the eyes with significant force. Not enough to injure, but more than enough to make him yelp and jerk back. "You just try and stop me, boyo." - old witch rasped menacingly - "Your life''s worth less than my eyes back. Oh, don''t you make that face, you fool. The void''s generous enough if you ask gently and in the right words. Not that you ever asked for anything gently in your life, now did you?"

 Chapter 76. The Plotful Thickening

    This is one of the topics I''m not particularly experienced in, but based on the duration and the general... slapshoddiness of the whole thing, I am inclined to conclude that the crying jag right now was the "I''m genuinely confused and despondent", not the "I''m presenting a polite fiction of distress". Duke is kind of torn between the obvious necessity of not angering someone holding incredibly damning blackmail over his head and equally obvious desire to be irate at someone who made his beloved daughter cry. I would argue that Elaine was the one who actually made herself cry, but I have a feeling duke would not consider that a valid argument. So I''m quietly thankful he directs his efforts into hugging his daughter instead of anything... more undiplomatic.


    I decide to be tactful and permit some time for Elaine to collect herself properly. Pushing her while she''s still sobbing would be... yeah, no. Just. No. I actually want to resolve this in some sort of amiable fashion, not make an enemy out of duke in perpetuity. So I wait. And I wait. And I wait some more. Annoying. Maybe it would be more expeditious to just bow out now, come back in the evening and eat their heads?... Wait. No. Bad shoggoth. Not getting in the habit of eating heads for petty convenience. This way lies a marriage proposal from Vallah. I''m NOT going to become a senseless murderer like Vlad, that''s not how I build myself all the modern amenities. I mean... I could theoretically just eat the whole continent and then I could just build as I... No, no wait, focus. If I eat the continent, I''m going to upset my girls. They''re really nice about me being an eldritch abomination, but that acceptance is going to be overstretched if I eat their relatives. Who also have relatives. And friends. And business partners. And reservations about letting their precious/distant/vaguely familiar female relatives engage with personalized omnicide. Grrr...


    I think my ruminations are finding some reflection in my expression. Actually, I''m pretty fucking certain they are, because... Shit. Ok, enough. Stop. Chill. STOP with omnicidal daydreaming, it''s apparently showing enough to make my unfortunate hosts abandon their own emotional distress in favor of being distressed by... Actually, just what the hell is that they''re starting at? I turn back one of the eyespiders that''s observing the corridor and... Oh. Oh. OOOOH! I need to reassure them. A nice smile should do the trick! ...Wait, no, shit, damn it. OK, plan B - return the features to the proper shape, then smile.


    "My apologies. I tend to express bodymorphing magic while distracted." - I tell them with somewhat fake contriteness. Don''t get me wrong, I am a little bit upset I just scared the shit out of them accidentally. But mostly not because I did, but because it happened without me actually meaning to. They shuffle further away on the couch. Darn. Time to spin the story, then.


    "And this is why I''m not exactly keen on establishing superficial social links." - I continue, stretching out and surreptitiously showing off that I''m entirely human-shaped again. No claws, no teeth, no scales. Why did I start shifting into some kind of... dragonoid, anyways? Subconscious reaction on "why don''t I eat everything" or something? Weird. They''re clearly not going to contribute to the conversation, so I continue my monologue - "Power comes at a cost. In my particular case, it means magic gets away from me when I am not paying enough attention. Things become randomly enchanted, or I shift shape myself, or something else happens. It takes but a moment of inattention sometimes. Which is why people I choose to associate with are... relatively few. Very few, if you consider my actual station in life. Business partners and very important people, whom I interact with sparingly and on business, keeping meticulous control over myself, and my own coterie, which is comprised solely out of girls I implicitly trust not to become alarmed if I''m suddenly covered in scales or have an inkpot floating around my head."


    Duke clears his throat awkwardly. "Far it be from me to tell you how to live your life, lady Gillespie, but wouldn''t it be easiest simply to stop wearing any facsimiles to prevent accidental magic?" - he suggests a remarkably mundane solution. Which isn''t going to work for obvious to me reasons, but I need to deflect it somehow.


    "For one, I do not feel secure if I can''t cast at a moment''s notice." - I object - "I''ve had people make attempts at my life as early as when I was eight years old. For two, I have no idea what is going to happen if I intentionally deny myself the easy channel for the magic to express itself. There is a reason why suppressing magic is a crime, duke, and I''m not keen on experimenting on myself to find out the limits of tolerance. For all I know, I might be already exceeding them and not even know it."


    He wilts away. I can see the apprehension becoming a third participant in the tug of war for his emotions. Gah. This is a complete clusterfuck of a visit. Now all I need is... Elaine to pipe up. Of fucking course.


    "...I think I understand better now." - she suddenly offers, surprisingly composed for someone who was just bawling her eyes out - "This is a mess." Ok, this is surprisingly straightforward and candid. Either she''s too exhausted from crying to bother putting a mask on, or this is another mask because she decided to switch things up. No obvious lies so far, at least.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    "Astute observation. The question is, what should be done with this mess." - I toss back at her - "I believe you have a good idea WHY I''m so protective of my coterie, and why I won''t tolerate any action against them."


    "Your harem, you mean." - she objects.


    I shrug - "That too. But oijan concept of a harem is too limited for my tastes, so I don''t use it much. I have no doubt oijans would think what I have is far from what the proper harem should look like."


    She pinks heavily. "...I did not expect you to just admit it out loud." - she offers, while her father casts confused looks from me to her to me again.


    "Why not? It''s not the usual kind of relationship, but it is mine. I feel neither shame nor fear in recognizing it." - I retort - "If anything, that should make it eminently clear why I''m willing to go to considerable extremes to put an end to any ill-conceived demarches against my wives. Well, future wives, we have all agreed to postpone the officiation of the whole thing until things are more settled. Maybe on the winter solstice, it''s an auspicious day for new endeavors."


    Elaine purses her lips, looking pensive. "I admit that situation looks much less favorable to me in that light." - she finally offers - "Still, that does not explain everything. I can accept that you had good reasons to avoid too many acquaintances, and I can see how inviting everyone on the airship is not feasible. That still does not explain the snubbing of invitations to assorted gatherings. I have sent no less than three personally and neither of them had been answered, much less heeded. I know others send their own, and I am aware you''ve responded to at least one of them. How do you explain this?"


    "What invitations?" - I return, frowning - "If you sent anything... better doublecheck whoever it is you used to send them. I''ve made a point to make token appearances or give a polite declination to every invitation I actually receive."


    Now it is her turn to frown. She picks up a bell, walks over to the door, pushes it open and starts shaking the bell vigorously. "Fetch me Madeleine." - she orders the servant that pops up at the sound of the bell - "I need her assistance." He breaks off in a run, and she returns to the table, setting the bell on it. "There must be some explanation for it. Madeleine had been my maid ever since I was a toddler. I trust her like a member of my family." - she continues slowly - "There must be some kind of breakage after her. Could... No, I shall not speculate needlessly when the answers are just around the corner."


    I think it''s wise of her, because the only person she could accuse next would be Bridgit. Who, she should realize, is in much the same position with me as she is with Madeleine... not to mention one of my waifus. I guess Elaine can think on her feet when she''s not blinded by misattributed slight. But then again... "Per any chance, is either of you skilled with light magic?" - I suggest, frowning when both of them shake their heads. It would be easier if they had lie detection available... Actually, why not? I conjure a stone and slap a quickly devised seal on top of it. It''s almost primitively simple, when you think about it. Just a bit of stone infused with light magic without aim and a trigger that makes the stone flash green or red depending on if the magic blooms or recoils. Simple.


    "Lie something, please." - I request. Duke''s face is utter confusion, but Elaine catches up on the idea quicker.


    "Grass is green!" - she says cheerfully, and the stone lights up in green. She nods and continues - "I''m a walrus!" and the stone obediently lights up in red. Duke''s face brightens as he grasps the implications.


    "Astonishing." - he says, and the stone lights up green again, making him doubletake and chuckle - "Can this be enchanted more permanently?"


    I chew my lip. "Ostensibly, yes, but... Hm. Actually... Yes, that can work, but... Hm." - I muse - "I''ll have to experiment and see the exact details, but there is no reason why this same formula couldn''t be etched into a stone pot and a light-aligned flower planted in to provide the power."


    "I would like to commission a dozen if you work it out." - duke says immediately. I can see where he''s coming from, so I nod. It is deceptively simple, when you really think about it, and a whole lot of people not well versed in light magic or magic in general would pay well for portable lie detectors. It''s just as well that the topic peters out, though, as the door creaks open.


    "Mistress? How can I serve?" - a newly coming maid asks, curtsying. In the next moment she notices me and... No, she does not make any obvious reaction, but to my senses... It''s rather clear she just suppressed a fearful flinch. I guess she DOES have something to hide, then.


    "Madeleine." - Elaine offers seriously - "I have sent you to deliver invitations to lady Gillespie several times before. Have you been delivering them?"


    She glances at me and curtsies again, replying - "Yes, of course, mistress, I have brought each of the invitations to lady Gillespie''s doors personally." The stone is green as she says, and she does not seem to pay any attention to it. Not really relevant to the situation in her assessment, I guess.


    But, this is not going to work. Elaine is asking too vaguely, Madeleine can dodge the actual question and still sound truthful. So I venture one of my own. "Have you been ensuring I do not receive them?" - I ask and now she flinches.


    "Mistress, this... why!? I have served you faithfully for years, why am I treated with such suspicion?" - she yelps, the stone still being green, as she is entirely genuine with this.


    "Yes or no. Have you, or have you not been ensuring I do NOT receive any invitations from lady Braltar?" - I tell her, and she shoots me a defiant glance, remaining silent.


    "Madeleine. Please answer the question. Yes or no. If you do not say something, I will assume the answer is yes." - Elaine tells her, and... the wind leaves the sails momentarily, but then returns two-fold. She probably thinks I''m the one who''d be claiming if she''s lying or not.


    "No, mistress." - she says, and the stone changes the glow to sullen red. Gotcha.

 Chapter 77. Eyesight To The Blind

    It takes some finagling, but we finally get Madeleine to admit she is trying to get revenge on me, or more precisely on my house over the fact that her father was a bastard son of a house my grandfather paupered. I''m honestly not even sure what to do with this. Granted, Philippe Gillespie was a cast-iron bastard with a cruel and inventive mind, but given that Madeleine''s father was a bastard, what difference does it make? He''d be left without any support regardless. He WAS, at that. Additionally, and most damningly, Madeleine herself does not even KNOW what house she''s supposed to be a scion of, her father for some inane reason never given her a name. I have a suspicion he hated them even more than my grandfather... And I''m not even sure what was his beef with my grandfather in first place. Then again, some people tend to take family name awfully seriously.


    Add on top of it that Madeleine''s "revenge", if it could be called so, only hurt Elaine''s chances of getting to know me... Amusingly enough, Madeleine seems to flat-out fail to grasp that it was Elaine who ultimately wants to build up ties to me, not vice-versa. She seems to be willfully stuck on an assumption that the table of ranks is absolute and favor is only ever curried from the bottom towards the top. I don''t have the patience to deal with this. Ultimately, Madeleine''s actions hurt only Braltars, they can sort out their unruly servant. I express this much and bow out after promising duke to send him the papers for the business we discussed and notice on lie detectors if I actually make physical versions of it. Elaine, in spite of my slight reluctance, gets a promise to be invited to one of the airship trips in the near future, as soon as airship makes it back from Kraut. I''m very grateful neither of them thought to question what I''m doing here if I ostensibly departed to Kraut. Or maybe the tales of me teleporting to Sultanate and back are already in the rumor mill and they assume it''s par for the course. Of course, I also got assurances from Elaine that any and all harassment of my harem will cease or else.


    Anyway, back to the academy. Girls are cautiously optimistic when I explain that the most egregious perpetrators had been... talked to. Then I get a lot of being talked to of my own. The gist of it is that I shouldn''t really bother myself with such pettiness, to which I entirely honestly explain that not handling this pettiness would be seen as a tacit admission of weakness and thus, an invitation for further indignities for myself and them. Lily-Anne helpfully pitches in to confirm that it is exactly as I say, and therefore it is actually good that I handled it preemptively, but then she wants to know what was handled and why.


    Explaining new arrangements takes a bit of time, but thankfully no one seems to find any problem with those, at least. Though, I do notice some lingering disquiet over my treatment of Vinnie. Do they think I''m being too brutal here? Maybe. Yet another thing to worry about. Joy. While we are at it, there is an interesting movement at the sweetshop. A boy comes running with a message from "madame Konistan". Oho. The message is delivered to the office as per my orders... and I spin up the instance in the shop to take a look. Curiouser and curiouser. The note outright orders the overseer of the shop to prepare ledgers and coffer for "inspections" by both madame Konistan and one marquis de Brege? Good grief, I think Abe will actually have to bust him down to viscount this time.


    Thinking quickly, I send back a note that implies compliance. I''m guessing she''s hurrying to "sell off" as many of my properties as she can while I''m in Kraut, and starts off with the most well known... And sells it to someone who recently had an altercation with me, to boot. Too bad for her, whoever she is. Summoning the actual overseer, I give him instructions. The duo that''s about to arrive is to be escorted with all requisite obsequiousness to the office where I am waiting for them with great interest. My plan for this is straightforward. De Brege still remembers me. He''d fucking better. So in a confrontation between me and madame Konistan, he should know better than to think she has the upper hand. And if he proves his worth as an idiot once again, well, he was slated for demotion. I''m sure Abe will not be particularly thrilled if de Brege crops up in complaint on his radar so soon after the whole mess with sweetroll-obsessed offspring.


    A quick shift of attention back to Academy to update girls with the latest news, then even quicker switch to Kraut to ensure all is quiet on the eastern front, and I move my attention back to shop. Not a second too soon, while at it - there''s carriage moving up to the doors. Goodness, I wonder what kind of story did this madame Konistan spill for de Brege to make him move so quickly. In order to maximize the surprise, I lay out the ledgers on the table, set the coffer right next to it and then step next to the door, hiding behind it.


    "Whyyyy, moost sooortainly." - someone offers with accent I can''t characterize as anything other than atrocious - "I assooore yooo, thoo shop is in gooood condiiishon. T''is biin opened but two moooonths agooo."


    "Yes, indeed, most pleasing." - and this is definitely de Brege - "I have been overjoyed to find out the actual owner of the shop is so agreeable. That horrible lady Gillespie claimed to own it even, could you imagine? Thankfully, I am not the gullible kind, nope. I am so looking forward to banning her from this very shop for life, just as she threatened to do to me! The nerve!"


    And just as they come into the room, I slam the door closed behind them and step in front of it. They whirl around in surprise. Then, their expressions pale in matching rictuses of horror.


    "Why hello there." - I purr happily - "I do admit, I am quite impatient to find out just who it is about to try selling MY POSSESSIONS. Burning with curiosity, even." To underscore the point, I let the fingers of my left hand ignite with lazy flame whisps, leaving trails of smoke through the air as I gesture for my would-be doppelganger to come closer. She doesn''t. Instead, she backs off to the furthest wall and starts screaming her head off enthusiastically. After a moment of stupefied stillness, de Brege joins in with his own vocalizations. Whoops. A little scale showing up. Then again, do I really mind that much? I mean, really, dragons protecting their property is rather iconic and all that.


    I give them a bit of time to run out of air, then continue happily. "Marquis de Brege. This shop belongs to ME, and I have no intentions of selling it. To you or anyone else." - I tell him first - "I''m aware you''re under a misconception this shop is owned by someone else, and I do not give a damn. You''re entirely welcome to complain to the merchant guild and the king about it. I will certainly be making a complaint to the king about you trying to acquire my properties in an underhanded manner. Not sure yet what I''m going to ask - to have you demoted to viscount as his highness already threatened before, or just to sanction blood feud." I smile at him, making him gulp and shiver at the sight of currently very carnivorous dentition - "Please DO be belligerent enough to make the second happen, I beg of you. Julien is very pleasantly fattened, I''m certain he would be scrumptious roasted with some pepper and saffron."


    Aaand... I might have overdone this badly, because both of them swoon, roll their eyes in the back of the head and faint in a surprisingly synchronized manner. Rolling my eyes in turn, I tamp myself down to human form, summon some of the shop''s workers and have them move the bodies. De Brege is brought back to the carriage, settled in and the driver is told that his lord had fainted unexpectedly and thus is being brought back to his carriage to be returned home and attended to by his personal medic. The story is accepted without a hitch and the carriage promptly disappears. The other body is wrapped into a length of tarp from neck to feet, including a couple poles roughly her height to stiffen the bundle up, then her mouth is stuffed with rags and tied in, and a sack is thrown over her head to mask it up. She will keep, I have little desire to actually interrogate her without sir Malachi, Mihel and maybe Abe and dad too. So the bundle is brought to the Gillespie estate and upon a brief inspection, unbound and locked in a cellar along with a pile of hay, loaf of bread and a jug of water. Mansion servants are appraised about the status of the prisoner and given permission by me to use truncheons to beat her into submission in case of unruly behavior. Not that I expect any, given my orders to never visit her in numbers less then two, with one person mandatory standing by with club outside the door. I''ll give her a couple days of isolation on bread and water, then we''ll hear what tunes she''ll whistle.


    This is somewhat alarming. I''m threatening to eat people far, far, far too often. If this continues, it will change up from an off-color threat to actual rumors about my cannibalism. Which would be a problem because I am not really adverse to that and used the method to get rid of a couple bodies, so I''d have to answer yes to a direct question on if I ever ate any people or be spotted as a liar. Admittedly, I can always joke it off as bawdy "in the eat them out sense", but that won''t work more than a few times at best. I need to ease up on that. No shortage of other means to get rid of people I need to be rid of, after all. Not all of them even lethal, while we''re at it. I need to work on that. Not murdering everyone inconvenient, that is. I have political capital, I have wealth, I have reputation, I have tons of means of exerting pressure on people without rampant killing sprees... Even though it''s ever so convenient. Damnit.


    I end up settling everything in Parsee, parking my instances there, including Academy one and shifting my whole attention back to Kraut in short order. Well, partially. I still have enough attention on my instance back in Academy, but all I''m doing there is sulking on the bed. It alarms the girls, I''m afraid, but I just can''t help but brood. I''ve never been particularly humanitarian-minded in my previous life and having a body that predisposes me to blue and orange morality does not help feigning my thin veneer of normality at all. Honestly, I''m downright grateful I have my harem right now, without girls anchoring me I''d go haywire way, way, way sooner.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    But, I digress. The reason why I''m focusing on Kraut now is because I''ve just been told by a nervous servant that infamous seer Kassandra expresses a desire to pay me a visit and is in fact waiting for me in my anteroom. And, since it was so sudden, Bridgit had no time to blink in, and now I have to face the seer without my supermaido hanging around as moral support because it would be seen as very odd if she were to walk out of a room she wasn''t in, considering the only door leading into it is the one servant used and it''s the third floor of the palace, which means six touse drop from window to the ground, because they don''t skimp on ceiling heights here.


    My first impression of Kassandra is "cantankerous old biddy". The second is "cantankerous blind old biddy". And then she starts to talk.


    "Ah, there you are, dearie." - she rasps - "Now, now, don''t be so surprised. Old Kassandra might not see you, no, but she hears you breathe. Come sit with the old woman for a bit, would you kindly?" IN-CON-GRU-O-US.


    Then she turns to the servant... and the way she speaks is much more in line with my expectations. "What are you standing there for, you impertinent scoundrel? <dfn title="Out!">Raus!</dfn> Out you go, let the women talk in peace." - she levels at the hapless servant, complete with a swing of her cane in surprisingly accurate direction of his position next to the wall. He swallows, looks on me, on her, then soldiers on.


    "Many pardons, honorable seer, but it was his highness Alphonse''s order that you are not to be left alone with guests, lest your regrettable blindness causes a problem." - he proffers remarkably bluntly, and dodges the thrown cane with surprising dexterity, catching it as it rebounds from the wall. Much to my surprise he immediately returns it to Kassandra and weathers the hefty strike with it across his buttocks with solemn stoicism, shrugging at me helplessly.


    "And I said git!" - she growls - "I shan''t leave this very chair, lest my remarkable blindness inconveniences anyone, indeed!"


    As amusing as it is, I am actually curious as to what the seer has to say to me, and I have a hunch that Alphonse ordered supervision specifically so that Kassandra does not offend any of us with her cantankerousness, not because of any respect to her blindness. So I intervene.


    "You. What is your name?" - I demand of servant.


    "Me? I am Hans, jungfrau Gillespie." - he answers simply.


    "Very well. Hans, correct me if I''m wrong, but his highness Alphonse gave you an order not to leave honorable seer alone with any guests out of concern her frank manner of speaking will give offense, right?" - I ask of him. He hesitates, but then nods as Kassandra snorts derisively.


    "Fine. In that case, please vacate the room and wait for me to call you back outside the doors." - I tell him - "I hereby affirm that regardless of what honorable seer says to me or how, I shall not fault the kingdom of Kraut for that, nor shall I seek any redress from honorable seer herself. I am well cognizant she is an old woman and therefore might be more liberal with words than high society usually permits. Should I find that whatever it is she wants to discuss is unacceptable, I shall simply summon you to escort honorable seer out of my rooms. I am prepared to sign an affidavit to that effect, if you prefer to have a written proof."


    He looks around helplessly, then nods - "I.. believe that a writ should satisfy everyone, jungfrau Gillespie, if you please."


    Well, he is certainly cautious. Then again, if he was a fool, he probably wouldn''t be entrusted to see after a nationally-important person like the seer. So I pick up the quill (fucking things, I really should invent a biro, or just skip ahead and introduce ballpoint pens), write out ''I the undersigned Alyssa Gillespie do hereby confirm that I have of my own volition and in clear mind agreed to have one private discussion with honorable seer Kassandra, and agree to indemnify kingdom of Kraut in general and aforementioned honorable seer in particular of any slights on my honor and character pursuant to the contents of the aforementioned discussion, regardless of what shall be said during said conversation.'' He grabs the signed paper and vacates the room, leaving me alone with old biddy. I cast a glance at her and throw a bunch of privacy-ensuring spells I cribbed from sir Malachi.


    "Well done, my dearie." - old woman rasps. I wince.


    "Right. Whatever is said is strictly between us. You can drop the act, it makes me cringe and I can see you cringing as well." - I tell her bluntly, and she sighs.


    "Phah. As if old Kassandra would try to fool the void." - she grumbles - "Right-o, to the brass tacks then. I want to see. You can make it happen. Name your price."


    I hum. This is actually pretty neat. Almost like talking to dwarves. Only more cantankerous.


    "Hold still. I need to see what is wrong with your eyes to tell you what can be done." - I tell her and she scoffs.


    "I can tell you what is wrong with my eyes right now, girlie. They''ve been poked out with a dagger on the orders of that good-for-nothing bastard Minze!" - she shrills - "Daft fool thought that would save him from the prophecy."


    I toss a couple of medical spells her way nonetheless. "Let me guess, he could have dodged the whole thing if only he actually listened to what you say instead of fixating on the fact you''re predicting his misfortune." - I muse, as I get back the results - "Hm. You''re missing both eyeballs entirely. This went further than poking, they literally scooped your eyes out with knifepoint. Then the eyesockets got inflamed and scarred over." The shudder that goes through the old woman confirms my results.


    "The good news is, the inflammation somehow missed the chiasma." - I continue my clinical assessment - "So that is salvageable. You still have the nerves leading from chiasma to the brain intact. So... theoretically possible. Just so we are clear, in order to do this, I will have to literally cut your ocular cavities open, debride a whole lot of scar tissue and install some kind of replacement for actual eyes."


    She shudders again, but then doubles down on it. "Whatever it is you need to do, do it." - she rasps forcefully - "What do you want for them eyes?"


    "Tell me, what do I look like to you." - I tell her - "Not what are my looks, of course. What do I look like to you as a seer."


    "You are a piece of void, girlie." - she returns - "You''re not mortal, never been mortal, never be mortal. Them, the little people, they are like a stick figure with an ember within their heart. You? You''re a pile of embers shaping yourself like the little people for shits and giggles. You blot them all out with your incandescence, they are invisible in your light shadow, and that shadow grows each day."


    "Any other people with more than an ember inside?" - I ask and she cackles.


    "Every single defiled, girlie. The void, it burns brighter than the sun, and you are the brightest of them all. The defiled, they are cloaked in luminosity, but you are the radiance itself, searing the steps across the lands everywhere you go." - she rasps in apparent delight - "Alphonse knows, and that old fool Klaus knows too. They think you merely defiled, the fools. You are the defilement itself and should they see you for what you really are, they would be but gibbering sacks of insane flesh."


    "<dfn title="Very well.">Sehr gut.</dfn> Do you have any mementos related to your blindness specifically? Eyes would be better if I fashion them out of metaphysically connected materials." - I change the topic.


    She smirks and digs into her pockets. "The bloody silver and two tears of heaven." - she rasps, setting down a sack on the table with a clunk. I turn it upside down. Two huge sapphires and a quantity of antique-looking silver coins. Crownmarks.


    "They were given to you as compensation for the injury, right?" - I inquire, and she nods tersely. That will do. That will do nicely. The gems are first. Nice faceting, just right size to etch some formulae on. The front would be the focal lens, some air magic to assure variable curvature... The back would be the recognition matrix. Just as I am about to start cutting, something occurs to me.


    "Just to be sure." - I ask - "You are fully cognizant that what I will do to you will cause significant defilement, right? You seem to me like you`re willful enough to weather the initial shock, but it has to be said."


    "If I am to see again, I must be touched by the void, yes." - she confirms - "But you still haven''t named your price."


    I snicker, as I quickly etch the jewels as I envision it, melt the coins and fashion them into decofilaments, braiding them into replacement nerves. The rest of silver is fashioned into frames to hold the gems within.


    "You did not realize it?" - I ask, as I place my hand on her forehead - "You''ve already paid." She jerks as I sink tentacles into her eyesockets, turning off nerves as I go. The scar tissue is scooped out unceremoniously, processed and turned into plastic-like material, complimented with the entire assortment of flowers that were placed in my room to make a sufficient quantity of neutral layer. The bloody tissue underneath is straightened out as much as I can manage and then grafted to the layer of neutral plastic, plating her ocular cavities in their entirety, save for a little bit in the back that accesses the chiasma. Silver pushes in, the tips grafting themselves into the nerve as I push my telekinesis to the limits... Aand done, the connectivity checks out. More plastic, the last drops of it sealing up the raw nerve in the back, binding to it both to safeguard it and to ensure the silver wire is shielded from ionic corrosion. Frames are next, slotted neatly into the cavities and anchored within securely. The gems are last, they click into the frames with a final-sounding snap. This is not a construct that could be disassembled, it will last for as long as the old witch herself is alive. Finally, I push some light magic in to regrow the eyelids... and I run into a problem. Whoever did the blinding also managed to nick the bridge of the nose badly. It''s not strong enough to support all the requisite muscles. As I pause to think about how to handle this, I notice one errant coin that was not melted. Perfect. Stretching it out a little, I graft it into the old woman''s nose, replacing the damaged part. The tissue itself is reworked into more of the protective layer, and the replacement bridge is slotted in. I did not plan on it, but Kassandra ended up with a sigil of the current king, Alphonse, sitting right between her newly reconstructed eyes. I briefly consider smoothing it out, but then elect against it. If it happened that way, then there are metaphysical reasons for it. Likely the connection Kassandra has with the king.


    I step back and consider the result critically. With her eyes closed, she can pass for a regular woman... with a prosthetic upper nose, that is. But they are currently open, and look pretty creepy with gems in her eyesockets. So I tap the bridge of her nose, sending an activation charge into the construct. From now on, it will support itself by leeching a tiny bit of magic from the old witch. She won''t notice the drain, it would be very well offset by increased defilement. She had some even before we met, of course, otherwise I''d have to think up something less impactful. Hm. Much less creepy with the gems all lit up with magic.


    She blinks. Twice. Then shudders and throws her cane up in the air with a loud cheer.

 Chapter 78. Talks Behind Closed Doors

    I give Kassandra a bit of time to get used to returned eyesight, then cough. She immediately snaps to attention, her face looking much livelier now, construct grafted into it notwithstanding. I hold up a conjured mirror in front of her, and her mouth opens slightly, as she traces her hand over the cheek, rubbing under her new eye lightly, then comes to scratch her nose.


    "Gods above." - she whispers - "Talk about getting what you asked for..." She marvels at her new face, but then her expression snaps back into neutral. "Right. So, how do I care for them new eyes, girlie?" - she asks. Very practical of her. Sensible. I approve.


    "Well, for all intents and purposes, those are your actual eyes now. Wash your face as you normally do, that should do the trick. The enchantment feeds off your own power, so until and unless you''re dead, your sight is guaranteed." - I explain - "Do not try to remove the gems or the construct, they are a permanent part of your face from now on. Maybe ask the chef to prepare you a carrot salad every now and then, but other than that, don''t worry about it. Now, let me show you a couple tricks you can pull with those."


    "Tricks?" - she repeats uncertainly - "What kind of tricks?"


    "Well, did you honestly expect me to just make boring old eyes with such intriguing materials?" - I tease, and reach out with magic, poking a certain part of the enchantment. It''s been linked to her nerves, she has enough of brain power to handle a few new controls - "Feel that? See how it changes the way you see?"


    "Wat... WHAT IS THIS? Why is everything so... oddly colored now?" - she yelps, blinking rapidly, as she looks around.


    "This is heat vision overlay. Cold on the violet end of the spectrum, hot on the red." - I explain to her.


    "Spectrum? Now what''s that supposed to mean, girlie?" - she snaps back irritably - "...Oh, good gods, I can see what''s hot!?"


    "Rainbow, you know? Black''s chilled, violet and blue are cold, green is cool, yellow is lukewarm, orange and red are hot and white is blazing." - I simplify for her, and she shudders, visibly making an effort to trigger the overlay herself.


    "Well wreck me sideways and call me a banner..." - she grouses wonderingly - "And this... OOoh, let me guess. Give up on color to see the light better, aight?"


    "Just so. Heat vision should help you move around in dark and figure out what is best not touched lest you burn yourself, brightness enhancement should be handy in the twilight. Now, those are mutually exclusive due to how they work. Here is the last option, and it is one you can use with all three modes." - I explain, poking the other trigger I installed - "Magic highlight vision."


    "Good grief, this is how you see, isn''t it?" - she muses, too flabbergasted to be properly cantankerous.


    "Yes. Sort of. Unlike you, I perceive all four modes in the same time all the time. You can''t, your mind only has so much devoted to sight, if I tried to make it all work in the same time, you''d go down with a headache within minutes. It goes without saying I can see so much more, but those four options are the only ones reasonably safe for a human to perceive." - I finish the explanation - "Keep this to yourself, if you please."


    She snorts. "Ain''t no need to point that one out, girlie. If I let it slip I can see all of them enchantments now, every gods-bedamned noble would be sharpening a knife to cut me up." - she retorts - "You''re not Argyl and Marra''s daughter, perchance?"


    "Not that I know of, no." - I confirm blandly - "Lastly, and this is important... Those are YOUR eyes. Explicitly. Even if they got their best chirurgions to transplant the device into someone else, all they would do would render them blind. Those are for you alone. Metaphysical connections are..."


    And this is where we are interrupted by a whole procession of people barging in, Alphonse at the head. I can sort of see Hiram behind him, and there are more people in the back, but all of them are blocked as Alphonse stops in the doorway and stares at Kassandra in numb surprise.


    "<dfn title="Gods help me... what is this?">Geter helfn mir ... vos iz dos!?</dfn>" - he exclaims, extending a shaking hand towards Kassandra''s face.


    "<dfn title="Ah, those are my new eyes, your majesty. Like them?">Ah, dos iz meyn naye aoygn, deyn majesti. Vi zey?</dfn>" - Kassandra retorts, somehow managing to sound both peeved and coquettish in the same time. Good grief, that''s disturbing.


    He raises his hand... opens mouth. Closes mouth. Opens his mouth again. Coughs. Drops hand. Sighs. Steps in. Hiram behind him facepalms. "<dfn title="And that''s the usual Alyssa experience, father.">Aun dos iz di geveyntlekh Alyssa derfarung, after.</dfn>" - he offers sarcastically - "Many pardons for the sudden intrusion, lady Gillespie. My father was very concerned about your meeting with the honorable seer and had persuaded himself that he should intervene before something, ah... unfortunate happens."


    I chuckle. "Hans, now would be the good time to pass over the writ to his highness." - I suggest and the servant in question darts into the room, bowing deeply as he extends the note I wrote to Alphonse with both hands. Befuddled, Alphonse takes it, opens it up and reads. Then snorts.


    "I... yes, I see now." - he finally proffers - "My apologies, lady Gillespie, I seem to have surrounded myself with overly wily retainers."


    "Well, it was an interesting problem, so I''m definitely not complaining. Would you like to come in properly, have a seat? Listen to the details? I imagine you have questions." - I offer to him.


    He rubs the bridge of his nose, shares a commiserating look with Hiram. "<dfn title="You know, I am beginning to suspect you were rather modest in your vivid explanations of insanity that follows in her wake.">Ir visn, ikh onheybn tsu khoshed az ir geven gants basheydn in deyn lebedik derklerungen fun meshugas az geyt in ir vekn.</dfn>" - he mutters to Hiram, then turns to face me fully - "I believe I will take you on that offer, lady Gillespie. It seems we have much to discuss... outside the official situation. If you pardon the delay, however, I believe it would behoove me to invite your father and my esteemed colleague to share in the conversation."


    I raise a brow at him. "Not Klaus?" - I inquire blandly.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    He heaves a bellylaugh. "That crafty coot?" - he snorts out - "Him and Kassandra here get on like a house and fire. Complete with screaming and panic for everyone involved. Nah, I''ll fill him in later on the details I deem pertinent."


    The servants clear out once the king himself parks his royal posterior on the chair, Hiram taking up the couch. He leans to me conspiratorially - "Lady Gillespie, could I prevail on you to bring in Rafiqa? I believe you know the spell to just move her over from the airship to your room." Alphonse blinks at that, but nods his assent, and I step out to the bedroom to do just that. Oh, and to bring in Bridgit and direct her to brew some coffee and herbal tea. Rafiqa is more than a little nervous, but agrees to be teleported over to the castle without much issue, once I tell her Hiram is asking her to join him. The end conference in my room is me, dad, Bridgit, Rafiqa, Abraham, Alphonse, Hiram and Kassandra. The rest of the people are sent outside with orders to block the door and let no one in until ordered otherwise. Privacy, huh?


    I have to hand it to Alphonse - even though his eyebrows make a valiant attempt to abscond right to his scalp, he visibly withholds from immediately interrogating Rafiqa and focuses on more important bits first. Namely, Kassandra''s new facial feature.


    "Let me sum it up, then." - he then begins - "My take on the situation is that Kassandra here came up to visit lady Gillespie and requested to be aided with her blindness, which, I believe, had been very eminently addressed by lady Gillespie. What would you say about your new eyes, you troublemaking woman?"


    "Why, I could hardly be happier about them, my liege." - she returns rasply - "Really, I''ve received above and beyond what I asked, if you think about it. A real bargain at a price."


    "And that brings us to the second part of it." - he continues glibly - "What exactly did Kassandra pay with for this service, lady Gillespie?"


    I shrug. "A bit of seer wisdom, your highness." - I admit - "I was curious as to how a seer would see me, and she had confirmed some of my earlier suspicions. Namely, that seers can see who is defiled and have a rough idea just how far their defilement went."


    Alphonse is brought short by this. "...It does explain some things about your magical prowess, indeed." - he finally allows - "I have no doubt my esteemed colleague had already verified the matter extensively, so I am going to presume it happened by accident, correct?"


    "Essentially so, your highness." - I agree - "I''ve always been interested in magic, so frankly, it was only a matter of time before I''d end up peering beyond the boundaries of reality. All in all, I believe I''ve been lucky in that my initial exposure was low-key enough to let me cope with it without some of the more unfortunate possibilities. Before you ask - no, I don''t know how exactly it happened and wouldn''t know how to reproduce it on someone else."


    He shrugs philosophically. "Well, it is to be expected." - he agrees - "I would be much more dubious if you claimed otherwise. However, I am somewhat dubious about the other thing. While seer''s wisdom is indeed valuable, was it valuable enough to cover the costs of two gems and a quantity of silver? That is quite an expense, lady Gillespie."


    I shake my head as Kassandra snorts - "Well, it would be, but silver and gems were provided by honorable seer herself. All I did was shape and enchant them. Five minutes of magic, easy."


    At that, Abe leans forward, suddenly acutely interested. "You can actually cure blindness by replacing eyes like this?" - he inquires.


    "Ahh... Well, sort of yes and sort of no, your highness." - I hedge - "You see, if it were my gems and silver, I probably wouldn''t be able to, actually. The gems and the coins were given to honorable seer as compensation for her injury, and she carried them on her person for years upon years, so the gems grew very attuned to her metaphysically. So to sum it up, yes I can theoretically craft the replacement eyes, provided the recipient of those eyes receives two suitable gems and a significant part of precious metal like silver or gold, and then keeps them on their person for at least seven years. The one who gives the gems must be in some way connected to the cause of blindness, at that. For example, if you, your highness, were to reward a knight who suffered a loss of eyes in your service with the aforementioned materials, then yes, I would be able to make them a replacement set of eyes once the gems become sufficiently attuned to them. Otherwise, no, the body will simply reject the metal and gems if they are not metaphysically connected to the injury and nurtured by exposure."


    Kings exchange a glance and grimace. "So..." - Alphonse proffers finally - "Not the miracle cure but something of a long-term treatment for specific cases at best, then?"


    "Just so, your highness." - I agree, and he nods.


    "Well, that certainly puts a different spin on it." - he muses - "Just to verify, you do consider Kassandra''s payment to be rendered in full, correct?"


    "Quite so." - I confirm curtly, and he nods.


    "Very well. Onto the second cause for this meeting, then." - he offers and turns to Rafiqa.


    "Sheikha Rafiqa bint Salaadin, I believe." - he proffers - "I do apologize for having to meet you in such clandestine fashion, but given the circumstances..."


    She fidgets slightly. "It is entirely understandable, your highness." - she then offers - "Neither you nor I would like to give my father a cause to make demands of you, I imagine."


    He nods - "Just so. However, this raises another question for lady Gillespie. What exactly are your intentions towards the Sultanate, pray tell?"


    I shrug. "Well, as everyone present knows, I am the one who threw the curse on their nation." - I admit - "My reasons for this are twofold. Primo, I find the acceptance of slavery within the Sultanate to be a reprehensible and evil trait that I desire to uproot. Secundo, I am planning on using the circumstances to force Sultanate into ceding enough of Thousand Isles to me to claim as my own domain."


    I pause and nod to Gerard - "As it stands, one of my brothers will be the primogenitor to inherit the Gillespie domain, and since I''m not marrying into another domain, I need to conquer my own. I believe Thousand Isles would suffice for my plans."


    "Ambitious." - Alphonse mutters - "Presuming your plan works, would you be adverse to opening negotiations for extended trade? There is a number of exotic wares in the isles I wouldn''t mind seeing more of in my kingdom, and my people would pay good money for southern goods."


    "Certainly not, your highness. As a matter of fact, I am currently preparing a nucleus of my own trading fleet to achieve just that." - I agree - "Obviously, I would offer the first pick of deals to my liege, but I am not in any way opposed to expanding the trade with the kingdom of Kraut within reason. However, I would ask of you all to table the exact negotiations until I am actually in control of the isles and determine just what wares and in what quantity could be offered. No point in splitting the hide of a bear I''ve yet to spear."


    He nods, and at slight nudging from Hiram, changes the topic - "Well, this is all well and good, but the question of sheikha Rafiqa remains. How exactly do you see the situation with Sultanate unfolding on that front?"


    "I''m sure you are aware, your highness, that it is common to send a relative as a guarantee of peace in such negotiations." - I offer - "Once the Sultanate is pressed hard enough to break, one of my conditions for lifting the curse would be that sheikha Rafiqa serves as such guarantee of peace. It would be very convenient if the kingdom of Kraut could host sheikha at such time as a neutral third party. And if a certain crownprince might fall for an exotic princess in that time, why, I can hardly believe such a union would be seen as undesirable."


    There''s a lot of knowledgeable winks and tongue clicking at that. "Well, that is certainly a rosy picture you''re painting, Lady Gillespie." - Alphonse admits finally - "And, of course, as the one who brokered the union to begin with, you can expect to count on that certain crownprince and exotic princess to hold you in high esteem."


    "Within the reason, your highness." - I softpedal it - "That certain crownprince would become a king one day, he does have an obligation to hold the kingdom''s interests first and foremost after all. It would be quite unwise of me to ask for concessions that would bring the kingdom to harm. On the other hand, there is always space for mutually profitable trade and cooperation between people who understand and like each other, isn''t it so?"

 Chapter 79. Kraut Merchants And Where To Find Them

    The remaining of the visit to Kraut is... indescript, I suppose, would be a better option. Nothing more of importance was discussed, the last three days devoted solely to working out the schedules and setting up dates and agreements for who, when, how much, what for and other assorted sundries. The situation with Kassandra had been tactfully shoved out of attention by everyone involved, the official version simply being that "master artificer from Champagne fashioned magical eyes out of exceedingly rare ingredients by royal request". I''m not sure why Alphonse was so nonchalant about claiming the agency on this one, but then again... Royal seer is essentially one of his closest personal retainers, it does stand to reason that he would take an opportunity to reward her for years of faithful service once it presented itself. He also doesn''t seem to be making much of a secret that the master artificer in question is me, and actually insists that I must receive some kind of payment from him specifically for "invaluable aid rendered".


    Since I''m not really interested in being seen as extortionist (Father disagrees, by the way. By his reckoning, I should have outright asked for money from Alphonse. He DOES concede that having Alphonse offer the reward himself was a better option in the end.), we settle the deal with a present of rare alcohol from king''s personal cellars. As such, I''m a proud owner of six crates full of assorted riesling and lemberger, ages ranging from fifteen years to a full hundred. In addition to this, I have two kegs of bock lager. Well, as far as I remember, that is. I have promptly forgotten Kraut names while trying to come up with suitable analogs from my own memories. Klaus is thankfully absent. Not sure if he''s simply busy or cognizant of the fact I''m plotting to murder him once over every time I''m reminded of his continued existence.


    Spreading myself over the Berlinger was... lukewarm in results, let''s say. I got some interesting data, but Klaus himself keeps a tight reign on his stuff, and according to my observations, actively tamper-proofs pretty much everything. While I can get to his papers if I really want to, there is no reasonable way to do so quickly without drawing a lot of attention. So, most of my mass that I leave in Berlinger is now concentrated within the Merchant Guild, with a couple of clandestine burrowers slowly grinding their way through the castle walls. Over time, I should have some good observation points and sabotage the security in covert ways sufficiently to have a good idea of what Klaus is up to at all times.


    It is the last day before the departure, and I have just finished conversing with representatives of the Merchant Guild. As Klaus had promised in the beginning of our visit here, they came to offer their apologies and restitution. It is clear that they are doing so only because Klaus ordered them to, and are distinctly discomfited by the fact they have to "admit" to wrongdoing that was not of their making. As such, their apologies, while quite glib, are obviously pre-written and lack any actual contrition. Furthermore, the visitors are strictly the representatives of sea traders dominating the south of Kraut. Which is odd, because Berlinger is a landlocked city. And yet, I''m not presented even with a token member of land traders. Curious.


    The restitution they initially offer is grain and coin. And while I can accept the last, I have exactly zero intention or ability to load what comes to five tons of grain on the airship. Explaining that to the merchants, amusingly enough, lifts their spirits noticeably. They''re startled when I point that out, but after some needling, admit that their guild was plagued by a persistent rumor that I intend to use airships to force them out of business. So finding out my airship isn''t up to taking even two quintals of grain, much less a dozen of them sets them at ease. I tactfully avoid mentioning that I could potentially design jumbo zeppelins that could compete with ships on equal terms in cargo lift. It''s a huge investment and unnecessary in any case. For now, at least. After some negotiation, we renegotiate their compensation to be offered in form of assorted exotic samples and foreign trinkets. Well, and a selection of local delicacies and specialties. We part ways soon after, both feeling much more sanguine about the achieved deal. Me, because I managed to talk them into providing rare seeds and saplings of several plants that are not endemic to Champagne and hard to obtain there. Them, because in their local prices, they managed to "talk me down" to slash off almost a quarter off the sum they were prepared to expend on placating me and thus left with feelings of coy accomplishment.


    I say coy accomplishment because I have put some surveillance on them, and while Kraut language stumps me a lot, I can figure out the general gist of a conversation, and what I am hearing is a mix of "she''s not as avaricious as we thought" and "a little bit of this and that is far less of a burden than a lot of one thing". I imagine the grain idea was Klaus doing his level best to annoy me with petty shit, because he of all people should have had the fucking idea that I can''t fit a dozen quintals of grain on the zeppelin. Not to mention that grain is the most common and unremarkable product there is.


    However, once they get back to the guild, there is a bit of kerfuffle between them and a couple of other merchants. Or, more precisely, there are two clearly delineated factions, and my visitors are happily reporting to one of them, while the other (dressed in simpler clothes and possessing of rougher exteriors) is split between listening in and grumbling that they were excluded from talks. Land traders, no doubt. A bit of eavesdropping later, I pinpoint their apparent leader - a wiry man with the blackest bushiest beard I have ever seen in this world. He is referred to as "Herr Munchausen" by his fellows and with irritated snorts by the southern faction. Much to my surprise, he leaves the guild shortly after midday and heads towards his own business, presumably... Yes, a fairly well-sized shop occupying the corner of the marketplace. It is titled as "Munchausen''s Emporium" and seems to be a sort of general store cum thrift shop, because his clerks seem to buy assorted stuff from people almost as often as they sell something.


    Stolen story; please report.


    I think I want to talk to herr Munchausen. As such, I shift my mass towards the tailing eyespider in the out of sight corner, and ask Bridgit to blink over to me. Then we both stroll out into the marketplace. It takes me but two minutes to catch a boy running by by the scruff.


    "<dfn title="Let me go, strange person!">Lozn mir geyn, modne mentsh!</dfn>" - I suppose I deserved that. Still, I have means of persuasion. Keeping my grasp firm, I hold up a crownmark before his eyes. Urchin stills immediately, looking at the coin attentively. I let go of his clothes, and he predictably remains right where he is, listening to me. Money talks, yes.


    "<dfn title="Want earn? Note bring herr Munchausen.">Willst verdienen? Notiz mitbringen Herr M¨¹nchhausen.</dfn>" - I butcher Kraut mercilessly. His face screws up in confusion, but clears up quickly as I hand him the note and dangle the coin in front of him again. He snatches the note up and disappears into the shop at a run. Some shouting erupts in a moment, but given the lack of his forcible ejection, it seems I`ve picked a resourceful messenger. Indeed, he comes up in five minutes, bringing a neatly dressed young man in tow.


    "Many pardons, but are you the foreign ladies who wanted to speak with herr Munchausen?" - the man asks me in fluent, if somewhat accented Albish.


    "Indeed. Care to show us in?" - I offer, tossing the coin to the kid. He grabs it and shouts "<dfn title="Many thanks, foreign lady!">File danken, fremd dame!</dfn>", disappearing in a nondescript direction. Holy shit, does the boy run.


    I''m led into the shop, and straight past clerks up the stairs. We pass a couple rooms that are clearly offices... and past a heavy door which seems to delineate the business and private parts of the building. Very curious. Finally, I am guided into a sitting room of a sort, already occupied by herr Munchausen himself.


    "Good job, Adolph." - he offers in Albish, his accent similar but much less noticeable - "Tell Edna to set up some tea and refreshments, if you please."


    He sketches a shallow bow to me, as Adolph leaves the room, offering - "Jungfrau Gillespie... I am Gustaf Munchausen. What do I owe the honor of this visit? Oh, before anything, please have a seat. Pardon me, I am a little discombobulated right now."


    I sit down as he suggests, taking up one of the chairs. Bridgit gracefully settles into another next to me. Gustaf sits back into his own, across the small table. "Good day to you, herr Munchausen." - I begin - "I have been visited by a delegation from the Berlinger Merchant Guild today, but much to my surprise, all of the people present were southern merchants. It strikes me as strange that the Guild would be represented solely by sea merchants in the landlocked city. As such, I have decided that paying a visit to someone in the know, such as you, is in order."


    "<dfn title="Those bastards!">Yene mmzrim!</dfn>" - he grumbles - "Pardon me. You are right, by all rights I should have been included in that delegation. To offer my own apologies for the offenses ''our'' servant caused, if nothing else."


    I can practically hear the quotes around "our". That just won''t do. "Herr Munchausen, you and I both know that the servant in question answers to Klaus, not to Merchant Guild." - I admonish him lightly - "So do not bother with apologies. I am well aware you had no say in this, nor did Guild. Klaus simply used you as an excuse."


    He sighs and nods. "It is as you say, jungfrau Gillespie." - he agrees - "Well then, what can I really help you with, in that case? To elaborate on your earlier question, the Guild roster assigns seniority per wealth, so while my house is one of the founding ones and I always have a vote in the Guild, sea merchants outrank and outnumber me and mine by a lot, and thus, have a free hand to exclude us at their whim." He pauses, blinks, leans towards Bridgit.


    "If you pardon my curiosity..." - he begins slowly - "Would you happen to be... of house Baumhoff?"


    Bridgit nods slowly. "I am." - she agrees - "Bridgit Baumhoff, maid of my lady Gillespie."


    He heaves a shuddering sigh. "<dfn title="Gods in heaven!">Geter in himl!</dfn>" - he says quietly, looking downwards - "You did survive then. Bridgit, you probably do not remember me, but your father Kristoff was my friend and partner. I''m deeply sorry I couldn''t be there when he... when he..."


    Bridgit shakes her head. "I do remember you, <dfn title="uncle">feter</dfn> Gustaf." - she offers - "I was actually trying to make my way back to Berlinger to find you when I was found by master Gillespie. Sorry to say, but I was fearful of the journey across the mountains, and when master Gillespie offered me to become a maid in his household, I took the offer."


    She smiles and leans towards me - "But it is for the best, because otherwise I would not be able to meet my mistress and become her maid."


    Munchausen smiles wanly. "Well, I am glad you have found your place in the world." - he offers - "I was hoping that maybe... Ah, nevermind. That deal had been closed years ago."


    Bridgit leans over the table and pats his hand lightly. "All is well now, <dfn title="uncle">feter</dfn> Gustaf. But I must ask. Would you happen to suspect who was it who sent assassins after my father?" - she proffers.


    "Suspect, sure. It was that thrice-damned Verwaand!" - he retorts, his eyes lighting up with anger - "Cowardly bastard currently resides in Champagne, as far as I know, wealthy and careless! Agh, what would I not give to wring his neck for what he''s done to you!"


    Bridgit smiles at him again. "Ah, good, you do know." - she offers - "In that case..." She suddenly cuts herself off and looks towards me - "Mistress, may I tell?" I nod to her. Munchausen has plenty of reasons to hate Verwaand and zero to sell us out. Might as well score some brownie points with the man.


    "Wait, wait. Tell me what?" - he asks, befuddled.


    "My lady Alyssa had found out what Maximilien Verwaand did." - she continues - "He admitted everything, <dfn title="uncle">feter</dfn> Gustaf. And he paid for his crime properly."


    Herr Munchausen blinks. Blinks again. Leans forward. "Paid for his crime, you say?" - he offers in a loud whisper.


    "I''ve strangled him with a piece of wire." - I tell him blandly - "A suitable alternative to hanging, I believe. Bridgit had witnessed his end personally. A little present for my favorite maid."


    He recoils back... Then bursts out in a bout of bitter laughter. "A present, indeed." - he chortles, calming down - "Jungfrau Gillespie, you have my heartfelt thanks for taking care of Bridgit... and for avenging Kristoff. It is a cold comfort, but comfort nonetheless. Would you two join me in raising the glass in his memory?"

 Chapter 80. Stumbling Homewards

    Herr Munchausen ends up calling up his wife Edna and Adolph, who turns out to be his eldest and tells them that Verwaand was "dealt with" while having them sit with us while he pours out a bottle of wine into glasses.


    "To Kristoff''s memory, may he rest in peace." - he proclaims somberly, lifting the glass. Everyone drinks. Oh, that''s right, you don''t clink glasses when it''s wake. Fair enough.


    The rest of the visit is scattered. While I obviously can''t promise anything right now, I do drop enough hints in Gustaf''s ear to be sure he is ready to take advantage of opening roads. He gets his own copperphone, ostensibly so that he could keep in touch with Bridgit, but also as a convenient way for me to let him know about the advances in roadbuilding, so that his own faction could jump up on the opportunity ahead of sea traders. This is going to piss off Klaus, most likely, but his hands are tied. I very much doubt he''s stupid enough to try for a second assassination given how the repercussions of the first are still shaking things up ten years later.


    But, seeing as it is still early, I take the opportunity to take Bridgit out on a low-key date and stroll around Berlinger. No specific goal in mind, just checking the sights. We had a spot of tea with some local treats in a small tavern not far from the castle. This area seems to be developed as something my old world would term as "tourist promenade" - wide street, lots of shops, parks, street vendors... Nice place, overall. But, of course, there is always something about to happen to, ah... "color up the experience". Namely, we run into Falstaff.


    We were just sitting in the park, getting a breather from all that walking (and exchanging a few discreet kisses, but who''s watching?) when someone clears their throat from behind the shrubbery. Lo and behold, it''s the lech, standing in the middle of a damn lawn and grinning like he just saw something titillating.


    "Well, that certainly explains why I shouldn''t have bothered." - he offers. Wonder what''s next. If he segues it into some sort of blackmail, there''s going to be... an incident. Or accident.


    "Aaaand?" - I drawl, waiting for him to get to the point of it.


    Surprisingly enough, he raises both hands in a placating gesture. "Nothing, nothing, my fair lady." - he retorts - "As a fellow connoisseur of fine women, I completely understand. And that''s a very fine woman you have there, jungfrau Gillespie. I''d proffer my credentials as an experienced ladies'' man, but if I''m seeing this right, no men need apply, right?"


    "Essentially right." - I allow. Not sure if he''s serious or not, but him adhering to some kind of casanova honor code isn''t that odd, considering the overall circumstances.


    He lifts his hat and bows slightly. "A pity, but a man''s gotta know his limits." - he proffers amiably - "Have a nice day, ladies. As for me, the brothel beckons. Today''s definitely a good day for a double." And with that, he turns around and walks off, whistling. Huh.


    "What a lech." - Bridgit whispers - "Mistress, there''s something wrong with the world when a man like him has more gallantry than some princes I can think of."


    Back in the palace, I find out something stupid. Namely, that even the people who had the chance to see me work, including Abe, Hiram and dad, all expect I''d be taking it slow and maybe turn something up about the valley in a month. Which is absolutely NOT good for me, but apparently there''s simply no way for Kraut to "muster the workforce" any sooner. Never-fucking-mind I''m already taking samples and mapping out the course. Speaking of which... Klaus for once was entirely honest. There is a deep bowl-like crater utterly filled with ash that makes traversing the last stretch to Kraut unfeasible. The crater is wider than it is deep, but seems to be dipping under the cliffs at the sides, so there might be more ash than I expected. Ash itself is pretty good, however, it''s a mix of pumice and pozzolanic ash that probably needs just a bit of quicklime and water to become concrete.


    I bring back a bucket of this to Academy. In the sky above Berlinger, the airship spools the engines and turns back, all of the delegation abroad. This time, the plan is to travel to the Parsee first, let off Abe, Hiram, Rafiqa and van der Klaases, then swing by Haver so dad could do his business there (He and Dantes have some kind of on-going business deal plodding on. I think Dantes is the local expertise, while dad is the big scary stick to intimidate the local nobles into complying with road building. I was about to look into the issue myself, but dad said not to worry, he''ll handle it. I guess I can let that be.) and finish the trip at the estate. Maybe take the family on a bit of air stroll, then back to Parsee with the ship.


    That being handled, I leave my instance on the ship largely on autopilot, citing the need to concentrate on piloting the ship (it''s conveniently cloudy, and they completely buy my excuse). So, what to do now? Academy? Nothing to do there. Girls are busy with their homework for once, and I''m not really keen on interrupting unless they ask for it. So I step out to see who else is around. The newspaper trio are moderately busy, so they can not hang out, but they gratefully accept the news that the delegation is to return today. I''m sure Abe will have his own press release for them once he is back in the castle. If not, I can always prod him to make one. People tend to trust the government more if the government is willing to talk to them, after all.


    In the library, I locate Lemand... And he is amenable to a conversation. More than a little amenable, actually, as he seems to perk up as soon as I come in.


    "Lady Gillespie, what luck. I was about to send you a note." - he offers - "Would you happen to have some time for scholarly discussion? I find myself in need of your indispensable insight."


    I pull out a chair and sit across the table from him. "Sure thing, Lemand. I have time right now. What''s on your mind?" - I tell him - "Oh, dispense with lady Gillespie already. Just call me Alyssa."


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    He scratches the back of his head. "I wouldn''t want to presume, but if that''s your will..." - he hedges - "Alyssa, I find myself in a bind. You see, I have developed a promising enchantment scheme that, I''m confident, would sell well, but my father remains regrettably dismissive of my scholarly findings."


    He passes a letter to me, and shrugs helplessly. I scan through it, and... well. Let''s just say that Lemarchand Senior had reacted to his son''s findings by admonishing him for "pursuing witless endeavors" and recommended Lemand "leave your worthless manuscripts alone and go practice your fencing as befits of a man".


    "Lemand, no offense, but your father is a halfwit." - I tell him bluntly, and he heaves a sigh.


    "I wish it was a slight, Alyssa, but the sad fact is, it is but an unvarnished truth. I am already facing a reduction in my finances. I fear if I fail to show any, ahem, ''knightly improvements'', I will have to resign from the Academy and seek some manner of employment to sustain myself." - he admits - "I am at my wit''s end. Nothing I do pleases him, all that he wants to see in me is but muscle."


    "Well that just won''t do." - I object - "How about I hire you as a scholar? You can tell your father to stick his swords where the sun doesn''t shine. If he lacks the foresight to garner your profits, I certainly will."


    "But... What good to you would I be?" - he retorts feebly - "Next to your brilliance, I''m but a guttering candle."


    "Lemand, I can''t and won''t do everything on my own. There''s myriad of things that require my attention." - I tell him - "You just said you invented a scheme that promises profit. That means you made something I''m not selling already. Which means it''s something I didn''t consider. My interests are primarily directed towards alchemy and mass production. I have no qualms financing research in high magic, and you are doing rather well on that front."


    "If you think so..." - he says uncertainly.


    "Out of curiosity. How much does your father give you for your living expenses right now?" - I inquire.


    Lemand groans. "I have received a hundred golds on my departure to Academy and an assurance that I''ve to receive no more until the next summer." - he admits. It''s... kind of lacking. It means he has to live on ten golds per month, more or less. Which is feasible, but not particularly cushy. Bridgit earns more than that as my maid.


    "Right. Here''s my offer, then." - I tell him as I lay down a pendant with Gillespie crest - "I''ll cover your education here entirely. Hundred gold research fund each month, I know reagents and manuscripts are not cheap. A gold per day for your personal expenses. Any findings you make, you can present to me, and if I agree they''re marketable, I put them into production. You get tithe from each profit coming out of your findings."


    He blinks at me. "That... is extremely generous of you, Alyssa." - he then offers - "I''m not sure I''m worth that much."


    "Oh, don''t sell yourself short." - I object - "Besides, there are conditions to my offer. You might want I''m not quite as generous once you hear them."


    "Well, might as well hear you out." - he retorts - "Somehow, given what I know about you, I find it dubious your conditions would be worse than my father''s demands."


    "Well, basically, Lemand, I am going to give you scholarly work on top of your independent research. Things I want to develop but don''t have the time to sort each one in detail." - I explain - "I will give you an outline of the area I want researched and point out specific things I want you to concentrate on. Once you flesh out the generic theory and have working prototypes of specific requests, you will compile your findings into a book. Requests will go into production, with a tithe of profits coming your way, the book will be copied and distributed to several libraries, including Academy one. You''ll get a copy of each for your personal library, of course."


    He blinks at me. Again. Then asks, wryly - "Let me get this straight. You want to give me research topics, finance that research and publish my findings in a number of books which will be put into libraries perused by the best and brightest all over Champagne? Well, when you put it that way, it certainly sounds like OH GODS WHEN DO I SIGN UP?"


    "Today, Lemand. Today." - I reply with a chuckle - "Simply put on that medallion. I will have initial funds and paperwork delivered to your room tomorrow. You have a grace period until the start of winter to figure out your independent research plans, write up a schedule for independent and contracted work which we will go over and sort out your fiscal obligations. Oh, and maybe write a scalding letter to your daddums, if you feel up to it. Remember, if he shows up to try and, ahem, ''discipline'' you, he will have to appeal to me for permission to do so, and I am not in any way interested in letting some meathead mistreat my valuable retainer."


    "Please don''t kill him or humiliate him so badly he ends his own life, that''s all I ask." - he retorts - "You have my blessings to smack him around like a red-headed stepson, otherwise."


    "Yowch. You really have beef with your dad, don''t you?" - I shake my head - "Well, if he elects to be stupid, I do solemnly promise to make it an unforgettable experience for him."


    Lemand sighs. "Lady... Alyssa." - he offers tiredly - "Imagine growing up and being told by every single person OTHER than my family that I am brilliant and have a bright future ahead of me. And then imagine my family scoffing at that, regardless of who''s opinion it is. I have had enchanted an array that soothes the weather across the whole viscounty, bringing up our annual harvests a full quarter above, and all I''ve got for it from my father is a lecture on throwing away money on ''wizardly boondoggles''. I''m DONE trying to impress my father, he has no appreciation for magical arts or scholars, and I find myself long tapped out of any lingering family loyalty. And that is not even counting what happened to mother... No, I beg your pardon. I should not vent my bile like this."


    "What happened to your mother?" - I ask immediately. This is not touched on in the game at all, Lemand''s mother might as well not exist as far as the game was concerned, and I''m very curious.


    "Consumption." - he answers curtly. Huh. If memory serves me right, that''s how they called tuberculosis in medieval times.


    "But she''s still alive?" - I inquire. Generally speaking, at the current stage of medical knowledge, there is no known cure for this disease. But, the disease itself can easily take several years or even decades to kill the patient, depending on the level of care offered.


    "She is, though not through father''s merits." - Lemand retorts angrily - "When it became known mother fell sick, father demanded of her to return to her parents. According to him, he was ''deceived'' about her strength. According to me, well... I strongly suspect mother had fallen ill because of father''s idiotic insistence on toughing out everything and anything. He refused to call doctors or let her rest when she complained about fatigue."


    Hm. That... sounds promising. "Change of plans, Lemand." - I tell him sharply - "Pack for a quick trip to your mother''s whereabouts. We depart tomorrow. You''ll sign your contract on the airship. Once we''re there... You will get your first big project from me. Documenting and working out the generic principles of it, based on practical experience."


    "...Beg your pardon, but practical experience of what, Alyssa?" - he asks, his expression gradually becoming more and more alarmed as he figures out the answer in the process of asking the question.


    "Curing consumption, of course." - I helpfully confirm.

 Interlude 12. Divine Conference

    Thump. Thump. Thump!


    Orlag set the hammer aside and cast a look over the table. Satisfied with the level of quietness and attention, he nodded sagely and cleared his throat.


    "I hereby announce this divine meeting open." - he stated, opening the folder in front of him - "Does anyone have any emergent issues to be brought up?"


    He examined the table yet again. Assorted gods shuffled in their seats, but no one piped up.


    "Excellent. In that case, let us proceed with the first item on agenda." - he proclaimed - "Manoc, what is the status of season change?"


    God of winds and weather shrugged lightly. "Everything proceeding according to schedule." - he proffered confidently - "There was a slight issue with monsoon winds exceeding expected speeds, but they were safely vented through the supercell. The storm shall pass through the southern ocean and disperse in a series of thunderstorms well away from populated areas. Cumulus saturation is nominal and proceeds according to projection C. Bharat will experience a short heatwave, but it will be offset by rains at the onset of winter. Other countries are within climactic optimum without further need for adjustments."


    God of sun and crops nodded, crossing the first line off - "That is heartening to hear. How about solar coverage projection? Do you require any adjustments?"


    "Not at the moment, thank you. The dispersion grid update will be in your inbox this evening, but I do not foresee any need for direct changes." - Manoc demurred - "Sineval''s scheme of using oceanic flows for temperature regulation continues to pay dividends, so barring any unforeseen developments, we''re tentatively at the self-regulating stage."


    God of oceans buffed his nails on his shirt, adding lazily - "I have a proposal. The lateral trench is finally reaching projected depth, and I would like to run a limited test of deep flow feedback. The details and calculations are already in the inbox."


    "Noted. Gia, do you have anything to add?" - Orlag inquired. Goddess of earth shrugged and shook her head silently.


    "Very well. For now, let us consider the climatic scheme for the following decade approved for observed functionality. Please report any anomalies that crop up." - he concluded - "Very well. The second item on agenda. Civilization advancement. Argyl, Kinov, Marra, Lothak, Zali. I believe your uplift project had turned up some unexpected results?"


    The aforementioned gods exchanged glances. After a moment of indecision, Kinov spoke up - "Yes and no. The results themselves were expected, but emerged much earlier than projected. Project Archon so far proves herself to be far more efficient than we hoped for."


    He nodded towards Argyl, who continued - "So far, most of the developments are in my and Kinov''s spheres, though Marra enjoys some developments of her own. Furthermore, certain flags had been set for Lothak''s and Zali''s goals a full year ahead of schedule. I am pleased to report that project Archon had surpassed my wildest expectations. The Kingdom of Champagne is currently in the process of promulgating pitch-polymer paved roads, which already pays dividends within Kinov''s sphere. Dwarves are significantly ahead of schedule, twenty seven percent of the total current population already congregated in the vicinity of Grand Forge, further thirteen are in transit. By the next year, we expect over half of the population to reestablish societal cohesion in the northern part of the Aleph mountain range, both within Grand Forge and a number of satellite settlements. Due to the swift actions of project Archon, dwarves had already recovered most of the metallurgy and stoneworking know-how, as well as added a number of advanced techniques and limited mechanization to their repertoire. Of most notable developments, I want to point out the introduction of a steam engine and cupola furnace. Project Archon is currently working on the introduction of mangalloy and railway knowhow, both of which will boost the logistics of the realm by three hundred percent within the next year. Furthermore, project Archon had successfully located and inspired key person Seafarer towards deep modernization of seafaring. He had successfully completed and tested sloop design and I am fully confident that brigantine will make its debut by the spring."


    He tilted his head towards Zali. Goddess of war and politics chuckled wryly - "From my side, I would like to report that project Archon had successfully initiated logistical integration of Champagne and Kraut kingdoms, starting with the promulgation of pitch-polymer paved roads into the kingdom of Kraut through the Ashenvale and southern passes of Aleph mountain range. Due to project Archon''s proactive stance in establishing connections and alliances in surrounding countries, I feel confident to report that Vallahian expansion will be managed with considerably less bloodshed and stagnation than expected. After the initial upset, I expect the Confederacy to begin integrating economic and mercantile ties between its states at an accelerated pace. The situation in Oijan Sultanate is another unexpected early success. While at this juncture the dissolution of the Sultanate into several allied emirates is all but certain, it will help to disperse such a massive shock to the system while completely eradicating slavery and potentially establishing the basics of a post-scarcity society. Unfortunately, this will also cause an extinction of dragons as species. Sad, but unavoidable."


    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    Lothak flipped through his folder, chewing on his lip. "My gains are more meager, so far, but I am pleased to report that the concept of a newspaper had been introduced and well received by society. Project Archon had managed to locate eminently qualified managerial core and successfully imparted onto them the basics of crowdsourced journalism, both of which significantly advance the societal acceptance of freedom of speech. Furthermore, the sovereign of Champagne had been favorably impressed by the notion of newspaper and that very same concept is gaining traction in Kraut. I am still reevaluating my projections for mass media, since even the most optimistic plans did not account for such an early success. Preliminary findings strongly suggest the newspaper is gaining notoriety and renown sufficient to evoke attempts at mass media within the Kraut Kingdom and Oijan Sultanate within next year. Besides that, the sovereign of Champagne had been introduced to the basics of a restraining order and social childcare." - god of laws weighed in - "As my esteemed colleague Argyl, I am well impressed by project Archon''s progress."


    Marra spoke up next. "I am well pleased with progress in my sphere, but due to unexpected development, I am still in the progress of reevaluating the situation." - she mused - "My projected schedule relied on project Archon introducing the medical treatments via the temple and royal physicians, and unexpected redirection of key person Gatecrasher towards my sphere requires significant revision. In essence, this unexpected but pleasant development negates the possible cataclysm triggered by key person Gatecrasher entirely, while redirecting his significant mental facilities towards development and systematization of arcanophysiology. Furthermore, the introduction of viable tuberculosis treatment half a century ahead of the projected schedule is liable to have vast knock-on effects across the world''s populace at large. I am still crunching the numbers on this, but if I were to guesstimate, I predict a whopping twenty two percent reduction in deaths before seventy, and an unbelievable forty one percent reduction in children and teenage mortality within this decade. I will distribute the new estimation of demographic progress as soon as I manage some specific numbers, tentatively tomorrow in the afternoon. My apologies, but it seems like all of my esteemed colleagues in the societal department will have to reevaluate their own schedules and projections as well, taking into consideration additional labor to be available."


    She tilted her head towards Kinov, who nodded and began to speak - "Economical situation is very promising. Project Archon already began to disseminate the concepts of labor distribution and mechanization, which resulted in a vast number of new wares on the market. Coupled with her incessant focus on logistics and timely introduction of assorted free market principles, I predict an increase of interest in luxury items and foods, as well as a boom in domestic convenience wares. Development of viable aerial vehicle this early will further contribute to increased interest in logistics spreading out from Champagne and across the whole continent, simply by the dint of shock and awe experienced by any other polity witnessing the dirigible. While I do not expect any independent development in aeronautics to occur for at least another decade, it is entirely likely that polities would compete for a chance to commission a dirigible of their own from project Archon, and therefore, make themselves amenable to her economic overtures. I have distributed my preliminary figures yesterday, but I am already working on a revision that takes into account dirigibles being used for diplomacy, major landbound tract being reopened and renovated and an impending introduction of Champagne and Kraut kingdoms to concrete. Early availability of advanced construction material coupled with impending populace boom reported by colleague Marra implies a number of pleasant things across the board."


    Orlag nodded with satisfaction. "Project Archon is really showing potential, I see." - he concluded - "Very well. Does anyone else have any comments about project Archon and her impact on the world?"


    He did not expect much out of that question and therefore seeing Memiri raise her hand was a surprise. He gestured towards the goddess of sleep, wordlessly requesting an elaboration. "I have concerns about project Archon''s metaphysical stability." - she stated bluntly - "I have already raised this issue at the last meeting, and I am sorry to report that palliative measures did not pan out as well as I have hoped. While project Archon is in no danger of losing bond cohesion, the metaphysical connection to Ur-World''s plegmagnosis remains a problem. I believe that at this point, our best option is to anchor down the connection and synch it in with project Archon, ramping up the bandwidth until the gnostic pressure on project Archon evens out. Unfortunately, we have missed the window of opportunity where anchoring could be done inconspicuously. If we are to put it in action within the next week, project Archon will experience an arcanochtonic event. Past that, gnostic pressure might increase to the point of project Archon manifesting arcanochtonic events spontaneously until it is alleviated, either by anchoring or severing the connection. I must stress that severing the connection will severely impact project Archon''s productivity and mental capacity."


    "Well, we certainly don''t want that." - Orlag retorted - "And one arcanochtonic event is certainly better than several of them at random. But... could we possibly do something to mitigate the event impact?"


    Gia rose her hand suddenly, suggesting - "Mayhaps we need not the mitigation... Merely a direction."


    Memiri consulted her papers. "Hm. That is an intriguing proposition. What if we take a cue from project Archon herself on the direction? That might be the easiest solution to let her subconsciousness decide on what it should dream into existence. My evaluation of project Archon suggests she is not prone to self-flagellation or confidence issues, so chances are better than even the end result of event would be something beneficial for her." - she replied thoughtfully - "I ask for the vote. All in favor of anchoring the connection at the earliest opportunity within this week, please say aye."


    "Aye!" "Aye!" "Aye!" "Aye!" "Aye!" "Aye!" "Aye!" "Aye!" "Aye!" "Aye!"


    "All in favor? Wonderful. We have our course of action then." - Orlag summed up, jotting down the resolution and passing it around the table to collect signatures - "With this, I believe our meeting is concluded, unless someone else has an issue to bring up. No? Very well. Gentlemen, ladies... let''s make this world even better."

 Chapter 81. No Rest For The Wicked

    By previous agreement with Abe, I let out all people bound for Parsee in the Academy. As it turns out, he was planning on talking to Newspaper Gals first thing off, so it is most convenient to him, Hiram and Rafiqa. Marceu apparently elects to start his own entrance into the Academy a little earlier, and is also in favor of being dropped off at the Academy, and his father is needed there to discuss his mid-semester enrollment with the dean, so... yeah. The airship is promptly set off for Haver with dad and Rory aboard. I screwed up a little, coming out to meet the airship, so pretty much everyone present on it realizes I''m somehow present in two places at once, but that''s fine. I could do without van der Klaases being in on that particular tidbit, but on other hand, the realization puts quite a dollop of reverent terror into both of them. Then again, they''re both intelligent enough to realize just how much leverage that kind of ability can give me.


    While they are settling their businesses or just parking themselves back into their respective rooms to unwind from that journey, I stroll through the Academy in search of one particular person. She seems to be absent from the hall, which is the usual place for the students to mill around dinnertime, but a few questions clarify her whereabouts easily. Dorms, huh. Coming across a specific door, I rap on it sharply.


    "Yes, who is... you!... I ah... I... I mean, it is you, lady Gillespie, what a surprise!" - Madeleine bleats, caught between anger and terror as she opens the door to find me on the porch.


    "Me. Tell Elaine I''m here with a proposition she wants to hear." - I tell her, leaning on the wall next to the door - "Don''t keep me waiting."


    She disappears into the room, and after a bit of clamorous activity within reappears, huffing, and invites me in. Glaring, but with all the requisite politeness. Fine. Whatever. I''m guessing Elaine didn''t punish her too badly, if she''s still the maid.


    "Lady Gillespie." - Elaine herself greets me coolly. She looks a bit haphazard, and if I were to venture a guess, she had a bit of midday lie-in, because her dress looks to be thrown on in a hurry - "Madeleine told me you have something to propose?"


    "Yeah. Remember that airship trip I promised? I find myself in a need to fly to southern Champagne tomorrow, and there will be plenty of space. Not sure how long the overall trip will be, though. Depending on the situation, from two days to week." - I tell her - "This is not a social outing still, mind. The only other people along will be Lemand Lemarchand and Moon Unit. And Bridgit, obviously, I''m not going anywhere without a maid. Do you want to come along?"


    She bites her lip. On one hand, I can see she''s excited about the prospect and enthused that I would fulfill the promise so expeditiously, on the other, she is more than a little wary as to why I would want to invite her on a business trip.


    "I am tentatively interested..." - she hems, - "But I''d like to know more before I commit with anything. What is the trip for? Can I bring Madeleine along or will I need to find a new maid to accompany me? When do you intend to depart?"


    "In no particular order, yes, you can bring Madeleine. When all is said and done, the only person who was truly harmed by her scheming was you, so if you''re inclined to forgive her..." - I reply, noting that Madeleine herself jerked and winced at that assessment, but remained stoically silent, - "I''m departing tomorrow in the morning. Nine o''clock, let''s say. The purpose of this trip is to visit Lemand''s ailing mother and attempt a novel treatment to hopefully cure her condition."


    "...I see. And what is the condition, if you don''t mind telling me?" - she soldiers on. I''m guessing the other two points were not a problem for her.


    "Consumption." - I answer simply.


    Elaine blinks. Then blinks again. "...Consumption has no treatment." - she then replies slowly.


    "No known treatment, you mean." - I correct her - "Between me and Lemand, we have figured some things out and would like to test them. Lemand believes his mother will be amenable to undergo the experimental treatment."


    "You think you know how to treat consumption?" - she drawls - "...And you''re confident there''s a high chance of success, at that, or you wouldn''t have invited me along... Let me guess, this is not just fulfilling your promise, but also having me as a witness you do have a working consumption treatment, isn''t it so?"


    "Well reasoned, lady de Braltar. You in or out?" - I confirm blithely.


    "You''re blunter than dwarves, lady Gillespie." - she retorts loftily - "But yes, I am, to borrow your succinct expression, quite in. What do I need to pack?"


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "Clothes for up to a week for yourself and your maid, something to entertain yourself with once the novelty of flying wears off, like books or embroidery, personal toiletries." - I reply - "Airship has showers and kitchen, and I will handle the catering, so you don''t need to bother with that, but you''re entirely welcome to take along your favorite tea, snacks or wine, if you are partial to something specific. You will also need to notify dame Apricotte about your absence, maybe ask professors about the lessons you will miss during the trip. Some money, if you want to buy something in Grenwille."


    "Grenwille?" - she repeats slowly - "That''s quite far. A week''s worth of clothes sounds rather optimistic, if you pardon the skepticism."


    "Not via airship." - I grin - "If you don''t believe me, ask his highness Abraham where he was yesterday. Hint-hint, it''s Berlinger. And today, he''s right here in the Academy."


    I am most gratified to see two jaws drop simultaneously. That feeling never gets old.


    ___


    Haver is amusing... But weird. Apparently, dad has some kind of arrangement with Dantes and actually intends to stay in the town a couple days. The crowd that''s gathered to watch the airship is humongous, unlike the last time. Including pretty much every single noble in the hour''s ride by horse radius. A whole lot of them have... Complicated expressions on seeing dad come out of the zeppelin. I''m guessing they were the ones who gave Dantes most shit about his freeholder status. Wonder what''s going to happen to the balance of power here now. There''s our carriage, and... whoa, dad. Twenty gendarmes? What are you going to do here?... Correction, twenty gendarmes with ripple steel tipped ranseurs? Well, that''s a helluva show of power. And wealth, while we''re at it.


    I''m sorely tempted to ask dad just what the hell he''s planning to pull here, but I already promised him to let him handle this. So I limit myself to exhorting a promise not to get killed and withdraw. Rory stays in, after I confirm that yes, it''s not a hardship to bring him straight back to Grand Forge. Given that there''s only me and him remaining in the zeppelin, I take the opportunity, and give him a crash course on basic gunpowder and its implementations. By the time we''re at the Grand Forge, he has a stack of paper thick as my wrist, mostly my assorted designs and notes, interspersed with his own that he jotted down while listening to me waxing poetics. Given the rather unholy light in his eyes he gains over the course of it all, I should expect to see some firearms being presented to me in the next tribute.


    Unfortunately, while I do explain to him the basics of a unitary cartridge, we both have to agree it would be best to start with muzzle-loaders. Not for mass production, mind, those were all designs to familiarize dwarves with the concept of a firearm, its principles and to give them some food for thought. Though, I am very thankful that we can skip earlier notions like matchlock and wheellock and go directly for a true flintlock. We settle on very limited run of flintlocks to be produced for now, mostly as a proof of concept and diplomatic gifts, while dwarves work out the techniques for properly boring the barrels. And that lets me segue very nicely to mangalloy and mushet steel. Which increases the unholy luminosity in the dwarven eyes by a factor of two, at least. The rest of Rory starts glowing when I cap off the next advancement push with the detailed descriptions and schematics of steel converter, which is obviously necessary if I want mangalloy in quantities that are needed for railways.


    Just to see what happens, I call Roxolane on copperphone and secure her permission for portal demonstration to Rory. Who responds by hopping up and dancing some sort of jig in response. Good grief. By the time we touch down in the Grand Forge, he calmed down enough not to burst into spontaneous dancing, but still jumps out of the zeppelin with the deafening - "KIN, to me! Revelaishons abound!"


    I... just barely manage to talk dwarves out of canonizing me on the spot, but they still insist on showing me "the first monument of the Rebirth". As it turns out, it''s a statue of me. Twenty meters tall. It is constructed, as far as I can tell, as a sort of three-dimensional jigsaw that was designed to lock together once it was put together, out of assorted stone and metal parts. As Rory proudly tells me, each piece was created by a dwarf. As in, every single dwarf in the settlement produced one piece for the statue. Which, given their feelings towards me and my revelations, makes this statue a Calamity-level artifact. Thankfully, on a thorough examination of its field, I come to a conclusion that all that it does is make everyone in the settlement "hardier". Which, to put it simply, means that anyone who commits themselves fully to being a part of settlement enjoys a whole bevy of body reinforcement and fatigue recovery effects.


    All in all... flattering. And impressive. And honestly, I''m rather glad the first statue of me holds the hammer and the lantern. As Rory explains, those are the requisite tools of office for "builder and enlightener". As far as I can tell, that lantern is going to be lit for... well. Pretty much for as long as dwarves exist. Not in the sense they are going to refill it forever, mind, it just glows. Artifact, what do you do? On a side note, apparently a number of human blacksmiths now reside in the settlement as well. Most of them are here for limited term apprenticeship, but I''m also introduced to about a dozen of grisly old men who apparently impressed the dwarves enough to be elevated to honorary dwarfdom and contributed to the statue. All of them intend to live in the settlement permanently. Egalitarianism, ahoy?


    ___


    It is late in the evening when I''m finally back with the airship in Parsee. And I still have to stock it up again for a trip tomorrow. Luckily for me, physical fatigue is not a thing I actually have to worry about. Still... After we settle that thing with Lemand, I''m going to look for something slow and relaxing. Maybe go visit elves in Everfree. Moon Unit did promise that our visit is going to be serene, after all. Oh well, back to the grindstone.

 Chapter 82. Southbound Chair

    "You know, this is rather unfair." - Lily-Anne asserts petulantly - "You just got back yesterday and are already about to fly off again. And what''s even worse - without me!"


    "Do you really want to hang around Grenwille while me, Lemand and Moon Unit cast light magic on a sick woman for a couple days? I won''t be a particularly good company out there, you know." - I object reasonably, as I mentally run down the checklist again - "Have patience, Lily-Anne. The winter holidays are in two weeks. Once the semester''s officially over, we can all take a good long trip on the airship together. Visit all of our respective families, see the sights, do the rich tourist thing. Besides, I do leave an instance of me in the Academy, so..."


    She grumbles and stomps her foot lightly - "It''s not that! I want to go on an adventure too!"


    Roxolane pipes in from the side - "I somewhat share the feeling, to be honest. Though, in all fairness, I guess there''s no real point in joining in on this one, with the exams so soon."


    I sigh, smile and lean over, patting their heads gently - "Girls. Once the holidays start, we are going to go on a trip just for ourselves. Only us, no business, no politics. Promise."


    "I''ll hold you to that." - Lily-Anne retorts, pouting - "And I want to see the Grand Forge too! Father said there is a river of metal flowing there, I want to see that!"


    Moon Unit comes out of her room with a sack in her hands, stretching out languidly. "I''m ready!" - she quips - "Oh. Sorry, girls. Alyssa is right, though, going on this trip would be a bit boring. Though, I suppose you could square things out with lady de Braltar, if you go..."


    Lily-Anne and Roxolane exchange glances and wrinkle their noses. "I''ll pass." - Lily-Anne opines - "I understand it was a huge misunderstanding, but I''m still miffed at her for saying all those nasty things to you and Roxy."


    Bridgit comes in, takes Moon Unit''s sack and vanishes in thin air, depositing it onto the airship. She''s really taking to her new abilities like duck to water recently. Scared the bejeezus out of Sally and Louise when she popped back into our estate to say hi. I think she planned on this, too, because according to her, the reactions were hilarious.


    "Well, that''s it." - I say, as I lean in to kiss Lily-Anne and Roxolane before me and Moon Unit walk out. Lemand is already in the garden, sitting on top of the travel chest. I wonder where Elaine... Nevermind, here she is. And Madeleine, who still glares daggers at everyone who isn''t Elaine, but wisely keeps quiet.


    "Good morning, lady Gillespie." - Elaine ventures, as four burly servants troop out after her, each with a chest or sack in their hands - "I am quite ready to board."


    And that''s my cue. My airship crosses over the Academy wall as soon as everyone''s out, and drops down to boarding height, the ladder thunking against the pavement lightly. I am much amused by Elaine''s servants all taking a synchronous step back, accompanied by the quiet muttering of what passes for prayers in this world. Mainly, entreaties to Lothak and Memiri, for some reason. Then again, appealing to the god of laws and the goddess of dreams does seem to be fitting the occasion for them.


    ___


    "...Maybe more like this?" - Moon Unit muses as me, her and Lemand circle the complicated assembly of levers, springs and fabric. This is the working prototype of Lemand''s enchantment, by the way. The one that started the whole mess. As it turns out, he had developed a comprehensive neural dampening suit. The drawback is that it is most definitely not easily mobile, because it is intrinsically tied with the concept of resting, and as such needs to be applied to bed or chair in order to function properly. The benefit? Many, chief of which is that resting on the properly enchanted furniture will outright cancel most chronic pains. Not to mention that this setup will probably be fairly effective at mitigating the worst symptoms of psychiatric disorders like schizophrenia or paranoia by damping the emotional baseline to almost nil. The tradeoff is that good feelings are also very muted.


    I poke at the construction, making sure it is mechanically sound, then step back, letting Moon Unit take a seat on it. The thing we ended up assembling out of metals and wood I''ve brought in is much like the hospital examination chairs - capable of decent articulation, from sitting to full recline, with separate rests for each leg and adjustable armrests. She smiles pensively. "I think this is it." - she offers softly - "The most comfortable chair I''ve ever sat in."


    "I see. And what about the enchantment effect, lady Lux?" - Lemand inquires anxiously. I can understand that, it''s the first time someone else tests his enchantment.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "In a word - serenity." - Moon Unit proffers, as she slips off the chair - "Why don''t you try it yourself?"


    Lemand promptly plops down into the chair himself. His face slackens immediately, as he leans back. "Ahh. Yes, I see what you mean." - he muses, as he stands up - "All my worries just faded away. In fact, why don''t we use that name? Serenity chair, has a nice ring to it, I believe."


    "Is it really THAT good?" - Elaine pops in suddenly. She, until just now, was quite taken with the view from above and did not participate in our impromptu engineering session.


    Lemand shrugs. "Why not try it and judge for yourself, lady de Braltar?" - he proffers formally, gesturing towards the chair.


    Somewhat taken aback, Elaine nonetheless settles down on the chair gingerly after a moment of indecision, and sighs. "...How much?" - she asks then.


    "Excuse me? How much what, lady de Braltar?" - Lemand asks, scratching his head.


    "How much do you want to build another one for me? In fact, I''d like to commission two of them - one for me, and one for my father." - she explains, as she wiggles on the chair, poking at the controls - "OOh, even that? Splendid."


    Me and Lemand exchange glances. I jot down the material costs and the production costs for mechanical parts of it, then pass the paper over to Lemand, who thinks for a moment, then jots down the enchantment costs. I take the paper back, round it up to a nice number, then tack twenty percent on top, and pass the final figure to Lemand. He looks at it, scratches his head and nods. "Well, we''re not quite ready to produce them just yet, but... Considering the costs of materials for construction and enchantments, it comes out to thirty gold per chair, lady de Braltar. Fifty, if you want to use silk lining instead of flax."


    "Two Serenity chairs in silk, then." - she returns, as she reluctantly stands up - "As soon as you can construct them, please."


    Lemand shakes his head again. "Not until we return from this journey, I''m afraid." - he offers - "Once I''m back to the Academy, I''ll see to it and send you a note once they''re ready."


    She grins - "Marvelous. Father will be well pleased, I dare hazard a guess. He did complain about the lack of truly comfortable furniture for quite a while."


    ___


    ...In retrospect, Lemand should have mentioned how he''s planning to arrive. Because while he did send a letter by pigeon, it simply said that he would be visiting his mother, and apparently marquis Sadoux presumed a trip by carriage after the end of semester. As in, sometime in the next month. Not the very next day after dinner. So, right now we''re having a bit of a moment, while marquis recovers in the conveniently present Serenity chair. He bravely rode out at the head of his personal guard in order to fend off the huge beast descending from above. On one hand, he is very glad it''s not actually a monster attack. On the other, he had a bit of a nervous breakdown from relief. His troops seem to be made of sterner stuff, and are recovering outside. Or, more correctly, they have had recovered quite promptly, once assured there is no one to fight to the death with. I''ve hastened the process by passing on a big bottle of knight mead, which they apparently still pass around, taking sips and making strong comments about the superlative strength of the offered drink.


    "...So... this airship, yes... is an artifact?" - marquis offers faintly, as he looks around. Good grief, he really got spooked out there.


    "Not quite." - I explain - "While it is indeed a large, expensive and complex construct of craftsmanship and enchantment, it is entirely feasible to construct more. Provided one has the plans, time and inclination to spend about three thousand d''ors on assorted materials and labor."


    "Lady Gillespie, believe me, any kingdom would gleefully spend tenfold for a symbol of might like this." - he retorts, chuckling lightly - "Gods almighty, this... just... no words. I''m in awe. I''m struck wordless. Gobsmacked, even."


    He pauses, looks around, then gingerly begins to extract himself from the chair. "...This chair." - he asks - "If I might prevail on your kindness, lady Gillespie, would you please tell me the name of genius you commissioned this marvel from? Goodness, I want one for myself."


    I snort and nudge Lemand - "Hear this, Lemand? Your uncle thinks you are a genius, at least."


    Marquis jerks around, staring at Lemand with wide eyes. "Nephew, this is your handiwork?" - he asks then - "Stupendous! Outstanding! I always said Balthazar is a damned fool for looking down on you, I did. That man, I swear. Nothing but swords on his mind."


    "Ahh. Well, uncle, to be completely honest, it is more of a group effort." - Lemand demurs - "I have devised the enchantments, but the construction itself? That''s all thanks to ladies Gillespie and Lux."


    "Now, now, Lemand. Don''t sell yourself short. You also put in quite a lot of thought and ideas into this." - I retort - "There are reasons why I intend to retain you as a scholar, you know."


    Marquis smiles and claps his hands together. "Lemand, I am very impressed." - he then proffers - "Not even a year out of Balthazar''s shadow, and you''ve already gained a retainment with a ducal house? Atta boy."


    Lemand pinks. "In all fairness, uncle, lion''s share of praise is due to lady Gillespie." - he objects - "I daresay I''d still be cribbing notes in the library if not for her insight. I''m still incredulous she sees so much potential in me as to give me a retainment before I''m even out of Academy."


    I snort - "Lemand''s being excessively humble. I daresay, if not for me getting to him first, he''d end up getting an invitation to be a court mage instead."


    "He''s always been a bright lad." - marquis agrees fondly - "And I am glad that your mind had not been dulled by the brutish nature of your father, nephew. Truly, it was a mistake to permit his engagement to dear Marisa. A mistake indeed."

 Chapter 83. Mercantility

    I have to hand it to Mihel - when he wants to, he makes a flawless impression of pissed off drill sarge. Like right now. The walls are literally vibrating from his shouting, and I''m not exaggerating in the slightest - on the scale of a building, it actually measures on the Richter scale. Admittedly, he DOES have the reason for it. This bright and early morning, while more of me went off to cure consumption in the south, some more of me had visited van der Klaases, secured elder''s assistance and went down to the merchant guild to find out who the fuck is behind the hinky entries in the ledgers. The results are NOT in any way pleasant to hear... Which, well, is the reason why Mihel is showing off his sonic wattage capacity.


    Upon asking some questions and clerks shrugging at each other and us, we''ve come to a startling conclusion that the amendments in the books were not a case of the clerk being duped. Which, in retrospect, is not that weird, because Mihel''s personal copy is not in any way magically connected to the master ledgers in the Guild, he simply turns it in whenever he''s around and scribes add to it from the master ledger. There''s a grand total of thirteen scribes who handle this, and they are all rather explicitly barred from ever interacting with any of the guild clients for the sake of security. Which, in turn, means that the hapless scribe in question might kiss the job goodbye.


    The con, as it usually is, is startlingly simple when you think about it. The scribe in question, a fourth daughter of viscount Dragele, apparently had aspirations for a more glamorous lifestyle. Unfortunately, viscount Dragele is a notorious gambler, meaning that all of his kids have to hold some kind of job if they expect to be fed. The salient points of the story are, in order, a meeting in the tavern about two weeks ago, few dinners paid for by generous "madame Konistan", a "revelation" that "Ouv courshe, darlink, my dearesht Vole gave the foonds to open the Schveet Dream. Oh, if only I could reeegister the veddeeng befoore the shop." and our would-be high-rolling socialite fell head over heels in a hurry to be useful to such a "generous person".


    Me and Mihel exchange commiserating looks when the scribe in question SUDDENLY connects the dots and realizes that king''s adviser on all manners mercantile coming over to shout at her personally means the "just a little rewrite" is actually a big deal and shit is about to hit the fan on turbo setting, and promptly bursts into tears. He facepalms and turns away, palming a fresh sheet of paper off the stack to start scribbling on it.


    "Lady Gillespie, as agreed, I am hereby turning this person over to you to exact your retribution as you please." - he proclaims out loud, prompting a fearful wail from the guilty party - "As of now, she is no longer with the guild. Scribes are currently excising the fraudulent correction and rewriting the pages under the supervision of inquisition, the writs confirming the veracity of record restoration will be delivered to you, guild and Grand Inquisitor Malachi."


    Well, this is... annoying. I don''t really want a gullible yet grasping crybaby. What am I even supposed to do with her? Ignoring the moron for a moment, I take the documents Mihel wrote out and scan through them. Pretty boilerplate, that. Speaking of which...


    "Say, Mihel, I have a bit of proposition for the guild." - I tell him, and he snaps up, brow quirked.


    "In... relation to this incident?" - he hedges.


    "Tangentially. I couldn''t help but notice you lot tend to use pretty standardized forms for things." - I proffer - "It must be annoying to fill out the standard text by hand each time."


    He frowns - "True, but... How else would one do it?"


    "I''m sure you''ve seen newspaper already." - I tell him, and his face brightens up as he grasps the implications... then darkens again.


    "They''re not the exact copies, lady Gillespie." - he objects - "I am aware that the machine to reproduce the newspaper is very large and expensive. Building one for every clerk would be simply profligate."


    I take the clean paper, and jot down the boilerplate part of it, leaving underscores in place of items that need to be personalized, and pass it to him - "How about one machine to produce those? Then all the clerk needs to do is fill out the blank spots with required bits."


    "Kinov''s blessings, that''s..." - he trails off, as he stares at the paper in his hand covetously - "Yes, I want that. WE want that."


    "I thought you might." - I confirm with a smile - "I will send you the terms and costs of having such a machine. Oh, and while we are at it, would you consider taking orders from other organizations for their forms? I daresay Inquisition would want in on that business. It would be up to you to devise the exact forms, mind, I have neither the inclination nor time to sort out the entirety of your bureaucracy. While we are on the topic, might I interest the guild in copying machine license?"


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Copying?" - he repeats, still staring at the paper.


    "One of my wives had devised a machine for copying the books verbatim. There is no reason why it can not be used to copy the separate sheets of paper." - I continue - "This way, a clerk would need to fill out only one form, then simply run off as many copies of it as it is necessary to furnish everyone involved in the deal. And since it''s a machine, there exists no possibility of subtle mistakes being introduced during copying. Well, with one caveat. Signatures will still need to be applied to each copy manually, for the verification purposes and to ensure everyone is aware the copies are identical."


    "Send me the details, please." - he retorts immediately - "We definitely want at least one such machine, maybe more if the price is within our means."


    "Sure thing." - I agree - "Just so you know, Academy had commissioned five machines for their library services, both to copy the books and to rent out the copying services to the students if they desire to procure a copy of a specific tome or excerpt from it for themselves. So, I daresay, you won''t find our prices too outlandish."


    He shakes his head. "Kinov''s graces are strong with you, lady Gillespie." - he murmurs - "I can hardly say anything but yes to that, now can I?"


    "Well, you are a top dog in the merchant guild for a reason, Mihel." - I tell him and he barks a short laugh.


    "You''re one of a kind, lady Gillespie." - he retorts with a compliment of his own - "Please call upon me when you devise more of your mercantile schemes. I am quite certain the Guild will find your proposals to be of utmost interest."


    ___


    Now, what to do with the scribe? According to the writs Mihel had given me, the guild essentially disavows any and all connection to the woman in question. They restore all the records to the original condition, there were no actual monetary losses so me and Mihel agree to call it even with an understanding that there will be increased scrutiny on remaining scribes to produce accurate records. In fact, once they get the copying machines, the number of scribes in that particular position will be sharply reduced. So I have little worries on that front, now that Mihel is aware of that particular tactic, any further attempts at fucking with Guild records will be uprooted before something untoward comes out of it. That leaves me with one woman who, by the law of Champagne, is in my indentured service for ten years.


    "What is your name?" - I demand of her as she follows me sullenly into the carriage.


    "..Aaa..." - is all I get for my troubles.


    "Something coherent, please." - I insist, leaning back on the benchrest - "Your further fate entirely depends on how helpful I find you to be. Frankly speaking, I have no use for you as is, so unless you manage to persuade me you''re worth something, I''ll just send you to Gillespie county to be a maid at the estate. Which, just so we''re clear, means you''re going to be an old maid, because all the decent men out there are well and happily married."


    This is, strictly speaking, a lie, but since she''s from nobility, a decent man in her mind translates to "noble", and there are few of them at marriageable age out north who aren''t already engaged or married. And she''s not exactly the seductress material to get one of the married ones to switch over to her, either. Drageles are not exactly on the rise right now, owing to the family head being a compulsive gambler, so...


    "Aaaa... Margot, my name is Margot, mistress!" - she manages. I guess the threat is hitting the mark.


    "Right. So. Barring the writing, what are you good at?" - I inquire blandly - "I believe it''s painfully obvious I''m not going to entrust you with scribing anything, considering how you ended up in my care."


    She visibly racks her brains. "...I''m good at calculating?" - she ventures, then facefaults when she realizes it''s a bit too close to previous occupations - "I.. I... I''m also good at sartorial affairs!"


    Hm. Typical noble. With her trust bank completely exhausted, she has little if any other fallback. Darn. Wait, sartorial? Clothes? Maybe Lily-Anne has some ideas?


    I pull out my copperphone and call up Lily-Anne. "Hey, dear." - I murr into it - "Quick question. Are you still on for that fashion shop you''ve been thinking about?... Yes?... Good, good... No, well. Remember that problem with records at Merchant Guild? Well, I find myself thinking what am I to do with a dismissed scribe... No, good grief. Of course not the records. She said something about being good at sartorial affairs. A sales representative, I''m thinking. Not handling any money, that''s gonna be sales clerk''s job, but showing people around and helping them pick the best ensembles or some such... Sure... Oh, goodness, no. I sincerely doubt Dragele is going to scrape together the fine to buy her out, so... Nah, if she doesn''t work out, I''ll just send her up to the estate to be a maid... Yeah, alright."


    Snapping the phone closed, I put it back into my pocket and address my hapless new acquisition. "I''m turning you over to Lily-Anne. Yes, princess Lily-Anne. She plans to open a fashion boutique. It is in your best interests to impress her with your impeccable sartorial affairs comprehension. If you manage, you''ll be working at the capital and meeting a lot of nobles. If you don''t... Maid in the estate is always an option." - I tell her, and she nods fearfully. Well, that''s handled. Now I need to wrangle Malachi and go have a chat with the madame Konistan. She should be at the optimal despair levels by now.

 Chapter 84. Advent Of Medicine

    I have to hand it to marquis Sadoux. Man moves quickly once he''s on the familiar ground. It''s barely an hour, and we''ve all been invited and situated into his manor, rooms miraculously prepared within minutes and most remarkably, the dinner magically appears within half-hour. That''s one hell of concerted teamwork. Then again, his address to domestics was ''my dears, I need your help for we have guests!''. That man does not operate on fear in his household, no. It is very abundantly clear he is "dear master" for pretty much everyone within. I''m unsure just how close he is to his servants, but they clearly operate on the basis of a loving family model. Then again, do I actually care if marquis is really having carnal relationships with his entire household? Heh, if you really think about it, marquis Sadoux is simply a fellow harem master, it''s just that his is more domestic than mine. Good job, marquis. I''m impressed.


    My admiration for libertinous household aside, the dinner is over now. Elaine had retired with Madeleine to her rooms, and I''ve got Bridgit to stay in ours (and unpack a bit). Leaving me, Lemand and Moon Unit standing in front of an ornate door leading towards the bedroom of Lemand''s mother. Marisa Sadoux. Much to my surprise, there is a hanger near the door, holding a number of flaxen sheets... Actually no, that''s not sheets, that''s like... ponchos. With hood and faceguard. Hm... Aaand here''s a copper pot that holds a bunch more of those wadded up... Well, I''ll be. Marquis actually figured out the protective clothes trick to keep his household from getting TB. Remarkable. Simply remarkable. I guess Sadouxes is where Lemand''s intellect really comes from, because gods know Lemarchands aren''t long on brains.


    I don one, prompting surprised looks from Lemand and Moon Unit. Well, that won''t do.


    "Suit up, we don''t have all day." - I smile at them - "Marquis continues to impress me, I have to note. Those garbs will protect us from the coughs. Should cut the chance of catching consumption from your mother by, like, an order of magnitude. Remember, do NOT touch the outer surface once we enter. When we leave, pull them off by the inner surface and toss them into the pot over there. I am guessing they''re going to be either boiled or incinerated afterward. Very clever."


    They quickly don their own ponchos. Then, Lemand gingerly knocks at the door. A voice from within bids us to enter. I''m guessing this is Marisa, because I''ve heard voices more tender from chainsmokers.


    "Hello, mother." - Lemand offers quietly, as he enters the room - "It''s been a while. Let me introduce my companions... This is lady Alyssa Gillespie, and this is lady Moon Unit Lux. I have much to tell you."


    Marisa looks rough... but not as bad off as I was worried. I hit her with the passive scan first thing off, and the results are... eh. She does have tuberculosis, alright. But not an acute version. While she does have plenty of coughs and obvious anemia, it did not progress yet into the coughing blood stage. More to the point, I now have a good measure of mycobacteria signature and can give Lemand the exact formula for detection spell.


    "Lemand? Oh, my. It''s been a while, yes." - she rasps, smiling weakly - "Companions you''d like to introduce to your mother, eh? And two of them, at that? My, my, your Sadoux blood is shining through, my little weasel."


    Lemand promptly pinks so hard I can see his face heating. "Mother!" - he hisses, casting a panicked look at me - "It is not like this! Rather, I have been offered a retainment by lady Gillespie."


    She giggles. "My apologies." - she offers to us then - "Lemand''s always been a little uptight. I''d like to stand to greet you, ladies, but... sadly, that is not in the cards today. Will you be staying for long? I would love to get to know Lemand''s associates a little better, time and safety permitting."


    I shrug. "Not sure yet." - I tell her - "It largely depends on your health, to be honest. Speaking of which.. Lemand, take a look at this."


    I throw out a formula for detection spell as an illusory projection on the wall. Lemand stares at it intently, and curiously enough, so does Marisa.


    "A... detection spell?" - she then mutters - "That would look... for... hm... smaller than small mushroom?... No, mushroomy-like simpler... in the... wet and air and dark and living... Ah. Um... Wait, WHAT!?"


    She jerks up on the bed incredulously, as she stares at her own chest for a moment. "Is that supposed to find some kind of... MOLD in the body?" - she half-questions, half-states.


    Oh. Oh wow. Lemand''s mom is REALLY on the ball. Not sure how she is with the practical side of things, but her theoretical chops in magic are fucking impressive, to read the formula offhand like this.


    Moon Unit nods serenely. "We suspect that consumption is actually caused by a particular type of mold invading the lungs." - she paraphrases my earlier explanations on the nature of bacteria - "If this suspicion pans out, it would explain why healers had little luck with curing consumption - even if the scrapes caused by mold are healed, the mold remains and reopens the wounds in short order."


    "But if so, there are other types of magic that could be employed to extract the mold..." - Marisa continues wonderingly - "...and if mold is gone, then..." She trails off, caught between sudden hope and trepidation.


    "Then you can be cured of consumption, yes." - Lemand confirms with much gravitas - "Which is something I dearly hope for. Which brings us to the main reason why we are here. Mother, will you permit us to try and cure your consumption using our newfound knowledge?"


    "Yes!" - she breathes out and starts coughing - "A thousand times yes! I will roll any dice for a chance to be free of that death''s shackle!"


    He smiles and without further ado lifts his hand, a hefty brass armband with a selection of flowers briefly reflecting light before it starts to shine on its own, as he throws the detection spell. The glow intensifies, as Marisa''s body starts glowing in response. As anyone would expect, her chest is the source of the most glow. I can see that there is also some coming from all of the body, which indicates a presence of mycobacteria in blood, but Lemand''s eyesight is not good enough to make that out against the luminescence coming from the lung area. Moon Unit does catch it, though. I can see her flinch, and then school her expression carefully.


    "Extensive." - Lemand mutters - "Lady Lux, let us attempt the preliminary treatment, as we discussed. Lady Gillespie, please oversee."


    Moon Unit moves closer and starts channeling two spells. One for general pain suppression and the other to stimulate regeneration. Lemand, meanwhile, grunts as he throws together several air spells, his free hand pulling out a bouquet of nasturtiums, hyssop and mint out of the holder on his back. It was prepared beforehand just for this use, obviously, because while Lemand is good enough to do a detection via facsimile, he does need a live focus for a much more complicated and delicate hoover spell. Marisa makes an odd throaty noise, her mouth opening wide as she hurriedly turns over to the side of the bed, leaning over it as if she''s about to hurl. I stick a hastily conjured glass jar under her mouth as a wad of granulomas emerges. Marisa dry-heaves from the feeling, and I quickly nail her with an antiemetic spell while she''s still bent over, while Lemand continues to maintain hoover. It takes nearly a minute of teamwork magic before the air exiting Marisa''s mouth is not rife with a horrid mix of dying tissue, mucus and spit. She pushes back weakly and falls on her pillow, panting greedily.


    "Mother?... Mother?... MOM, please respond!" - Lemand entreats with growing worry.


    "...Aaah!... Haaah!... AAh... Haaah!... Hrrrh... Oh gods, that was horrid." - she whispers, tilting her head as she eyes the mess in the jar with loathing - "That... filth was inside ME!!?" She shudders in revulsion and turns away sharply - "Marra''s mercy..."


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Lemand immediately casts the detection spell again. This time, it is notably weaker in the glow, but still shows plenty in the lungs. To be expected, really. Lemand nods, as this matches to the plan we devised on the airship.


    "Well, the initial stage is a success, I believe." - he proclaims with satisfaction - "I believe your breath should be easier for a while, mother, while we prepare the subtler methods to clear out the remnants."


    She quirks a brow, and slowly, experimentally, takes in full lungs of air, then just as slowly exhales... And grins. "YES!" - she shouts - "Much better! I haven''t felt my breath ease so much for months!" It is indeed remarkable, because prior to the preliminaries, she would have immediately had a coughing fit after shouting like this.


    "Marisa? What is the matter!?" - inquires marquis, as he throws the door open. He has the protective poncho on, but it is clear that he had thrown it on in a hurry. Behind him, I can see Elaine holding another one and pulling it apart slowly, seemingly in the process of figuring out how to put it on.


    "The matter, Donatien, is that my brilliant son and his companions had devised a way to ease consumption!" - Marisa retorts jubilously - "I can breathe again!"


    Marquis claps his hands under the poncho in delight. "Stupendous! Incredible! MIRACULOUS!" - he thunders - "This is above and beyond all that I could have hoped for, Lemand, and I have already had high hopes for you!"


    "We''re just getting started, uncle." - Lemand retorts with a grin - "The cleaning, so to speak, was simply to prepare mother for more intensive cures. They will require more preparations, I''m afraid, but with this treatment, I daresay we bought enough time to make it happen."


    I snap my fingers - "While we''re on the topic, marquis, let me commend you on your clever idea with protective garments. That was inspired. Do satisfy my curiosity, however. What is that do you do with the discarded ones?"


    Marquis blinks. "Oh? Oh, those." - he repeats - "We just burn them in the furnace, lady Gillespie. Why do you ask?"


    "Effective, but somewhat wasteful." - I agree - "Just so you know, you can reuse the garments if you place the used ones into the water, add some lye or soap, heat it to roiling boil and keep it boiling for an hour. Then just rinse them out in clean cold water, and they''re safe again. The same treatment can be used to clean up the utensils and cups."


    ___


    Marisa takes full advantage of her sudden relief and demands a meal. She''s not in the shape for delicacies just yet, but we all agree that plenty of stiff beef broth and some soft bread is the best meal option. While she is happily occupied with soup, marquis organizes a couple of manservants to bring in the chair from the airship. It is situated in the middle of the room, and we all take a breather while Marisa takes a short nap after the meal. While she''s at it, I show the jar of sputum to everyone, eliciting a number of groans and shudders, then prepare a smear and place it under the microscope. Donatien and Elaine are flat out flabbergasted, taking turns peering down the ocular.


    "THIS is the cause of consumption?" - marquis grumbles - "People have been dying to a gods-bedamned MOLD!?"


    Elaine, however, has a different question. "How did you find out?" - she asks.


    "The short answer is that I''m defiled. The long answer is that the exact circumstances of my defilement had garnered me some knowledge of otherworldly alchemy and medicine." - I give them the public explanation - "I already knew that most diseases that can be passed from person to person are caused by minuscule parasites like these. So when we arrived, I''ve simply scanned lady Sadoux for lacerations within her lungs. I suspected the lungs as being the infected spot because consumption comes with an incessant cough, so it made sense to start looking in the lungs and throat for the causes of it. Once I found those in the lungs, I simply focused on what was nearby and wrote the signature out for Lemand to pinpoint at."


    Lemand continues smoothly - "Lady Gillespie had conferred to me the knowledge that diseases are caused by minuscule parasites, pointed out that lungs are the most likely body part to be affected and tasked me with devising a spell to remove the most egregious of them via air magic. Since I had a clear goal, devising a spell to do that was merely a matter of mathemagical prowess."


    He gestures grandly towards Moon Unit, who blushes, but picks up the topic - "While I was tasked with using my tried and true spells for pain alleviation and restoration to make sure Lemand''s efforts in removing the mold did not harm lady Sadoux excessively. The crumbs that this mold forms are surprisingly hard, much like grains of sand, and without a dedicated healer numbing the pain the extraction process would likely be excruciating."


    "So..." - Elaine hums - "The gist of it is that Alyssa was pointing out the mold, Lemand was removing the mold and Moon Unit was smoothing out the wound left after the mold was pulled off?"


    "Essentially, yes." - I agree - "This is the initial stage of treatment, mind. Now that lady Sadoux is fed and rested, we will move on to the second stage. Deep scrubbing. We will be doing essentially the same thing, only much more meticulously. Since this is going to take a while longer and cause significant discomfort, we will be using Lemand''s Serenity chair to take the edge off it. I''m not sure how long it will take, to be honest, my best guess is anywhere from a half-hour to three hours. We will not do this for longer than an hour at a stretch, with a mandatory resting period between each hour of treatment. No need to spoil the treatment by needlessly rushing."


    ___


    In the end, it takes two hour-long treatments, interspersed by half-hour pauses for Marisa to catch her breath and eat more soup, as consistent regeneration she''s being kept under is taking its toll. The third treatment is merely ten minutes long, and consists mostly of us scanning and rescanning the lungs to make sure all granulomas are excised and the lesions healed up. By that time, the rumors of consumption being cured are all over the household and there is a crowd of concerned servants peering from beyond the doors as we check Marisa out for the umpteenth time. Unfortunately, just as I suspected, it''s not enough. While the intense glow from her lungs had faded, Marisa still gives off a full-body shimmer that implies that there is still mycobacteria in her blood.


    Even with that in mind, the household and marquis loudly celebrate the achievement.


    "You will be remembered for ages for this." - exults Donatien - "To think that consumption can be kept at bay like this. You are heroes!"


    I share a glance with Lemand. He turns to smooth Marisa''s hair lightly, and offers - "How are you feeling, mother?"


    Since she''s in the chair, Marisa is very muted in her response. Even with that, she is clearly happy. "I feel clean. I feel healthy." - she offers back - "I have more years to live than I hoped for. Cleaning myself out periodically is a small price to pay for years of life you''ve given me back."


    "There is actually the third stage of treatment, mother." - he proffers - "And it is a different one."


    Everyone hushes up. Then marquis pipes up - "The third stage? You mean..."


    I nod at him. "Eradication of disease, yes." - I confirm - "We have excised all that could be excised, the remainder of mold is just spores in the blood. If left alone, they will eventually make their way back into lungs or other body part and start multiplying again."


    "But... how would you clean the blood?" - marquis asks uncertainly.


    "Have you ever heard the maxim - every medicine is a poison, marquis?" - I ask. I was not idle, a number of my eyespiders had been prowling all around seeking the appropriate materials. While it will be a while before antibiotics are properly a thing, I can fudge the thing with alchemy to be of passable efficiency. So as I say this, I place a bottle of murky white liquid on the table with a thunk.


    "It is common knowledge, I believe, that the bigger the body, the better it resists poison." - I proffer - "This is what those medications use. They kill the parasites while not being potent enough to kill the human."


    Marisa pipes up from the chair - "So... the plan is to give me just a little poison so that I don''t die, but the mold does?"


    "I am not sure about this." - marquis objects - "That sounds risky."


    "Which, marquis, is why we will be doing this slowly and cautiously." - I tell him - "We start with a singular drop of this. I have fed a drop of poison to the mouse this morning, and mouse is still alive." I hold up the aforementioned mouse in a conjured cage. The little guy was nervous for a while, but then settled to nibble on the corncob I put in and lost interest for the surroundings.


    He purses his lips, but then sighs - "I shall trust you, lady Gillespie. The precaution of trying your medicine on a mouse first does assuage my fears. Mouse does seem to be quite alright."


    Moon Unit chuckles - "Not just that, the mouse does not register to poison detection spell either. It''s no longer poisoned, per se."


    As a coup de grace, I drop a single drop on the smear we prepared earlier, and gesture to marquis to take a look. He peers into the ocular and gasps after a few moments of intense scrutiny. "The mold is still..." - he mutters - "I withdraw my objection, lady Gillespie. You have clearly considered this in depth."


    The admission that we would introduce the medicine directly into blood stream does bring a bit of trepidation back, I surmise, but Marisa firmly puts an end to all vacillations by demanding to be treated with the poison right now. As such, Lemand (under my careful supervision) pokes Marisa''s arm with a lancet, wipes off the resulting welt of blood and carefully drips the medicine into the wound, which is then immediately sealed by Moon Unit. He throws the detection spell again, and wouldn''t you know? The glow in this arm is dimmer than the rest of the body.


    Much jubilation ensues.

 Chapter 85. Enhanced Interrogation

    In the end, I didn''t end up needing to do as much in Grenwille as I anticipated. Lemand really pulled the weight there. Admittedly, it IS his mother, so there''s no wonder he would want to be on this front and center. And since the heavy treatment was done, all that really remained was Lemand periodically administering my makeshift antibiotic mix. I''ve enchanted a panel for him with the mycobacteria scanner, so that he could monitor his mother without me poking in and went out and about with Moon Unit, doing the tourist bit... and showing the flag to Grenwille farmers, as it were. It''s surprising how much of a turnaround it really was for them, after Konistan''s shitshow. The first appearance I made here? Sullen faces all around. They switched up to considerate expressions after I explained that my politics are going to be different from Konistan''s. Right now? Smiles all around. I am also glad to notice my agents in the trading house itself were not sitting idle, there are tar roads in the city already. Not all of it, just the major lines and the big roads, but I do see the lesser roads being worked on, as we pass by.


    Out of curiosity, I stop by with burgmeister. He is... effulgent with the praise. According to him, after seeing the major roads being retrofitted on king''s and marquis'' coin, he had managed to persuade the merchant guild to invest further into the paving of the marketplace. Some of the wealthier local citizens had commissioned the roads they lived on to be paved too, and now that everyone is sure both in the quality of road and the affordability of it, the burg itself had agreed to funnel a part of the maintenance budget to have everything left to be repaved completely. Then, he floors me by asking if I would consent to opening a branch of the baking shop here. Apparently, my shop in the capital is making waves and somehow he heard that I agreed to try for a branch bakery in Haver, so now he wants in on that. And not just him, I''m introduced to three breadmakers in the city who all express interest in joining my shop, if I want to open one here. Apparently, they believe that working under the aegis of a noble-endorsed corporation is going to be more profitable for them than being independent businessmen... Moon Unit is smirking at me throughout the whole exchange, too. As she put it, "everyone wants in on your business, dear". In the end, we shake on the same deal as with Faria - they will tally up the available plots and buildings that I might buy out, and send apprentices to the capital to bone up on baking pastries. I tried to simply offer licenses for bakers to make pastries, but apparently they still want my shop. I don''t get why, the town is firmly under the aegis of marquis Sadoux, one would think they don''t need to fear the deprivations of lesser nobles because of that. I need to get marquis to weigh in on this.


    ...Of fucking course. It''s sugar. They''re not confident they can source the sugar at passable prices even with marquis pitching his name. So at the second meeting, with marquis himself present, we hammer out the final agreement - the same deal as before, essentially, except I cut in marquis on a part of profits in exchange for him handling the logistics and lending his name to the enterprise. As in, "Sweet Dream branch shop, endorsed by personal patronage of marquis Sadoux". All in all, the things in Grenwille are proceeding apace, with Marisa steadily losing mycobacteria. I estimate that it will take about five days overall. Magic''s really helpful here, because after a bit of brainstorming session with Moon Unit and Lemand, we figure out how to bamf up the efficiency of antibiotic by slapping on it a sort of guidance that makes it explicitly seek mycobacteria in exclusion of everything else. Still can''t narrow it down to one megadose, because even with seeking, it does not really notice the helpful cells and microorganisms it washes over on the way to bacteria, but limited targeting is way better than just winning by saturation. Less taxing on the body, too.


    ___


    Back in Parsee, I solicit the presence of sir Malachi for the interrogation. I wanted Mihel too, but he demurred from being present, citing that Merchant Guild''s involvement had been cut with the dismissal of the scribe, as it does not seem that madame Konistan bothered to create a separate registry entrance for herself to begin with, meaning he has neither questions nor interest in seeing what am I going to do with an impostor. Oh well. I might get a little rough with the impostor, I''m extremely peeved off at the angle of attack. Making people believe I married Konistan? Yeah, well. Some, ahem... enhanced interrogation might be in order.


    "...I am rather... befuddled, lady Gillespie." - Malachi rasps as we enter the mansion - "This scheme, well... It''s stitched together with wet grass. What exactly was the expectation? That you would not notice your holdings being supplanted?"


    "Simpler then that." - I reply - "Given what I already know, the scheme was to ride on Konistan''s name, as it is common knowledge I got the majority of trade infrastructure from him, and quickly draft a couple of selling contracts to the nobles that are gullible enough to buy it and do not count me among friends. Like marquis de Brege. He still holds a grudge from that time when his son was caught trying to create an incident with my airship and wholeheartedly believed the story that the Sweet Dream shop is actually owned by madame Konistan and I just bluffed him."


    "Wait. Wait a moment. How''s the bakery connected to the airship, lady Gillespie?" - he inquires.


    "Ah. Right. My apologies, you weren''t present for that." - I backtrack - "Basically, Julien de Brege was promised a sweetroll from Sweet Dream by Ambercrombe Junior if he manages to get my airship to land on him."


    Malachi facepalms wordlessly.


    "Indeed. Now, Julien was both foolish enough to believe that he would survive the weight of over six quintals dropping on him from above and foolhardy enough to withhold the name of the person who asked him to do it when asked directly by his majesty." - I continue, making Malachi wince - "I''ve remarked that Sweet Dream happens to be my shop, and that I just might ban de Breges from buying pastries for life if he continues to be stubborn."


    "You know... his highness did express an intent to demote de Brege to viscount in the morning, but I do believe it might be more prudent to just strip them of nobility altogether." - Malachi muses slowly - "To preserve the rest of court from having this kind of stupidity spread among them, if nothing else."


    We enter the room that I have selected to be used for interrogation. A pair of chairs for us, a table with writing utensils and plenty of paper, a pair of stools and a bucket of water. Nabad. I test the water lightly, confirming it''s cool, but not chilly.


    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    "What''s that for, lady Gillespie?" - Malachi asks curiously.


    "Enhanced interrogation, of course." - I tell him - "Do you honestly think someone so stupid will tell us anything worthwhile without some effort to extract the information?"


    Manservants bring in the aforementioned madame Konistan. Well, drag in, really, because she''s doing her level best not to comply. Silly, really, given that her hands are bound behind her back and she has hobbles on.


    "Let me go, you pissants! You will be whipped to death for mistreating me, do you hear?" - she shouts at them for I dunno which time. They deposit her on the stool and bow to me.


    "Per your orders, lady Gillespie. She was not given anything to eat since last midday." - they report and depart towards the doors.


    Malachi follows them with his eyes, remarking - "They''re not staying?"


    "Goodness, no. Why?" - I shrug - "I''ll handle everything from up here, though... If I might prevail upon you to keep notes, sir Malachi?"


    He grumbles goodnaturedly, but sits down in the chair and pulls up the inkwell closer, disregarding another shrill diatribe from madame Konistan on the dire fates that await us all for daring to get handsy with her persona.


    "Very well. Let us get acquainted." - I murr, facing the target of my ire - "My name is Alyssa Gillespie, and you tried to steal from me. This is Grand Inquisitor, sir Malachi, and he will be hearing your testimony along with me as a witness and royal persecutor. Now, whom do you work for?"


    She draws another lungful for more shriek, which I cut short with a quick jab to the solar plexus. She squawks, doubling over, conveniently presenting her hair to me. Which I grab with my hand and drag her up to full height, before plunging her head into the bucket. One, two, three... thirty! I pull her out and toss her back on the stool, panting and shivering.


    "Who do you work for?" - I ask again. Just as she opens her mouth, I repeat the jab to the solar plexus, followed by dunking in the bucket. After the third round, Malachi coughs.


    "As amusing as it might be for you, lady Gillespie, you might want to give her a moment to actually speak." - he proffers reasonably.


    I shrug, letting her pant on the stool for a moment. "She''s far too stupid to grasp the situation she''s in, sir Malachi." - I object - "I need to establish my credentials as a merciless monster before she truly grasps the idea that talking truthfully might be her only chance to survive."


    "Sir Malachi, pleAAAAhse save mglub-glub-glub-glub!" - she contributes to the conversation, as I dunk her for the fourth time. Malachi winces.


    "Just so you know, I have no legal basis to intervene right now." - he proffers as I let her out again - "Unless you can offer some connection to another noble that might vouch for you, lady Gillespie is entirely within her rights to drown you right here and now. You did attempt to defraud her of a holding, after all."


    "So? Who are you working for?" - I rephrase slightly, as I drag her up by the hair to dunk for the fifth time.


    "Aaah oh gods you''re glub-glub-glub-glub!" - is her eloquent reply.


    "Really? Gods? Somehow I doubt that." - I retort as I toss her back on the stool.


    "Aaaah! Haaaaaaaah! Khaaah!... Hurk!" - she comments insightfully, bending over on her own as she heaves a mouthful of water on the floor. A couple of dry heaves follow. Nabad, nabad. The squeak she makes when I drag her to the bucket again is delicious.


    "Aaah!... Please, no, stop, please!... Please, I don''t know any...glub-glub-glub!" - aaand she continues to be stubborn.


    I shrug at sir Malachi. "People those days. So dishonest. So uncooperative." - I complain - "One would think I asked for her firstborn, not for the name of the bastard who set her up to be tortured."


    He chuckles. "Well, let it not be said that crooks are known for their thinking, lady Gillespie." - he commiserates - "At this rate, mayhaps we might be served better if I just start writing out the execution certificate."


    "Aaaaa!... Abbatour! It''s viscount Abbatour!" - she shrieks fearfully.


    "Abbatour? Why would he care? His holdings are in the southeast, if I recall correctly." - I muse, as I take a fistful of hair and twist it around my palm for better grip. The dunking is met with even more frantic flailing, she even manages to upset the stool she was sitting on. Tossing her down on the floor, I sigh and set about righting the stool.


    "...Please, oh please it was viscount Abbatour, I swear!.. He gave me the marriage contract to monsieur Konistan, I swear to gods, awhuhuhuhaaaaaaaaugh!" - she breaks down on the floor hysterically.


    "Where did your accent go?" - I inquire, following my inquiry with a light kick to the abdomen. She curls up, whimpering.


    I turn to sir Malachi, and sit down in the chair next to him. "Well, here is our first clue. Viscount Abbatour." - I muse - "I''m inclined to think it''s a lie. I do not have any interests near his holdings, and he has no direct relatives currently in the capital to the best of my knowledge. Why would he want to harm my business, and why would he go about it so ineptly?"


    Malachi chews his lip thoughtfully. "Hrm... Nothing comes to mind." - he muses - "Abbatours made their wealth off the iron mines in their territory, as far as I recall. I can''t think of any reason why viscount would want to hamper the production of pastries, of all things. It''s entirely out of his sphere of interest."


    I stand up and walk back to our unwilling guest, who shrinks back from me. "He never told me why!" - she shouts desperately - "But I overheard him complaining you''re pushing too many new things, too fast!"


    "That does not explain why he would target a pastry shop, of all things." - I object, hauling her back to her feet.


    "It was my idea! He simply told me to try and sell something of yours to court nobles!" - she hurries, shivering as the bucket looms closer.


    I sigh and drop her on the bucket, letting her head sink into it for a moment, before the whole thing overturns. The water splashes all over her, leaving her back on the floor with an empty bucket on her head.


    "Well, sir Malachi... What do we do from here?" - I quip, as I sit back down - "She was truthful when she said it was Abbatour, but that only means she personally believes she''s been put up to this by him. Not that he actually did it. For all that we know, someone else pulled her own trick on her first. In fact, it''s more than likely, considering that the idea of passing her for madame Konistan also came from them. Nonetheless, she is guilty of marriage fraud, at least, given that Konistan was already dead by the time she signed the marriage contract. I daresay he couldn''t have possibly married from beyond the grave."


    Malachi shrugs. "Your claim is legally precedent, lady Gillespie." - he proffers - "While crown will persecute her for marriage fraud on behalf of late Konistan, the truth of the matter is that Konistan was only a commoner. Wealthy, but commoner nonetheless. Ergo, her fate belongs to you. If it so happens that she''s still alive after you mete your punishment, she will be consigned to indentured labor henceforth."


    "Hrm." - I muse - "So... Can I punish her by giving someone else a contract to use her as an indentured servant?"


    Malachi nods - "It would be exceptionally merciful of you, but yes, you can. Why, what do you have in mind?"


    I smirk at him - "I was thinking of asking madame Cocoshon if she wants another courtesan in her fine establishment."


    The wails of the damned on the floor do so soothe my nonexistent soul.

 Interlude 13. Clicking Klaus

    Sighing, Klaus set aside the latest sheaf of documents and sighed. As much as he hated to concede the ground, he had to admit he''s been solidly outmaneuvered out there. For now, at least until the roads are finished, lady Gillespie was completely untouchable. Of course, he still intended to pilfer every last secret she''d let slip, but insofar as rough tactics were concerned, he was explicitly ordered to maintain a strictly hands-off approach. Worse yet, the latest actions had completely fudged his expectations. Who in their right mind would just give a whole strategic reserve worth of weaponry as a gift!? Good grief, he and Alphonse had expected maybe a sword or two as a personal present to the king, not five crates of ripple steel. Worse yet, the provided pieces were spearheads and arrowheads. As in, the exact stuff one would want if they intended to seriously bolster the defenses, as opposed to expected baubles. The whole royal blacksmith was in an uproar - every single craftsman had been called in to put the proffered bits on the proper hafts and arrowshafts. Forget the castle, the whole Berlinger had been scoured for experienced fletchers to turn the arrowheads into readiness.


    As of nine o''clock this evening, Kraut kingdom was in possession of a trump to pretty much any force one could possibly send against them, up and including Sultanate dragons! If needs be, they could arm the entirety of the royal garrison with ripple steel! Unbelievable. Such profligate wealth. And all it did was inspire a cold dread in Klaus - if Champagne felt confident to gift that much to Kraut, how much of a reserve did THEY had? Enough to field an army armed with ripple steel? Klaus had nightmares about Champagne knights clad in ripple steel chainmail just ripping through the Kraut defenses like wet paper.


    And even worse, if that defiled devil of a woman could produce so much ripple steel, what else did she make? His spies in Champagne had been giving rather confusing reports. No major army training that he would expect, given the grand scale rearmaments Champagne was surely undertaking. No increased recruitment, either. It seemed like their western neighbor so far intended to keep things peaceful. A small relief, that. The sharp increase in trade goods, however... His latest acquisition was a carriage. Some clever soul (no prizes for guessing whom exactly) had endeavored to fit heavy steel springs between the axles and carriage itself. Which, in turn, meant those carriages could be driven at much faster speeds without breaking the goods within or making the carriage drivers take long pauses to recover from the pain in their buttocks. Royal blacksmiths took a look, clicked their tongues a lot and attempted to cast the spirals to recreate the notion. It was a disaster. Cast springs just broke instead of cushioning. They were obviously forged and tempered somehow to work as intended, but... how? To add insult to injury, the goods list offered to Alphonse even listed those very same springs, and named a cost that was actually rather affordable, even considering the hassle of bringing them all the way to southern Champagne and back up north over Kraut roads. Alphonse already placed an order for a hundred, intending to have all of his personal carriages fitted. Klaus had no doubt the merchants would be all over those. Giving the landbound merchants yet ANOTHER shot in the arm. Mercantile control was slipping out of his fingers thread by thread.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Another bit of irritation was the discovery that apparently the tar roads were exactly as simple as his spies had ferreted. The exact instructions had been given to Alphonse with much fanfare, and a hastily paved stretch of road near the castle had confirmed it - it was indeed a simplicity in itself, left undiscovered simply due to no one getting an idea to muck around with tar. Already, the kingdom was scrambling for labor as Alphonse ordered all sorts of highways to be paved. They thankfully had their own tarpits in the southern mountains, so no need to import that too. But.. gah! If only Klaus did not dismiss the process as obviously incomplete, they could have been paving as early as mid-autumn, not just starting at the onset of winter. With the speed those roads could be made, a month of difference could really be obvious.


    Pouring himself a glass of schnapps, Klaus threw it back and growled. He needed new... insights. Damn it, why not? Putting his hand on a potted dandelion, he ran himself through the scrying spell, wondering what kind of oddment he would procure this time. What thunked on his table was... a cookie. A simple cookie, if one were to disregard the fact it was encrusted with some sort of brown-blackish chunks. The detection spell told him nothing. The cookie was not poisonous, the chunks were merely a thick cream made out of some tree fruit he was not familiar with, and there was no magic about that cookie. At all. A full hour later, frustrated Klaus gave up. Staring at the cookie balefully for a moment, he picked it up, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed resolutely.


    Oh gods what!!? The taste that blasted his mouth was rich, sweet and entirely unfamiliar. But ever so heady and energetic that Klaus sat up straight abruptly, his tongue swishing in his mouth as he swallowed every single crumb that still remained there. So. Much. Energy! Such vigor! Oh gods, THAT must be the secret weapon Gillespie was holding back! The alchemical treats that destroyed fatigue! Gods and stars, he needed that secret NOW! Grabbing the fresh sheet of paper, Klaus started to jot things down. New orders to his spies had to be made. At all costs, they were to procure more samples of this wondrous treat. If Kraut alchemists could divine the cream''s exact ingredients, why... His whole department could abolish the very idea of sleep with such a wonderful remedy. No wonders Gillespie run circles around him and his, the darn witch had no need to sleep if she had such a remedy! And Klaus would be damned if he could not secure more of that for himself and his underlings. This was of paramount, national importance! Cookies!

 Chapter 86. Wind It Down

    ...So listless. And I have no idea why. It would seem that I actually handled all the outstanding issues. Well, the situation in Grenwille is still going on, but we''re there mostly as moral support to Lemand now, then anything else. Elaine, much to my amusement, turned out to be a member of Newspaper Club and gleefully informed Newspaper Gals that the cure for consumption is in process of being vetted on the first patient. I''m also amused by the fact she cited Lemand as the principal inventor of this, though my and Moon Unit''s names crop up too. Not sure if it is her idea of being petty or that''s how she genuinely views the distribution of labor, but her report dovetails with my plans perfectly, so I smile and confirm to MeeMee, LeeLee and DeeDee that yes indeed, that report is entirely accurate and sure, Lemand will be writing a treatise on methods and spells used to achieve the results and yes, the treatise will be copied and presented to the court, temple and medics as soon as it is finished and polished.


    So, to alleviate my doldrums, I throw a bit of pizza party at my dorm room. Girls only. My wives are obviously invited (Bridgit uses me as a conduit to temporarily bamf Moon Unit back to dorms), Rafiqa and Selene show up in the middle of preparations, and the Newspaper trio come in right as we''re ready to camp down and party. I have a bit of entertainment planned, while we are at it. It''s been in my plans for a while to figure out the magical equivalent of TV, and I''m going to show off my newest prototype. No network to run it off from, obviously, but I did try to project some of my memories of cartoons, and it came out even better than I expected. So this evening, we''re going to be entertained by assorted animals of various anthropomorphisation acting goofily for our amusement. But that''s for later. For now, we''re all set around the table, eating pizza and chatting.


    "So what will be the next grand adventure?" - Selene asks suddenly.


    "What do you mean?" - and I''m honestly not sure where she''s going with this. Grand adventure? What?


    "Oh, come on. You always have something cooking up." - she cajoles - "What is next in the plans, I wonder?"


    I groan. "I''ll have you know that I actually caught up on everything and fully intend to peacefully finish the term and enjoy some well-earned vacation." - I retort, rubbing my face tiredly.


    "Really? That thing with consumption was the last big thing you planned?" - she teases - "Don''t keep me in suspense, come on. You''re planning on inventing something big again, doncha?"


    "No, seriously. I sorted that one out, I dealt with the impostor, now all I plan to do is relax and pamper my faithful harem silly." - I tell her off.


    "Impostor?" - Rafiqa pipes up suddenly - "Someone had the utter idiocy to try and pretend to be you?"


    I pause as I suddenly realize only my wives are privy to this. Oh well.


    "Shh. Don''t spread it around. And... sort of?" - I admit - "I shouldn''t have mentioned it, it''s just a minor thing."


    "Aw, come on. Tell us. That sounds like the sort of story I want to hear." - Selene insists.


    Sighing, I rub my head. "Fine, fine. Nothing too exciting." - I tell them - "Basically, someone claiming to be madame Konistan had duped the scribe in Merchant Guild claiming that she was the one who opened Sweet Dream and such, and how regretful she is the registry went through before her marriage so the name on the registry is wrong. Scribe bought the lie and proceeded to cross out Alyssa Gillespie in the guild registrar and replace it with madame Konistan. Silly bint thought she''s doing me a favor. This was brought up on the trip to Kraut by Marceu van der Klaas, who expressed his surprise and disdain that I would marry Konistan. Obviously, I didn''t take kindly to that, we reviewed the ledgers and found the correction. Once I knew that was going on, I told everyone to be on the lookout for madame Konistan showing up. She did show up a few days later with marquis de Brege in tow, demanding to see ledgers for Sweet Dream and promising to sell the shop to de Brege. I caught them in the shop redhanded, told de Brege off, captured the impostor and stuck her in the mansion cellar to cool off. Then, me and Mihel van der Klaas went to the guild, found the guilty scribe and sorted that out. Inquisition verified all the ledgers were restored to rightful condition, and now I''ve interrogated the impostor herself in the morning with sir Malachi, found out what she knew, which was remarkably little, and punished both the impostor and scribe. Nothing really to write home about, just a petty con not really going anywhere."


    Lily-Anne perks up. "Oh, I know about the scribe. She''s going to work at my shop when it opens, right?" - she confirms.


    I nod. "Well, yes." - I admit, raising my hands when everyone else begins to talk at once - "Not handling any ledgers or money, girls. Duh. She''s going to be greeting people and helping them pick out the clothes, nothing more. I''m not about to trust someone gullible with any valuables."


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    "So what did you do with the impostor?" - she inquires - "I hope you''re not going to ask me to take care of her too? Scribe I can understand, she''s just a silly girl getting caught in someone''s lies, but I don''t want any actual criminals to be in my employ, you know?"


    I shake my head. "No, no. As we were able to confirm, she signed marriage contract to Konistan when he was already dead, so... No way." - I retort - "Sir Malachi did say she''s going to be an indentured servant for the rest of her life, once she''s done with my punishment, provided she lives that long."


    "Soo... What are you going to do to her?" - Selene inquires curiously.


    "Well... Honestly, I''m planning on taking her indentured service writ to madame Cocoshon and asking if she could use another girl in her brothel." - I offer wearily - "I can''t think of any place where any of us would want her, and while I''m still mad at her for giving people an idea I would even consider marrying Konistan, she didn''t actually manage to do anything in the end."


    "That''s pretty lenient of you." - DeeDee remarks thoughtfully - "If she works diligently, she should be able to buy herself out of indenture in ten years or so. Courtesans do get a lot of presents if they are good to their clients."


    "Father would''ve sentenced her to be fed to dragons alive, if she impersonated me..." - Rafiqa muses - "Northern laws are really kind."


    I shrug. "I just want to be rid of her." - I admit quietly - "That whole mess annoyed me like no one''s business."


    Overall, it seems that the girls are impressed with my kindness... Except for Selene, who has.. rather much more distressed expression.


    "That''s not right." - she murmurs - "Alyssa, that''s not right! How is that any better than selling me to Sultanate!?"


    And that brings an awkward pause all around the table. I facepalm.


    "Way to go, Selene." - I grumble - "Ok... I didn''t want to spread this around, but I guess an explanation is a must right now. Selene is a bit of seer. Not enough to reliably forecast future events, but she occasionally does see visions about herself in one of the possible futures. The one she is talking about is one where I didn''t decide I like girls and instead clung to engagement with Edward. In which I, apparently, after being thoroughly torqued off about her trying to poach my fiancee had hired a bunch of thugs to kidnap her from Academy and take her to Mersaille to be sold to Oijan merchants as a slave. Obviously, this is not a future that can happen now, given that I fully endorse Edward''s engagement to Selene."


    Selene is working her mouth like a fish. She apparently forgot about the fact no one else knows about transmigration, and is currently having a bit of cognitive dissonance. Thankfully, my explanation is long enough for her to reengage her mental gearbox.


    "Yes! And that was horrible!" - she proclaims - "Look, I get it. She tried to steal from you, a lot. And you are very sore about her petty shit giving people wrong impressions about you. But when all is said and done, you did put an end to it before she actually got away with anything, right? Isn''t it too much to put her up for legal rape in perpetuity?"


    "Courtesans are actually a pretty respectable profession, and I doubt she has any issues with whoring, given that she agreed to marry a dead man, alright!?" - I snap back angrily, closing my eyes as I finally realize what was bothering me. Selene IS right, it''s going a bit too far. I am justified in putting madame Konistan to labor for her transgressions, but putting her to stud is excessive by far.


    I take a couple of deep breaths to calm down, and mentally rejigger the situation. I already told Malachi I''m going to give her to the brothel. But I didn''t specify it would be as a courtesan. Taking one last deep breath, I look up, into Selene''s eyes. "Alright. Fine... Let''s amend this, then. I will curtail her indentured service as owed to me to ten years. I will pass her to madame Cocoshon, I already told that much to sir Malachi and he put it to record. But, I will give her a clear stipulation that madame Konistan is to pick on her own if she wants to be a courtesan or if she prefers to work her crime off as a scullery maid in the brothel. Does that satisfy your sensibilities?"


    "That''s practically letting her go free!" - Lily-Anne objects - "Besmirching a noble name deserves a rebuke!"


    I raise my hands in the air. "Look." - I tell everyone - "When all is said and one, I just want her gone. Selene is right about one thing, it''s not up to me to force someone into sex. So I''m going to pass her on to madame Cocoshon with clear instructions to let her choose if she wants to atone with her hands or with her cunt, and on that note, I am washing my hands clear of her. Whatever she does with her life from now on is of no concern to me, lest she crosses my path with hostile intentions again."


    "...If she gets to pick, then fair enough." - Selene offers slowly - "Sorry."


    I chuckle and lean over the table to ruffle her and Lily-Anne''s hair in the same time.


    "Hey, that''s what the friends are for." - I offer, sitting back - "It actually bothered me, but I couldn''t figure out why until Selene pointed out the whole forcing to sex part."


    Lily-Anne pouts at me. "You''re far too kind, Alyssa." - she grumbles - "If it was me who was impersonated, my father would have ordered her whipped raw in the public square and thrown into the moat."


    She shakes her head and smiles at me. "But then again, you is... well, you." - she proffers - "If you''re fine with just that... But this madame Konistan better remember your mercy for all of her life."


    I suddenly perk up as something else occurs to me. "Gah, I almost forgot!" - I yelp - "Moon Unit, I apologize for the hassle in advance, but... I sort of advertised your copy machine to the Merchant Guild? And they would want to commission a bunch. So, uh... Once we officially return from Grenwille, we will probably have to see about setting you up with a proper workshop and labor to produce them. I''ll help and cover the expenses, obviously. Oh, and we need to visit Merchant Guild to register you... And Lily-Anne, you need to come with us too, so we could get the paperwork on your shop rolling... And Roxolane, you too, because we need to properly register your portals and prepare licensing because dwarves are going to need paperwork come in before long and ... Augh, Selene, WHY!?"

 Chapter 87. Kraina Calling

    The week that followed is a whirlwind of activity. The best laid plans of men and mice, indeed. I''m pleased as punch that at least Grenwille didn''t present any more surprises. Marisa is proceeding exactly as planned, and as a side bonus, she is clearly recovering from anemia. People of the city (who of course know that milord''s sister was sadly beset with consumption) are astonished to see her walking around with nary a cough. On the third day of our presence there, marquis Sadoux asks for us to join him in the parlor - where we are met with a delegation. An assortment of clerics from the temple, who all introduce themselves as priests of Marra as their primary goddess, and a couple of physicians from the city who specialize less in magical healing and more in concocting potions and bloodletting. They humbly request to be permitted to view the treatment and profess the readiness to swear oaths they will adhere to the licensing once Lemand publishes the treatise.


    They are notably chagrined when Lemand (whom, on my insistence, took charge of talks and conducted them with suitable aplomb, much to my approval) notifies them that the actual treatment is comprised of three stages and they would end up observing the third stage if they ventured to see what he does for Marisa. Then they are perked right up when Lemand proffers to demonstrate full course IF they source additional patients. We spend a little more time making sure the delegation understands they are to inform the patients that the treatment is still experimental and that they must give informed consent to participate. They are further surprised when Lemand notifies them they must source air-specializing mages for the first and second stages. Thankfully for them, Grenwille is heavy into agriculture, and thus has plenty of priests whose primacy is to Manoc. Marquis, from his side, contributes the use of a pavilion on his premises for the demonstrations and enough of protective capes for everyone involved - which creates a minor ruckus on its own, because apparently no one else figured that one out. I have to hand it to Sadoux - when he was told he is the only one who thought about using a fabric cloak to protect the servants, his first reaction was regret that he didn''t think to inform the temple as soon as he thought of it.


    It goes without saying that the expanded delegation (all of whom actually GAVE written oaths to keep the process to themselves and to sign up for license once we make it official) is both disturbed and elated by what they see. The jars of sputum made several people toss their cookies, the demonstration of mycobacteria in the microscope had most of them turn greenish and swear up a storm (including some of the patients, among which we count one of the wealthiest merchants in the area, who takes a look in the microscope and swears on the spot to donate the land for the creation of lazareth specifically for consumption treatment in Grenwille proper), and the deep extraction stage has ALL of them tut thoughtfully and marvel at the chair. Speaking of which, since we have such an influx of test cases, we have collectively agreed not to bother moving Marisa''s chair, and instead constructed four new ones, which will be donated to the lazareth along with enchanted screens to see the infection spread.


    Elaine proves her worth as a witness by sending a detailed report to the newspaper each day. As she put it to me, "just earning my part in this". Apparently, as DeeDee confers to me later, being the woman to report this boosts Elaine''s own social status by a fucking lot, nevermind the rocket-like ascension of Lemand from obscurity to household name. At this rate, it is but a matter of days before his newfound fame reaches Balthazar in a manner even his oakheaded daddums would be incapable of dismissing. Wonder what would be his reaction. Surely Balthazar is not stupid enough to denounce consumption cure as "unfit of a true man". Right?


    ___


    In Parsee, things are even more hectic. Bridgit has to bamf Moon Unit over pretty much every day as we push all the limits to quickly nab a suitable building (a house behind the Merchant Square that was on sale), refurbish it and hire enough of sufficiently bright commoners to put together copy machines. I personally teleport a whole load of metal from the Grand Forge to serve as prefabs and bust my brains figuring out a rudimentary production line that is simplified enough for the commoners to operate without putting them through part of the Academy course on enchanting first. Ironically, it''s Moon Unit''s own invention that comes in use here, as we figure out a way to refurbish the machine from etching the paper to etching the tin plates with the requisite enchantments. The end product is notably bulkier than the handcrafted machines Moon Unit made for the library, but Merchant Guild can afford the space for them.


    Lily-Anne buys a good-sized pavilion on the Craftsman Square, nearly on the corner where all four of them meet. She''s a bit mulish lately, but we talk it out before she does anything rash. Turns out, she''s upset she''s not taking a more active part in all the shenanigans I''m part of, and wants more involvement. My argument that a lot of it would be boring for her is met with rather simple assertion that as a princess, she already had to learn a lot of boring stuff, and that she prefers to understand what her family is up to. My bad. We end up agreeing that she will be brought on my business deals more, to observe if not participate, and shake on it. Much to my surprise, Margot is pretty on the ball when it comes to clothes, and not just wearing them. She''s still very leery of me, but Lily-Anne somehow manages to establish a good rapport in just two hours. Turns out that Margot is actually quite savvy on the making part of clothes, and Lily-Anne promptly puts her in charge of a small throng of seamstresses and embroiderers. Still not handling any money herself, though, her requisitions come to Lily-Anne for approval before anything is spent or committed to.


    The less said about madame Konistan, the better. I bring her to the brothel, explain the situation to madame Cocoshon, we sign a written contract that aforementioned madame Konistan is permitted to choose the manner of her labor, but not the fact of it, stipulate the term as ten years and add a provision that madame Konistan is permitted to voluntarily extend my punishment by five year terms once the initial ten run out, if she prefers to remain at the brothel instead of being remanded to sir Malachi''s discretion. She is understandably terrified stiff of me, but seems to be percolating in a state of befuddled incredulousness, harshly underscored by madame Cocoshon remarking yet again on how outstandingly merciful my end terms are. They confer in whispers a bit, and madame Konistan is taken into the brothel proper by one of the girls. Courtesan, while at it, because the dress and perfume she has on are clearly far too much for a menial laborer. Welp, I guess I was right after all. Madame Konistan does prefer to spread her legs instead of working with her hands. Not my problem anymore. Nonetheless, I give madame Cocoshon a purse of gold as payment for trouble. She receives it with good graces and promises that things will be taken care of to the utmost satisfaction.


    In comparison, licensing of Roxy''s portals is extremely simple. We present her compiled book on the proper enchantments and effects, have it verified by Inquisition as "contains no restricted magic" and set up licensing deal, the first copy of which is promptly sent off to dad and dwarves so that they can handle things on their end. I was prepared to bring Roxy to Grand Forge at first, but her meticulousness at compiling information is simply outstanding, as amply evidenced by the fact that the knight of Inquisition doing the verification was able to create a test portal and put an ingot of copper through it without any problems. So we just send a copy of the book with a provision that me and Roxy will make a personal visit if something proves to be problematic. Copperphone call to Rory proves to be extremely entertaining, as apparently he was in the middle of meeting with other dwarves and upon learning that the book will be in their possession within the week, they break out in an impromptu dance, if the thumping and hollering coming from the phone is of any indication. Dwarves, so excitable.


    Before I know it, the airship is back in the air on course to Parsee. Marisa is declared completely clean of consumption on the afternoon of the sixth day and marquis promptly throws a celebration across the whole of Grenwille. We''re only able to escape from it around three in the morning, departing from the still celebrating crowd among much ado and adulation. The additional group is not entirely clear, but all of them had progressed into the third stage nicely and none of them shown any allergy to the antibiotical mix, so that''s good. Just in case, though, me and Lemand had sneaked in the requirements to verify the safety with a skin test and efficiency on sputum smear before the mix is permitted for the patient, plus a couple of divergent antibiotic recipes based off the available herbs and mushrooms. Alchemy is pure bullshit, if you can just nibble the ingredient and determine what you need to keep and what needs to go. Afterward, it''s just a matter of properly enchanting the mixing retort to produce the batches as prescribed. Grenwille will continue with treatments, both existent and taking new patients on case to case basis while the donated lazareth is being constructed. Marquis had graciously consented to continue letting the use of his pavilion as a treatment center until then. He and Marisa both have the copperphones to keep contact with Lemand, and one more is issued to the temple to report on the progress of treatments.


    Onboard the airship, Lemand is in quiet happy shock.


    "I still can not believe my mother is healthy again." - he tells me - "I had hopes, of course, but... with so many people before claiming they could cure anything and everything... I guess my expectations were more in line with easing the suffering a bit. Not eradicating the disease in its entirety. And I owe it all to you and your insights."


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    "Hey, you worked hard on this. You''re still working hard on this." - I object - "Lemand, get used to it. This is how we''re going to work from now on. I''ll be giving you the initial insight, and it will be your job to work it up to completeness. So far, you''re doing a bang-up job. Keep up at it, and don''t forget to send a copy of your treatise to sir Pasteur as soon as you''re finished with it. The resounding success in Grenwille is the confirmation, but the approval of the royal physician will be the culmination of it. Once sir Pasteur gives his opinion on the treatment, which will definitely be full of praise because you did a superb job, all of Champagne will know you and love you. Why, you just might get called to the castle for his highness to personally approbate your work."


    He simply nods at me, in a daze. I guess he needs a bit of time to work through it.


    ___


    The arrival, when all is said and done, is pretty low-key. We disembark at the Academy and I put the airship back to the berth at the mansion. Where it will stay until the end of terms, because I''m so done with it all. Seriously, I''m tired. And twitchy. And angry. It''s a sure sign I need to step back and chill if I''m starting to make decisions that are liable to poke me right in the issues later. Not to mention me forgetting things. Not in the sense of sclerosis, mind, more like getting caught up in something and forgetting what I planned. Like that situation with the party. I was planning on showing off my TV prototype, and then flatly forgot I was when Selene reminded me of all the things I''ve yet to handle. Well, no more. Copier-making workshop is up and running, Lily-Anne''s shop is well on track and requires no further input from me, Roxolane is properly licensed and getting kickbacks (Inquisition snapped up a second license for portals, dunno what for, but if they think they have a use for it, no skin off my nose.) and I''ve personally pampered Bridgit to mewling contentment for her efforts in making sure Moon Unit was ferried to and from Grenwille each day. Time to...


    Time to receive a call from Kraina, apparently.


    Roxy is staring at the ringing copperphone with wide eyes. Then she snatches it up and starts talking. The volume is more than enough for all of us to hear the entire conversation, apparently Ivan thinks you need to shout in the copperphone to make sure you''re heard across a couple countries.


    - <dfn title="Roxolane, daughter!?"> §²§à§Ü§ã§à§Ý§Ñ§ß§Ö, §Õ§à§ß§ð!?</dfn>


    - <dfn title="...yes, dad..."> ...§´§Ñ§Ü, §ä§Ñ§ä§å...</dfn>


    - <dfn title="AAAAAAA!"> §¡§¡§¡§¡§¡§¡§¡!</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Dad, what''s happening?"> §´§Ñ§ä§Ü§å, §ë§à §ä§â§Ñ§á§Ú§ä§î§ã§ñ?</dfn>


    - <dfn title="...No, no, all is fine. Just... We... Oh, Roxolane, we did not even believe that... I... we..."> ...§¯?, §ß?, §Ó§ã§Ö §Ô§Ñ§â§Ñ§Ù§Õ. §´?§Ý§î§Ü§Ú... §®§Ú... §°§ç, §²§à§Ü§ã§à§Ý§Ñ§ß§Ö, §Þ§Ú §Ø §Ó§Ø§Ö §Û §ß§Ö §Ó?§â§Ú§Ý§Ú §ë§à... §Á.. §Þ§Ú...</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Dad, stop worrying, all is fine. I am alive and healthy, studying at Parsee Academy. I even have my own license now."> §´§Ñ§ä§å, §ß§Ö §ç§Ó§Ú§Ý§ð§Û§ã§ñ, §Ó§ã§Ö §Ô§Ñ§â§ß§Ö. §Á §Ø§Ú§Ó§Ñ, §Ù§Õ§à§â§à§Ó§Ñ, §ß§Ñ§Ó§é§Ñ§ð§ã§ñ §Ó §¡§Ü§Ñ§Õ§Ö§Þ?? §±§Ñ§â§ã?§Û§ã§Ü?§Û. §Á §Ø §ß§Ñ§Ó?§ä§î §Ý?§è§Ö§ß§Ù?§ð §Þ§Ñ§ð §Ù§Ñ§â§Ñ§Ù.</dfn>


    - <dfn title="That`s our Roxolane! License for what? Are you studying to be jeweller? Or herbalist? Or maybe even merchant?"> §°§è§Ö §Ø §ß§Ñ§ê§Ñ §²§à§Ü§ã§à§Ý§Ñ§ß§Ñ! §­?§è§Ö§ß§Ù?§ð §ß§Ñ§Ó?§ë§à? §¹§Ú §ä§Ú §Ó §ð§Ó§Ö§Ý?§â§Ú §ß§Ñ§Ó§é§Ñ?§ê§ã§ñ? §¡§Ò§à §Ø §ß§Ñ §Ù§ß§Ñ§ç§Ñ§â§Ñ? §¹§Ú §ß§Ñ§Ó?§ä§î §ß§Ñ §Ü§å§á§è§ñ?</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Not that license, dad. Tithe license for magic portals that I invented. Alyssa helped me to sort it out with Merchant Guild, I have my own income now. I am now, see... An ar-ti-ficer! Dwarves in Great Forge got the first license, Champagne Inquisition got second."> §´§Ñ §ß§Ö §è§ð §Ý?§è§Ö§ß§Ù?§ð, §ä§Ñ§ä§Ü§å. §¥§Ö§ã§ñ§ä§Ú§ß§ß§å §Ý?§è§Ö§ß§Ù?§ð §ß§Ñ §Ó§à§Ý§ç§à§Ó§ã§î§Ü? §á§à§â§ä§Ñ§Ý§Ú §ë§à §ñ §Ó§Ú§ß§Ñ§Û§ê§Ý§Ñ! §¡§Ý§Ú§ã§Ñ §Ø §Þ§Ö§ß? §Õ§à§á§à§Þ§à§Ô§Ý§Ñ §Ù §Ü§å§á§Ö§è§î§Ü§à§ð §Ô?§Ý§î§Õ?§ð §Õ§à§Þ§à§Ó§Ú§ä§Ú§ã§ñ, §ñ §ä§Ö§á§Ö§â §Ó§Ý§Ñ§ã§ß§Ú§Û §Õ§à§Ò§å§ä§à§Ü §Þ§Ñ§ð. §Á §ä§Ö§á§Ö§â, §Ò§Ñ§é... §¡§â-§ä§Ú-§æ§Ú§è§Ö§â! §¤§ß§à§Þ§Ú §å §£§Ö§Ý§Ú§Ü?§Û §¬§å§Ù§ß? §á§Ö§â§ê§å §Ý?§è§Ö§ß§Ù?§ð §á§â§Ú§Õ§Ò§Ñ§Ý§Ú, §º§Ñ§Þ§á§Ñ§ß§ã§î§Ü§Ñ ?§ß§Ü§Ó?§Ù§Ú§è?§ñ §Õ§â§å§Ô§å.</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Wait, wait. You mean Inqusition pays you tithe?"> §¤§à§Õ?, §ã§ä§â§Ú§Ó§Ñ§Û-§ß§à. §´§à§Ò§ä§à §ä§Ú §ä§Ö§á§Ö§â §Õ§Ö§ã§ñ§ä§Ú§ß§å §Ó?§Õ ?§ß§Ü§Ó?§Ù§Ú§è?? §Þ§Ñ?§ê§î?</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Ayep. And not small one. A couple golds each month, at least."> §¡§ä§à§Ø. §´§Ñ §ë§Ö §Û §ß§Ö§Þ§Ñ§Ý§Ö§ß§î§Ü§å. §¥§Ö§Ü?§Ý§î§Ü§Ñ §Ù§à§Ý§à§ä§Ú§ç §Ü§à§Ø§Ö§ß §Þ?§ã§ñ§è§î, §ë§à§ß§Ñ§Û§Þ§Ö§ß§ê§Ö.</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Freaking A, that''s some news! No, no, don''t distract me. I am proud of you, daughter, but tell me something else before that. This Alyssa, that''s lady Gillespie, right?"> ...§«§à§Ø§Ú §Ø §Û§à§Ô§à §ã§ä§à§Ü§â§à§ä, §à§è§Ö §ä§Ñ§Ü §ß§à§Ó§Ú§ß§Ñ!... §¯?, §ß?, §ß§Ö §Ù§Ò§Ú§Ó§Ñ§Û §Þ§Ö§ß§Ö. §Á §Ù§Ñ §ä§Ö§Ò§Ö §Ô§à§â§Õ§Ú§Û, §Õ§à§ß§ð, §Ñ§Ý§Ö §Ø §ã§Ü§Ñ§Ø§Ú §Þ§Ö§ß? §ë§à§ã§î §á§à§á§Ö§â§Ö§Õ. §°§è§ñ §¡§Ý§Ú§ã§Ñ, §ä§Ö §Ý§Ö§Õ? §¤?§Ý§Ö§ã§á§Ñ§Û, §ä§Ñ§Ü?</dfn>


    - <dfn title="...yes..."> ...§ä§Ñ§Ü...</dfn>


    - <dfn title="So what is that Ivan saying about some marriage? With four wives?"> §´§à §ë§à §Ø §è§Ö ?§Ó§Ñ§ß§Ö §ß§Ñ§Þ §Ô§à§â§à§Õ§Ú§ä§î §Ù§Ñ §à§Õ§â§å§Ø§Ö§ß§ß§ñ §ñ§Ü§Ö§ã§î? §´§Ñ §ë§Ö §Û §Ù §é§à§ä§Ú§â§Þ§Ñ §Ø?§ß§Ü§Ñ§Þ§Ú?</dfn>


    - <dfn title="...Wasn''t marriage yet, dad. We want to, but decided to wait a bit. I didn''t even know if any of you are still alive until I saw Ivan with my own eyes..."> ...§¯§Ö §Ò§å§Ý§à §ë§Ö §à§Õ§â§å§Ø§Ö§ß§ß§ñ, §ä§Ñ§ä§Ü§å. §¢§Ñ§Ø§Ñ?§Þ§à, §Ñ§Ý§Ö §Ø §Ó§Ú§â?§ê§Ú§Ý§Ú §á§à§ã§ä§â§Ú§Ó§Ñ§ä§Ú §Õ§à§Ü§Ú §ë§à. §Á §Ø §ß§Ö §Ù§ß§Ñ§Ý§Ñ §é§Ú §ç§ä§à§ã§î §Ù §Ó§Ñ§ã §Ø§Ú§Ó§Ú§Û §ë§Ö, §Ñ§Ý§Ö §Ø §Ü§à§Ý§Ú §á§à§Ò§Ñ§é§Ú§Ý§Ñ ?§Ó§Ñ§ß§Ñ §ß§Ñ §Ó§Ý§Ñ§ã§ß? §à§é?...</dfn>


    - <dfn title="...Is that so... Well. To tell you honestly, running away from one harem just to join another - that''s very peculiar. But... do as your heart tells you, daughter. Lady Gillespie, it seems, is noble above nobles in Parsee... But. Tell me honestly - are you happy with her? Are you happy in this harem?"> ...§°§ä §Ó§à§ß§à §ñ§Ü... §¥§à§Ò§â§Ö. §³§Ü§Ñ§Ø§å §ä§à§Ò? §é§Ö§ã§ß§à, §Ó§ä§Ö§Ü§ä§Ú §Ù §à§Õ§ß§à§Ô§à §ç§Ñ§â§Ö§Þ§å §ä§Ñ §Û §Ó?§Õ§â§Ñ§Ù§å §á§â§Ú?§Õ§ß§Ñ§ä§Ú§ã§ñ §Õ§à ?§ß§ê§à§Ô§à - §è§Ö §Õ§å§Ø§Ö §é§å§Õ§Ö§â§ß§Ñ§è§î§Ü§à. §¡§Ý§Ö... §²§à§Ò§Ú §ñ§Ü §ä§à§Ò? §ã§Ö§â§è§Ö §Ü§Ñ§Ø§Ö, §Õ§à§ß§ð. §­§Ö§Õ? §¤?§Ý§Ö§ã§á§Ñ§Û, §Þ§Ö§ß? §Ù§Õ§Ñ?§ä§î§ã§ñ, §á§Ñ§ß§ß§Ñ §ß§Ñ§Õ §á§Ñ§ß§ß§Ñ§Þ§Ú §Ó §±§Ñ§â§ã??... §´?§Ý§î§Ü§Ú §à§ä §ë§à. §³§Ü§Ñ§Ø§Ú §Þ§Ö§ß? §á§â§Ñ§Ó§Õ§Ú§Ó§à - §é§Ú §ä§Ú §ë§Ñ§ã§Ý§Ú§Ó§Ñ §Ù §ß§Ö§ð? §¹§Ú §ä§Ú §ë§Ñ§ã§Ý§Ú§Ó§Ñ §Ó §è§î§à§Þ§å §ç§Ñ§â§Ö§Þ??</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Yes, dad. If I weren''t, Alyssa would''ve hired me a caravan to Kraina. She''s different, not like this oijan bastard. First thing she told me - you''re my wife only if you want to be."> §´§Ñ§Ü, §ä§Ñ§ä§å. §Á§Ü§ë§à §Ò§Ú §ñ §ß§Ö §Ò§å§Ý§Ñ, §¡§Ý§Ú§ã§Ñ §Ò §Þ§Ö§ß? §ß§Ñ§Û§ß§ñ§Ý§Ñ §Ü§Ñ§â§Ñ§Ó§Ñ§ß§å §Õ§à §¬§â§Ñ?§ß§Ú. §£§à§ß§Ñ §Ù§à§Ó§ã?§Þ ?§ß§ê§Ñ, §ß§Ö §ñ§Ü §è§Ö§Û §Ó§Ú§Ò§Ý§ñ§Õ§à§Ü §à§Ø§Ú§Û§ã§î§Ü§Ú§Û. §±§Ö§â§ê§Ö §ë§à §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §Þ§Ö§ß? §ã§Ü§Ñ§Ù§Ñ§Ý§Ñ - §ä§Ú §Þ§Ö§ß? §Ø?§ß§Ü§à §ä?§Ý§î§Ü§Ú §ñ§Ü§ë§à §ä§Ú §è§î§à§Ô§à §Ò§Ñ§Ø§Ñ?§ê.</dfn>


    - <dfn title="So I see. Well, well. And how do you cope with her temper? Ivan told me she`s quick to smack down."> §¡§Ñ§Ñ, §à§ä §Ó§à§ß§à §ñ§Ü? §¥§à§Ò§â§Ö, §Õ§à§Ò§â§Ö. §¡ §ñ§Ü §Ù ?? §ß§à§â§à§Ó§à§Þ §ä§Ö§Ò§Ö? ?§Ó§Ñ§ß§Ö §Þ§Ö§ß? §â§à§Ù§á§à§Ó?§Ó §ë§à §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §Ù§Ñ §ã§ä§å§ã§Ñ§ß§à§Þ §å §Ü§Ú§ê§Ö§ß§ð §ß§Ö §Ý?§Ù§Ö.</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Ahahaha, oh dear, dad. Oh dear. Smacks are for those who don''t listen. Though to tell you honestly - if angered, you won''t find smackdown lacking. In harem, Alyssa is entirely different. None of us was ever beaten. If she is dissatisfied with something, she will sit down with you, tell you what bothers her, why, how to make everyone happy. Listen to what you have to say about it. Honestly speaking, men should take example from her."> §·§Ñ§ç§Ñ§ç§Ñ, §à§Û §ß§Ö §ä§â§Ö§Ò§Ñ, §ä§Ñ§ä§å. §°§Û §ß§Ö §ä§â§Ö§Ò§Ñ. §³§ä§å§ã§Ñ§ß§Ú - §è§Ö §á§â§à §ä§Ú§ç §ç§ä§à §ß§Ö §ã§Ý§å§ç§Ñ?. §·§à§é§Ñ §ã§Ü§Ñ§Ø§å §ä§à§Ò? §é§Ö§ã§ß§à - §ñ§Ü§ë§à §â§à§Ù§Õ§â§Ñ§ä§å§Ó§Ñ§ä§Ú, §Þ§Ñ§Ý§à §ß§Ö §Ù§Õ§Ñ§ã§ä§î§ã§ñ. §£ §ç§Ñ§â§Ö§Þ? §¡§Ý§Ú§ã§Ñ §Ù§à§Ó§ã?§Þ ?§ß§ê§Ñ. §¯?§ç§ä§à §Ù §ß§Ñ§ã §ß? ?§Õ§Ú§ß§à§Ô§à §â§Ñ§Ù§å §Ò§Ú§ä§à? §ß§Ö §Ò§å§Ý§Ú. §Á§Ü§ë§à §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §ß§Ö§Ù§Ñ§Õ§à§Ó§à§Ý§Ö§ß§Ñ §é§Ú§Þ§à§ã§î, §ã§ñ§Õ§Ö §Ù §ä§à§Ò§à§ð §ä§Ñ §â§à§Ù§á§à§Ó?§ã§ä§î §ë§à §ß§Ö §ä§Ñ§Ü, §é§à§Þ§å §ß§Ö §ä§Ñ§Ü, §ñ§Ü §Ù§â§à§Ò§Ú§ä§Ú §Õ§à§Ò§â§Ö §Ü§à§Ø§ß§à§Þ§å. §£§Ú§ã§Ý§å§ç§Ñ? §ë§à §ä§Ú §Þ§Ñ?§ê §ã§Ü§Ñ§Ù§Ñ§ä§Ú §á§â§à §è§Ö. §¹§Ö§ã§ß§à §ä§à§Ò? §ã§Ü§Ñ§Ø§å - §Ù §ß§Ö? §é§à§Ý§à§Ó?§Ü§Ñ§Þ §ß§Ñ§Õ§ä§à §á§â§Ú§Ü§Ý§Ñ§Õ §Ò§â§Ñ§ä§Ú.</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Huh..."> §´§Ú §Ø §Ò§Ñ§é §ñ§Ü...</dfn>


    - <dfn title="As she tells me, dad... Happy waifus is happy laifu."> §Á§Ü §Ó§à§ß§Ñ §Þ§Ö§ß? §Ü§Ñ§Ø§Ö, §ä§Ñ§ä§å... §»§Ñ§ã§Ý§Ú§Ó? §Ø?§ß§Ü§Ú - §ë§Ñ§ã§Ý§Ú§Ó§Ö §Ø§Ú§ä§ä§ñ.</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Wise words! I''m going to tell that to my pals so they don''t complain so much about their wives anymore. So... Does she make all four of you happy every evening?"> §®§å§Õ§â? §ã§Ý§à§Ó§Ñ! §Á §è§Ö §Ü§å§Þ§Ñ§Þ §â§à§Ù§Ü§Ñ§Ø§å, §ë§à§Ò §ß§Ö §ã§Ü§Ñ§â§Ø§Ú§Ý§Ú§ã§ñ §Þ§Ö§ß? §ß§Ñ §Ø?§ß§à§Ü §Ü§à§Ø§Ö§ß §Õ§Ö§ß§î. ? §ë§à? §´§Ñ§Ü§Ú §â§à§Ò§Ú§ä§î §Ó§ã?§ç §é§à§ä§Ú§â§î§à§ç §Ó§Ñ§ã §ë§Ñ§ã§Ý§Ú§Ó§Ú§Þ§Ú §Ü§à§Ø§ß§Ö §Ó§Ö§é?§â§â§ñ?</dfn>


    - <dfn title="DAD! ...she does..."> §´§¡§´§µ!... §ä§Ñ§Ü§Ú §â§à§Ò§Ú§ä§î...</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Damn it, really!?"> §«§à§Ø §Û§à§Ô§à, §ß§Ñ§ã§á§â§Ñ§Ó§Õ??!</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Daaaaad! Stop teasing me..."> §´§Ñ§Ñ§Ñ§Ñ§ä§å! §¤§à§Õ?-§ß§à §Ù§ß§å§ë§Ñ§ä§Ú§ã§ñ...</dfn>


    - <dfn title="HAHA! Fine, fine. I am glad to hear from you, daughter. I am even more glad to hear you are alright. Tell me, when can you visit us? I understand that traveling to Kraina is long, but..."> §·§¡§·§¡! §¥§à§Ò§â§Ö, §Õ§à§Ò§â§Ö. §Á §â§Ñ§Õ§Ú§Û §ä§Ö§Ò§Ö §á§à§é§å§ä§Ú, §Õ§à§ß§ð. ? §ë§Ö §Ò?§Ý§î§ê§Ö §â§Ñ§Õ§Ú§Û §ë§à §Ó §ä§Ö§Ò§Ö §Ó§ã§Ö §Ô§Ñ§â§Ñ§Ù§Õ. §³§Ü§Ñ§Ø§Ú §Þ§Ö§ß?, §Ü§à§Ý§Ú §ä§Ú §ß§Ñ§ã §Ó?§Õ§Ó?§Õ§Ñ§ä§Ú §Ù§Þ§à§Ø§Ö§ê? §Á §â§à§Ù§å§Þ?§ð §ë§à §á§à§Õ§à§â§à§Ø §Õ§à §¬§â§Ñ?§ß§Ú - §è§Ö §Õ§à§Ó§Ô§à, §Ñ§Ý§Ö §Ø...</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Ooh, you haven''t heard yet. We will visit this winter, dad, all together. Alyssa has an airship now."> §¡§Ñ§Ñ, §ä§Ú §ë§Ö §ß§Ö §é§å§Ó. §µ§Ù§Ú§Þ§Ü§å §Ó?§Õ§Ó?§Õ§Ñ?§Þ§à, §ä§Ñ§ä§å, §Ó§ã? §â§Ñ§Ù§à§Þ. §¡§Ý§Ú§ã§Ñ §Ø §ä§Ö§á§Ö§â §á§à§Ó?§ä§â§ñ§ß§Ú§Û §Ü§à§â§Ñ§Ò§Ö§Ý§î §Þ§Ñ?.</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Has WHAT? What do you mean, air ship? Ship with sails or what?"> §»§° §Þ§Ñ?? §Á§Ü §è§Ö, §á§à§Ó?§ä§â§ñ§ß§Ú§Û §Ü§à§â§Ñ§Ò§Ö§Ý§î? §© §á§Ñ§â§å§ã§Ñ§Þ§Ú §Ñ§Ò§Ú §ë§à?</dfn>


    - <dfn title="No. Air, as in flying. Faster then birds. I already flew on it a little. From Parsee to Haver and back to Parsee in one day."> §¯?. §±§à§Ó?§ä§â§ñ§ß§Ú§Û, §ä§à§Ò§ä§à §Ý?§ä§Ñ?. §º§Ó§Ú§Õ§ê§Ö §ß?§Ø §á§ä§Ñ§ç§Ú. §Á §Ó§Ø§Ö §Ý?§ä§Ñ§Ý§Ñ §ß§Ñ §ß§î§à§Þ§å §ä§â§à§ç§Ú. §£?§Õ §±§Ñ§â§ã?§ñ §Õ§à §¤§Ñ§Ó§Ö§â§Ñ §ä§Ñ §Û §ß§Ñ§Ù§Ñ§Õ §å §±§Ñ§â§ã?§Û §Ù§Ñ §à§Õ§Ú§ß §Õ§Ö§ß§î.</dfn>


    - <dfn title="FLYING?! Manoc''s will..."> §­?§´§¡?!? §®§Ñ§ß§à§Ü§Ñ §Ó§à§Ý§ñ...</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Dad, want me to pass the phone to Alyssa?"> §´§Ñ§ä§å, §Ñ §Ò§Ñ§Ø§Ñ?§ê §ñ §Ù§Ñ§â§Ñ§Ù §æ§à§ß§å §¡§Ý§Ú§ã? §Õ§Ñ§Þ?</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Pass what... Wait, wait a moment..!"> §¥§Ñ§Þ §ë§à.. §³§ä§â§Ú§Ó§Ñ§Û-§ß§à, §á§à§Ô§à§Õ§Ú...!</dfn>


    Roxolane smirks and hands the copperphone to me. Huh. Very well.


    - <dfn title="Good day, pan Taras. I am Alyssa Gillespie. Very glad to hear from Roxolane''s parents. Please convey my salutations to pani Alena, pan Vasil, pan Ivan and panych Mykola and Petro. If nothing unexpected happens, await us in three weeks."> §¥§à§Ò§â§à§Õ?§ß§î, §á§Ñ§ß§Ö §´§Ñ§â§Ñ§ã. §Á §¡§Ý§Ú§ã§Ñ §¤?§Ý§Ö§ã§á§Ñ§Û. §¥§å§Ø§Ö §á§â§Ú?§Þ§ß§à §á§à§é§å§ä§Ú §Ó?§Õ §Ò§Ñ§ä§î§Ü?§Ó §²§à§Ü§ã§à§Ý§Ñ§ß§Ú. §±§Ö§â§Ö§Õ§Ñ§Û§ä§Ö §Ó?§Õ §Þ§Ö§ß§Ö §á§â§Ú§Ó?§ä§å §á§Ñ§ß? §¡§Ý§Ö§ß?, §á§Ñ§ß§å §£§Ñ§ã§Ú§Ý§ð, §á§Ñ§ß§å ?§Ó§Ñ§ß§å §ß§Ñ §á§Ñ§ß§Ú§é§Ñ§Þ §®§Ú§Ü§à§Ý? §ä§Ñ §±§Ö§ä§â§å. §Á§Ü§ë§à §ß?§é§à§Ô§à §ß§Ö§Ù§Ó§Ú§é§Ñ§Û§ß§à§Ô§à §ß§Ö §ä§â§Ñ§á§Ú§ä§î§ã§ñ, §é§Ö§Ü§Ñ§Û§ä§Ö §ß§Ñ §ß§Ñ§ã §é§Ö§â§Ö§Ù §ä§â§Ú §ä§Ú§Ø§ß?.</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Aaae... Very pleasant to hear from you, lady Gillespie. Let me thank you for your presents to our family and your priceless help to Roxolane and Ivan."> §¡§Ñ§Ñ§Ö... §¥§å§Ø§Ö §á§â§Ú?§Þ§ß§à §á§à§é§å§ä§Ú §Ó?§Õ §Ó§Ñ§ã, §Ý§Ö§Õ§Ú §¤?§Ý§Ö§ã§á§Ñ§Û. §¥§à§Ù§Ó§à§Ý§î§ä§Ö §Þ§Ö§ß? §á§à§Õ§ñ§Ü§å§Ó§Ñ§ä§Ú §Ù§Ñ §á§à§Õ§Ñ§â§å§ß§Ü§Ú §ß§Ñ§ê§à? §â§à§Õ§Ú§ß? §ä§Ñ §Ù§Ñ §Ó§Ñ§ê§å §Ò§Ö§Ù§è?§ß§ß§å §Õ§à§á§à§Þ§à§Ô§å §²§à§Ü§ã§à§Ý§Ñ§ß? §ä§Ñ ?§Ó§Ñ§ß§å.</dfn>


    - <dfn title="No problem, pan Taras. Family helps family."> §¯§Ö §Ù§Ñ §ë§à, §á§Ñ§ß§Ö §´§Ñ§â§Ñ§ã. §²§à§Õ§Ú§ß§Ñ §â§à§Õ§Ú§ß? §Õ§à§á§à§Þ§Ñ§Ô§Ñ?.</dfn>


    - <dfn title="Yes that!"> §´§Ñ§Ü §ã§Ñ§Þ§Ö!</dfn>


    I decide to have mercy on him and hand the receiver back to softly giggling Roxolane. I''m guessing her dad is not used to talk to someone so high up. From what Roxolane told me, he is nominally boyar, but their domain is essentially a village and surrounding fields. Minor barony, at best. If her descriptions of family life are to go by, I''m guessing that her family is not that much better off on living than wealthy villagers themselves. Not too shabby, but definitely not the high-rolling noble caliber. Good grief, they''re going to fall over once they find I have a literal princess in the harem.

 Chapter 87. Kraina Calling (Translated)

    The week that followed is a whirlwind of activity. The best laid plans of men and mice, indeed. I''m pleased as punch that at least Grenwille didn''t present any more surprises. Marisa is proceeding exactly as planned, and as a side bonus, she is clearly recovering from anemia. People of the city (who of course know that milord''s sister was sadly beset with consumption) are astonished to see her walking around with nary a cough. On the third day of our presence there, marquis Sadoux asks for us to join him in the parlor - where we are met with a delegation. An assortment of clerics from the temple, who all introduce themselves as priests of Marra as their primary goddess, and a couple of physicians from the city who specialize less in magical healing and more in concocting potions and bloodletting. They humbly request to be permitted to view the treatment and profess the readiness to swear oaths they will adhere to the licensing once Lemand publishes the treatise.


    They are notably chagrined when Lemand (whom, on my insistence, took charge of talks and conducted them with suitable aplomb, much to my approval) notifies them that the actual treatment is comprised of three stages and they would end up observing the third stage if they ventured to see what he does for Marisa. Then they are perked right up when Lemand proffers to demonstrate full course IF they source additional patients. We spend a little more time making sure the delegation understands they are to inform the patients that the treatment is still experimental and that they must give informed consent to participate. They are further surprised when Lemand notifies them they must source air-specializing mages for the first and second stages. Thankfully for them, Grenwille is heavy into agriculture, and thus has plenty of priests whose primacy is to Manoc. Marquis, from his side, contributes the use of a pavilion on his premises for the demonstrations and enough of protective capes for everyone involved - which creates a minor ruckus on its own, because apparently no one else figured that one out. I have to hand it to Sadoux - when he was told he is the only one who thought about using a fabric cloak to protect the servants, his first reaction was regret that he didn''t think to inform the temple as soon as he thought of it.


    It goes without saying that the expanded delegation (all of whom actually GAVE written oaths to keep the process to themselves and to sign up for license once we make it official) is both disturbed and elated by what they see. The jars of sputum made several people toss their cookies, the demonstration of mycobacteria in the microscope had most of them turn greenish and swear up a storm (including some of the patients, among which we count one of the wealthiest merchants in the area, who takes a look in the microscope and swears on the spot to donate the land for the creation of lazareth specifically for consumption treatment in Grenwille proper), and the deep extraction stage has ALL of them tut thoughtfully and marvel at the chair. Speaking of which, since we have such an influx of test cases, we have collectively agreed not to bother moving Marisa''s chair, and instead constructed four new ones, which will be donated to the lazareth along with enchanted screens to see the infection spread.


    Elaine proves her worth as a witness by sending a detailed report to the newspaper each day. As she put it to me, "just earning my part in this". Apparently, as DeeDee confers to me later, being the woman to report this boosts Elaine''s own social status by a fucking lot, nevermind the rocket-like ascension of Lemand from obscurity to household name. At this rate, it is but a matter of days before his newfound fame reaches Balthazar in a manner even his oakheaded daddums would be incapable of dismissing. Wonder what would be his reaction. Surely Balthazar is not stupid enough to denounce consumption cure as "unfit of a true man". Right?


    ___


    In Parsee, things are even more hectic. Bridgit has to bamf Moon Unit over pretty much every day as we push all the limits to quickly nab a suitable building (a house behind the Merchant Square that was on sale), refurbish it and hire enough of sufficiently bright commoners to put together copy machines. I personally teleport a whole load of metal from the Grand Forge to serve as prefabs and bust my brains figuring out a rudimentary production line that is simplified enough for the commoners to operate without putting them through part of the Academy course on enchanting first. Ironically, it''s Moon Unit''s own invention that comes in use here, as we figure out a way to refurbish the machine from etching the paper to etching the tin plates with the requisite enchantments. The end product is notably bulkier than the handcrafted machines Moon Unit made for the library, but Merchant Guild can afford the space for them.


    Lily-Anne buys a good-sized pavilion on the Craftsman Square, nearly on the corner where all four of them meet. She''s a bit mulish lately, but we talk it out before she does anything rash. Turns out, she''s upset she''s not taking a more active part in all the shenanigans I''m part of, and wants more involvement. My argument that a lot of it would be boring for her is met with rather simple assertion that as a princess, she already had to learn a lot of boring stuff, and that she prefers to understand what her family is up to. My bad. We end up agreeing that she will be brought on my business deals more, to observe if not participate, and shake on it. Much to my surprise, Margot is pretty on the ball when it comes to clothes, and not just wearing them. She''s still very leery of me, but Lily-Anne somehow manages to establish a good rapport in just two hours. Turns out that Margot is actually quite savvy on the making part of clothes, and Lily-Anne promptly puts her in charge of a small throng of seamstresses and embroiderers. Still not handling any money herself, though, her requisitions come to Lily-Anne for approval before anything is spent or committed to.


    The less said about madame Konistan, the better. I bring her to the brothel, explain the situation to madame Cocoshon, we sign a written contract that aforementioned madame Konistan is permitted to choose the manner of her labor, but not the fact of it, stipulate the term as ten years and add a provision that madame Konistan is permitted to voluntarily extend my punishment by five year terms once the initial ten run out, if she prefers to remain at the brothel instead of being remanded to sir Malachi''s discretion. She is understandably terrified stiff of me, but seems to be percolating in a state of befuddled incredulousness, harshly underscored by madame Cocoshon remarking yet again on how outstandingly merciful my end terms are. They confer in whispers a bit, and madame Konistan is taken into the brothel proper by one of the girls. Courtesan, while at it, because the dress and perfume she has on are clearly far too much for a menial laborer. Welp, I guess I was right after all. Madame Konistan does prefer to spread her legs instead of working with her hands. Not my problem anymore. Nonetheless, I give madame Cocoshon a purse of gold as payment for trouble. She receives it with good graces and promises that things will be taken care of to the utmost satisfaction.


    In comparison, licensing of Roxy''s portals is extremely simple. We present her compiled book on the proper enchantments and effects, have it verified by Inquisition as "contains no restricted magic" and set up licensing deal, the first copy of which is promptly sent off to dad and dwarves so that they can handle things on their end. I was prepared to bring Roxy to Grand Forge at first, but her meticulousness at compiling information is simply outstanding, as amply evidenced by the fact that the knight of Inquisition doing the verification was able to create a test portal and put an ingot of copper through it without any problems. So we just send a copy of the book with a provision that me and Roxy will make a personal visit if something proves to be problematic. Copperphone call to Rory proves to be extremely entertaining, as apparently he was in the middle of meeting with other dwarves and upon learning that the book will be in their possession within the week, they break out in an impromptu dance, if the thumping and hollering coming from the phone is of any indication. Dwarves, so excitable.


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Before I know it, the airship is back in the air on course to Parsee. Marisa is declared completely clean of consumption on the afternoon of the sixth day and marquis promptly throws a celebration across the whole of Grenwille. We''re only able to escape from it around three in the morning, departing from the still celebrating crowd among much ado and adulation. The additional group is not entirely clear, but all of them had progressed into the third stage nicely and none of them shown any allergy to the antibiotical mix, so that''s good. Just in case, though, me and Lemand had sneaked in the requirements to verify the safety with a skin test and efficiency on sputum smear before the mix is permitted for the patient, plus a couple of divergent antibiotic recipes based off the available herbs and mushrooms. Alchemy is pure bullshit, if you can just nibble the ingredient and determine what you need to keep and what needs to go. Afterward, it''s just a matter of properly enchanting the mixing retort to produce the batches as prescribed. Grenwille will continue with treatments, both existent and taking new patients on case to case basis while the donated lazareth is being constructed. Marquis had graciously consented to continue letting the use of his pavilion as a treatment center until then. He and Marisa both have the copperphones to keep contact with Lemand, and one more is issued to the temple to report on the progress of treatments.


    Onboard the airship, Lemand is in quiet happy shock.


    "I still can not believe my mother is healthy again." - he tells me - "I had hopes, of course, but... with so many people before claiming they could cure anything and everything... I guess my expectations were more in line with easing the suffering a bit. Not eradicating the disease in its entirety. And I owe it all to you and your insights."


    "Hey, you worked hard on this. You''re still working hard on this." - I object - "Lemand, get used to it. This is how we''re going to work from now on. I''ll be giving you the initial insight, and it will be your job to work it up to completeness. So far, you''re doing a bang-up job. Keep up at it, and don''t forget to send a copy of your treatise to sir Pasteur as soon as you''re finished with it. The resounding success in Grenwille is the confirmation, but the approval of the royal physician will be the culmination of it. Once sir Pasteur gives his opinion on the treatment, which will definitely be full of praise because you did a superb job, all of Champagne will know you and love you. Why, you just might get called to the castle for his highness to personally approbate your work."


    He simply nods at me, in a daze. I guess he needs a bit of time to work through it.


    ___


    The arrival, when all is said and done, is pretty low-key. We disembark at the Academy and I put the airship back to the berth at the mansion. Where it will stay until the end of terms, because I''m so done with it all. Seriously, I''m tired. And twitchy. And angry. It''s a sure sign I need to step back and chill if I''m starting to make decisions that are liable to poke me right in the issues later. Not to mention me forgetting things. Not in the sense of sclerosis, mind, more like getting caught up in something and forgetting what I planned. Like that situation with the party. I was planning on showing off my TV prototype, and then flatly forgot I was when Selene reminded me of all the things I''ve yet to handle. Well, no more. Copier-making workshop is up and running, Lily-Anne''s shop is well on track and requires no further input from me, Roxolane is properly licensed and getting kickbacks (Inquisition snapped up a second license for portals, dunno what for, but if they think they have a use for it, no skin off my nose.) and I''ve personally pampered Bridgit to mewling contentment for her efforts in making sure Moon Unit was ferried to and from Grenwille each day. Time to...


    Time to receive a call from Kraina, apparently.


    Roxy is staring at the ringing copperphone with wide eyes. Then she snatches it up and starts talking. The volume is more than enough for all of us to hear the entire conversation, apparently Ivan thinks you need to shout in the copperphone to make sure you''re heard across a couple countries.


    - Roxolane, daughter!?


    - ...yes, dad...


    - AAAAAAA!


    - Dad, what''s happening?


    - ...No, no, all is fine. Just... We... Oh, Roxolane, we did not even believe that... I... we...


    - Dad, stop worrying, all is fine. I am alive and healthy, studying at Parsee Academy. I even have my own license now.


    - That`s our Roxolane! License for what? Are you studying to be jeweller? Or herbalist? Or maybe even merchant?


    - Not that license, dad. Tithe license for magic portals that I invented. Alyssa helped me to sort it out with Merchant Guild, I have my own income now. I am now, see... An ar-ti-ficer! Dwarves in Great Forge got the first license, Champagne Inquisition got second.


    - Wait, wait. You mean Inqusition pays you tithe?


    - Ayep. And not small one. A couple golds each month, at least.


    - Freaking A, that''s some news! No, no, don''t distract me. I am proud of you, daughter, but tell me something else before that. This Alyssa, that''s lady Gillespie, right?


    - ...yes...


    - So what is that Ivan saying about some marriage? With four wives?


    - ...Wasn''t marriage yet, dad. We want to, but decided to wait a bit. I didn''t even know if any of you are still alive until I saw Ivan with my own eyes...


    - ...Is that so... Well. To tell you honestly, running away from one harem just to join another - that''s very peculiar. But... do as your heart tells you, daughter. Lady Gillespie, it seems, is noble above nobles in Parsee... But. Tell me honestly - are you happy with her? Are you happy in this harem?


    - Yes, dad. If I weren''t, Alyssa would''ve hired me a caravan to Kraina. She''s different, not like this oijan bastard. First thing she told me - you''re my wife only if you want to be.


    - So I see. Well, well. And how do you cope with her temper? Ivan told me she`s quick to smack down.


    - Ahahaha, oh dear, dad. Oh dear. Smacks are for those who don''t listen. Though to tell you honestly - if angered, you won''t find smackdown lacking. In harem, Alyssa is entirely different. None of us was ever beaten. If she is dissatisfied with something, she will sit down with you, tell you what bothers her, why, how to make everyone happy. Listen to what you have to say about it. Honestly speaking, men should take example from her.


    - Huh...


    - As she tells me, dad... Happy waifus is happy laifu.


    - Wise words! I''m going to tell that to my pals so they don''t complain so much about their wives anymore. So... Does she make all four of you happy every evening?


    - DAD! ...she does...


    - Damn it, really!?


    - Daaaaad! Stop teasing me...


    - HAHA! Fine, fine. I am glad to hear from you, daughter. I am even more glad to hear you are alright. Tell me, when can you visit us? I understand that traveling to Kraina is long, but...


    - Ooh, you haven''t heard yet. We will visit this winter, dad, all together. Alyssa has an airship now.


    - Has WHAT? What do you mean, air ship? Ship with sails or what?


    - No. Air, as in flying. Faster then birds. I already flew on it a little. From Parsee to Haver and back to Parsee in one day.


    - FLYING?! Manoc''s will...


    - Dad, want me to pass the phone to Alyssa?


    - Pass what... Wait, wait a moment..!


    Roxolane smirks and hands the copperphone to me. Huh. Very well.


    - Good day, pan Taras. I am Alyssa Gillespie. Very glad to hear from Roxolane''s parents. Please convey my salutations to pani Alena, pan Vasil, pan Ivan and panych Mykola and Petro. If nothing unexpected happens, await us in three weeks.


    - Aaae... Very pleasant to hear from you, lady Gillespie. Let me thank you for your presents to our family and your priceless help to Roxolane and Ivan.


    - No problem, pan Taras. Family helps family.


    - Yes that!


    I decide to have mercy on him and hand the receiver back to softly giggling Roxolane. I''m guessing her dad is not used to talk to someone so high up. From what Roxolane told me, he is nominally boyar, but their domain is essentially a village and surrounding fields. Minor barony, at best. If her descriptions of family life are to go by, I''m guessing that her family is not that much better off on living than wealthy villagers themselves. Not too shabby, but definitely not the high-rolling noble caliber. Good grief, they''re going to fall over once they find I have a literal princess in the harem.

 Chapter 88. Nightmare

    The conversation in Krainian continues for three hours. Roxolane has a lot to tell, and all of her family wants to talk to her, apparently. Thankfully, my participation was no longer required, because I''d feel awkweird having to hover around for the whole talk. So instead, I finally pull out the prototype TV and set it up. Girls are curious, but allow me to deflect the questions for now, while me and Bridgit cook up more treats and Moon Unit and Lily-Anne prepare the bed for all of us to snuggle and snack and watch. Roxolane is nowhere near done talking by the time all is set up, so I make an executive tentacle and deposit her on the bed along with the phone. The rest of the girls pile on, leaving me in front to set things up.


    Thankfully, I''ve been fond of cartoons through the whole of my previous life and tended to watch them often and a lot. So there is no shortage in memories. I start with ye olde black and white skits. Good grief, I keep forgetting just how outstandingly weird they really were. Betty Boop really started off as a dog and all that. Weird. I think my girls are all very much of the same opinion, because their opinions range from "what is this" to "what nonsense" to "how do you even come up with something so weird". The newer stuff is less out there, strangely enough. Classic cartoons go over pretty good. I wonder if my memories of Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck also fall under the copyright clauses. Wouldn''t it be something? Then again, Disney transcending the dimensional boundaries to slap a copyright lawsuit on parallel reality is just the sort of weird shit that I... Naaah, even my tentacley self is not THAT serendipitous.


    In the end, I keep showing cartoons until late night. Some of the questions girls give me are... Well. One of them being, can I project more memories like this? The answer being "yes, but I don''t really want to", so I prevaricate and explain that the memories of something that was intended to be shown are easier to handle than memories of other things. Thankfully, they buy it and don''t press further, because some of the memories are not what I want to be shared. Simply out of consideration that none of the girls NEEDS the first person view to me killing or/and eating someone.


    ___


    This is the first time in hell knows how long that I''m in... roughly one piece asleep. I mean, there are odds and bits of me all over the place, but all of those bits are dormant right now. Not doing anything. The only active instance is this here me now. On the bed. With my wives. Sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeping................


    <h6>.... .....</h6>


    <h5>..... ..</h5>


    <h4>..... ..</h4>


    .... ...............


    <h2>..... ..</h2>


    A?A?A?A?A?A?A?AA?A??A?A?A?A???A??A???A?A????A???????A?????A??????A?????????A???????????A???????A????????????A??????????????????A?????????????A???????????A??????????A????????A????????????A????????????A??????????A???????????A????????????????A???????????????A???????????A????????????A?????????????A???????????A?????A???????????A????????????????????????????A?????????????????????????A????????????????????A????????????????????????????????????????A???????????????????????????????????A??????????????????????????????????A???????????????????????A??????????????????????????????A?????????????????????A????????????????????????????!?????????????????????!???????????????!????????????????????!??????????????????????????????????!???????????!????????????????????????????????


    ....just a dream.....


    ..?.?..j?u?st? ?a? ?dr?e?am?.


    .???.?.???.?.???ju???s??t ??a??? ?d??r?e?a?m.??.?


    .???????????????.??????????.????????????.?????????j????????????u????????????????s????????????t????????? ?????????????a?????????? ???????????d???????????r???????????e????????????a?????????m??????.???????.????????????.???????????????????.?????????.????????.????????.??????????????.?????????.?????????????????.?????????????.????????.????????.??????????????.????????????.????????????????


    .?????????????????????????????????????????.????????????????????????????????.??????????????.???????????????????????????????????.?????????????????????????????????j????????????????????????????????u?????????????????s???????????????????????????t?????????????????????? ???????????????????????????????????a???????????????????????? ????????????????????????d???????????????????????????????r???????????????????????e??????????????????????????a??????????????????m?????????????????????????.??????????????????????????????????.????????????????????????????????


    .?????????????????????????????.?????????????????????????????????J????????????????????????????U?????????????S???????????????????????????????????T??????????????????????????????? ?????????????????????A??????????????????????? ????????????????????????????????????D???????????????????R?????????????E??????????????????????????A???????????M??????????????????????????????????.?????????????


    I would pant if I could remember how. I would shiver if I remembered it is a thing. I... REMEMBER MY SHAPE. I am shaped like this. I am coherent. I... have someone squirming against me.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Girls. Are. Here. Spooked. Scared. Pushed to the edges of the bed. But. Here. Alive, well and whole. Good. I... have something else wiggling against me. Against my belly. I lift the blanket and peer in. I blink. I lower the blanket and pat the wiggling bump.


    "I... think I just had Wizard''s Nightmare." - I croak.


    ___


    That... turns out to be a show and a cat. No, really, I get it. Wizard''s Nightmare is serious business. Really serious. Especially if the wizard in question is me, because... yeah. The things I have the power to dream into existence are... case in point. My newest creation is making short work of bread and ham sandwich. I was about to offer a tomato to start with, but given the dentition... She looks up to me and I have to ruffle her hair. I am so fucked.


    "So. No ill effects?" - I quip.


    "Nuh-huh." - she confirms, still busy with the sandwich. It''s pretty damn early in the morning, but after my wakeup call, I daresay no one is going to sleep in the academy till next night. I hope I didn''t defile anyone by accident, there was enough oomph in that shout to get all over the campus.


    So... To sum it up. I am, will, determined to assume a role of early mother. Because, technically speaking, it fits. I have, lack of intention notwithstanding, created a living sapient being. Who is remarkably similar to a human child of about eight years old. If we do not take in account alarming dentition, a couple spikes here and there and a fuck-huge wheel that just hovers serenely behind my newest greatest creation. I think it is the symbol of Chaos Undivided, and I am completely utterly terrified this lapse in control had just invited the whole of Warhammer setting into my little bucolic isekai.


    I guess the expression I have is... more than a little telling, because my little horror shrugs at me, and pulls out a genuine letter from somewhere. I have no idea how she hid it before, and I have no idea if she even was hiding it, and not just extracted it out of some kind of dimensional gate. The letter... Hm. Might as well read it. This day is off to a really weird start.


    "...yada-yada... one count of arcanochtonic event..." - that must be the whole "immaculate birth of eldritch abomination" thing I just pulled... "... stabilization of plegmagnosis balance..." - not sure about this bit, something to do with me and local noosphere being balanced? Where does Cultist-chan come from in that case? "...No intersection..." - PHEW. There is no cross-reality contamination, I don''t have to worry about suddenly finding myself in the middle of WAAGH or dealing with spaceborne assholes of all sorts. Still... Why... Oh. Oh. Oh FUCKBISQUITS WHY. Of all the things I could possibly materia... Oh. Well... Shit. I suppose Cultist-chan DOES sum up my hopes and fears pretty well. Who''d think? "...Keep up the good work, cordially yours, Memiri..." - ookay. If the goddess of dreams writes you a personal letter to tell you to keep up the good work, you must be doing something right with your life.


    FUUUUUUUUCK.


    I smile and lean over to pet the head of my... well, daughter, I suppose. "Let''s name you." - I suggest - "I know you self-refer as Cultist-chan, but we''d go bonkers trying to explain that. How about just shortening it to Cy for now? You can think on a different name later, if you want to."


    "Hokay!" - she retorts cheerfully. Just when we are about to continue the conversation, the room becomes much fuller, as everyone gets in almost at once. Roxolane went to fetch dame Apricotte, Lily-Anne went to call her dad, Moon Unit went to fetch prelate Iohann and Bridgit is putting the bed back into presentable shape. And now, all of them come back almost at once. King Abe brings sirs Malachi and Pasteur with himself, dame Apricotte comes in with a trail of students after her, though only Lemand and Alistair come in. Oh, nevermind, here''s Selene and Ed, too. Prelate, thankfully, arrives by himself. All of my wives are here too. And now I need to explain things...


    "Prelate." - I begin, drawing a number of surprised glances - "Is there any special procedure temple suggests for personal correspondence from one of the gods?"


    Iohann blinks a lot. Then blinks a whole lot more when I hand him the letter. Half-hour later, after a whole lot of spells and rituals that he enacts with the help of Malachi, the letter is unequivocally confirmed to be the real deal. Which is when he finally answers my question.


    "This is mostly unprecedented, lady Gillespie." - Iohann proffers, dabbing his forehead as he fortifies himself with a cup of coffee - "While the temple is aware of a number of things awarded by gods to assorted heroes, this is the first time that I know of someone gets a personal letter. Though, I suppose, the real present is sitting next to you." He smiles at my little abomination, twitches as she smiles right back and continues - "Still, if I may remark upon it - if a goddess of dreams herself takes time to write to you and tell you that you''re doing good, I daresay it strongly implies you''ve been making right decisions in your life."


    I sigh. Ruffle her hair. "I suppose there''s nothing for it." - I offer - "It is good everyone''s here. I didn''t exactly plan on it, but..." I lean to her and nuzzle her briefly, as I pull her on the lap. "Everyone, this is Cy Gillespie. She''s going to be my daughter from now on. Fair warning - she is already a prodigy in chaos magic, so watch your things around her, lest they become something else while you were not looking. Cats can be bats can be rats can be gnats can be thises can be thats."


    I think it is very fair to say no one expected this. Least of all, me. But I''m going to roll with it. First thing on agenda? Verify just how much of an eldritch abomination Cy truly is. And properly play with her, of course. She should know mommy''s tentacles by sight, after all.

 Chapter 89. Talk It Out

    "So... How much do you actually know about the origins of that letter?"


    "Vat letta?"


    "The one you handed to me back then."


    "Noh letta."


    "Not a letter?"


    "Nup. Hyu wreeet letta. Dis maded."


    "Yowch. Technically correct, but... Is it also my fault you seem to be taking verbal clues from orks?"


    "Nuh-huh, jussa funning."


    "Well, so long as you don''t plan on WAAGH..."


    "For Kayoss!"


    "Yes, I should have expected this much. Chaos, huh? I can''t imagine the loci are the same, though... Local elves certainly haven''t been debauched enough to spawn Slaanesh, as of yet. Any ideas?"


    "Kayoss Undeeevidah! Mohmee!"


    "Wait. WHAT?"


    "Mohmee eez the kayoss undeevidah! Eeefen eef mohmee spleets."


    "I''m not exactly a goddess."


    "Nah goddesh, nah. Kay-oss!"


    "I''m not sure if I should be relieved or terrified I''m the closest this reality has to Chaos locus. I''ll do with relieved. How does that even work given my end goals are all about introducing way more order into things?"


    "Kayoss ish beeg, ish conr... cohr... contradeektive itshelf!"


    "Very well, then I contradict myself, for I am large and contain multitudes? Sheesh. Alright then. Let''s talk about something more important."


    "Hwee?"


    "Tentacles."


    "HWEEEEHEHEHEHEEEE! EEeeeEEeeE! Whah-haaaahahah! Hier! Fasta! Eeee!"


    ___


    To sum it up. While I most definitely did NOT plan on having any progeny at this moment, it''s surprisingly fun to play with my entirely unplanned... damn it, but let''s go with daughter. I''m honestly not sure if gender is actually a concept she is going to pay much attention to, but for now, she identifies as she, that should be sufficient. In addition, I am, to some degree, in a shock. Which means I''m not paying attention to things properly. Thankfully, everyone who DID walk in on me "flying" Cy around with a tentacle were already well acquainted with my corporeal plasticity. In all honesty, making the buzzing sounds was harder to explain than the tentacley activity itself.


    The conversation that followed, however... Doooodgy. Because in the worst traditions of spreading the chaos around, Cy starts to compare herself to each of the four in rather transparent attempt to figure out which of them should be "father". Which, in turn, is extremely awkward for all of them. In no small part because trying to comprehend the concept of getting ME knocked up is not really meshing well with their own self-image. I''m having a bit of "uh-huh, sure" myself when I try to think of it... Oh for crying out loud, suggesting that maybe it''s all four at the same time does NOT make things less awkweird, Cy!


    Selene provides a much needed disruption by asking me to step out for a moment to "clarify something". I admit, I am in equal parts bemused and loathe to leave Cy alone with my wives, but if there are any problems beyond the readily observed, the sooner I know of them, the better.


    "What the fuck is Wizard''s Nightmare?" - she levels at me straightly as soon as the door is closed.


    I lean on the wall next to the door and rub my face. This does not in any way alleviate my weariness. "Putting it very crudely? When you''re very powerful magically and have a nightmare, there''s a chance you might subconsciously conjure something out of the nightmare." - I explain - "Mind you, a nightmare is not necessarily a dreaming kind, it is also possible to do this if you''re put through an emotional wringer. Most common trigger, however, is having a vivid nightmare, hence the name."


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    "Uh-huh." - she drawls - "Well, I do understand how wee-ash-forty-kay can be a high octane nightmare, but... The hell, Alyssa? How do you even... She''s not even... Just... WHY Cultist-chan, of all the...?"


    "Are you asking me to give a logical explanation to a nightmare? As in, something borne out of the subconscious and irrational fears?" - I toss back - "Maybe I should also toss in the explanation regarding the meaning of life and everything? It''s forty two, by the way."


    She snorts - "Bonus points for nerd references, but no cigar...." Selene paces in front of me silently for a couple moments, then whirls around and throws a hand in my direction - "Are you even ready to be a mom?"


    "Absolutely fucking not, if you''re talking about preparedness. Money''s not an issue, and hiring servants to address the chores is not a problem, but as far as mentally ready? Not a clue, sorry. I''m totally winging it here." - I retort tiredly - "Remember me ranting about needing a vacation? Well, consider this the third impact. When your body, mind and magic all throw a wobbly, it''s a sign to ease up and rethink life priorities. As such... I''m going to put minimal token effort into passing the term exams, which would be negligibly minuscule given that I apparently wrote some of the textbooks in process and dedicate every single moment otherwise towards my family so that it does not implode on me. Businesses are doing fine, the plans are ticking, the people are primed to expand and grow without my direct input and I am going to eat the head of the next idiot to saddle me with an unnecessary chore."


    "...What, like literally?" - she quips sarcastically. I''m... not sure how to address this, but thankfully she pushes on, leaving that question to be rhetoric - "Ok, so... If you need someone to babysit..."


    She trails off as I start to giggle. "Selene, I appreciate the sentiment, but you DO understand I can afford to hire a whole nursery of nannies and maids if needs be?" - I toss back at her - "I don''t mind if you want to spend the time with my suddenly expanding family, as a whole or in detail, but don''t go putting yourself out on my account. Honestly, I''d rather you start thinking what kind of cheat you want to put on the market to bamf up your own funds."


    "I wasn''t planning on that..." - she retorts feebly - "Wait, wait, it''s not THAT easy. I mean, you are a high noble, I''m just an ennobled commoner and a foundling at that. No one would trust me with any sort of credit... Um... er... except you, I suppose."


    "Indeed. So start thinking on what you can do. Get Ed in on it, if you can figure out some kind of product he would be interested in making. Remember me grilling him about his holdings? Well, you also have the advanced knowledge in your head, use it. I''ll back you up with technical details if you end up missing some tidbit on your own. Start selling something. Not sure if you noticed, but people are kind of getting the gist of Ed switching up from me to you, and the general sentiment seems to be ''golly, why would a prince trade down from a golden goose noble to a rando commoner''? So far, it''s just disjointed ruminations, but if you let them solidify, the most likely collective delusion people will arrive at is that Ed knocked you up. IF you start something of your own here, and it proves to be just as lucrative as my own stuff, however? Or at least just as innovative? That would muddle things up well enough for you to slip by and deal with public opinions from a position of strength that''s not reliant on Ed''s interference." - I rant at her.


    Selene starts looking offended, but then simmers down and mulls over it. "...Alright, well... you DO have a point there." - she then admits - "But what should I invent?"


    "How should I know? Think something up. Preferably, something relevant to your interests." - I suggest - "Or Ed''s interests. Also an option. Start a spun glass salon maybe. Or exotic cuisine restaurant. Start making biros or gyros or lyres. Up to you. As I said, I''ll quietly nudge you along if you find yourself stumbling over a technical problem, but please be the face. My plate overfloweth at the moment."


    "Hrm. And why right now?" - she asks suspiciously.


    "To take the heat off me, duh. I''ve been making headlines for months. Lemand''s offsetting it right now, but he''s my retainer, I still get the spotlight because of it. Now that I''m suddenly a mom, tongues are gonna waggle on turbo setting." - I admit blithely - "Just the right moment for you to do something that gets the whole capitol talking about new and fancy. And if you screw up, then no one will remember it much, given the much more juicy ''did you hear Alyssa Gillespie conjured a child?'' versus ''oh that ennobled commoner Serenity screwed up a shop''."


    "Sooo... If I make a big impact, it''s going to take the heat off you, and if I make a big flop, it won''t be paid attention to overly much, right?" - she repeats - "Gah, this is so messed up. So glad Ed''s not the crownprince. I''d run away if I had to study that seriously for queenly training. Alright, well... Not alright, but we do have a plan then, right? I''ll... think on what we can do, talk it over with Ed and maybe Al and show you what we got, alright?"


    "Sure. Feel free to ask my harem for ideas too. Lily-Anne might have some, in particular. She''s been making noises about wanting to be more involved in business, maybe talk to her and see what she can think of." - I confirm, as I turn back in - "But for now, excuse me. Family time nao."

 Chapter 90. Hello Grandma

    I am incredibly thankful some tropes are just tropes and some tidbits are just tidbits. In this particular case, I''m doubly glad Cy has no particular attachment to the collection of rags she was wearing since manifestation. While her demands regarding clothes are quite strict, they''re entirely manageable in a way that would let us adhere to local morality and even fashion. Hooray for medieval ages being more accepting of multicolored clothes. Other than insisting she is to have no less than five colors on at the same time (More is permissible and enthusiastically welcomed, but five are deemed an absolute minimum. Wonder why. And why my mind jumped on five colors problem while thinking that over.), her other criteria were pretty sensible and something I would have myself suggested. Comfortable, not excessively loose, durable, plenty of pockets. Easy enough to accommodate, and Lily-Anne got some practice for her fashion shop, too. Now if only Margot would stop looking at me and Cy like we''re the monsters in disguise. I mean, we''re not in disguise here. Just monsters. Doing domestic things like any other domestic monster does.


    Clothes and diet are handled, tentatively. I''ve taken my time walking with Cy around the Farmer''s Square of the market, watching for any tell-tales something registers with her as hazardous, and insofar, nothing seems to crop up. She seems less interested than a kid her age would be in my shop, gravitating towards breads instead of sweets as kids usually do. Guess that part of trivia about her was true. Asking reveals that while she doesn''t hate sweetness, her quite irregular teeth start aching if she eats something too sweet, so she tends to gravitate towards the less sugary treats. Something with a touch of sour or bitter is even better, as the taste-testing reveals. She loves dried fruits.


    Magically-wise... Uuuh. Very much uuuh. While Cy is not in any way ready to use the formalized magic, she has more than enough oomph for it. Easily on par with me. She also has a bunch of pretty chaotic spells that she can apparently fire off on more or less instinct and gut feelings. I am intensely thankful she does not seem to have any uncontrollable auras. She CAN flare up an aura of chaos that fucks with probability and entropy rates within the area of effect, though. Or, translating to common tongue - if she so wants, her immediate surroundings will become full of surreal pratfalls and things failing oddly. Usually, not too dangerously, but practically always, embarrassingly so. This is actually a very good defense, when you think about it. Because embarrassing means different things for different people - and what would be embarrassing for an assassin? To fail and be caught fumbling is a likely answer to that.


    The next test (one I''m more than a little nervous about) is how well Cy plays with other unusual abilities. Mine are not in question, she essentially comes from me in ways that are probably even more intimate than "flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood", given that she is essentially the quintessence of my thoughts, fears and hopes. Which, by the way, is more than a little baffling, because I''m more than a little ambivalent on the topic of actually HAVING children. It''s bringing them up that makes me fear I''m going to fluff it up. Let''s just say my first life''s set of parents left a lot of room for improvement. The current ones are incomparably better in every regard. Speaking of which... The test is simple - Bridgit''s quantum instability trick. Much to my relief, for that trick, Cy doesn''t seem to be any different from any other person.


    And now, we''re at the Gillespie estate. Bridgit is enjoying her well-earned headpats and hugs after bringing everyone here. Everyone being harem and Cy, that is. I''d teleport them all in with my own magic, but Bridgit''s trick is far less dangerous of the two. I need to figure out how it works and see if I can apply the findings to the teleport I know. It would be helpful if I didn''t run the risk of driving everyone around nuts each time I bamf around... Admittedly, I rarely use it also because I have an instance pretty much everywhere I care to appear quickly, and it is easier and safer for me to just shunt the... huh. Actually, how do I shunt the mass like this without any odd effects? Might look into it too. For now... Family.


    As it turns out, the father is still out there. Either in Haver or... I surreptitiously check, and yes, he is advancing towards the estate, but it will be a couple days before his impromptu caravan is here. Oh well. Let''s see what mother makes of it. I knock on her door.


    "Yes, what is... Alyssa? What''s going on?" - she inquires, as she peeks out of the door. I catch a whiff of floral oils being aspirated wafting out.


    "Hello, mom. Experimenting with bouquet aromas?" - I offer. She nods and shrugs.


    "Not every floral oil mixes well, some produce quite... dreadful aromas. I''d never have guessed some of the combinations could smell so revoltingly." - she admits - "Some others, like this one, on the other hand... Pretty nice. But enough about perfumes, I believe there are more pressing matters, given the company. Introduce us?"


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    I wince. Yes, that was a bit... off. "Sorry. I''m off the kilter today." - I admit - "Everyone, this is my mother, Elene Gillespie. Mom, this is my... well, harem. Bridgit you already know, and I daresay you should recognize princess Lily-Anne. Next to her is Moon Unit, recently titled lady Lux. The girl next to Bridgit is Roxolane. Finally, the little rascal that just nabbed your spoon is Cy." I lean over to take the mixing spoon from the grinning child, and ruffle her hair, returning the spoon to flabbergasted mother with other hand - "I am very suddenly finding myself with a daughter of my own, and I think I need some advice."


    "But... how!?" - Elene yelps, as she looks from me to Cy and to me again - "Alyssa, what did you do? This couldn''t be the ordinary birth, I am quite certain I''d notice if you happened to be pregnant when you were eight yourself."


    I sigh and wrap my arms loosely around Cy - "Wizard''s Nightmare, mom. Apparently, one bad enough for Memiri to step in to sort out the situation. Speaking of which, I''m also apparently the first ever person to actually get a letter from a goddess." Elene blinks a lot as I hand her the letter in question. She is very confused as she briefly reads it through and returns it, shaking her head in wondrous incredulity.


    "Only you, Alyssa. Only you." - she sighs, then crouches in front of Cy - "Hello there. I am your grandmother Elene."


    "Grumma!" - she gets in return as my little abomination hugs her around the neck - "Floowur booler!"


    Elene twitches a little at the lisp, and shakes her head bemusedly - "Flower boiler, huh? Well, it''s true, in a sense."


    "Nah! Na buller, booler! Floowur ina boole." - Cy explains.


    "Oh. Flower bottler? I guess I am. Though really, I''m more of an experimenter nowadays." - she quips, as she ruffles Cy''s hair and stands up - "I''ve taken a cue from you and started my own little enterprise, Alyssa. Too many people want the flower essence to handle it by myself. I don''t suppose you have any advice on organizing this better? ...Actually, no, wait. Explain something to me first. Harem? Weren''t you engaged to prince Edward?"


    I blink. "Yes, but things happened, and now I''m engaged to Lily-Anne instead." - I reply - "And that engagement acknowledges Lily-Anne is joining a harem... I could have sworn I mentioned that before, mom."


    She puts her hands on her hips. "No, you most certainly did not." - she retorts sharply - "Alyssa, just what is going on over there in Parsee?"


    Sighing, I resign myself to a long and complicated explanation. At least I do have my harem to corroborate and aid my story. But still, this promises to be a lengthy and difficult conversation.


    ___


    "...Madness." - is mother''s verdict to the whole story - "Pure and unadulterated madness, all of it. Honestly, if that''s how things were going, I''m not surprised you''ve been having nightmares. Alyssa, you are trying to do too much in the same time. You need to learn to pace yourself and set aside more time for rest. Just surrounding yourself with love and care is not enough if you''re not partaking of it."


    "I''m trying!" - I object - "There''s just always something to do."


    "Well tell that something to come back tomorrow." - she insists - "You can''t just overlook this, Alyssa."


    "Trying, mom. TRYING very hard. I have resolved not to start anything new until next year at the very least." - I retort - "As soon as the end terms in the Academy are over, I''m taking my harem, my daughter and my airship and going on a leisure cruise all over the place."


    "And no haring off to put out every spark personally." - she continues - "I know you have people watching over everything, let them handle the situations. By your own labors, there is always a way to tell you if something is beyond their ken."


    "That''s the plan, yes." - I agree.


    She sighs. "I hope you truly mean it, dear." - Elene mutters - "And not just telling me what you think I want to hear right now."


    Ok, so... mother also thinks I''m overworked. Admittedly, she was already thinking that before I even went to Academy, but still... Aside from that, she is oddly fine with my harem, though she did take some time to put some poignant questions to each of them. Mostly Moon Unit and Lily-Anne, though. I guess I can understand why she has less to ask of Bridgit, but why Roxolane gets a pass is more of a mystery. Or maybe mother''s focus is more on who can get away with the most, in which case Moon Unit and Lily-Anne indeed do take the lead by far. Lily-Anne because she technically outranks me, even though I''m nominally the harem mistress here, and Moon Unit because elves had always maintained their notions of superiority, and although I''ve yet to see anything of the sort from her, my mother doesn''t know that much yet.


    Even odder, Cy gets a complete pass and acceptance, in spite of things I thought mother would at least point out. Maybe she''s saving those for later, though. I did say I was in need of advice and all that. Speaking of whom, where is... Oh. OOoh dear. She found boys. Or boys found her. Ooh fiddlesticks on the grill, that''s going to be odd... Antoine is sporting polka-dot glowing hair. And Jean-Paul... "...Cy, you will return them back to original condition once you''re done playing, I hope?" - I inquire - "Because while Jean-Paul is surprisingly apt at fluttering around with his oversized ears, it might be a little bit too much for ordinary people."


    "Hokay!" - my little abomination responds cheerfully, while doing... something with a pillow. Which grows legs and scampers off after Antoine, butting him under the knees until he falls over on top of the pillow and starts riding it like some sort of demented throne, shrieking and laughing through all of it.


    "I can see why you wanted advice." - mother offers from behind me wryly - "You were rambunctious at that age, but not quite as free with magic as your own daughter seems to be."

 Interlude 14. Somewhere In The Sultanate…

    Aisha huffed. Darn husk just wouldn''t move! That narrow passage between the two houses was the most convenient way to the well, and the husk just would not step out of it. She knew better than try to manhandle the dead body chock-full of magical bees, but nothing else she tried registered with the darn thing. As it was, she was forced to circle around the whole quarter, adding more than twice over to her overall path. Which, while you were unladen, was not that much of a deal, but mattered a whole lot when you were walking back with a heavy clay jug of water on your head!


    She snorted and turned away from the annoyance resolutely. The fear she used to have when the curse descended had long ago abated into a dull apathy. The rules were simple. So long as you did not grasp a weapon or a flower, dead would leave you be. Mostly. As the third son of Ahmed-bey Masoud had amply demonstrated, simply being up to no good is also a no-no. Thinking it up is fine, acting on it? Well. Right until the moment you raise your hand to someone else, then it''s bees. Cadavers allowed a certain leeway, while at that - facsimile casting was permitted, for all the good that drawn or folded flowers could do. Using knives for cooking or craft was also permissible, so long as you left the knife where you were working with it or packed it up with other tools before going anywhere.


    So while the initial weeks were a time of great terror and many horrifying deaths, life had soon settled into some kind of perverse serenity. As blasphemous as the thought was, Aisha mulled, as she circled the quarter diligently, the dead ended up being a better shield for the poor than the sultan ever was. In no small part because the dead also shielded the poor from the sultan and his beys. She exchanged a greeting with one of the greatest benefactors of the dead rising up, passing by him as her thoughts strayed in that direction. A slave who used to be unable to even speak up because of the collar with harsh conditions, now counting the days until the ship was to take him back to his northern country. Kraut, to hear the guy tell it, was a land of wonders and freedom. His former master was among the first to perish due to blunt refusal to even consider taking off the armband that controlled his slaves by their collars. The man was dead, the armband still dangling off the shriveling arm as his body ambled around, buzzing and lurching, the collars popping open with his demise. That, in itself, was rather weird. Normally, if a slave owner died, their armband could be passed to another member of the family and reliably held the slave meanwhile. Ones who run afoul of bees? Their armbands were very much lost and the collars connected to them popped open by themselves. A condition of the curse, apparently. The vast majority of slaves suddenly found themselves entirely unhindered, mostly due to the dead owner. A few still had their collars locked, but no one would dare to put on the matching armband for the fear of dead and bees.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The same thing happened across the country. Slaves finding themselves without any passable way to actually keep them enslaved. The second wave of violence that blazed on the heels of that revelation was almost bloodier than the initial bee culling, even if not quite as numerous in corpses. Still, many a slave had taken bloody revenge on their former master and escaped in the chaotic first weeks. This, among other things, was held as proof that "<dfn title="devil woman">shaitan hanum</dfn>" from the north was planning nothing less than a complete demise of the Sultanate. Common folk quietly disagreed. The end of beys? Sure, entirely possible. The end of people? Not really looking like it. When all is said and done, the husks and the bees proved themselves to be better city guard than guards themselves, because they took no bribes, saw no titles and cared for nothing but maintaining their mandate, regardless of anything and anyone. Now if only they could understand simple words...


    Emptying the full jug into the basin in the middle of the yard, Aisha sighed. It would take a lot more trips before she could honestly say there is enough for the needs of the household. A lot more. In a fit of pique, she grabbed the other jug and as she passed by the husk blocking the passage, she thrust the jug into its hands, snapping - "<dfn title="Make yourself useful, at least!">''ajaeal nafsak mfydana, ealaa alaql!</dfn>" It grasped the jug, making those weird slurping-buzzing noise the husks usually emitted. Then, much to her surprise and alarm, it began following her. Blinking, Aisha turned back to the yard, circled around the basin and... YES. The thing followed her! Fine then. Using the freed passage, she ran towards the well, filled her jug and trotted back as quickly as she could before the mindless thing could change its absent mind and block the passage again. Much to her flabbergasted surprise, it actually brought in the full jug and emptied it into the basin right after her. Intrigued, Aisha set the jug aside and stood aside to watch. And it was worth watching, alright! The husk would shamble over to the well, shamble back in and empty the jug into the basin, then immediately depart for the next portion.


    "<dfn title="Oh joy. Now I have to explain this somehow.">Ya lilfurh. Alan ealay ''an ''ashrah hdha bitariqat ma.</dfn>" - she muttered, considering the suddenly helpful husk with a baleful eye. On one hand, it was unusual, and therefore possibly dangerous. On other... The possibilities. Now it all hinged on if she could dupe the husks into fulfilling some of the other menial chores...

 Chapter 91. Practical Exams

    Things are going well. I''m feeling a little paranoid about it, actually. Not paranoid enough to do something stupid, thankfully, but wary of possible complications I haven''t foreseen. It''s been four days since the talk with mother, and I''ve just come back from doing a repeat conversation with father included. Who takes to being suddenly grandpa with surprising aplomb, just like mom. We have discussed possible options and such, because by all the indications they find having a granddaughter to be exciting and are fixing to fulfill the role of doting grandparents with gusto. We have tentatively agreed to them hosting Cy over the next summer. For now, I get the time to grow into the mom role. Admittedly, it is made much easier by the fact I got to skip the entirety of the baby stage, which nivellates a whole lot of my worries about screwing children up. Cy is already pre-screwed, so to speak.


    Right now, I''m about to participate in dueling mid-terms. For some reason, I''ve been asked to attend that particular examination first. The examination, just so we''re clear, is held in the Academy yard. The place had been cleared out, a set of low bleachers on one end that holds the students and a selection of tables in front of them holding the examiners. The actual field is empty, save for a stone circle a fair distance away from it, and a straw dummy a couple touse ahead of it.


    "Good afternoon, lady Gillespie." - sir Zade rasps - "I hope you don''t mind that you''ve been elected to inaugurate the practical exam."


    "I don''t, but mind indulging my curiosity why me, specifically?" - I quip back at him.


    He chuckles - "Well, starting strong is a good tradition, isn''t it so? Anyway, to start with, please demonstrate basic elementary attacks on the scarecrow over there. Showing sufficient mastery of one element to knock the scarecrow over is a passing grade, but please try all of the ones you feel confident at. Please call out the element you are invoking when you do."


    Hm. Very well, then.


    "Fire!" The gout of flame lurches from my hand, curling lazily as it impacts the middle of the dummy, setting it ablaze.


    "Water!" The mist around it abruptly condenses, soaking the dummy through and dousing the fire out.


    "Earth!" The ground below the dummy bulges up abruptly, tossing the dummy in the air.


    "Air!" The dummy falls into a spinning eddy, suspended in the air by the little whirlwind, charred wet straw flying out of its sleeves.


    "Lightning!" A discharge of electricity from my hand to the dummy crackles, burning a hole through it as the whirlwind dissipates, letting it fall down.


    "Light!" A ray of concentrated sunshine erupts from the other hand, burning another hole through the dummy''s head.


    "Darkness!" The wooden carcass creaks as the whole thing at once is ravaged by accelerated entropy, crumbling into a pile of sawdust.


    I dust my hands off symbolically and turn around... And the examinators are all sporting gobsmacked impressions. Except for sir Zade, who looks like a cat who''s got into butterpot. I wonder... Oh. Right. The rest of the commission is only aware of me through second-hand impressions. Sir Zade has some first-hand knowledge and a lot of tales that are circulating in Inquisition, but the rest? Ambercrombe Senior mostly sees me as an occasionally scary troublemaker, he never had much of a chance to see me do magic firsthand. Monsieur Foxworth, our erstwhile replacement for Hardlock, had gotten the "she''s excused from your lessons on account of beating the tar out of previous teacher" spiel from Ambercrombe and apparently never had the gumption to question me about it. I obviously didn''t bother inserting myself in the lessons I don''t really need.


    "All that just through facsimiles?" - Foxworth yelps after a brief silence - "Just... That... Gah!"


    He shakes his head and leans towards Zade, whispering to him furiously. Zade just grins at him. "Chop-chop, my good fellow." - he then proffers gleefully - "Lady Gillespie, the second part of the exam is a magical spar against the professor Foxworth... With that in mind, would you please not render him insensate? It would be inconvenient to postpone the exam for the rest of the students."


    "Maybe you should''ve asked me to go last." - I grumble.


    "Ah, but then some people would presume your showing was due to professor already being exhausted by previous students." - he parries with a grin - "That would be doing a grave disservice to your talents."


    I sigh and wait. And wait. And wait some more. Until Foxworth shows up. Oh. Huh. He has a heavy brigandine on over his clothes. And a sort of helmet, too. Sensible, if overly cautious.


    "Lady Gillespie, as this is a training bout, there will be certain differences from an actual duel." - he begins, trying his best to sound casual. Eh, it''s a good step up from the shitshow that Hardlock was. "Namely, I will be restricted to using the ray of purity, which is obviously harmless to students, to mark my own attacks. Sir Zade will observe and call for a pause whenever I manage to land an attack on you. You, on the other hand, may use whatever magic you find yourself most comfortable with, though obviously it would be best if you didn''t end up injuring me in process." - he continues with a nervous laugh - "Normally, a student wouldn''t be considered strong enough to cause me lasting harm in a set of armor like this, but you''re hardly ordinary, now are you?"


    I consider him critically. "Professor Foxworth, I believe it''s already obvious I can do direct evocation." - I quip - "I believe I will restrict myself to conjuration and other indirect methods of offense for the duration of the bout. Please be mindful how you fall."


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    He has a complicated expression. "MM... That is sensible, yes, but well above the curriculum you''re supposed to be tested at." - he objects - "Sir Zade, dean Ambercrombe, I would like your opinions."


    Ambercrombe massages the bridge of his nose. "As the dean of Academy, I give dispensation to assess this particular student''s ability in advance." - he grumbles - "It goes without saying that lady Gillespie is well beyond what one would expect of a student at this juncture. Assess her abilities across the entire curriculum."


    Zade shrugs. "I concur." - he proffers simply.


    "Very well then. En garde, lady Gillespie." - Foxworth proffers, pulling out a daisy from the holder on his back. He has several more flowers there. Sensible. Well-protected, too. So long as he remembers which flower is where, he can switch at a moment''s notice, and maybe even use them as a bouquet if he is not hampered by a mental block of needing a flower in hand to use it.


    "En garde, professor Foxworth." - I agree, as I shake my arms loose and raise them in front of myself in a martial pose.


    "...No flo... EEp!" - he sounds as I step forward, my usual bevy of acceleration, reinforcement and sensory suit kicks in. Unlike Hardlock, this guy is well on the level. A former knight, I imagine, or maybe an Inquisitor on loan. He dodges my kick, not effortlessly, but in a clearly practiced move, and immediately returns fire with the ray of purity. Smart, too, he goes for the center of mass. Not fast enough, though. I twist out of the way, the ray passing by my side and deliver a straight punch. O-ho. He dodges again. Not fast enough to avoid it entirely, but my hand ends up being deflected by his pauldron instead of nailing him in the neck. The next moment he jumps back, obviously reinforcing his jump with magic because he clears almost two touse at a leap backward. Makes sense, his only attack is ranged one by the rules he outlined, so why not stay out of punching range?


    Let''s switch it up. His follow-up attack from the distance, I don''t dodge. Instead, I conjure a slab of silver in front of it, reflecting the light right in his face. Hah, that got him, if the muffled curse and frantic backpedaling are of any indication. Zade exclaims something from behind, but it is not a command to stop, so I proceed. The disk of silver times out and instead I toss out a clump of dry ice, immediately followed by a burst of telekinesis, shattering it into a spray of evaporating crumble. The field between us is full of white cloud now, hampering Foxworth''s sight line. Now he needs to either circle the impromptu smokescreen, fire blindly or try running through it, and he doesn''t know if the last one is even safe.


    And he does. Except he shows up on both ends of the cloud in the same time. Illusion decoy? I wonder which one is... Nevermind, they''re both illusions. So where''s the real one? I jump up and over the cloud, and... there he is. Instead of running through, he had taken the time to widen the distance to a couple perche, giving him an easy angle on both of his decoys. I think he expected me to attack either of them, and he''d be in a position to snipe at me with impunity. He is still in that position, granted, and already lines up his next shot, so I preempt him by throwing down a cloud of chaff. Mostly conjured ribbons of aluminum, though I toss in a couple overheated magnesium strips. Ooh, that''s bright. And I''m still in the air, though on a different trajectory now, using a briefly conjured slab of iridium to bounce off of. Double-jumping is cheating, isn''t it? Aaand... yes! While he is still distracted by the burning chaff, I manage to nab him with a conjured net. He struggles briefly against it, then sighs and slumps.


    "I concede!" - he shouts out loud. I land next to him, and dismiss all conjurations, extending a hand for Foxworth to help him up. He takes it, hoisting himself off the ground, and chuckles ruefully. "Masterfully done, lady Gillespie. If I didn''t know you have bigger aspirations at hand, I''d recommend you for the Inquisition on the spot." - he proffers, then raises his voice - "Dean Ambercrombe, sir Zade! In my opinion, lady Gillespie is well past the Academy curriculum and should be considered passing all of it in advance."


    Ambercrombe coughs. "It certainly looked impressive, but some elaboration would not be amiss, professor Foxworth." - he retorts.


    "Certainly, dean. To begin with, lady Gillespie had demonstrated a grasp of personal augmentation - her initial attack was entirely martial and was clearly reinforced by magic. In the same time, she demonstrated a grasp of sensory magic by dodging a counterattack she couldn''t have seen coming due to her position." - Foxworth proffers - "Following that, once I have widened the distance between us again, lady Gillespie showed a grasp of tactics. Instead of trying to close the distance again to make use of her augmentation, she switched tack entirely and turned my own attack against me by conjuring a mirror. Then she further hampered my visibility by causing that chilly white smoke, forcing me to retreat further - if I were to attempt to engage her in the middle of that smoke, I would be at a distinct disadvantage. Following that, lady Gillespie demonstrated yet another aspect of her sensory abilities by correctly identifying both of my illusory decoys as such and disengaging entirely, rather than wasting her time exchanging blows with a non-existent foe. Instead, she gained the vantage point, blinded me once again with a... I''m not even sure what it was, but it looked like metal ribbons of some sort, and some of them were even burning, and using that as a distraction, carried out an actual attack, which was a simple conjured net, almost invisible amidst the chaos her earlier distraction provided. All in all, it is a very impressive grasp of personal augmentation, sensory magic, conjuration and battlefield tactics. About the only thing left untested would be her ability with weaponry, which I don''t feel the need to test, given that she had killed a Sultanate batal in one-on-one combat in a duel earlier in the autumn."


    Zade nods sagely. "A well-rounded combatant, then?" - he quips rhetorically.


    Foxworth chuckles - "Let me put it like this. If lady Gillespie was ever to fight with viscount Lamarchand, I wouldn''t know whom to bet on."


    Ambercrombe coughs. "So to sum it up, lady Gillespie passes all the requirements we put forth for the Academy curriculum insofar as it regards dueling, and should be recognized as such." - he asks - "Does anyone have any other comments?"


    "Not here, dean Ambercrombe." - Zade replies - "I believe she passes with flying colors."


    "Quite so." - Foxworth agrees - "It''s been a while since I''ve been so soundly trounced."


    Ambercrombe signs the papers. "Congratulations on passing the dueling course, lady Gillespie." - he offers gruffly - "Here''s hoping you will do just as well on the rest of exams. If anyone does deserve to leave this Academy early, it would be you."


    And... I am left with a distinct impression that the compliment was quite the backhanded one. Joy. On the other hand, the replacement for Hardlock is pretty competent, if nothing else. I might be not needing his lessons, per se, but my girls would surely benefit from a teacher that knows his stuff.

 Chapter 92. Scheming Selene

    "You want what?" - and that''s a legit question to pose. Because Selene seems to have some... interesting ideas about my capabilities.


    "A hurdy-gurdy." - she confirms, blinking at me - "Come on, you can conjure metal by the ton. I''ve seen what you did at the exams. A bit of wood and some strings shouldn''t be that hard."


    "Selene, I can''t just conjure it. For the simple reason that it would time out and disappear. Permanent conjurations... well, let me put it this way. I''d actually need some kind of permanent power source to maintain it. I don''t think you want me to make a thing that will leech your own resources. Or power it by human sacrifice, because a couple rabbits just won''t cut it for a device of such complexity. I''d need to craft it out of actual wood and metal and I am not even sure how it is..." - I begin to object and trail off as the exhaustive blueprints just sort of pop into my mind. Huh. That actually would be easy enough... I do have everything necessary in the stock, even...


    She has a grin when I trail off and turn towards the chest, pulling the slabs of wood out. Ok, so... cut this, bend that, those parts should be jointed like this, I need some glue, oh why not, there''s resin and a bit of volcanic ash, and some steel for the strings, and a bit more resin impregnating that circle, and a bit more to create a layer, hm, actually a simple seal on that to make it self-replenishing, just conjure a bit and let it vanish as it passes underneath, and... And... And... oh. Oh. OH!


    "See, I figured something out." - she crows as she grabs the ready instrument out of my hands - "Holy shit, how did you even varnish it in like five minutes?... Anyways, like... My cheat is having light magic up the wazoo, and your cheat is knowing how to make everything. I had my suspicions for a while, you don''t ever pause much to make prototypes and whatnot, you just grab stuff and make stuff and it just works."


    "Uh... Alright, then. I suppose I can make you your hurdy-gurdy. Still not seeing what you''re up to." - I admit.


    "Ah, well, I have talked to your wives a bit." - she proffers - "Check this out. Magical phonograph, ta-da!"


    The thing she holds up to me is... somewhat similar to Moon Unit''s copy machine, except... Except this bit vibrates and this bit records the vibrations by etching it into a tin plate, much like a gramophone record... Huh.


    "I assume you also had the playback device designed?" - I quip, and she pulls up a bigger box. It''s... gramophone, pretty much. Pretty crude, to be honest, the horn is just a couple of wood slabs in a square shape... Bah, this would make the sound bad. I pluck the thing off and replace it with a proper copper horn.


    "Hey!... Actually nevermind, that should work better." - she exclaims - "Check this out!"


    She puts the tin plate in, and taps the "button" on the device. "....Testing, testing! One, two, three! Testing! This is the sound-recording device, as designed by ladies Selene and Lux! If you are hearing this, it works. Testing, Testing! One, two, three!" - and that is unmistakably Moon Unit''s voice.


    "Lily-Anne is adamant actual music recordings would be immensely popular with the nobles." - Selene preens proudly - "I will do the recordings, Moon Unit will sell the gramophones along with copy machines and Lily-Anne will promote the recordings in her boutique! It''s a win-win for everyone."


    "Alright, but why hurdy-gurdy?" - I ask.


    "Well, for one, I know how to play it." - Selene retorts - "For two, I''ve asked around, and no one knows about that kind of musical instrument yet! The closest they have is an alto viola."


    "Hrm. Ok, so... you''re going to sell the recordings of the music on the instrument no one knows." - I muse - "That should bring you a good deal of initial money, but that would eventually taper off... Any plans for sustainable success?"


    "Well, yes." - she offers - "Ok, so... I was really into music in my previous life. In case you didn''t know how to make hurdy-gurdy, I could totally draw you some schematics. Maybe not exact ones, but close enough to make something decent-sounding. I remember a bunch of other musical instruments that can be made. Once the nobles are sufficiently hooked on this, uh... ''new music''? I am going to hire some decent woodcutters and bug you to get me in contact with dwarves to set up some kind of semi-permanent order for string production, then I''m going to sell those instruments.. and lessons for playing on them. I figure once I get initial capital, I could easily enough snag a couple of third and fourth daughter sorta nobles who actually need to work for a living to be music teachers. I''ll teach them, and they''ll be giving lessons to all the noble kids who want to impress their folks or their fiancees with their ability on the new and unusual musical instrument and that''s going to be a biggish thing, because music is totally the sort of thing nobles would want. Maybe also teach gifted commoners to be hireable musicians for those who don''t care to buy or learn the instrument but want some high-quality music for their ball or some such."


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Uh. So you plan to introduce MORE musical instruments over time?" - I clarify.


    "Oh, yeah. Harpsichords, hurdy-gurdys, spinets, clarinets... They sorta have something like the last one, the grand flute they call it, but it''s kinda simplish and doesn''t have the crispness..." - she exults.


    "Ok, so... I get the picture. That sounds pretty good, actually. What gave you the idea?" - I quip.


    "Did you know that Ed plays bagpipes?" - she returns coyly.


    WHAT!?


    "He WHAT!?" - I repeat out loud. I''m legit dumbfounded. The idea of Ed and bagpipes is very much cognitively dissonant.


    "A guilty pleasure of his." - she confirms, grinning - "I taught him a couple of more modern-sounding tunes. Now that I have a hurdy-gurdy, we can do a duet. Can you imagine what the records of music played by the actual prince will go for? He''s on board. We''re going to record a couple songs, make like... a hundred copies and sell them as high exclusives."


    The fuck. That sounds eminently profitable. Stupidly profitable.


    "Don''t sell them." - I object - "Auction them. And not a hundred copies. Make ten copies, then record the same song with some minor nobles and run a couple thousand copies of it. Start with those, then announce auction for ''exclusive ten copies recorded personally by Edward Cullen''. That''ll bring you gold hand over fist."


    She perks up... But then looks down. "Uh, but... Alyssa, I got a biiig favor to ask." - she wheedles.


    "What? If you need startup money, no problem. I have gold by quintal, by now." - I toss back.


    "Not that. It''s more of... Ok, so... Ed is kinda shy about his bagpipe. It would do wonders for him if you agreed to hear him play first and praised him lots..." - she offers - "I mean, you won''t have to pretend, he''s legit good with it, I swear."


    "Ok, but... How do you intend to get him to play to ME, of all people?" - I retort - "I mean, he''s still... kinda wary of me. Maybe get Alistair to do it? Or Lily-Anne? Someone Ed is not having mondo complicated feelings about?"


    "No, no, see, it''s perfect. I mean, if you tell him he''s doing good, he''s gonna believe you." - she gushes - "Al telling him he''s good? No good, Ed would just think Al is giving him lip service. Lily-Anne is also no good, if she tells Ed he''s good, Ed''s just gonna assume she''s being a nice sister about it. Now you? If you tell him he''s good, he''ll believe it, because you''re like... like... Well, Ed has this kind of, like... opinion of you. He thinks that you''re just the kind of person who can tell the world to go fuck off and do better if it ain''t measuring up. You''re a perfect critic for him."


    "While this might be true, I imagine he''s also going to have helluva reservations about playing in front of me, of all people." - I object.


    "Ah, leave that to me." - Selene grins - "I''m going to invite you all to the garden to listen to the stuff I play, once I practice a bit with this fancy new hurdy-gurdy, then I''m going to invite Ed to do a duet with me. He''s going to stick with it, because he would think he''s letting me down, otherwise. And then you all tell him that he''s good, and bingo. And I swear to you, he is pretty good at it. I''m not sure whom he''s learned from, but he''s a goddamn rockstar with the bagpipes."


    "...Alright." - I sigh - "I will cooperate, but everything that happens between you and Ed because of that is entirely your problem, capisce?"


    "Yeah, that''s fine." - she quips happily - "You won''t be disappointed, I''m sure of it."


    ___


    It takes Selene but three days to get back at me. Just in time for the midterms to be officially over. I also passed alchemy and mercantile craft courses by the dint of my achievements. The rest of the professors were mostly ready to follow the trend, but accepted my argument that I should at least put one full year at the Academy. Ambercrombe is not that happy over it, but we do finally agree that I will officially graduate in the summer, along with my wives (who put in great showings of their own, evoking much praise from the professors in the process), and in the meanwhile I will attend the lectures at will. Professors Schlagenblum and Davenport expect of me to produce a textbook for either of them. Schalgenblum wants an introductory course to organic chemistry and Davenport asks of me to compile a primer on enchantments. He also privately confers that should the textbooks exceed their expectations, both he and Schlagenblum are prepared to nominate me for magistery in their respective fields. Which would involve a sort of exam, though it would be less of me doing something and more of magistrum reviewing my existent achievements. He also tells me that Magistrum of Enchantment wants to talk to me about magistery in any case, once I''m done with Academy, because... well, airship.


    The rest of the professoratorium are... being a little ironic. Professor Ortega, who handles the introduction on geopolitics quips to me that he hardly feels qualified to teach someone having negotiations with several kings about politics and considers me already having had passed his course summa cum laude. I did not sign up for the arts and professor Mannergeim, who handles the basics of business (or, as they are called in Academy, the course of mercantile crafts) tells me bluntly that I pass his course simply for opening a successful shop, nevermind the trading house operation on top of that.


    So, the evening when Selene sends me a note is quite void of anything worthwhile, and most of my harem is lounging around, luxuriating in the feelings of midterms being well done. Except for Bridgit, who instead luxuriates in the feelings of everyone else submitting to her fussing and hovering without objections. Honestly, she''d make a much better mom than me. Oh well, I do hope some of her will rub off on Cy. Who, in the meanwhile, is stupefying the students with mindboggling applications of chaos magic in the afternoons. There is apparently a bet going on regarding who''s going to end on the wrong end of Cy feeling playful next time. So far, nothing bad happened, and everyone had a whale of time figuring out what Cy did and how to disenchant it, but I''m keeping a keen eye on it all nonetheless. On a side note, she seems to has some kind of cuteness field, because even the students who made a point of keeping their attitude neutrally hostile towards me are plying her with treats and toys. And, consequently, being less acerbic towards me.


    "Ladies?" - I offer - "Selene just sent me a note. Apparently, she''s been practicing music in the meanwhile and invites us all to the garden to listen to a couple of new tunes she learned. No pressure, obviously, but I''m curious what she''s got. Anyone wants to tag along?"

 Chapter 93. Music

    In the end, none of my girls wants to miss this. Cy included. I''m somewhat certain her chaos abilities include a sort of precog ability, by the way, because her assessment is "Unca Ed saaax." Which draws surprised giggles from the rest of the harem and Lily-Anne trying to admonish her while restraining the chuckles as hard as she can. Cy just grins at her and promises "Huell heer." I really should do something about her speech. Later, though. For now, we''re going to go to the garden. It''s pretty empty out there in the garden. I suppose it''s not THAT strange, given that the weather is pretty chilly and everyone is resting, celebrating or sulking after the midterms. Alistair meets us at the gates.


    "Ladies." - he proffers gallantly, as he kisses proffered (and not so proffered) hands in no particular order. Poor Bridgit, she has no idea how to handle being treated like a lady. Cy, on the other hand, is finding this eminently fun and hares off after Alistair with a battlecry of "Unca Smash!" Alistair doubletakes at this.


    "Lady Gillespie..." - he ventures softly, slowing down so he is trotting next to me, while Cy gleefully hangs off his arm - "Is your daughter a seer perchance?"


    "Um... Maybe. Why do you ask?" - I venture equally softly, and he shrugs with a helpless expression.


    "I, uh..." - he begins sheepishly - "I have had ordered a hammer much like one I''ve seen you using before, and it had been delivered this morning." He pauses, groans, and forges on - "I''ve been tempted to take a couple swings within my room, just to check it out, and um.. well... Let''s just say I''m going to be replacing two planters before I leave for the winter holidays. The important thing is, I didn''t tell anyone at all about that yet, so where does the ''smash'' come from?"


    "Floowur go boom!" - Cy confirms happily.


    I facepalm. "Al, bring the hammer to my rooms tomorrow." - I tell him - "There is a secret bit about construction that you couldn''t have possibly seen. The hammerhead is actually hollow and partially filled with quicksilver. Without it, the head is likely way too heavy for the thing to be properly balanced. I''ll fix it for you, but I don''t have any quicksilver handy, we''ll need to go visit an alchemist to buy some."


    He groans. "I knew there was something off about the balance!" - he moans - "I couldn''t figure out how could you possibly swing it around like this. Of course there was a trick to it! I should have asked you about it to begin with."


    I chuckle. "Well, yes." - I agree - "Don''t worry about it, it''s fixable."


    He shakes his head in chagrin. "Much obliged, lady Gillespie." - he returns - "Still, I can''t help but feel miffed at myself for not asking your advice before saddling blacksmith with inherently flawed order. He even told me upfront that it wouldn''t be balanced, and yet I have insisted on it like an utter fool."


    "Hey, you wanted to figure things out by yourself." - I object - "I can respect that. On an unrelated note, Al, when are you going to start using my name? We''re friends by now, I dare hope, are we not?"


    "Old habits die hard, lady Gillespie." - he retorts - "Oh, very well. Just do not expect me to do it in public, Alyssa. Proprieties have to be observed, after all."


    I divest him of giggling kid, absentmindedly swinging her up to sit on my shoulders and proceed into the gardens, where I can already see Selene setting up. She had gathered a bunch of chairs together, arranged in a crude semi-circle around the two in the middle. Ed is sitting on one with a somewhat discomfited expression. He brightens up noticeably when he sees us.


    "Alistair, ladies." - he offers, standing up to greet us all - "So you''re the mysterious audience Selene was talking about when she said she''s ready to play her uh... hurdee-gurdee? I admit, it''s a bit of relief to see well familiar faces."


    Al pats him on the shoulder. "Chin up, Edward." - he proffers happily - "I''m sure lady Selene''s music will be eminently enjoyable."


    Selene huffs from her seat, where she''s puttering with the instrument. "I''d darn well better hope so." - she grouses - "I''ve been practicing this for days."


    "Two of them, even." - Ed quips sardonically. He raises his hands at Selene''s darkening expression, hastily adding - "...Forgive me, dear. It''s just that... this is an entirely new instrument. I''m having trouble grasping the idea you could master it so quickly, even though I have heard you play it already."


    I shrug. "Well, Ed, you might keep in mind that while this particular instrument is new, Selene''s familiarity with it is a bit longer than that." - I offer to him, and he blinks.


    "But... OH. Oh, I see." - he brightens up, wagging his finger at Selene - "Naughty girl. You could have told me from the beginning you had different, uh... hurdee-gurdee before."


    Selene sighs wistfully. "Sorry." - she offers softly - "The one I had before had been, ah... lost. Irrevocably. I''m still a bit sad about not having it anymore."


    She shrugs and adds brightly - "But that''s OK. Turns out Alyssa can make anything, so long as you know what you want to be made."


    Lily-Anne sidles next to her and peers at the hurdy-gurdy intently.


    "But what is this?" - she inquires curiously - "Some kind of lute? Why does it have a crank?" She peers back at the other wives, all of whom nearly synchronously shrug.


    "Never seen anything like this before." - Moon Unit proffers for all of them, taking a seat - "I am unbearably curious to find out what kind of music does it make, though. Alyssa, what about you? If you made this, then surely you know something about it?"


    I shrug, as I take a seat next to her, put the bag down and pull Cy off my shoulders onto the lap. "You''ll have to ask Selene for details, music is not exactly my forte." - I begin - "But as far as the construction goes... Hurdy-gurdy is related to the violins. The principle of making sounds is the same - the strings are pressed against something that pulls across them, making them vibrate. In violins, it''s a bow, and the part that draws against the strings is a wad of tightly stretched horsehair. Usually from the tail, I think, but don''t quote me on that. In hurdy-gurdy, a wheel is used instead. The edge of the wheel is covered with rosin to make it rough but soft enough not to damage the strings. That''s what the crank is for - you turn it and it makes the wheel turn, brushing against the strings."


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Selene chuckles - "There are other bits that are different, such as drone strings, but essentially, what Alyssa said. The sound is different from violin, though. I''d describe, but you''re going to hear it in a minute or two. Ok, so... have a seat, everyone. This little piece is called ''Leaves and Lemons''."


    And, without further ado, she starts playing. Everyone quiets down, blinking and leaning forward as the music fills the garden. Selene is good. Really good. For a little bit, I am feeling envious, because the only instrument I can play is stereo, and even at that, I''m quite an amateur. Selene, though... Very wow. Much good.


    It takes everyone a little bit to shake back to attention as the tune comes to an end. Ed and Al apparently heard her practicing before, but they seem to be just as entranced as my harem. Even the little rascal in my lap quiets down and tilts her head, listening to it.


    "Very... interesting." - Moon Unit ventures finally - "Very good, too. But... Just... Ah. The wheel! Of course! It keeps turning, that''s how it keeps the sound going! How crafty! It sounds a little bit like bagpipes, actually! Is that what you meant when you said drone strings?"


    Selene grins and lifts the instrument, showing off several strings running along the side. "Yep! See, this and this, I don''t actually touch them, they keep a constant note going on. There are four of them - trompette, mouche, petit bourdon and gros bourdon. Trompette is the highest, mouche is a fifth below, and bourdons step down an octave each. And the chanterelles are on top." - she explains, pulling the keybox lid open - "See, there are tangents inside, I can shift them pressing the keys to clamp the chanterelles to different notes."


    Everyone crowds in to look. Remarkably, none try to touch. I approve. And promptly express the approval by patting Cy''s head. Selene withdraws the instrument and places it back on her lap. "Alright, everyone. The next tune is called ''Greensleeves''." - she announces cheerfully. That tune is slower and more medieval in its sound... Though I suspect this distinction makes sense only to me and Selene.


    This time, Selene gets actual applause. Lily-Anne is the ringleader, but it quickly spreads over the whole group. And I notice that we have a bunch of other students listening in from the windows. A couple are leaving the doors right now. Hm. Divert them or not? Nevermind, they''re stopping behind that shrubbery. Tactful, girls... Ah, the Newspaper Trio are among them. No guesses who suggested not to interrupt the impromptu concerto.


    Selene lifts her hands, shakes them a little, and grins. "Ok, for the next tune, I''d like to show off something else." - she announces, and leans behind her chair, pulling out the... gramophone? Oh, wait, no, that''s a combo of recorder and player. Huh. She and Moon Unit were busy, I guess. "This tune is called Omen, and I''m going to show off the new invention along with it." - Selene proffers. It starts slowly. I wonder what she has in mind... Did she record something to accompa... OOoh. Oh, that''s clever. She nudges the recording button, etching down the, uh... stanza? Verse? Couplet? A part of the song, anyways. Then, she nudges the play, and it plays the recorded bit back as she doubles over it, playing entirely new notes on top of it. Aaaand being really fancy with it. I don''t think that trick with stopping and wigging the wheel back and forth was actually in use until a modern resurgence of interest in wheelharps. The jagged note it plays is oddly reminiscent of DJ doing a scratch on the turntables. Selene, stahp, that''s waaaay postmodern for this age. At this rate, you''d want an electric guitar for summer.


    The silence when she''s done is entirely different. The ones before were appreciative. This one? Shock. Utter and complete shock. Then THUNDEROUS applause. Students join in, but I''m not sure if anyone actually notices behind the clamor our own group makes. Ed and Al actually stomp their feet along with clapping.


    Selene sets the hurdy-gurdy aside to stand up and take a little bow. "Thank you, thank you everyone." - she proffers happily, blushing - "Now, this is not something I''m quite ready to recommend to a casual musician. Actually, this is not something I''m ready to do myself on a lark. I''ve rehearsed this particular tune quite a lot. Still, I''m pretty happy with how it came out. Ordinarily, you''d need a couple people playing in the same time to pull that off. And now, for the last tune, I will need a little help. Edward, would you kindly?"


    Ed pales. "Um... Would I kindly what?" - he hedges.


    Selene leans behind the chair again, and brings out the bagpipe. "Would you please play with me?" - she offers with a smile.


    Ed leans back. "Ah... Serenity, I..." - he hems.


    "Pweeeease?" - she makes doe eyes at him.


    To be fair to Edward, he held out for the whole four seconds before sighing and taking the bagpipes. "...Please don''t judge me too harshly for this." - he mutters towards us all.


    Selene giggles, and settles down, pulling her hurdy-gurdy back on the lap. "Just one song, dear, that''s all I ask." - she wheedles - "We''ll do the easy one. Remember the ''Hornpipe''?"


    Ed tilts his head, looks around, then waves his hand. "Very well, Serenity." - he says resolutely - "Start us off, please?"


    The tune they play together is less active than Selene playing alone. Medieval-sounding, almost... traditional, if that adjective is even applicable. And just as Selene claims, Ed is good. He clearly doesn''t think so, but as the tune progresses, I see him abstracting from the fact he has an audience in favor of music. He clearly likes what he''s doing. One more reason why Selene is a much better pick for him as a wife - I wouldn''t be able to do that. As in, flat out no. Maybe I could have gotten him to play bagpipes for me. Maybe. Maybe even cajoled him into making recordings, if that ever occurred to me. But to play WITH him? I am sadly unable. Unlike Selene. Who just as clearly enjoys this a lot. With that in mind, I grin. Well played, Alyssa. Well played. A point of cohesion I never expected, but it does fit into the picture. Oh, does it ever fit.


    The applause they garner as a duet is different. One before was "wow, this is incredible". One now? Well, if I were to sum the sentiment in a sentence, it would probably be "this was beautiful". Both the tune and the performers. I feel absolutely no compunctions fulfilling my part of the deal.


    "Edward?" - I offer in a lull of silence that follows.


    "Yes?" - he retorts, both nervous and somehow... defiant?


    "You should play more often." - I tell him - "You make beautiful music together."


    He straightens up. Now''s his turn to blush, it seems. "My thanks, Alyssa, but... That praise should go to Serenity, I believe." - he tries to demur.


    I''m having none of it. "Nonsense." - I tell him bluntly - "Selene is a fine musician, of that there is no doubt. But your skill is hardly lesser. Think about it. If you were not up to the task, not even the best musician in the world could have covered up your shortcomings. There is no catching the dissonant note once it comes out. Look around yourself. Do you see anyone displeased? No. Trust me on that, you are very good."


    He pinks up to his ears. "Thank you." - he offers quietly.


    A bit of hubbub follows, with the rest of our group expressing similar sentiments. And then...


    "Mohmee! Unca Ed! Saaaax!" - Cy tugs my sleeve. Selene frowns, but before she can say anything... I sigh.


    "Fair enough." - I admit, and pull up my own bag.


    "I believe the prizes for such a concert are well-earned." - I continue, as I extract the contents.


    "Sax...?!" - Selene breathes disbelievingly as I pull out a brand new shiny saxophone and hand it over to Edward, who takes it awkwardly.


    "This is saxophone." - I continue - "Another of exotic instruments that, I believe, is not going to present much problem for a bagpipe player. Selene likely knows a couple good tunes for it. As for you..."


    I glance at Selene, as I pull out the second item from the bag - "Have a melodica."


    Selene accepts it tearfully and slowly proclaims - "Best. Friends. Forever."

 Chapter 94. Quicksilver

    "You want HOW MUCH quicksilver, milady?" - alchemist repeats in a slightly horrified voice.


    "A posson." - I repeat mildly. Next to me, Alistair blinks.


    "That doesn''t seem that much." - he adds.


    "Young sir, a posson of quicksilver would weigh almost four livres." - alchemist retorts - "And it is far more than I keep at any time. Quicksilver is poisonous, you know. Gives you shakes if you don''t handle it with caution."


    Curious. This is unusually early for people to realize that heavy metals are poisonous. Then again, professor Schlagenblum did quiz me a lot on lead toxicity in the beginning of the year. Wonder how it came out. Maybe poison detection spells react to heavy metals? Oh well. Gotta tell the guy something.


    "I see. Oh well." - I reply blandly - "I won''t ask for how much you have. Guess I''ll just visit the merchant guild and place a purchase order. Maybe they have enough in stocks, but in the worst case, we''ll just have to wait a couple weeks. Sorry about that, Al."


    "Why not just buy it in parts?" - he inquires entirely reasonably.


    "How many alchemists who sell ingredients do you think there are in Parsee?" - I quip - "We''re in one place. There is another shop, if it can be called such, down in Greegney district." I pause, nod thoughtfully at alchemist''s grimace and continue - "They deal in, well... dubious merchandise. While they probably would take an order for quicksilver, if we go down there, we''re going to get ripped off or they will sell us a stolen mess that kinda sorta maybe looks like quicksilver. If you squint. No one on the market would carry it, not on the open at least. And I''d rather not clear out the only respectable alchemy shop in Parsee completely out of a rare ingredient."


    I pause, shrug, and continue - "And while I can place the order right here, it would be quicker and cheaper for me to just order it directly through Merchant Guild. I do get preferential prices as the corporation owner."


    And now alchemist looks like he just choked on his own tongue. "...Are you, by any chance, Lady Gillespie?" - he then proffers in a constricted voice.


    "I am, yes. What of it?" - I quip. He looks down.


    "I am deeply ashamed to ask, unhelpful as I have been, but... Lady Gillespie, I have had read in a newspaper that your retainer, monsieur Lamarchand, had envisioned a cure for consumption. Is it... could I... how much would..." - he stammers.


    "You don''t have consumption." - I cut him short - "So whom are you asking for?"


    "My wife and daughter, milady." - he whispers - "My wife is bedridden, and I fear she is not long for this world, and my daughter coughs her lungs out every day. I... maybe..."


    I sigh. "Bring me a sheet of paper and quill." - I tell him - "I''ll write you a note. Lemand is going to present the treatise on the method for sir Pasteur''s approbation in two days. They will need volunteers to demonstrate the method on. If you approach Lemand before then, you can get your family in on that. For free. The note is so that he knows I sent you." I pause, and lean over the table - "Don''t make me regret writing that note, monsieur. If you do, I will make you regret being born. Briefly."


    As the alchemist departs as a trot, Alistair leans to me and whispers - "Isn''t that a little harsh?"


    "He could be thinking that the cure is actually an alchemic composition and lying about his family being sick to get a sample and try to concoct his own version of it." - I explain - "Or he might actually have the sick relatives, but still doing this for the sake of obtaining the sample of cure, not to get them healthy. Or he might be trying to discredit the cure by claiming it didn''t help his sick relatives. Which is why I''m giving him a note to Lemand, because this way the cure will be applied in front of the royal physician and numerous other witnesses, giving no chance for any shenanigans. If he''s honest, then it changes nothing for him, given he''d still need to get his relatives to Lemand for treatment. If he''s not... I will make him regret being born. Briefly."


    Huffing announces that the writing utensils are here, and I busy myself jotting down a quick note (FUCKING QUILLS.), while panting alchemist admonishes Alistair quietly - "Young sir, milady had every reason to be cautious. It is a big thing, a cure for a sickness that was thought to be incurable. Many a person would sell their own mothers and daughters for a chance to find out the secrets of such a cure. Especially some of my less scrupulous colleagues. Putting one''s name on a potion that cures the consumption, why, that means fame everlasting and kingly wealth."


    "Not a potion." - I remark absentmindedly, as I hand the note to the alchemist - "Actually a magical process with several distinct and different steps. Requires several assorted mages to enact."


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    He blinks. "Ah. Now I understand why you agreed to anything at all." - he proffers - "Not that it actually matters to me how it works, so long as it does."


    ___


    We run into Mihel right past the doors of the guild. He jerks up and looks at both me and Alistair with a hefty dose of wariness.


    "Good day, Lady Gillespie." - he then proffers somewhat suspiciously - "Did something happen?"


    I blink at him. "Good day to you too, herr van der Klaas." - I offer, and notice Mihel straightening up almost imperceptibly. I could''ve sworn he just perked up. Wonder why. Oh well. "No, nothing is going on, I just need to place a purchase order for something me and Alistair are working on. Personal project, you know?" - I continue, and Mihel brightens up.


    "AAh, certainly, certainly." - he continues, as he pushes the door to the office open - "Come right in, I''ll have a clerk with you right this moment."


    Well, that''s pretty solicitous of him. "Thank you, herr van der Klaas." - I continue - "Oh, before I forget. Remember the copy machine deal?"


    Mihel pauses at the doorsill, then slowly turns around. "Ah. Well, yes, we had received a dozen for the guild''s internal needs and disbursed full payment for those. Seven outstanding purchase orders from assorted nobles within Parsee and another thirteen from other cities." - he replies slowly - "Is... there something wrong with this?"


    I chuckle. "No, no. Don''t be so wary. I''m actually fulfilling the earlier promise to let you know about more mercantile endeavors." - I explain - "There will be soon music record playing machines available from the same workshop to order. Lily-Anne will be selling records themselves through her boutique, she''ll come by sometime later to discuss distribution options with you. So... be ready for explosively popular luxury wares. Later on, once the labor has been fully trained and vetted, lady Selene will come by to register her artisanal workshop. She''s going to specialize in musical instruments. You already know Moon Unit and Lily-Anne have my backing. Lady Selene has MY backing and prince Edward''s backing, so keep that in mind."


    He blinks, processing information, then nods wryly - "Sooo... unlimited credit, not that they will ever deign to borrow anything?"


    "Pretty much, yes... Ah, excellent." - I agree just as a clerk slips into the room. He immediately parks himself at the table and pulls out a photocopy of the handwritten purchase order form. I quirk a brow at that. "Is that a temporary workaround or you''ve decided not to bother with the printing press?" - I ask Mihel.


    "Temporary, lady Gillespie." - he retorts - "Unfortunately, the printing press is not as portable as copy machines, we''re still waiting for it to arrive from Gillespie county. Should be here in two days, if the estimate dwarves gave me wasn''t off."


    "Ah. Fair enough." - I agree - "Dwarves that accompany the thing should be able to install everything by themselves, but if something goes wrong, you know where to reach me." I turn my attention back to the clerk.


    "Hello there. I want to buy a posson of quicksilver." - I tell the clerk. He jots it down dutifully, casting a questioning eye towards me. "That''s it." - I tell him blithely.


    "Ah." - is his reply, and he leaves the room with an order without another sound. I blink at Mihel. "Wasn''t he supposed to let me know the estimate for getting it together?" - I inquire.


    "I think we have that much in stock already." - he retorts uncertainly just as the clerk returns with a wicker jar in his hands. The top is corked and sealed with wax, and the liquid lazily sloshing within is definitely mercury.


    "Four d''or and three ecu, milady." - the clerk proffers crisply, as he pulls out the same purchase order and prepares the quill.


    Al hops up before I do, digging through his pocket. He lays down four gold and three silver coins on top of the purchase order. The clerk glances at me, I nod and he closes the order as sold, passing the quill over to me for signature.


    ___


    "You know?" - Alistair muses from his chair - "I thought I''ve seen something spectacular during the practicals on dueling. A feat of magic, as it were. And now I''m sitting here and thinking that yesterday, I was but a na?ve fool. That was not spectacular. Not in comparison to just how mindboggling your current performance is."


    I shrug and poke the welded seam. In order to fix Al''s version of Bec De Corbin, I had to nudge a lot of things. Reshape the beak to better follow the curvature of swing, strengthen the spike by reshaping it into a narrowing hexagon, and finally slice the face off the hammer, make a proper hollow, pour mercury in and friction-weld the face back on its place. Nothing too outstanding, just half an hour of careful nudging with telekinesis and molecular disassociation spell. Satisfied that the welded seam is entirely sealing, I dismiss the conjured water filling up the rest of the cavity, leaving it full of mercury and vacuum, then give the thing a cautious swing. Feels pretty right, so I pass Bec De Corbin to Alistair. Who takes it, hefts it, swings it very cautiously... Swears, swings it again, stares at it, then turns to me shaking his head.


    "It''s ridiculous how much the whole balance changes just because the hammerhead is filled with mercury instead of iron." - he proffers - "It feels odd when you swing it, but also... Right, I guess? I definitely have a better feel for how it will swing now."


    "Well, you should. Ah, Al, a word of warning." - I tell him - "Mercury-filled hammers are also called dead blow hammers. Be careful with it. It will strike much stronger than the bounceback would suggest. Definitely don''t bounce it off the head of any student in here, you''ll give them a concussion."


    He chuckles. "Indeed. No worries, Alyssa, I will take my time practicing moves and blows with this on wooden logs and rocks before I even consider sparring with someone I go to Academy with. It''s common sense when you''re learning to handle any unfamiliar weapon, really."


    "Oh? And you handle those often?" - I quip.


    "Not as often as I would like, actually." - he retorts - "It is hard to find something genuinely new nowadays."


    Oh-huh? Well, there is only one answer to that. "I can put together a couple more of unusual weapons, if you want learn them too." - I suggest and he grins, bowing in my direction. Kusarigama Al? Heh.


    "By all means do, if you''d be so kind. I''m getting quite tired of swords and pikes." - he proffers.


    Well... you asked.

 Chapter 95. Rite Of Builder (I Did WHAT With Cats?)

    I''m paying visits and setting things. As really befits of someone who is expecting to be away from the capital for a considerable amount of time. The plan is pretty simple. The end of the year is in two days. My airship is plodding slowly over the Champagne right now, bound for Gillespie estate, where the entirety of my family will board it to come to Parsee. There will be five days of holidays, during which there will be an official proclamation that father is now duke, and after that, we will depart. A good deal of students had failed one or more of exams, and they will be busy, but not us. This is, in fact, a significant oddity I initially did not grasp the full implications of. The Academy semesters are subdivided into two parts, matching the seasons. The first half of each semester is a condensed, material heavy course, and it is generally expected that students will fail some of the midterms, that are held in the middle of the semester. Which is what the latter half of the semester is for. During winter, those who experienced failures will be getting tutoring and practicals specifically to address their shortcomings, up to and including learning by rote memorization if they are incapable of more efficient methods. Flunking out of Academy for academic reasons is very hard, actually, they will drag you up by the scruff of your neck if necessary. Explains how the hell people like de Brege were able to graduate in spite of having rather smooth brains.


    Since all of my harem had passed the exams with flying colors, we essentially have all of the winter free. The first leg of our journey past the end of year celebration will be back to Gillespie estates, where we will spend a few days getting all of my harem more extensively familiar with my family and the Gillespie duchy in general. Including, yes, visits to the Grand Forge. Afterward, we depart for Evergreens. Moon Unit clears up the plan with the Dweezil, and he replies with acknowledgment, assurances that elves would be warned about the airship and a whole lot of incredulous befuddlement about the concept of the airship. After Evergreens, we fly eastwards, over the Kraut and Confederacy to visit Roxolane''s family, where we will stay for a few weeks. Then, we fly back over Kraut and stop over the Ashenvale. I have had sent my initial assessment of the situation there to Abe and Alphonse and got separate phonecalls from both of them. Apparently, both had expected that I would hire people to poke around and determine things. Getting back complete topographic maps with prospective tract laid out, complete with a tunnel that would circumvent the whole Great Gate entirely was not what they expected.


    Funny tidbit. My burrowers had established enough listening posts that I was able to conduct partial surveillance of Klaus. His reaction to my plans is hilarious. He studies the proffered materials, sees the extensive workup I''ve done regarding the tunnel and has an episode of... something. A lot of frustration, incredulousness and despair were expressed. Apparently, he didn''t expect I could or would bore a tunnel, but expresses his ready belief that "of fucking course she would do that, the tricky witch". Followed by frankly paranoid ruminations about me drilling a number of secret tunnels to ambush Kraut over pretty much the whole of their western border. Dunno why he thinks I would care to. He might be going spare there, because he keeps muttering something about cookies and how they apparently negate the need in sleeping. Crazy.


    Anyway, right now I''m visiting the temple to let them know I''m going to be absent, and any inquiries should go to Lemand, unless it''s beyond urgent. For that last case, I intend to give copperphone to prelate Iohann with strict admonitions that it should be used only if they''re certain I''ll appreciate the call. Though... I''m apparently not at a good time, because the insides of the temple are full of assorted stacks and piles of building materials and other resources. Wonder why they''re doing this, there doesn''t seem to be much in the way of urgent repairs needing to be done, and holidays are going to happen before any significant construction can occur... Huh. Come to think of it, I can not see any scaffolding either, just piles of materials. Curiouser and curiouser. Still, they don''t seem to mind my visit in spite of temple chambers being suspiciously empty of visitors, and bide me to have a seat while prelate is being fetched... Ah, and here he is.


    "Good day, most honorable prelate." - I offer, as I stand up to greet him.


    Iohann strolls up, all smiles as he offers - "Most auspicious, oh worthy lady Gillespie. I was about to send you a messenger."


    "Oh?" - now I''m legit curious. Putting two and two together, Iohann wants me to build something? I wonder what the hell this is all about, this is weird as fuck. I can understand maybe handing me a lump of gold or some such and asking to make some kind of enchanted item, I''m known for making those... but the piles are legit build materials. Timber, fittings, bricks, even stone blocks... Hrm, not all of them, though, here is a crate full of iron ingots... Not seeing what this comes up to, though.


    "Lady Gillespie, have you ever heard about the Rite of Builder?" - Iohann charges, smiling at my headshake - "I admit, it''s more than a little obscure. One of the old and odd parts of religion that we have inherited straightly from elves. To sum it up, some of our older texts maintain that people receiving significant divine revelations experience listlessness and discomfort in the days to come. Those odd feelings can be calmed, however, by undergoing Rite of Builder. Forgive me if I am overly presuming, but rumors have it you''ve been easing off from the frantic pace of inventions and endeavors lately, were you not? I thought I should offer you to attempt this rite, mayhaps it can bring you some peace of mind."


    I quirk a brow at him. "So that''s why there are materials all over the place. And if I am disinclined to try? What will you do with all that timber and bricks and iron?" - I ask.


    He chuckles - "Well then I just set the materials aside and task the acolytes with petty repairs during winter months. Do not worry about that, the materials will not go wasted in any case."


    "Alright then." - I agree - "What is that you want me to build, exactly?"


    Prelate chuckles - "Ah, but I have not the foggiest. That''s the idea behind the rite - to give you a chance to express whatever it was that gods have entrusted into your mind through construction. Our records are sparse, but they do describe several cases of this rite being enacted, and the end results are never predictable. Plinus the Older produced the famed Delfinia array, for example. An alley full of statues that are breathtakingly lifelike. Barakus Black had constructed a carriage and promptly used it to leave the temple and never return. Lady Olivia Marmosette had stitched a tapestry that shows different scenes depending on which angle you look at it from. Voivod Stefan Vukodlak had penned a set of laws that form the cornerstone of jurisprudence in the Transbalkan Confederacy even today. To be entirely honest, I am quite curious as to what you will construct."


    He pauses and gestures around - "Feel free to use the environs as you so wish, if necessary. The inner courtyard is also available through those gates over there, if you find yourself yearning to make your creation outdoors. As the rite commands, the areas are entirely yours to command, the whole temple will be devoid of anyone until you permit attendance."


    "Come again?" - I inquire - "And suppose I require labor to put things as I envision them? What then?"


    Prelate chuckles - "Oh, there will be a brother or sister stationed at the temple gates at all times. If you require something or someone, simply tell them about it, and they will endeavor. As for the rest of us, we will be taking time to prepare for winter celebrations at the convent kitchens and barns. And awaiting the unveiling of your craft with bated breath, of course. On that note, since I presume you are interested in attempting, let me bid you farewell and good luck, oh worthy lady Gillespie."


    He clears out as I consider the hall with a critical eye. Ok, so... I have the temple all to myself... Or do I?... Yes. Yes, I do. Prelate was dead serious when he told me that they will be leaving it to me. The only sentient person left in the temple is this woman who is reading something at the gatehouse and very clearly not intending to move, if the basket of snacks is of any indication. A surprising amount of cats, though, all over the grounds... Hm. Hmm... Hmmmmmm?


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    HMMMMMMMMMM.


    LET ME JUST... PUT IT LIKE THIS... AND... THIS. AND ABOUT THAT... YES, AND THEN... INDEED.


    ___


    FUCKBISQUITS ON A STICK. It''s like... eleven in the morning. Of the next fucking day. My harem must be going spare! I... holy shit, where are they!? Ok, no panic, no panic... It all started with the prelate, let''s locate him and... Oh. Ooh. Huh. Go figure. Ok, so girls are at the convent, having a conversation with the prelate now. Well, Lily-Anne does. Bridgit and Roxolane are for some reason pitching in with kitchen stuff... And Moon Unit is... entertaining a couple of acolytes with knife tricks, apparently. Ooh, good throw. I wonder what this is all about. Oh well, let''s not... shoggoth on them too much. So I come out of the temple, brushing off my sleeves as I go... And then aboutface and march right back in to figure out the fuck I actually did, first.


    Ok, so... This is a thing. I poke the key, and the resulting tone makes me jerk back. Joy fucking joy. Epic church organ - constructed. Actually... Wait. What the... Just... How?! Oh. Oh, that''s clever of me. And... huh. Ok, so... here''s the drum section, controlled from this part of the keyboard... And those are string sections... Why two of the... Oh, one is strikers like a piano and the other is pinchers like harpsichord... Aaand here are more pipes, hrm... That covers a LOT of range, actually those red keys in the end should... Hah, ok, that explains why they''re red. Tones so low are... interesting. So... Oh. OOoh, I''m being possibly TOO clever... or maybe not. That should work pretty well. Ok, so... Ah. Wait, what... The fuck. The fuckity fuck is THIS? So... harmonics and... oh. Huh. HUUUUH.


    So. Prelate was WAY too fucking right for my tastes. This is a straight up artifact thing. Simply putting up a musician to play simple tunes would be continuously blessing and healing people who hear this. And more complex music will have more complex benefits, too. Up to and including straight up buffs to strength, agility and most remarkably intellect. Go listen to temple music, come back inspired. Ok... So... prelate is definitely not going to be disappointed, but... I can''t play this. As in, straight up can''t... But I think I know someone who does. OK, sorry, girls, but you''ll have to take advantage of convent hospitality a bit longer.


    "Hello?" - I offer, as I peek into the gatehouse. Yesterday''s woman is gone, and if my nose is right, this is the fourth shift change... And the guy is napping. Thankfully, not too tight.


    "Aaah!... Oh goodness gracious, many pardons, oh worthy lady Gillespie." - he yelps as he jerks up to hop off the chair and bow hastily - "How may I serve?"


    "I need someone to go to Academy and fetch lady Selene." - I tell him - "I require her advice for the rite."


    Much to my relief, he just nods and hurries outside. Well, either he decided to do it personally, or he''s gonna catch a boy on the street and give him a denier to run an errand. Either way, that''s handled. Let''s see what else I did... Oh. Ohh, huh. Wait, what?... What... WHAT?! What the fuck... Why?! Just... but... That... OK... WHAT KIND OF JOKE THIS IS!?


    I hurry inside, climb to the rafters and crouch next to the inconspicuous set of cat flaps set into the wall... Cats come out. Lots of them. All of them with a distinct coloration change. Arranging themselves across the grid etched into this quiet section of rafters with, admittedly, outstanding acoustics to hear the instrument clearly but without being overwhelmed regardless of what notes come out.


    "Mew mew meow."


    So... I accidentally feline clergy. Who are continuously intellect-bolstered by this organ, capable of adapting "worthy cats" from the street which will bestow intellect enhancement and the "priestly" coloration, and most importantly - all of them are capable of bestowing minor blessings all of their own. Presumably, the covenant being that humans provide food and cats boost up the temple''s blessing capability by milling with the crowd of people visiting and giving them minor blessings they seek. Oh, they also have hierarchy and elect a hierophant who possesses the ability or right to communicate with humans via this oija board like thing. Which is a straight up enchantment, because he pokes the letters and they light up on the marquee.


    "So... no hard feelings?" - I inquire mostly out of mental inertia.


    "Much joy, the great one. It be cat destiny to be godly." - they write back. Well... fine then.


    "What''s the plan?" - I have to ask.


    "We home. We bless. We teach. We spread." - they respond. Hm. So they intend to settle in, try out how it goes, and then start taking in cats from the street to teach them and send them out to other temples to catify them? Oh well.


    "Sounds good to me. Let me know if there is any problem." - I tell them and they take a synchronous bow, then retire back into their domiciles. Which are pretty spiffy. And magicked up the wazoo... And I have apparently made arrangements to bring up cat artificers who can set up similar things... Ok, this is ridiculous. First dwarves, and now cats? The second being a straight up case of uplift?... Just... Gah. Just GAH! Fuck it all with a wrong end of the broom, just... WHY ME!? Why do I keep doing this weird shit, I''m not even from Japan!... Arglbargl.


    ___


    "...Cheating, blatant cheating, and you." - Selene repeats numbly as she takes in the entirety of organ and accompanying instruments - "So... this is some kind of unholy abomination that is an organ, fortepiano, harpsichord and drum set? Oh, and assorted pipes and bells that would require extra training just to figure out when to use them and what for? Oh, and all of it is magic and will actively bamf everyone with assorted benefits as the music twists it? No problem. It''s just an artifact piece of music machinery that makes me wet at the knees... I mean weak at the knees, shut up!"


    She reddens up and swats me on the shoulder - "So anyway, my point is.. this is ALL? Right? There is no extra strong punchline coming after this? Right? Please?"


    I ruffle the back of my head sheepishly, offering - "...I think I also accidentally cat clergy."


    Selene.exe had stopped working.


    ...


    ...


    ...


    "You WAT!?" - is the end sum of her consideration. So I take Selene up to the rafters, show her the cat area, introduce her to cats, who promptly respond that she is "First Musician" and I wonder just how the hell did they figure that one out...


    "Alyssa, be honest with me." - Selene demands - "Are you some kind of eldritch abomination delighting in depriving the world of sense and reason? Cat clergy, really? What did you DO to poor critters!? How... why... Just... why!?"


    UUUH... "Ask me no questions and I''ll tell you no lies?" - I hedge - "I legit don''t know how far on the scale of "eldritch abomination" does instinctual bioplasticity go."


    She stares at me. For a while. "...Can you do tentacles?" - she then inquires curiously.


    "...Yes. Yes I can. And yes, I know how to apply tentacles to schoolgirls, to preempt your next question." - I deflect.


    "...We will be discussing that at length later. Much later." - she promises - "Once things with everyone''s marital status settles down."


    I... What? Is she... Just... What exactly she''s implying?!... Fine, whatever, we can figure this out later. So long as she''s not telling me she has second thoughts about marrying Ed, we''re fine.


    "If you say so. For now, can you please poke around that thing I built and try playing something simple on it?" - I request - "I understand it''s stupidly sudden, but I have literally no one else who would have even the beginnings of a clue on how to do it, other than you."


    "How do you manage to build all that stuff without knowing how to play?" - she huffs as she sits down at the keyboards. A bit of poking and tapping follows. Nabad, nabad. She stops, turns and looks at me - "And how do you manage to make the instruments perfectly in tune if you have no clue how to play them, for that matter? Alright, fine... I suppose this is going to be a good ad for me too. Gonna have me a busy winter teaching the acolytes here how to play this musical monstrosity, I hope they have a couple with decent enough sense of rhythm."


    She turns back to it, running her fingers over the keyboard from one end to another, producing a clean scale. "Ok, this works out even better than I thought... and I have a good tune in mind, too." - she mutters - "Ok, so go call in prelate and whoever else is going to be dealing with this insanity you wrought upon the temple."


    "Fine, fine. What are you going to play?" - I request.


    "Surprise. I''m pretty sure you know the tune, let''s just say it would be seasonal. And a little bit nostalgic." - she grins at me - "Shoo, go fetch everyone. The sooner they get here, the sooner you hear what I had in mind."


    ___


    So... the end collection is my entire harem (like they would miss a chance to see me showing off, heh), prelate Iohann and pretty much the entire management part of the temple. Aka, everyone who isn''t currently cooking or cleaning up the convent territory. I''m guessing they would be providing a part of celebration feasting, given the volumes of food prepared.


    "...Well... This is certainly... elaborate." - Iohann offers after taking a look at the refurbished hall, now neatly lined up with pipes - "But what is the purpose of this machinery?"


    "Lady Selene is here to demonstrate this, actually." - I explain as I point her out sitting at the keyboards off to the side - "As I''m unfortunately not good with music."


    And that''s the cue for Selene to hit it... Ooh. That IS a familiar tune. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, if I am right. Given we''re about to have this world''s equivalent of Christmas/New Year, it''s fitting, I suppose. Not that anyone else recognizes the tune. Everyone is mondo impressed, though.

 Interlude 15. A King And A Prelate Walk Into A Bar…

    ...or they would have in a less formalist society. As it was, the king and the prelate entered a private audience room in the castle. Abraham took one look at the shellshocked prelate and shouted down the corridor for mulled wine and cold cuts. Iohann nodded thankfully.


    "...Much obliged, old friend." - he sighed - "And the thing is, I can not complain because I literally asked for it!"


    Abraham snorted. "Iohann, if there is something I learned this autumn, is that you do not ask lady Gillespie to just ''make something''. Because she WILL." - he proffered wryly - "Now, take a moment, sit down, gather your thoughts. Drink a bit. Then tell me about it."


    Prelate sat down heavily and rubbed his forehead. "Cat clergy. Just... why. And how. But mostly, WHY?!" - he groused - "Now, I am quite happy that between the musical artifact and holy cats, our temple pretty much blesses people with all sorts of good things by itself, but... why cats?!"


    "Probably the first suitable thing she found." - king offered to him placidly - "I''ve seen how she works and I''ve heard plenty of reports. When she''s in the fey mood like this, whatever''s handy goes into use, and if nothing''s suitable, she just conjures it."


    "Lady Gillespie is the most powerful case of divine enlightenment that our country had ever seen, yes. And blisteringly clever on top of that, too. Add one to another, and..." - Iohann trailed off - "Actually, there is also a third part. If it was just the first two, she''d be an artificer of great renown, but her crafts would be one-off uniques. Artifacts. Curios. Treasures. Instead, we have someone who not only can create like she were an embodiment of Argyl, but also to teach the common craftsmen how to achieve it."


    "That''s actually a very curious thing about her." - Abe commented thoughtfully - "The way she breaks down what she does into little bits that can be taught to passably bright commoners. Teaching the entirety of it to a single person looks very daunting, but if a craftsman can be allowed to hone their skill on making one bit? A manufactory is the word, I believe. A number of artisans, each crafting one detail, and a mechanist that would oversee the process and put the details together. That''s what the dwarves are doing in the Grand Forge, according to the reports of duke Gillespie. And his own people, I gather."


    "I wonder sometimes." - prelate mused - "Just what is that she is trying to build to try and make all of the kingdom into one, what did you call it... manufactory?"


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Oh, I wondered about that too." - Abraham chuckled - "According to her? A brighter future."


    "More prosperous one, in any case." - Iohann agreed - "Although... will it be happier future? I can hardly think everyone would be content with a role of but one cog in the machine..."


    "Come now. If she truly thought happiness is how much you can craft, why would she build a musical instrument, of all things?" - Abe objected thoughtfully - "She knows the value of art. To wit, she even encouraged my haphazard son to embrace his skill with bagpipes as something worthy of respect. No, I hardly think she would make everyone into cogs. Some people, sure, but she knows the value of not forcing square pegs into round holes. Those who become the cogs will be ones who accept it."


    He shrugged, took a long sip from his goblet, and smiled. "Now, tell me about this cat clergy of yours. What is this all about?"


    "Exactly what it sounds like." - Iohann retorted - "We had a number of cats in the temple, mostly because they keep the rat numbers down and are quite impossible to expel even if we wanted them gone. Now? There are cat domiciles in the rafters. And a gizmo of some sort that permits their, uh... hierophant, she called it... To write words for us to read. It seems that cats understand us just fine, they just can''t talk back... Or, at least, the cats in the temple. I asked, and turns out your average housecat is by their measure ''bigly stupid''. But if taken into temple and allowed to stay there and listen to that musical artifact of hers? They smarten up. And learn some light magic. Not like we do, obviously, a cat can hardly hold a flower. But like creatures do. Quite simply, you sit down, wait for a cat to jump on your lap, you pet the cat, and voila, you''re blessed. I have very mixed feelings about that, Abraham. On one hand, this is tremendously convenient and frees up the acolytes and priests to attend to more complicated tasks. On other, I can''t help but feel a little devalued by the fact a simple cat can bless as well as I do."


    "Well, if it helps you sleep better, consider this." - Abe mused - "The cats are but simple creatures. Perhaps the reason why they can bless is simply because they neither comprehend nor care for the evils a man can harbor."


    He quirked his brow at Iohann, whose expression at the moment could most aptly be summed up as "bamboozled".


    "...Good gods." - Iohann proffered at last - "That does help, strangely enough. Of course they can bless, for they know no sin."


    "So? What are your plans regarding your unexpected reinforcements?" - his friend quipped.


    "Actually, well... Apparently, there are also facilities that help the cats train up the, uh... Catification party." - prelate admitted - "Basically, a team of them complete with artificers that could build suitable domiciles in the other temples and inhabit them to spread the cat service, as it were. In short, there are provisions to eventually furnish every major temple in the kingdom with their own cat clergy to help the human clergy out. Gods help me, but lady Gillespie does not think small..."

 Chapter 96. Long-Awaited Arrivals

    FUCKING PRELATE. FUCKING TEMPLE! FUUUUUUCKING CATS! This was supposed to be a vacation start! Not the "oops I accidentally fundamental truths". Again. AAAARGH.


    Ok. Fine. Whatever. It seems to be fairly well self-managing, at least. But good grief, I so do not need yet another metric fuckton of publicity on top of everything. Because of course priests did not even think about keeping this quiet. Nope, no way. Let''s instead tell everyfuckingoneever that "Lady Gillespie did it again! Not sure what that is and why, but she totally did it." My only saving grace is that we DO depart in the evening. The airship is ready, the luggage is ready, all the possible matters have been settled, in spite of my best efforts to pile in even more issues to deal with, arglbargl.


    So... last doublecheck. Everyone who needs to be alerted is alerted? Yes. Affairs sorted out and set to take care of themselves? Yes. Outstanding issues to deal with? None. Rooms? Cleaned up and prepared to be covered up for the duration of our absence. So... What else is there to... do?... Oh. Ooh. OOOOOOH fuckbisquits why.


    To explain my most recent bout of dismay? My long-play with the assassin heads had borne fruit. And how. This person? That''s the fucking Old Man On The Mountain himself. I''ve had been given descriptions of him, and he matches them to the tee. Golly, that''s quite a lot of people around. Some of them interestingly garbed and armed, too. Not quite the Assassin''s Creed here, but they do wear this distinct set of clothes inside of their own keep. Presumably, to set the "chosen" apart from the commoners tending to the daily humdrum any fortification tends to invite. So what do we have here... Huh. That''s actually pretty neat. Unlike the historic Alamut, this settlement is built inside the caldera of an extinguished volcano, and the keep encircles it, being cut into the crater edges and built atop it. Impressive, and the resulting fortified town could probably last for decades if sieged. There are gardens inside, and volcanic ash grounds are probably pretty fertile, so starving them out is not a problem. Wonder how they handle water, though, volcano should... Ooh. Hot springs. Gods damn it, that''s like... the perfect spot for a stronghold.


    So... What do I do about it?... Oh. Yeah. No. Not tolerating this. Now, they''re... ah. Good. I was wondering if they will bury the heads, but apparently when it''s only a few remnants of a body, they just put them on the memorial pillars in the mausoleum of sorts. Huh, that''s funny. Lots of unoccupied pillars, but each one has an inscription... Do they put a pillar in as soon as one gets indicted? Morbid.


    I leave the heads and mausoleum behind. Nothing worthwhile in there. Note to self - experiment with mass shunting sometimes. How do I do it? And can it be done by someone else? Because it''s not the teleportation trick I cribbed from oijans. Might be my own quantum fuckery that I simply didn''t look into deep enough... Oh well, time to think about it later. Right now, infestation. Let''s go full-on zerg on this place. First... Infiltrate and survey. There is remarkably little magic around here... And what little there is seems to be dedicated to detection. But detection of large beings. My eyespiders are flatly ignored by the magical tripwires, for the lack of a better term. Wonder why. Some kind of aversion to magic? Or just lack of aptitude? Or maybe they see little reason to bother and only put those out of a sense of duty and tradition rather than any actual security consideration? That is, if they even use those. So far all that I have found had been made decades ago at least, and lasted so long mostly due to not having been tripped at all. Hm.


    Ok, so... Dudes are pretty distributed. They basically have a perimeter keep and they keep themselves spread all over the thing. Not really enough of them to hold the place in case of all-out siege, but I imagine townfolk join in in that case. As it is, they have the high ground, they have a lot of empty space at an incline that makes even a horseback charge a problem, nevermind bringing up the siege towers and catapults. Basically, the only way to really apply pressure to them is to commit for an all-out assault and hope the element of surprise holds out. Which would be devilishly hard to pull off, given the clear space around the thing. Siege engines are a no-go, hashishins will kill the crews with arrows and magic before they manage to set anything up. Trebuchet could probably apply the pressure from outside the easily shootable range, but it would be quite a feat to actually find a place around that could support that kind of machinery AND have some sort of view to the keep. Cannons would wreck their shit, of course, but that''s still in the future.


    So, in conclusion. The only feasible way to attack this place without relying on improbably lucky circumstances? Infiltration or betrayal. Or being an eldritch abomination that considers mortal constraints to be more of a masquerade guideline than anything else. Hm. So... set up "hatchery" here, here and here, let them think they have a fighting chance, I don''t want mass suicides out of desperation, that would be just depressing to cause. Now, let''s start simple... I''m going to take that assorted gravel and garbage and make basic golems out of them. Little ones. Nothing more than essentially wandering magical landmines. Once they''re sufficiently spooked to search the castle, they''re gonna run into more biological issues. Creep... Which is just a bunch of moss and plants smushed into a sort of communal plant that''s reddish-violet in color... And ooh, that''s nice. It actually gives a decent massage. Well, to ME. To the folks here it would cause extensive blistering due to highly acidic secretions covering it. Plants - mother nature''s chemical processing facilities. Once they get over that, the actual monsters are gonna start. In the end, I went with an unholy hodgepodge of zerg, xenomorphs, necromorphs and other assorted "biomenace" imagery. Nothing slow-acting, though, I don''t have the patience to cocoon those guys or whatever. Some infectors, though. Because having their dead pals "reanimate" and come after them is gonna net me some hilarious expressions, I just know it.


    Stolen story; please report.


    Hm. OK, so... do I go for decapitating strike as the opening, or do I leave the Old Man for the last entree?... OOh, what''s that? That''s some interesting papers you have there, grandpa... And interesting portraits of my wives... and I do not like where this is going at all, so you''re going to... Hrm. Actually, that worries me. Worries me enough that my actual opening gambit is to wait till the scribe steps out to the restroom, drop a lot of mass on him and tentacle-probe his brains out. Hrm. Less info than I wanted. I suppose it would be too much to hope to just learn oijan like this. Still, the impression of his memories is pretty clear. Since attempts on me and on my parents failed miserably, hashishins had the bright idea to target my wives. The people with the orders are to depart in the evening, actually, the whole decision was prompted by the head show. No matter, none of them... is going to leave. In fact, I think I just scarfed the last of the people who got the order. Some of them very publicly, with raptor-like shapes that I shamelessly ripped off zerglings.


    The ongoing entertainment is... entertaining. After verifying that arrows do preciously little against my raptor and that it responds by biting off roughly half of the annoying shooter had made the present forces retreat backward, shouting down the corridors as they go. Apparently, some kind of pre-arranged signal to group up and defend. Aaand, they run straight into my golem mines. About a quarter of them dies as they set off several at once and a moment after, when spooked people jump on a few more of them and set them off as well. I take advantage of resulting chaos to send a couple of raptor-shapes charging through the crowd, bowling them over and grabbing some of the guys I tentatively pegged as important by the necks and dragging them along.


    For the next few hours, I toy with them, letting them slowly consolidate and group up while constantly harassing groups with mines and hit-and-run abductions (which I kill shortly after, as most of them visibly shatter their marbles on a first good look) and gradually pare them down. Those who set off towards the exits of any sort are targeted and eaten with extreme prejudice to discourage the gang from trying to run. So... Here we go. The majority of surviving hashishins are barricading themselves in this tower... And I''m corralling the rest of them towards it. The brouhaha caught some attention from the village. This is intentional, I''m going to make it sound and look suspicious enough for everyone involved with the keep to come looking... but not quite at the point where villagers decide it''s time to make a break for it. I want to separate the martial populace from civilians.


    Hashishins seem to think that getting higher up is safer. Hm. So instead of clustering to one tower, they are gravitating towards the nearest one. Let''s... change that up a little. Maybe? Rapidly filling several of the less populated towers with assorted "biomass" while messily killing people within seems to be clue enough for them that safety is only in the numbers and the lesser populated towers get abandoned in favor of more populated ones. I''ve put up a bastardized version of hydralisks out on the overviews, to discourage any attempts to just climb down the wall. So they move from tower to tower in quick dashes now. Good, good.


    This is actually pretty therapeutic, come to think of it... Aaand somewhat disturbing when I think about it. I really should not be destressing by subjecting a number of militant people to gorehorror. Oh well. Let''s see, what''s next... Ah, acid butterflies. OOh, that was a nice effect. Ok, so... that''s the last tower of the hashishins. The rest of the towers are abandoned, and I''ve slaughtered everyone who wasn''t driven into this one... Now... Oh, yes, now the village is sending in a party... Hm. The tower was able to put out some kind of signal. Oh, they set fire to a flag. Very evocative, that. So I let the "rescue party" come up within easy reach of the tower, subtly harrying them with disturbing sounds and flicks of motion, but not giving them any indication on what is going on. Ah, the tower decides to sally... Jolly good timing.


    I crush the rescue party. Literally. A couple of towers next to the one in question shudder and shed the stone shell, the flesh within heaving globes of acidic mucus on top of the doomed party. Which is crushed and melted in short order, prompting a lot of despair in the tower with survivors. I let the "towers" collapse on themselves, no reason to let villagers see more than distant glimpses of some kind of calamity. They appear to be lacking any sort of martial presence by now, I guess everyone who was used to fighting went with the rescue party. Now... the tower.


    It appears that people are really losing their marbles there. Oh. Well, that''s just peachy, because the Old Man was just beheaded by his own disciples and head tossed down to me, apparently in hopes that I will grant mercy for this act of betrayal. Actually... why not? In the next moment, every single clump of mass I have secreted through the tower conjures a needle. Frangible design, it would on the environs density change split into sectors and fan out. The survivors so far are.. well. Shredded would be the best way to describe it. I am quite confident none of them had lived long enough to process the signals enough to understand they''re dead. And that is a wrap. Pulling the mass back is an effort, but trivial in comparison. I do leave plenty of me secreted throughout the keep, dormant, just in case someone gets the bright idea to restart. The remains (whatever I didn''t eat, at least) are all piled into a messy pile in front of the gates, with Old Man''s head on top. All the documents I could find went into the fireplace along with a generous helping of fire magic.


    Hashishins... exterminated. I wonder if I should make another public push... Nah. Too early. Salaadin needs to verify his "trump" turned out to be a low card. I wonder if that would be enough to make him willing to negotiate, or I would need to deprive Sultanate of something else later to get him to swallow the pride. Time will tell, I suppose.


    ___


    Back in Parsee, things are processing apace. Lily-Anne returns from her visit to her folks (she went to see Abe and Monica before going on a vacation with me, which is eminently understandable and I would have suggested it if she didn''t do it first), we all pile onto the ship and depart the Academy amidst much fanfare from students and professors alike. I wonder if they''re glad to send me off to vacation or just glad to see me going?


    "Well then..." - I suggest as I lock the course and turn around to face my girls - "Vacation ahoy."

 Chapter 97. Forgetful Me

    It is a little bit awkward. Because, apparently, none of us know how to handle the vacation. Well, except for Cy, who after a brief pause breaks the silence with a cheerful demand for lunch. Which we all end up participating in, much to Bridgit''s disgruntled grumbling.


    "You do remember that you are also on vacation, dear?" - I tease her in response. And Bridgit promptly reddens and retreats back mumbling something about mistresses who are ridiculously prone to spoiling their maids. She does insist on setting the table at least, even if we all pitched in with the lunch in one way or another.


    "So let us recap." - I begin - "The plan is as following... First we visit the Gillespie estate properly, give Cy a couple days to play with her uncles and grandparents, visit Grand Forge and generally look around the place where I grew up." I nod towards Moon Unit - "Then, we fly back south a little to visit Evergreens. Speaking of which, did you call Dweezil yet?"


    She shrugs. "I did, but I am planning on making another call a few days before departure, at the very least." - Moon Unit responds sweetly - "Dweezil says that Conclave is very interested in meeting all of us and that admonishments had already been made to everyone not to do anything... foolhardy."


    Nodding, I continue - "So we spend a couple days in Evergreens. Some elves can be a little, uh... intense, let''s say, so if any of you are feeling pressured, staying on the airship is always an option. I''m honestly not sure how things are going to be."


    "Ah, I am not that worried." - Moon Unit parries lightly - "If you were just a noble, then yes, some shenanigans might have had happened. But you''re not, you''re the Tool of Gods. No one would dare annoy you."


    "Well, that hinges on them believing I am such." - I retort - "I''m not exactly planning on showing off any true forms as you call them, if it can be helped."


    "Well, no one would blame you for, ahem... Instructing some of the hotheads on proper caution." - she grins back at me, and I''m yet again surprised just how much barely restrained malice suddenly surfaces behind that smile for a moment. I guess there were REASONS why Moon Unit prefers to spend her life outside the Evergreens. Note to self - ferret out which of the elves are so eager to irritate my elven waifu and put the fear of me into them.


    "Well, that''s our next week, then." - I continue - "Then we fly east, over Kraut, make a nightly stopover at Nornburg to look around on the market, then proceed further east over the Confederacy all the way to Kraina."


    "Um... Mistress, what''s in Nornburg?" - Bridgit asks after a moment''s pause.


    "Garlic?" - I respond with a shrug - "I just picked the town as a convenient stop-over point for us to stretch our legs on firm ground, otherwise we''d have to spend close to three days locked up on the airship. I figure we get some fresh food there, some Kraut delicacies, look around... I mean, I never was in Nornburg, how about you girls?"


    A chorus of denial is returned, though Bridgit hums speculatively. "I think I was there with my father, but I was about three years old back then, so... I don''t remember much." - she offers - "So it''s just a stopover, not another scheme?"


    "I swear, I did NOT plan anything of the sort. Just a stop to poke around and be tourists for the night." - I confirm.


    Roxolane raises her hand then. "I need to know, how long are we going to stay in Kraina?" - she asks - "My father asked me to find out, so he could make some preparations."


    I shrug. "Up to you, honestly." - I tell her - "It''s your parents. We have until the first of Ventos to plan as we see fit. Speaking of which, all staying times are subject to amendment as the mood dictates. If any of you feel like spending more time at Gillespie estates, Grand Forge or Evergreens, feel free to mention. Or even suggest an additional waypoint you want to visit. So long as we have about three days before the end of Pluvos to get back to Parsee, world''s our oyster."


    "Sooo... if we want to tour the important cities of Confederacy?..." - Lily-Anne drawls.


    "Then you draw me the itinerary on the map and we''ll discuss how to make it happen, dear." - I tell her and she sighs.


    "Alyssa, wasn''t the point of vacation to let you relax?" - she chides.


    "But... this is how I relax." - I object - "Ask dad or mom if you don''t believe me, they''ll tell you... Ask Bridgit, even, we basically grew up together. Bridgit, honey, how do I usually relax?"


    "By doing more work, mistress." - she reports dutifully - "In spite of my best efforts to get you to settle down, I might add."


    "So yes, I''m totally relaxing here, by letting you decide on things." - I agree happily, electing to overlook the rebuke she weaves into the answer. I''d love to just sit down as they want me to do, apparently, but I''d climb walls. Literally! I''ll climb on the wall and caterwaul.


    ___


    We''re proceeding apace. And the things inside the airship settle down as well. I... did not truly comprehend just how tired everyone was from the finals. Even Cy had opted for an afterdinner nap. The only thing that I have to question right now is... Why is everyone napping on me? I mean, I did design my personal cabin with a huge bed, so it''s not a problem, but... I just... I thought everyone would want to sequester themselves to personal cabins. That everyone needed a bit of break from me as well. Instead, all of my girls had elected to slip into my room, jump on my bed, find the most comfortable part of me to their liking, and snooze off with me as a pillow. This is nice. And comfy. And relaxing. And... And... aaand... Oh gods why. I''m feeling sappy about it.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Fine. Nevermind. It''s awkward and embarrassing and weird and I''m just gonna revel in the experience for a while. For the whole, hm... Thirty minutes or so that remain before we touch down in the field next to the estate. I should probably build a proper mooring berth for my zeppelin there, I foresee visiting my folks via air a lot. Maybe build a personal zeppelin for dad, he might find it useful.


    Actually, I should probably start on... No, that''s getting ahead of myself. There''s a thousand and one thing I need to put into production first before I can consider opening the zeppelin manufacturing facilities. Hm. Actually, come to think of it... Let me just...


    I reactivate my instance in the Grand Forge... And blink. Apparently, dwarves paid notice which shed I used to "retreat" into, because it''s now decorated and... huh. I peek outside, and there is a guard at the door, too. Double huh. I tap him on the shoulder, and he whirls around with a yelp. Pretty young for a dwarf, probably about twenty or so. Teenager, by our cognizance.


    "Lady Gillespie!" - he proffers reverently, bowing deeply - "How can Grand Forge be of assistance?"


    "At ease, lad." - I tell him - "What''s your public name?"


    "Me, oh? I be John, milady." - he answers. His Albish is much clearer than the brogue Rory has. Probably brought up in Champagne, in mixed company. Nabad, nabad.


    "Alright, John. Are you supposed to stand guard here? Actually, why are you people even guarding this particular shed? I just used the first building that was nearby." - I inquire.


    "Well, milady, we do remember your admonishment not to look when you step over the world''s boundary, so it seemed prudent to safeguard the place of egress..." - he proffers back - "Should we not?"


    I scratch my head. "Well, I don''t mind, but it''s just a shed." - I admit - "We can make it my official teleport exit, if you people prefer, but frankly I just popped up here because I already used it once. If it''s an inconvenience, I can easily use a different spot."


    "Oh, no, no, it''s no trouble it all, milady. In fact, this whole area was designated to be cleared out, now that we have more kin to do the labor. Foreman Rory said you have explained to him the necessity of parks and leisure places for the healthiness of folk, so.. " - he trails off and gestures around him. The area indeed looks in the process of being carefully dismantled.


    "I really should talk to Rory about city planning." - I muse - "I have some plans on this, and you people look at the right point of the build-up to integrate those. Alright, so... John, are you required to keep watch on this place or I can commandeer you to show me around for a bit?"


    "Oh, I''m here to be at milady''s service, should milady visit." - he answers easily.


    "Very well." - I tell him - "Take me to the forgehall, I want to check on something."


    As we walk, he starts in deferential silence, but after a few minutes and several answers to my comments and questions, thaws out a bit and starts asking questions of his own.


    "I have always wondered about the different steel shines." - he proffers - "Why is that different steel comes out depending on what color it was shining when cast?"


    "Well, that one is pretty simple." - I muse - "First thing you need to understand is that steel is not, technically speaking, a metal. It''s an alloy of iron and carbon."


    "Beg your pardon, milady, but what is carbon?" - he pipes up.


    "Carbon is the basis of coal, putting it simply. Coal, graphite, diamond - all of those are carbon in different forms." - I explain absentmindedly.


    "...Wait, what? But... how? How can a coal be a diamond, milady?" - he asks.


    "Well... get me a piece of coal, I''ll show you." - I tell him. As we are almost next to the forge hall, there are several other dwarves listening in already, with great interest. I show them the "smash coal into diamond" trick once he fetches a lump, and all of them stare wide-eyed at the result.


    "It''s simply a matter of applying sufficient pressure and purging the impurities." - I explain - "You do not have the tools to do this yourselves properly, but eventually, you will. Diamond dust is the next major step in your toolmaking, once you get a handle of different steels, we will design a machine that will produce diamond dust to apply to the edges of drills and cutters, so that they can cut all sorts of rock and metal. This is a bit advanced right now, you''d need more machinery than just steam engines to properly use this technology, but I''m confident it will not be long until you can. But today, I''m here about a slightly different topic. I''ve been told you had found enough limestone for your building needs. Fetch me some examples of what you have in abundance, there is something I want to test."


    It takes a little while of messing around with limestone and pumice ash to make a decent cement mix. There is a veritable crowd of dwarves around by now. Someone apparently went to fetch Rory, because I see him in the distance riding pell-mell in a cart directly towards the place I''m experimenting at.


    "Mylady, me apologies fer not bein'' there ta greet ya face ta face." - he shouts as soon as he''s up close, jumping off the cart and bowing deeply.


    "Rory, relax. I can hardly expect you to be there if I didn''t call ahead, now can I?" - I object - "Anyway, check this out. This is called cement. It''s a sort of mortar that is hard enough to cast building blocks out of it and to pour the foundations with."


    He peers intently at the block of cement I flash-dried. It''s small, obviously, and they can''t get away with doing the same kind of flash-drying with bigger structures, but for a demonstration it''s sufficient.


    "I see. That oughta help the construction... but what is this fine powder you brought with?" - he inquires.


    "Volcanic ash." - I tell him, and dwarves collectively jerk back, their faces darkening as they recall the fall of their original land.


    "You see, I have been thinking on the topic of Ashenvale." - I continue - "It is a shame to just let the place die, don''t you think? So, I started experimenting with the ash to see what can be done about it."


    I pause and shrug at the expressions growing slack, as they begin to grasp the implications - "As it was agreed between the kings of Kraut and Champagne, the old tract through Ashenvale is to be rebuilt if at all possible. And it is. I am going to oversee the project. But I''m not content with just rebuilding the road there. It won''t happen in a year or in a decade, probably, but eventually... Eventually, I will see you and your people retake the Ashenvale as your own."


    The triumphant roar of dwarves shakes the walls.


    ___


    While I''m stoking dwarven enthusiasm, the other instance of me lands the zeppelin and gently wakes up my family from their nap. "Wakey-wakey, everyone." - I tease them - "We''re at the estate."


    Much to my surprise, when I open the doors of the zeppelin, there is a whole family in front of me. All dressed in traveling clothes, with servants behind toting a number of chests and sacks.


    "Hello there, Alyssa." - father quips gayly - "Thank you for coming to pick us up."


    "Pick you up?" - I repeat dumbly.


    He shakes his head at me - "We must all be present in Parsee for the Year''s Unending, remember? I''m being officially pronounced as duke Gillespie?"


    I... forgot about that entirely. FUUUUUCK.

 Chapter 98. Recreational Tinkering

    Well... shit. And fuck. And fucking shit. I HAVE to be in the capital for this. And honestly, so does Lily-Anne. And... it kind of looks like everyone assumed I remembered and planned it like this... Holy shit, I was THIS close to fucking this up. If I decided to go to Evergreens before going to the estate, for example? Damn, I need to write this shit down. Actually... I wonder if I forgot other things like this... Meh. Recalling stuff is not an issue, I remember everything with photographic clarity, but... the bit that ties memories with timing is wonky. I... Ugh.


    As I stand there, family troops into the ship, greets my wives and generally settles in, along with a number of servants. I guess dad remembered what I told him about limits of ship capacity, at least. Sighing, I turn around and troop back in, taking a good look at the circumstances. Everything seems to be in order.


    "Everyone settled?" - I ask out loud - "Everyone who departs is on board, everyone who stays is on the ground? Everything necessary loaded?"


    As I get a wave of affirmatives and agreements back, my mood plummets further. This is... a problem. For now, I take the airship back into the air, steer it around and set it on the course towards the Parsee.


    ___


    "Well, that just reaffirms what I already told you, dear. You need to take a good long rest." - mother chides gently.


    "Indeed." - dad reinforces from his side - "Thankfully, nothing complicated had come out of this, so take heed of this and do better next time. No harm, no foul, as they say."


    I sigh. Maybe I shouldn''t have told them that I forgot, but this worries me. So far I was winging it, and it''s clearly not cutting it anymore. So... What can I do to mitigate the problem? The basic solution is to keep notes. Maybe also hand over a copy of things to someone else so I''d get a reminder if I''m missing something...


    "Bridgit?" - I request tiredly - "I have a favor to ask. If I fail to mention something that sounds important to you, can you please remind me? I am going to start writing my plans down, because at this rate, it''s not a matter of if I forget something important, but when."


    She nods, biting her lip lightly. "Mistress, you really should give more tasks instead of trying to handle everything yourself." - she proffers - "And not just us, you have a whole trading house. Give them the routine to handle, that''s what they''re for."


    Hrm. She''s not wrong, but... I need something done first.


    "I have a thing in mind." - I muse slowly - "Alright, everyone... I''m going to tinker a bit, I think I have an idea to help with this. Ship''s locked on the course, so just kick back and relax and do whatever, alright?"


    They don''t seem particularly reassured, but seem to be willing to let me try and handle this first. So when I retreat to the room I set aside for workshop (of course my flying residence would have a workshop, what kind of shoggoth do you think I am?), everyone settles in to do their own thing. Mom goes to nap, dad and Lily-Anne are discussing something, managing to draw Roxolane into the discussion before long, Moon Unit takes out my book on inorganic chemistry and starts jotting something down, Bridgit takes it upon herself to organize other servants into manning the kitchen and shuffling the things around for best comfort, and... hm. Antoine and Jean-Paul had settled down for a game of cards. Which, strangely enough, is considered one of the things every noble knows by rote, like appreciation of art and good manners. Weird. Then again, it kind of explains why gambling is such a problem in the top layers of society, if everyone is taught to gamble as a matter of rote. At least they''re using acorns as a betting pool, not actual money. That... Wait, where''s Cy... Oh. Hello there.


    "Mohmee?" - she proffers, looking at me with an expression that should be properly described as "eldritch puppy eyes".


    "Yes, dear?" - I offer as I lean in and pick her up. I can''t help it, she''s too cute not to cuddle.


    "Mohmee, hwee wannah heelf?" - she ventures.


    I have to smile. And pat her head. "And you''re gloriously succeeding." - I reassure her - "Why, I am feeling better just looking at you."


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "Nah zat. Peeepl heelf." - she insists.


    "Like my harem, you mean?" - I clarify - "Dear, there are two problems with this. One, you appear to be roughly eight years old, and this is going to make your interaction with adults excessively frustrating. They will be prone to dismissive, condescending and coddling behavior. It can get pretty grating, and then you''ll subject them to some stress-relieving mandibular rearrangements and I''ll have to beat their faces back into proper shape. Two, we will have to reshape your teeth to give you a chance to amend the first. Eloquence is pretty much a must for people interaction. That being said, I don''t mind finding out if you inherited any of my bioplasticity tricks, if you''re game."


    "Yah! Bohdee moldee!" - she cheers, and hops off my arm, rubbing at her cheeks thoughtfully - "...Mohmee. Hwee neets dho speek betta, rite?"


    I shake my head as I sit down properly and pick her back up, pulling Cy on the lap. "Alright, let''s try connecting first." - I proffer, as I hold up my hand to hers. It.. is a bit rough, but after a bit of touch and go, we do manage to establish a decent bandwidth mental connection, letting me stuff Cy''s brain with all the vocabulary and speaking mannerisms I can think of. In the same time, she is perusing the sections of my mind that are responsible for controlling shoggothy stuff, and apparently picks up some things. I still have to, well... hold her hand mentally, as we shift her teeth into a somewhat more regular pattern. She''s still going to sound very odd, but at least the words will now be formed more or less properly.


    "Yeeshih... Eeesin... Teeestin... Testing... One, two, three... Testing..." - she pronounces slowly. Well, that''s curious. She has this weird.. oooh, THAT''s what happened.


    "I think you got it downpat." - I offer, and she smiles at me as I continue - "Not exactly the human-shaped voicebox, though, you have two sets of vocal chords instead of one. Tuned, incidentally, with a little bit of pitch difference, so you''re going to have a permanent reverb like this. I can show you how to clump them into one set, if you want to, but I think the current layout sounds pretty cool. I might experiment with redundant vocal chords myself sometime. Maybe start the Royal Canterlot Voice tradition or some such."


    "I think I will keep it like this, mom." - she proffers. I see she''s taking my speech patterns pretty easily. Good job.


    "Fair enough. Now, I''m going to get the stuff out and try to tinker myself a tablet to keep the plans and schedule on. Actually, scratch that, I''m going to make a bunch of tablets with quantum link and give them to everyone in the family... Wait, no. Dad should probably have his networked with mom''s, and optional connection to mine... Hrm. Actually, that might also be a basis for next iteration of my copperphones, I really need to introduce the networkable model instead of just handing out hardlocked links, this is getting a bit troublesome." - I muse.


    "Don''t forget to put Doom on it." - Cy teases.


    "And Carmageddon too, I promise. Well, maybe just on yours and mine, for starters. Let the rest of the people get used to the idea of tablet before we throw computer games at them... Hm. Maybe Selene would like... no, nevermind, I just can''t see her liking Doom all that much." - I continue, as I split off a second me to work at the worktable, while the first me remains at the chair, idly playing with Cy.


    ___


    "...Alyssa." - this is what dad comes up with, as he turns the ready-made tablet in hands. As it is, everyone present got one. I have the master tablet, for obvious reasons. My harem and Cy get tablets that are networked between themselves, with option to turn on the connection to dad''s cluster. Dad, mom and brothers get four tablets that are clustered with each other, dad''s having the control bits for other three, just in case. And an optional connection to any of ours. Everyone''s poking at them. In the end, I went with tried and true methods. Tablets are a thin span of wood with a stack of thin tin plates set into it with etched formulae that form the illusion mimicking touchscreen. There is a slot in the back of the tablet to stick a stick of copper in, like a battery. One stick should last for about a month of non-stop use, or about ten years of standby mode. Split the difference and replace them each year, easy-peasy. A rounded stick of silver-inlaid oak serves as a stylus, which automatically attaches itself to the tablet if let go entirely. I didn''t put in much. There''s scheduler, note-taker, which is a rudimentary text redactor with handwriting recognition, a calculator and a bunch of other conveniences, such as magical equivalent of barometer, thermometer, altimeter and a bunch of other meters, including poison detector and magic detector. Sadly, Doom will have to wait, still coding that one. It''s stupidly complicated, compared to the rest of the stuff. I wish I could just download me a copy.


    Anyway... dad sighs and sets the tablet down. "Alyssa." - he repeats - "While you have, once again, came up with something tremendously useful, this is definitely NOT what I had in mind when I suggested you should relax more."


    "Dad, I''m sorry, but this is how I relax. I''m honestly feeling much better now." - I proffer in return.


    "Yeah, mom would climb walls if she tried to sit still." - Cy pipes in suddenly, making everyone twirl to her in shock.


    "What?" - she asks, taking a look around - "Mom fixed my voice. I''m now eloquent, and can people just fine."


    "You certainly people well." - I tease back and we smirk at each other. Some jokes are just between us abominations.

 Chapter 99. Touching Base With Royals

    Getting back to Parsee and settling down in the mansion goes basically without issue. The topics that father raises on the way, however... Well. Suffice to say, my participation in the ceremonies is not in any way optional, and I''m apparently getting some kind of recognition personally. According to dad, he and Abe had intended that to be a surprise for me, but neither had expected I''ll try to be outright absent from the capital during Year''s Unending. Well, at least now I know to stay put. Well, as put as put can be. Which is not very, given that we just got a summons from Abe. Apparently he had something to talk about with me and father.


    "I''m coming too." - Lily-Anne pipes up as I come in to tell everyone that we''re going to the palace - "Mother bade me to visit."


    "Um. As in, right now?" - I reconfirm as I hold up the coat for Lily-Anne to slip into.


    She chuckles - "Sometime soon, she wrote. Don''t worry so much, it''s not a dastardly scheme to surprise you or anything."


    "Good. I don''t really like surprises." - I mutter. The carriage is ready, dad''s already in, and no one else had the reason to go to the palace right now, so we board and depart. I... have a problem, I guess. Slaughtering my way through Alamut was enjoyable, but ever since I am feeling weirdly disconnected from reality. Not in a magical sense, that is, in, well... emotional? Maybe? Mental? It''s an odd feeling. I hope it passes soon. I''m not liking it.


    ___


    At the castle, I am surprised to find out that instead of leaving to visit her mother, Lily-Anne sticks with us. I''m even more surprised to find out that the king and queen both expect all of us in the sitting room further into the palace. This is a little odd, the room we''ve been taken to is within the living space. Normally, this area of the palace is open only to royal family and servants. Then again, I guess I am marrying into the family. Somewhat. The final surprise is the presence of crownprince Alexander. I wonder what this is all about.


    "Alyssa, Gerard. I have asked of you two to come because I believe it''s high time to make some plans regarding our plans for dealing with Sultanate." - Abe begins without much ado - "I am slightly concerned about the lack of response from Sultanate. Salaadin is not in the habit of putting off revenge for long, and yet... No moves ever since you have thwarted that ill-conceived abduction attempt. So I have to ask, does either of you have any insights or news to share?"


    We exchange glances, and dad goes first. "Not much from me, your highness." - he proffers - "We had some suspicious strangers poking around the estate a while ago, but Alyssa took care of them."


    Abe and Alexander both turn to look at me. Abe''s reaction is obvious. What is slightly odd, however, is an expression of anticipation from Alexander. Wonder why.


    "To clarify, the strangers in question were hashishins." - I tell bluntly, making everyone flinch - "I''ve caught them trying to break into the estate and exterminated them, as they attempted to kill me on sight. Besides that, there were attempts to get to me at the Academy, which I also thwarted with extreme prejudice."


    Abe nods slowly. "I expected that much." - he admits - "I am worried that the next attempt will be aimed at your harem. Oijans are not above taking hostages, as we had already experienced."


    "They had plans to that effect, yes." - I agree - "I was not impressed."


    "So what do you plan to do about it?" - Alexander pipes up suddenly - "Perhaps I can offer the services of my knights as bodyguards for time being?"


    "I appreciate the effort, your excellence, but it will not be necessary." - I retort blithely - "I''ve already invaded Alamut."


    Abe jerks up, his eyes snapping wide open in surprise. Actually, everyone does that, not just him, but I was looking on him when I said that, so I see his reaction first.


    "Come again?" - he asks faintly - "You... invaded Alamut?"


    "Indeed. There were six hashishins in total attempting to sneak into our estate." - I explain - "Four of them were breaking in, while the remaining two maintained their camp nearby. I have killed the four, cut off their heads and went to talk to the other two. They proved themselves to be... Longer on muscles than on brains, let''s put it like this. Long story short, I killed one of them and injured the other sufficiently enough to make him retreat. Oijans recover their dead for last rites whenever they can, so I saddled him with the four heads I collected earlier as a message. I have hidden a bit of magic within the heads to serve as a beacon for my teleportation spell. They were keyed to activate after the heads were subjected to last rites. When they did, I simply teleported into Alamut and spent a couple hours methodically slaughtering my way through the keep with golems. I... might have ended up coming across as sufficiently terrifying for them to try and placate me with the head of Old Man on the Mountain, once I backed up their remnants into one of the towers. But I have already located documents describing their plans to attack my harem, so I was not inclined to be placable."


    "So... what you are telling us is that you slaughtered the hashishins in their entirety?" - Alexander drawls slowly in the silence that follows - "Salaadin will be furious. He can not field the army, and his order of murderers is now extinct, so he has preciously few things left to threaten neighbors with. Fewer still are the options to do so without hurting his own country even worse."


    "Well, I did depopulate their headquarters." - I demur - "I wouldn''t go so far as to claim I exterminated all of them, I''m certain there is a number of them left around the world. But without the leadership and expertise needed to train up more recruits quickly, I daresay hashishins as an organization had been severely hamstrung and will not be up to much. Well, other than some last hurrahs, I suppose. I can see those people deciding to go out in a blaze of glory once they get the news. Maybe warn sir Malachi and increase security for a while? And maybe make it pretty public that I''m touring for the winter and not anywhere near Parsee or Gillespie hold? Given what I found of their training and customs, current leadership seemed to prefer training hashishins up for unquestioning loyalty ahead of teaching them to think things through. I''d suggest to kill them on sight rather than try to take them alive, but I would guess it''s already a standing policy where hashishins are concerned."


    Abe grimaces. "It is." - he confirms darkly - "There''s no use questioning them and they tend to be fine with suicidal charges if it means they kill their mark first."


    Alexander leans forward eagerly. "Lady Gillespie, since you have breached Alamut, could you satisfy my curiosity?" - he asks - "It has long been rumored that hashishins have secret training methods and unusually deadly weapons. What have you found within the keep? Is it true that they have enchanted weaponry?"


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Sorry to disappoint, but as far as I was able to ascertain, the opposite is the actual truth. Their training methods seem to be eschewing magic and focusing entirely on physical skills." - I explain - "Their training facilities seem to be oriented first and foremost towards the use of daggers, throwing knives and bows. They also seem to be taking fencing with short swords pretty seriously. I found some training facilities that seem to be intended to tutor the recruits in basic alchemy, too. Very light on theory, they seem to be focusing entirely on memorizing the preparation of several simple types of poison and potions. I believe they were also taught how to properly dress up to be inconspicuous in the crowd, as I found a lot of assorted clothes in various fashions, from Champagne doublets to Krainian kaftans to Pharosian kandyes. They DO seem to be using some simple magic, as I have encountered alarm enchants, but I have found preciously little in the ways of enchanted weaponry and their attempts at magic were few and rather pitiful. What little they are taught seems to be primarily illusions and detection spells, with a smattering of basic utility cantrips. Light, air, earth primarily. I was unable to find out why, but it appears that their instruction outright bans the use of fire magic outside of fire-starting cantrip."


    I pause as I think back to the raid on Alamut. What else... oh, right. - "Oh, right. It appears that several of the inner buildings had been extensively used to train people to scale the walls quickly and take long leaps across the rooftops. I would think they regularly injure quite a number of recruits in that way, those buildings have a lot of old bloodspots scattered under them."


    Is he writing this down? He is. Golly, why.


    "Much obliged, lady Gillespie." - Alexander proffers gleefully - "This is very intriguing, and should be of interest to sir Malachi as well. I shall pass the notes to him after we conclude this meeting."


    Note-taking makes me recall something. I have had prepared a sufficient amount of tablets to pass on to king after testing them within the family, because I frankly can''t see Abe wanting to miss out on this, and I can''t see dad not boasting about it. So I bring out three and hand them to the present royals.


    "...What is this?" - Alexander inquires curiously, looking all over the tablet. "It seems to be similar to the copperphones, but... larger? Why?"


    "Next iteration." - I retort - "Allows to transmit both voice and written text and has no limitation on the number of connections. Also has a couple of useful features."


    As I explain the basics of tablets, Abe''s face grows longer. Finally, he sets the tablet on the table gingerly, looks at me and shakes his head.


    "Every time." - he then complains - "Every time I think I finally surpassed that feeling of incredulous stupefaction you evoke, and you inerrantly go forth and bring something even more incredible."


    He pauses, shakes his head ruefully and turns to Lily-Anne, quipping - "Does she ever stop thinking about new things to make?"


    "With much effort, father." - Lily-Anne retorts with a wry laugh - "With much effort. While we are on the topic, is there anything else you need Alyssa for? If no, then kindly permit me to borrow her and mother for a while."


    Abe exchanges glances with Gerard. "Did you bring it?" - he requests suddenly. Father nods and withdraws a number of papers from the satchel he grabbed along. Abe nods back.


    "Since Alyssa is already aware and on guard against hashishins, I do believe that''s everything I needed to talk to you all about at the moment." - he then retorts - "If you ladies have plans, go ahead. Us menfolk will be here, sorting out the documents."


    Dad waves at me indulgently. "Go on, it''s just bureaucratic trivia about our promotion. Have to dot all is and cross all ts, lest someone grows jealous and tries to spoil the celebrations over it." - he proffers - "If you happen to leave before me, go ahead, I had extra carriage sent to the palace already just in case we get split up."


    ___


    I''m honestly not sure why Lily-Anne wanted me along. She has a nice low-key conversation with her mother, and I''m just... here. Lounging around. Sniffing flowers, so to speak. Castle has very nice gardens, while we are at it. Exotic. Plenty of unusual flowers, trees and whathave you. Stuff that takes our weather, at least. Tender plants are over yonder in the hothouse pavilion... Hm. I wonder why Lily-Anne is giggling...


    "...every time she gets distracted, without fail." - I overhear the tail end of the tale Lily-Anne was spinning. Who gets distracted, I now wonder.


    Aaand. I''m being waved at. By Monika.


    "Yes? Sorry for being quiet." - I offer a bland deflection. Lily-Anne, what''s up, why I''m here?


    "So I see..." - Monika drawls - "Lady Gillespie, if you pardon the prying, how long did you have this aura for?"


    Aura? What aura? I toss around a couple of basic detection spells, and fail to find anything. Except for Lily-Anne and Monika both laughing at me.


    "Unbelievable." - Monika finally manages - "You never knew you have an aura?"


    "Would someone please explain what''s going on?" - I finally snap back, a little bit irritated by all that.


    "You have an aura of purity." - Lily-Anne continues, giggling - "Whenever you''re distracted, things directly next to you get scrubbed clean."


    What. The. Fuck. I''m not sure if they''re not just winding me up, either, come to think of it. This place is already clean.


    "What do you mean, things?" - I clarify, because I''m confused. Really really confused.


    In lieu of an answer, Monika lifts the trowel and holds it in front of me. "When we entered the garden, this thing was caked in mud." - she tells me bluntly - "Now, it''s polished. The path we walked on had some leaves on it. Right now, it''s also polished. And brought to the same level. And squished together, for the lack of better term. It looks like it was just cobbled this very morning, not laid down by Abraham''s grandfather."


    This is very interesting, and I... FUCK.


    The very next thing I do? Deliver a humongous bitchslap to the idiot who just jumped off the roof. I guess hashishins decided to go for all or nothing approach. Wonder if it''s something they planned on, or it was a reaction to me paying a visit to Alamut. Well, that was satisfying, at the very least. Cartoonish, even. Because instead of an assassin with a dagger, all I have is a dagger spinning in mid-air, while the assassin himself retraces our path along the garden by flying ass-backwards over the cobblestones. AAAnd hit! The moron meets the doors. The doors admit moron through. The wall behind the doors is less agreeable. And, if the shouting is of any indication, the guards are... excited about a sudden assassin from the garden.


    Much to my surprise, the assassin in question survives my impromptu launch and appears through the very same doors, a number of guardsmen on his heels. He has another dagger in hand, pretty much the identical copy of the one I just caught out of the air. He... seems to be really really really intent on trying to stab me, or someone close-ish to me. Not optimal. Well, let''s return his belongings to him. Point A. The dagger in my hand. Point B. The knee. Specifically, the right knee of the assassin who is the nominal owner of this dagger. And a neat line connecting both, traced by dagger and underlined by a split bone and a shout of pain. He goes down like a sack of potatoes, and the guards are on him the very next second. Ooh, nice technique. Arms behind the back, a belt around the elbows to immobilize, another belt into the mouth, making him unable to close the jaw. Sensible, he might have had poison in his tooth or just bitten off his tongue to avoid interrogation.


    "Outstanding throw, lady." - the guy in charge of guards, probably. I think his title is lieutenant of the guard? A ranking knight, anyways. Specializes in bodyguarding the king and his family. He comes over and bows to all of us, continuing then - "I presume the initial appearance of his rapscallion through the doors was also your handiwork?"


    I nod. Something bothers me. This... Oh, fuck it all with a rake, that''s a hell of a plan. And I have no time left to... Fuck it, let''s just improv further. I turn around, snatching the sword out of the lieutenant''s scabbard as I move. He begins to shout, but... Now, where is... oh. Here, I can SEE the shimmer of refraction! Have at thee, as... Uh, who said that, actually? Nevermind, I think I got it. I really got it. I DEFINITELY GOT IT!


    ...Ew. I got it, alright. Exhibit A. Knight''s arming sword. Light, sturdy and well-honed. Clearly a beloved belonging. Exhibit B. An assassin of subtle and rather frail stature trying to sneak up using an invisibility cloak. Exhibit C. Excitable shoggoth applying very considerable strength and speed to the sword on a collision course with the assassin. The result? Ew.


    "Oh gods, what is going on!? Alyssa, are you alright?" - and Lily-Anne counterpoints this whole thing. Steeling myself, I turn around, wipe the blood off my face and smile sheepishly.


    "I''m fine. He had to split."

 Chapter 100. Fallout

    Even though cleaning up is simply a matter of several cantrips, I''m being subjected to CONCERN. To the point where I get concerned.


    "Lily-Anne." - I demand sternly, pausing her midword - "I am fine. I am NOT injured or even discomfited in any notable way."


    "But you''re covered in blood!" - she yelps back, her hands clenched. She seems to be torn between wanting to hug me and to wipe me off, come to think of it.


    I concentrate for a moment, focus on the "not mine" concept and expel the filth from my surface, so to speak. The air around me becomes tinted red as the blood on my clothes abruptly evaporates and condenses in a very brief rain of blood, creating a circle of red splotches under my feet.


    "There we go, no blood on me anymore. Not that any of it was mine to begin with." - I explain patiently, - "Don''t worry so much."


    She shakes her head at me, looking pale... And then abruptly turns to the side and vomits into the flowerbed messily. Owie. Her mother seems to be made of sterner stuff, though she also looks ill at ease. Guards, on other hand, just look awestruck. Especially lieutenant.


    "Astounding, lady Gillespie." - he proffers slowly, shaking his head - "Truly, a strike most magnificent. From shoulder to hip in one stroke, why... And that misbegotten wretch thought to hide under the invisible cloak, too. You are an inspiration for any knight!"


    I look at the sword still in my hand. Nice, but... Hm. It was not included in my impromptu cleansing and is still generously smeared with blood. Uncouth, that. I run a hand over it, stripping the blood telekinetically... And etching a simple formula onto the blade, while at it. Can''t put in anything too fancy on it, lest it starts leeching from wielder or fail to function without flower, but... This little bit will make it self-cleaning, using the power of "sacrifice", so to speak. Technically speaking, any act of destruction frees up a bit of magical energy, so the array nabs it and uses it to clean the blade off. And a floral motif around the edge, so it could be a backup focus, too. No reason not to, plenty of space for it on the blade. Done with that, I flip the blade around, holding it by the ricasso and extend it towards the lieutenant handle-first.


    "My apologies for appropriating your sword, good sir knight." - I proffer - "I''ve etched the cleaning enchantment onto it as an apology. Don''t worry about needing flowers, it will take the needed power from whatever you choose to strike. And a bit of facsimile to go with it, just in case you feel the need for a little cantrip to improve your odds."


    He bows deeply and takes the sword back, staring at it in wonderment.


    "I''m deeply honored, lady Gillespie." - he then replies - "I shall endeavor to put this blade to good use for the glory of the kingdom."


    That being handled, I turn to attend to Lily-Anne, who is still dry-heaving. Owie. So, I step closer, and rub her back, simultaneously pushing some light magic into her to ease up nausea and soothe her throat. A simple glass of water is conjured almost absentmindedly, as I hand it over to her. She takes it from me, nodding lightly as she takes a sip to rinse her mouth out, spitting it into the much-suffering flowerbed right after. The rest is used to splash her face lightly to freshen her up. She jumps up a bit as the glass and water vanish abruptly, and shakes her head.


    "Thank you." - she offers, her voice still a bit raw - "Let''s... depart, shall we?"


    That snaps the lieutenant out of admiration of his newly enchanted sword. "Ah, yes indeed." - he hastily offers - "James, Etienne, you two on the escort. The rest, with me. Let''s remove those unsightly corpses."


    As we move towards the doors, Monika slows down to walk right next to me, remarking to me in a low voice - "You seem to be well used to bloodshed, lady Gillespie. On one hand, I am quite glad my precious daughter is protected so ferociously, on the other... Forgive me my apprehension, but just how come you are so used to killing? Dueling, I could understand, but that what happened right now was not it in the slightest, was it? You had no hesitation at all disposing of those murderers."


    "Well... I did grow up in the north." - I prevaricate - "While my father did his best to shield me from the unpleasantries of the sort, we do get brigands in the domain every now and then. Naturally, I put some time and effort into developing appropriate skills to fend them off, should the need arise. In large engagements, I would obviously go with magic, but in sudden bouts like these, a good blade is hard to beat, so I did learn some basics of swashbuckling in addition to usual fencing."


    I pause, and turn my head to face Monika, giving her a crooked smile - "The rest, well... the result of my ambitions, I''m afraid. This is not the first or even the tenth time I had to contend with hired killers, so I have grown used to just killing those who approach me or mine with hostile intent."


    This story is true enough not to ping someone''s magical senses, but also somewhat misleading, as a good chunk of tolerance for violence I have inherited from my first life. Still, the answer seems to be good enough for Monika, who sighs and nods slowly.


    "I am sorry that you had to learn such skills, my dear." - she admits - "It is my dearest wish to see the time when young maidens like you shall have no more use for such."


    "Take heart. If I have to say something about it, this time is not as far as one would think." - I retort with a genuine smile this time - "As our prosperity grows, there will be less and less people desperate enough to take lives for a pittance of coin."


    "Truly a bright future." - she concludes with a smile of her own.


    ___


    "I have been told there was an altercation..." - Abraham begins, as we return to the rooms. Apparently, the guards notified him immediately, as I see the lieutenant standing in attention right next to him.


    "Yes." - I admit lightly - "I was expecting something of the sort, but did not believe remaining hashishins would be so brazen as to breach into your palace."


    His face darkens. "Thrice bedamned sand jackals... Jerome, report. What did you find?" - he demands, turning to face the knight next to him.


    "As far as we were able to ascertain so far, my liege, the hashishins had scaled the outer walls of the garden under the invisibility cloaks." - he replies - "We found one still intact on the roofs by the garden. The one taken alive is not talking yet, but it seems to me that he was there to provide a distraction, while his fellow would do the dirty deed behind our backs. From what little we managed to get from him, he was fully intending to throw his own life away on this attempt. We have also found a rappel next to the cloak, which is why we believe they scaled the wall."


    Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Invisibility cloaks, huh?" - Abraham muses - "They don''t keep. Someone in the Parsee must have provided them with freshly made ones for this."


    "Indeed, my liege." - Jerome confirms - "We have remanded all evidence to the care of sir Malachi to ferret out the truth. Whoever aided those wretches will be found... If they can be found, that is. Hashishins are sadly known for eliminating loose ends in situations like these. Still, the potions required for the production of cloaks are rare and expensive, which narrows down the likely suspects. Guards had already been dispatched to round up the alchemists in Parsee capable of producing such, they shall be questioned by sir Malachi shortly. We have already contacted Merchant Guild, but good merchant van der Klaas ensures us that there was no sale of potions in question within the last month. It''s not common ware, after all. He promised to furnish a full list of people who bought the ingredients necessary for the creation of such by the evening."


    Abraham nods heavily. "Keep me updated." - he demands briskly - "To attempt assassination within my own palace, this is an insult that can not go unanswered. Thankfully, lady Gillespie had already put an end to Alamut itself, so that''s vengeance done. Now all we need is to find out who among my subjects collaborated with them."


    Jerome doubletakes. "Truly?!" - he yelps - "Lady Gillespie, the Alamut had been destroyed?"


    I shrug. "I killed all the hashishins present in the keep, yes. I left the townfolk be, and the keep itself is passably intact, though I did collapse several towers in the process." - I tell him and he bows deeply.


    "You are truly blessed by Zali herself, milady." - he breathes out reverently.


    The scene is abruptly interrupted by a majordomo running in. "Your highness!" - he proclaims - "Marquis de Brege is in the palace begging for an immediate audience! He claims lady Gillespie had assaulted his household and demands justice."


    Abe''s face hardens. "...Bring him here immediately." - he rumbles - "I''m not in the mood for his nonsense, best cut it at the nib before he spreads it all over the Parsee."


    He groans as the majordomo departs, turning to face me - "How can a man barely in his fifties be a dotard already?"


    "If I were to hazard a guess, your highness, he was born simple." - I retort contemplatively - "De Breges seem to exhibit the worst of inbreeding consequences, if my limited observation of them is of any indication."


    "Inbreeding?" - Monika quips suddenly - "Would you mind elaborating on this, lady Gillespie?"


    I sigh. "It''s an unfortunate consequence of nobility." - I explain - "While I can understand the preference for keeping the power concentrated in the hands of only a few families, the consequence of this is that many negative traits eventually begin to breed true. The closer to family one marries, the worse the potential shortfalls. In truth, we Gillespies had suffered from this too. Ideally, there should be at least a one generation gap between marriages between families. Marrying within your own family is even worse, and de Breges are known for doing exactly that. The consequences can be manifold. In the case of Gillespies and Bradfords, our worst problem is an increased rate of stillbirths. De Breges.. succeeded in breeding in feeblemindedness into their line."


    I pause, and continue, taking in the elongating faces - "Normally, a negative trait in one parent can be subsumed by goodness in other, but when both parents have a predisposition to the same negative trait, it tends to manifest in children as well. It is a complicated problem, and the most obvious solution of marrying further from family lines is often inconvenient politically... To tell the truth, I am concerned about this problem, as it is imperiling my own family. However, I am researching it, and I do have some findings on the matter. Not a true solution, yet, but I am figuring out medical spells that would permit testing the children for a possible resurgence of negative traits, with an eye towards vetting further marriages for bad meeting bad, so to speak. Correcting those is further still, but might be achievable... At least, in some cases."


    Horrified expressions all around. And one pensive. Alexander suddenly snaps his fingers. "Lady Gillespie, would haemophilia be among those negative traits you speak of?" - he requests.


    "One of the most prominent ones, yes." - I confirm - "Any person you take, noble or commoner? May be a carrier of predisposition for it. Imagine each parent as, well... as a sack of seeds, for the lack of better term. To make a child, a handful of seeds from each of the sacks is taken and mixed. If some of those seeds carry the trait, that is what the child will inherit. Which means that any child at birth gambles for it, and may inherit anything from a total lack of predisposition to a grand total of SUM of predisposition from the parents. If both parents have a large amount of seeds with a predisposition, it is more likely than not that their children will have it too. Once the amount of bad amasses enough, it manifests as an external disorder. In the case of haemophilia, the problem is exacerbated by the fact that men exhibit the disorder at a lower level of predisposition than women, but women still can pass on the high predisposition to their progeny."


    Alexander smiles crookedly, musing - "...That is horrible, but explains so much. The important question is, then... Could there be some kind of cure for such hereditary problems?"


    "Theoretically, your excellence." - I admit - "Theoretically. The problem here is simple, yet incredibly hard - the seeds I have spoken of? They define everything about the person. Their likely height, gait, hair color, eye color, skin color, mental disposition... We do not possess any cures at the moment that can alter one bad seed while preserving the others. Not even in theory. Currently, I am working on an easier problem of identifying the likelihood of a bad trait cropping up, by taking a sample of blood from each of the parents and comparing them. Even so, this is entirely new research, and I have no idea when I will have any results and how useful the results can be. Right now, my best advice is to reconsider the marriage if both families in question seem to have the same kind of disorder cropping up in their respective bloodlines. Not a good solution for many reasons, but currently the best one I have. Ostensibly speaking, families can breed the bad trait out by marrying their children to gifted commoners, but this is not a quick solution, nor it is a certain one. Not to mention the political repercussions of doing so. I hesitate to suggest any legal changes to the situation... and frankly speaking, I hesitate to even make this particular knowledge public due to the immense outcry it would garner from all sorts of nobles who consider the purity of blood as they see it far more important than the chance of begetting a hampered child."


    A heavy silence descends. For a couple moments, no one says anything, mired in their dark thoughts. Then Abraham swings his arm down resolutely.


    "A problem for generations, indeed." - he muses - "I do not begrudge your decision to keep this knowledge quiet, lady Gillespie. Disseminated improperly, it could indeed topple kingdoms. Nonetheless, I ask of you to impart everything you know of the problem to sir Pasteur. I have the utmost confidence in his discretion and frankly, this does not sound as a problem to bear alone. Damnation, this is truly the scourge of gods upon the haughty! I can do naught but count Cullens lucky for not garnering any hereditary problems themselves, so far. Still, that does explain in part why older houses are often on the wane, while younger ones flourish."


    "Well... take heart, your highness." - I try to cheer him up - "This is a huge problem, true, but the pace of it is very slow. We do have time to find the means of safeguarding against it before it strikes at our next generation, at the very least. I dare not suggest that there will be a complete solution in our time, but... Forewarned means forearmed. Even if we will not solve it ourselves, we can lay the foundation for our children and grandchildren to build upon to rid us all of that scourge."


    Aaand I may have just signed myself up to be the mother of genetics in this world. Me and my big mouth...

 A Look In The Past 1. Dwarves, Beer And Good Tidings

    Erkwlff, Gruffydd and Meurig were feeling antsy. Their clansman Goronwy had sent them a note, asking for a meeting, and while the note was pretty sparse on details otherwise, it did imply he had something vitally important to the dwarfdom to discuss.


    "What do ye reckon this is all about?" - Gruffydd muttered. The last of their foursome, Trahaearn, was stuck in the queue for beer, and the lack of drink was plucking at their nerves something fierce.


    "Ain''t tha fogiest, uncle." - Meurig admitted. The youngest of them all, he was barely thirty one, and sitting in the tavern like this with the adults was still novel to him.


    "He ain''t here yet." - Erkwlff worried.


    "Yet? Go... Geoff ain''t s''posed ta be here till noon." - Meurig adjusted himself quickly. He had a hard time remembering they were within the human tavern, which meant the true names were forbidden.


    His uncle promptly reminded him to be cautious with a slap upside his head. "Watch yer tongue, Maurice!" - he rebuked sharply - "Erkule''s not talkin'' bout Geoff, he''s talkin'' about our beer! And Travis. But mostly beer."


    "Duly noted, uncle Griff." - tossed Meurig petulantly - "Beer be supreme."


    "Daum right, boyo." - his uncle agreed shamelessly - "Beer be the elixir of gods sent from tha heavens ta let us mere mortals be at fookin'' peace with this here piece''a''shit life. Now pipe down, ye hear tha clinkin of tha mugs? Travis, old pal, ol'' chum, here we are!"


    Trahaearn stopped next to their table, three hefty mugs in each hand. He settled them down gingerly, distributing three of them to his compatriots and sat down with a satisfying sigh, taking a long pull from his own. Two remained in the center of the table.


    "Travis, now what tha fook is this? Dinnae ferget how ta count to five?" - Gruffydd groused.


    "Ain''t forgetting shit, Griff." - Trahaearn retorted irritably - "Iffen ye be rememberin'' the fookin'' note, Geoff''s comin'' with Rory."


    "Rory? Ain''t he done settled down in that thar blacksmith up next ta the Gillespies?" - Erkwlff remarked.


    "So Ah did." - a new voice piped up. Rhodri waved to his clansmen and stepped into the tavern, holding the door open for the elderly Goronwy. Venerable elder, albeit with the help of a cane, was nonetheless quite mobile for his age, and wasted no time in ambling up to the table and taking up a seat and a mug. Rhodri followed, claiming the last mug and sipping from it immediately.


    "Fookin'' heat." - he groused - "Ahhh, beer, tha elixir of tha gods..."


    "Tha''s what I fookin'' said ta this here clayclod!" - laughed Gruffydd, slapping his nephew on the back for good measure.


    "Arright." - Erkwlff proffered - "We be all here, we have tha beer... Now, what are we heah to talk about, elder?"


    Goronwy jerked his head in Rhodri''s direction.


    "Show''em, Rory." - he rasped. Rhodri grinned, took another pull of the beer, then reached into his doublet and withdrew a dagger, sticking it into the middle of the table with a solid thunk. Foursome gasped with one voice.


    "Ripple steel, ah''ll be daumed!" - exulted Gruffydd, still mindful enough to keep his voice low in spite of excitement - "Great find, Rory. Shit, ye dinnae have ta sell yer smithy fer it, ah hope?"


    Rhodri smirked. It was an "I know something you do not" kind of smirk. The kind that immediately set all four dwarves present on edge. Their clansman had something better than this priceless heirloom? That oughta be good, indeed. The faces in front of him elongated as he pulled out four more daggers in simple leather sheaths and laid one in front of each dwarf at the table except for the elder. Goronwy for his part drew his own dagger and stuck it in the table next to Rhodri''s, making the rest of the dwarves gasp again. TWO daggers from ripple steel? Or maybe?...


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Meurig was the fastest of them, grabbing the dagger off the table and yanking it out of the sheath, only to stop and whistle appreciatively.


    "Six. Fookin''. Ripple. Steel. Daggers!?" - Trahaearn drawled incredulously - "Rory, yer lucky dog, ye."


    Rhodri polished his nails on the doublet collar nonchalantly. "Thank ye, thank ye." - he proffered - "Forged them meself just the last week, ah did."


    Dead. Silence. And four pairs of perfectly round eyes staring at him.


    Goronwy set his mug down with a clunk, breaking the spell. "He did, lads." - he proffered softly - "He really did."


    Four throats erupted in a triumphant roar as the dwarves raised their mugs as one, slammed them together and guzzled down their beers in one go.


    "Way ta go, Rory!" "Fookin'' great!" "Tha''s our Rory!" "Oh, yeah!"


    Rhodri waited for his clansmen to settle down a little, then proffered in quiet voice. "Now, lads, ah''d be glad ta claim this one, but tha truth is? S''aint me who figured tha secret out." - he continued quietly - "And b''fore ye make more ruckus, s''aint a dwarf who did."


    Everyone quietened down, listening intently.


    "Now, heah''s tha thing." - Rhodri began, - "Mah''s smithy right next ta Gillespie estate, as ye well know. Ah''ve been their blacksmith fer a while, and I haveta say, ah ain''t got nuthin ta complain ''bout graf Gillespie. So, theah I was, one mornin'', just tending ta me forge, and ah''ve got me a visitor. Turned out ta be maiden Gillespie. Sait summat ''bout gettin'' ta know artizans o''the land. Asked me fer public name. Nice and good as ye please, so ah''d intraduced meself. She gives me a buncha paper and asks me ta forge that there thing..."


    He paused, reached into his doublet one more time and withdrew yet another object made out of ripple steel.


    "This be a neat wee handmill, ye lot." - he explained, setting it down next to his dagger - "So ah told her that such a fine me-ka-nism? Ain''t no good makin'' it from nuthin'' but steel. And that goshdarned apprentice o''mine gone and spoilt tha smelting just tha other day. Turned me a batch of pig iron."


    Everyone around clicked their tongues, silently agreeing that an apprentice that made such a basic mistake was indeed very much goshdarned.


    "So... she tells me ta fetch summa that pig iron." - Rhodri continued his tale - "Looks at it. And tells me ta put it with tha last ingot o''steel that ah had into tha furnace, heat it all right up good and propar and beat the fookin'' bells outa it with mah hammer. Fold it on itself an'' beat it some more. Fold and beat, fold and beat ''till the lines on it are laike hair thin. And would ya know what ah got in tha end?"


    All of them looked at the daggers and mill in the center of the table.


    "So ah went to that thar estate over yonder to ask iffen maybe graf Gillespie happens ta have some of our old writin'' or summat." - he concluded - "He ain''t got nuthin, tho. Turns out maiden Gillespie gone and done figured tha whole thing from tha old story about Throm. Showed me tha story bit and everythin''. It does say about foldin'' and beatin'', s''just we ain''t never paid much heed to tha old tales, yanno?"


    Goronwy coughed. "Keep goin, Rory. This is what we''re heah fer." - he nudged - "Tell them ''bout graf''s offer."


    Rhodri nodded. "Gettin'' ta it, elder." - he agreed - "So... once graf Gillespie hears ah know how ta make ripple steel again... Maiden makes us an offer. We come ta the Gillespie lands up north an'' build the propar forge hall, an'' he pledges ta keep us fed and clothed so that we can get some serious forgin'' an'' minin'' an'' chiselin'' on."


    "Wait, wait, hol''up." - Erkwlff interrupted him suddenly - "We as in we six? Or we as in we clansmen?"


    "We as in we dwarves, lad." - Goronwy rasped - "Graf Gillespie offers food, clothes an'' spirits ta every dwarf ta come to his lands, so long as we build and work that forge hall. Bettah even, he done pledged ta give us all tha stone an'' time we need ta build ourselves a propah settlement first. We haveta cut the stone on our own, though. Oh, and Gillespies did say women and children are welcome too. They offer a downright townsteadin'' of our own in their lands."


    Rhodri added in the resulting lull - "Maiden Gillespie be touched by gods, tha word is. Whatever she puts her eye on turns ta gold, like. Now, ah be thinkin'', what if she puts her eye on us the dwarves for a while? I figure we coulda trust Gillespies. Graf ain''t never done me wrong, and he''s known fer knowing the denier''s worth."


    "So... ye wanna tha four of us ta spread word to the clansmen? Ta let them know there be a place for them an'' their families up north? That tha clansmen can forge tha ripple steel again? That there be a forge hall built, if only we gather tha lot?" - Trahaearn mused - "Damn it all, ah''m in."


    "So am I." - Meurig stated confidently - "Ain''t no use stoppin'' me, uncle."


    "Stoppin'' ye, lad?" - Gruffydd retorted incredulously - "Ah''d wollop yer lazy arse outta the doors first thang in the mornin'' if yer not gone by tha sunrise. Cause mark my words, I''m gonna be."


    "It be agreed on, then." - Erkwlff summed up, pushing away from the table and standing up - "Let us be off, brothers. New dawn comes fer us dwarves."


    "Hear, hear!" - agreed everyone else, standing up as well. All of them had urgent things to attend to. Goronwy and Rhodri would remain and prepare for the first settlers. As for Erkwlff, Gruffydd, Meurig and Trahaearn? All four of them were already on the road in their thoughts.

 A Look In The Past 2. Collegium

    "Good day to you too, doctor Herzeleid."


    "Good morrow to you all, my esteemed fellows."


    "Greetings, medicos!"


    A number of people milled in the castle grounds. All of them bore the tell-tale insignias of Medical Guild on their sashes, belts or lapels. All of them were intrigued and curious. It was not everyday''s occurrence, after all, for the royal physician himself, the highly esteemed sir Pasteur to call for a guild meeting. As one of the less numerous guilds, Medical Guild found no need to maintain a dedicated residence, assembling in numbers in suitable inns whenever a need for collegium arose. To find themselves invited to the royal castle, therefore, signified something important, for sir Pasteur would certainly not ask of the king to furnish the requisite auditorium without a due cause. A hush spread through the small crowd as the man himself strode out of the doors, flanked by six servants.


    "Salutations and well met, my esteemed colleagues." - he announced in loud voice - "Please follow me to the halls. I have much to tell you. The servants here will attend to your needs, should you require something."


    An auspicious beginning, they all thought as they filed in uneven line after the royal physician. There were subtleties and nuances in everything within the royal castle, even in the number of servants. Normally, the meetings sir Pasteur would call were to be attended by two, maybe three at most. Six of them? That implied that the king himself had favored the meeting, and therefore the topics to be discussed promised to be of utmost importance. Some new law requirement, perhaps? Or maybe some new medical knowledge deemed important enough by his highness to command his personal attention? Very intriguing.


    It took a little bit of time for them to file in and find the seating in the spacious auditorium. Servants immediately busied themselves by distributing assorted refreshments to the guests, pouring flavored water, ale and mulled wine per request. Sir Pasteur had taken the front, standing in front of the lectern.


    "My esteemed colleagues, I bring you good tidings." - he began - "We were blessed by a largesse of medical instrumentation by the grace of Gillespie house and his highness the king. Each of you will leave with a set of new tools for your own use for the betterment of the kingdom. Should any of you require additional pieces, they can be ordered from the settlement of Grand Forge. For those of you who did not keep up with the news, Grand Forge is a new town within Gillespie county. A town of dwarves."


    He paused, as an excited murmur arose among the doctors briefly.


    "Yes, it is so." - he then confirmed - "It has been seven long years, but take heart. From now on, we shall have the benefit of finest dwarven smithing again. I have been personally gifted a comprehensive instrumentarium by lady Gillespie herself, and after perusing those fine tools extensively and conferring with his highness upon my findings, the king had deemed it appropriate to order a sufficient number of sets to distribute to all magisters of Medicine in good standing, one set per person."


    On his signal, the servants got busy again, bringing out the sizable leather cases and settling them next to each occupied seat. Some of the doctors in attendance were about to pop the lids open already, but were stopped by sir Pasteur clearing his throat. Satisfied with attention levels, he continued sedately.


    "Now, my good fellows, I quite understand your desire to immediately peruse the contents, but... I must ask you to be patient. Forgive me this little bit of legerdemain, but I dearly wish to show off the contents myself, for there are many novel tools among the set that, I am quite sure, will excite and intrigue you." - he proffered - "As such, kindly follow my instructions, if you please."


    He hefted his own case on the lectern and with a flourish, popped the clasps open, swinging the lid off.


    "Please open the lids now, my good fellows, and take a good look at the collection of fine scalpels and tongs that are present in the top compartment." - he continued - "You will immediately notice there is a greater assortment than most of you had been used to. What we have here is the expanded set of scalpels with an exciting assortment of blades of different lengths and curvatures. However, this much is but an old hat to you, gentlemen. It''s the tongs that are the true novelties here. Behold, gentlemen. Locking tongs. Just as the scalpels, an assortment of head shapes is furnished, from the blunt tampon holder to the fine needlenose."


    The air in the auditorium immediately became full of metallic clicks and appreciative tongue clicking as the entire collegium pulled out assorted tools and began examining them in detail. A few moments later, a hand arose in the middle.


    "Yes, doctor Flemail?" - Pasteur proffered with a smile - "You have a question?"


    "Sir Pasteur, I couldn''t help but notice... Is the entire instrumentarium made of steel?" - the doctor in question asked incredulously.


    "Quite so. I do know some of you are more used to brass and copper taking prevalence in their drawer, but I do quite believe all of you will agree that steel is the superior material." - Pasteur confirmed - "Even better, the prices the dwarves request for additional steel instruments are far more agreeable then you would think. So cast aside the worries about the instrumentarium being a burden to replace or bolster. Moreso, this steel does not rust. I know, I know, I could not believe it myself, but the experiment had borne out that outstanding claim. I have personally placed a scalpel within the wet earth in the gardens and even a whole two weeks later, there was not a speck of rust upon it. There is a good reason why all of us had prized and hoarded the few remaining tools of dwarven craftsmanship, and I am overjoyed to tell you that this time is over. From now on, we may enjoy this cornucopia unhindered."


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    All in all, sir Pasteur surmised, that was a good enough reason for his fellows to raise a ragged cheer, decorum be damned. He waited for the clamor to subside, then rapped on his lectern sharply.


    "Now, bear with me, my colleagues, for I am about to ask you for an incredible show of restraint. Please return all the tools to their rightful places." - he began with a smirk - "And once you have done so, lift up the whole plate and flip it on the lid, like so."


    He demonstrated on his own set, reminding the excited doctors that the cases were much bigger than what was necessary to hold the instruments. Any objections had been immediately pushed out of their minds as they hurried to replace the tools and take a peek in the second, much deeper compartment.


    Pasteur lifted a glass dish out of the case and held it up in the air. "Sample dishes, gentlemen." - he announced grandly - "Each comes with a tight lid, so whatever is placed within will remain within, so long as the dish itself is intact. Those can be ordered from Bakarat glassworks, courtesy of his excellency prince Edward, who had graciously loaned the experience of his glasswork manufactories to aid lady Gillespie''s efforts to improve the quality of medicine in our fine kingdom. A set of six is provided with each instrumentarium, which should prove sufficient for initial effort, but I do believe each of you will be capable of gauging how many of those do you practically need on your own."


    He put the dish back in and pulled out a bottle full of clear liquid next. "This next bit is my personal addition, my good men. As all of you know, strong spirits have a detrimental effect on diseases. It is a pity they have even worse effects on the rest of our bodies as well." - he chuckled, putting the bottle back down - "The liquid within is rectified grain spirits, which can be ordered in quarte bottles from Gillespie county or purchased in detail from the northern merchants. The bottles themselves can be procured from the glassworks in Bakarat. Prince Edward had graciously listened to my ideas for what kind of bottle we the medics might need and made them available for general purchase. Note that the cork is glass as well and fits into the bottle very snugly. It can be safely sealed by wax as many times as needed. My initial request for just for a pinte bottle, but his excellency had wisely expanded my initial request to encompass an assortment of different volumes. I have been told that there are bottles of posson, pinte, quarte and even velte available, all fitted with resealable glass corks per my initial request."


    The next object was even more interesting. Holding up the inspection mirror, sir Pasteur used it to peer under the lid without lifting it. His actions were copied by the doctors. "As you can see, those handy mirrors permit you to look into the things in entirely new ways. This is particularly useful for teeth examination, allowing you to explore the condition of upper jaw and back teeth without contorting yourself or your patient." - he explained.


    Once again, he had given his colleagues a bit of time to settle down, before proceeding towards the implement all of them had been eyeing with some interest. Pulling out the magnification lens stand, he gingerly set it on the lectern.


    "This next tool is something none of us had at our disposal before." - Pasteur began with a flourish - "I am sure that most of you have had some use of magnification lens by now. This is the next step. The lens is securely mounted upon the articulated arm, permitting the placement of the lens as convenient while leaving both hands free. Even more importantly, since the lens is mounted upon the arm of metal, it neither tires nor trembles as a servant''s arm wont. The clever arrangement of springs and levers means that the arm is easy to adjust without any need in loosening and tightening the bindings, yet remains stable in the position you desire for as long as it is necessary."


    Taking a step back, he flagged the nearest servant for a glass of water, taking a break and refreshing his parched throat while the doctors fiddled with their own lens stands and murmured to each other about the sheer convenience of such a clever construction.


    "But wait. There''s more!" - he continued as he lifted out the penultimate object and placed it upon his head, flipping the convex mirror down to cover his eye - "Take the eye mirrors and put them on, gentlemen. It is time for you all to behold the truly new word in medicine. With this clever mirror shape, affixed to reflect whatever light is present directly in front of you, we can peer in all sorts of crevices and orifices that would normally be too dark to see within and examine them with perfect clarity. Close the other eye and peer through the aperture in the mirror, and you shall see the grand difference for yourselves. There is a sigil written into the bottom of each case, which you normally would not be able to see well, unless you empty the case entirely and hold it to the light. Well, no more! Just peer within and see it as clear as day! This eye mirror is absolutely invaluable in conjunction with the inspection mirror I have showcased earlier to examine the entirety of natural orifices, such as mouth, ears and nostrils. And believe me, gentlemen, there is much to see."


    A few minutes later, after the excitement abated once more (and more than a few ears, noses and mouths had been indeed peered into), Pasteur laid his hand on the last compartment of the case.


    "Gentlemen, I have saved the most profound tool of them all for the last." - he announced grandly, as he pulled out the separate case, unclasped it and retrieved the microscope, settling it down - "This magnificent contraption permits unparalleled magnification of a hundred times. I have seen the things no medic before me had ever beheld before. Now, you shall see them as well. Take the microscopes out now, please. Sean, the samples please."


    In the end, Pasteur had to step down from the lectern and go around the auditorium to help his colleagues with the proper setup.


    "Now, you might be wondering why I had Sean here bring us moldy cheese..." - he began - "And the answer is, we shall see what the mold looks like in fine detail. Gentlemen, take a slice each and place it on the microscope like this... ...All done? Good. Now take a look into the ocular... That''s the upper tube, yes. The crank on the side adjusts the focus to bring the image into clarity... Yes. Yes, gentlemen. The mold is actually a fungus. Most astonishing, I agree. Now, I have plenty of different samples for all of you to look at. Leaves, breadcrumbs, seeds, swamp water! All of those have hidden minuscules none of us ever thought to exist, all revealed by this marvel of ingenuity... My good fellows, do not rush like so. Plenty of samples for everyone, I assure you."


    As the meeting devolved into a veritable pandemonium of curiosity, excitement and awe, sir Pasteur had stepped back and dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief. He knew full well how incredible the first experience with a microscope could be and expected the auditorium to be busy well until the sunset. His mind was occupied by one single thought - ''If that much is what lady Gillespie can reveal on a moment''s lark, just how much there is yet to know that she may guide us all to find?'' He could not wait to find out.

 A Look In The Past 3. Start The Presses!

    "Well now... What do we have, ladies?" - MeeMee demanded, as she violently corked the bottle of ink and threw herself back into the chair, shaking her tired fingers.


    DeeDee hummed, as she leafed through the assorted notes. "I believe that weekly is our best option." - she proffered thoughtfully - "Until the Club really spreads across the kingdom, we probably will not mass up enough of the news to justify more frequent issues. Not to mention that our efforts might prove to be insufficient."


    LeeLee walked into the room, her arms laden with blank printing matrices. The daisy in her lapel pulsated with gentle light, giving a clear indication of how she managed to carry that weight all by herself. The table groaned under the weight as she set the stack down and shook her arms in the air. "Phew, that''s intense." - she muttered, shaking her head ruefully - "Remind me to be extra nice to dear Alistair for teaching us all how to do the strength charm. For what''s it worth, I concur with DeeDee here. The weekly issue is how I vote we handle it. Between the three of us and the humdrum of Parsee, we gain the bobs and tidbits far too often to fit it all in once a month issue, unless we want to make it far too heavy for pigeons to carry, but more than once per week is just too much work for only three of us."


    MeeMee scowled. "Might I remind you two that we do not have enough to fill out this week''s issue properly?" - she demanded acerbically - "I have padded the articles with everything good, and there''s still a space for a good story left."


    LeeLee started to unstack the matrices, laying them out on the table side to side. "Let''s piece what we have." - she proffered absentmindedly, as she slotted the first one into the abominably clever machine that Alyssa called linotype. The set of buttons with the letters and numbers, attached through the levers to the hellishly intricate half-mechanism half-enchantment within that drew the letters in iron sand within the viewing window, and once the whole line was made and verified, etching it into a block of lead, which then clunked down heavily into the matrix in the slot. She was the dedicated text imprinter of them three. MeeMee did most of the editing and preparation of text, while DeeDee handled the layout and wrote letters to their assorted correspondents, which had greatly increased in number ever since they made the first newspaper. This was the second printing, and the stakes were high. Would they be able to keep up to the high expectations set by their very first issue, or not?


    Minutes passed as she clacked away at the machine, her fingers finding the letters quickly. Truth to tell, she was more than a little surprised by the apparent mish-mash of letters on the keyboard when they just received the machine. It made no sense to her at all. Why not just arrange them in proper alphabetic order? But Alyssa had assured them that this layout was actually well-suited to the task at hand and was produced by careful consideration of which letters of the language were used the most, concentrating them in the middle of the keyboard. That certainly had some seed of truth to it, as MeeMee definitely saw her fingers hovering over the middle of the keyboard more often than the edges. And she had to agree that typing with all ten fingers should be quite fast. She, unfortunately, was not quite at that level yet, using indexes and middle fingers as well as her thumb, but even that was very much an improvement over pecking one letter at a time. As she practiced more, by necessity as much as anything else, she caught herself looking on the keyboard less and less, as she grew used to the position of letters by habit. This was the time when she took over the task full-time, as she proved herself to be markedly better at it than her sisters.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Before long, the first page was done, and LeeLee stood up to ratchet in a row of heavy wedges to clamp the etched lines into the matrix. Mirrored text on the blocks looked very odd to her in the beginning, but after everything else Alyssa had been right about, none of them had felt the need to point out the oddness, and it borne out just fine. She dared a peek over the notes her sisters were still sorting and frowned. Indeed, they were scraping the bottom of the barrel, here. Plenty of oddments that were still bread and butter of any socialite, but nothing that was worth telling the whole of Parsee about. Wealthy commoners, who proved themselves to be avid perusers, much to their surprise, couldn''t care less that viscountess This had acne or that baroness That was seeing a stableman on the sly.


    "I... think I have an idea." - she mused slowly - "Or, rather, I recalled something Alyssa had mentioned. Remember, when we were talking about what goes into the newspaper and how? She mentioned something offhand in the end."


    MeeMee looked up hopefully. "Well, don''t keep us waiting, sister. What do you think we should do?" - she demanded.


    "Well... She said that if there is a little space left, it might be better to put in something amusing for the readers, rather than try to force in more rumors..." - LeeLee hedged - "Could we not just... you know... Print a few riddles and give the answers in the next issue for people to check themselves against?"


    "GENIUS!" - DeeDee thundered suddenly, hopping up and kissing flabbergasted LeeLee on both cheeks - "This is exactly what we do! Print some riddles for the children! That way, the parents have a little something something to distract their children with, while they read in peace, and children themselves will learn to anticipate the next issue! LeeLee, you absolute evil genius, you..."


    "But what shall we print?" - MeeMee piped up suddenly - "How much pintes are there in the velte?"


    DeeDee snorted - "Not that kind of riddles, silly. The good ones! Like... Like... What is it that stands on four legs in the morning, on two at noon and on three on sunset?"


    "...There''s an animal that loses and gains their feet?" - MeeMee drawled... then swatted her own cheeks, shaking her head - "Gah, my mind must be leaking out from all that editing! A human, of course! Newborns crawl, adults walk and the elderly hobble with the cane!"


    She stared at the notes with loathing, then resolutely swiped them off to the side. "Mary! Bring us the wine! And those nice little cakes with tea, too!" - she shouted down the corridor for their maid, - "A break, ladies! A break to clear our minds, lest we all become as dimwitted as de Breges."

 A Look In The Past 4. CSI

    "What do you have for me, Clovis?" - sir Malachi demanded irritably as he stepped out of the carriage.


    "A double murder, Grand Inquisitor." - sir Zade reported dutifully - "By the looks of it, robbery too, but I have ordered my men to steer clear of the carriage. No reason to stomp all over the potential traces and risk losing something important before you can take a look, right?"


    "Fair enough. Any witnesses?" - Malachi demanded as he strode towards the inner yard, where the deed happened. Zade fell in step with him easily, shrugging as he went.


    "Lukewarm, sir." - he admitted - "Innkeeper does remember the victims checking in and he was able to tell us one of them was fussing over the chest he has. He also mentioned they had someone appearing to be a servant along with them, but we were unable to find the man. He might be our culprit, frankly, but so far we can not find out much about him."


    "Anyone recognized the victims?" - Malachi requested, as he strode close up, and whistled - "Nevermind, I recognize them myself."


    He crouched next to the body with the knife stuck in his chest and shook his head. "Fancy meeting you here, Konistan. Then again, I guess your whole life was leading up to exactly that kind of finale." - he muttered, peering at the handle of the knife intently - "Hrm... That''s well-worn... But not in a way a craftsman''s knife would be."


    He stood back up and shook his head - "Right then. Let us see if there are any good traces on the ground... WHAT IN THE DAMNATION?" As he lifted his hand to cast a Searching Light upon the scene, the ground lit up in a variety of colors. The deep red of blood under both bodies was expected, but he did not expect to see the mix of white and yellow right next to the furthest body.


    "What is it, sir?" - Zade inquired, staring at the colors with interest - "Blood is blood, obviously, and I know the yellow is piss, which is not that odd in the inner yard, but... white?"


    "Man''s seed." - Malachi spat, as he let the spell dissipate - "I''ll let you guess what it means, Clovis."


    Zade''s forehead creased as he thought over the implications. "I would assume that stains are actually unrelated to each other, but... They were all left in roughly the same time, given the intensity of light, right?" - he began slowly - "If not for that, I would simply presume someone urinated and fornicated at that spot before the murder. Possibly two someones."


    "Keep going." - Malachi proffered simply, as he leaned over the other body - "Well, damn. That''s Gileas Hardlock. What in the dickens an Academy teacher was doing this far out of Parsee? Especially right in the middle of the week? Does he not have the lessons to teach?"


    "Ah, actually, he was fired." - Zade proffered - "Dean Ambercrombe needed city guard assistance to remove him from the premises. Apparently, he was exposed as a fraud by one of the students."


    Malachi whirled around. "OOoh? Do tell." - he drawled curiously - "Would that student be lady Gillespie, out of curiosity?"


    "How did you know?" - Zade retorted with surprise - "And yes, apparently she took issue with the way Hardlock was teaching dueling, called him out to the piste and beat the tar out of him. Literally, according to the people present. Squire McGregor had described the bout as "She booted him in the face, then choked him out with her hands."."


    Malachi snickered. "Well, that explains why he was fired." - he remarked cynically - "First year student managing to get close enough to actually strike him?... Then again, lady Gillespie seems to be on pretty amiable terms with violence. Alright, back to our muttons. The mixed spot was left roughly in the same time as the bloodstains, give or take half an hour. Moreso, I will give you this hint - the stain was left in one go. Your conclusions?"


    "Hrm." - Zade mused - "The culprit is a pervert who beat his meat to the sight of fresh corpses? No telling if they were made by the culprit in question or not, either..."


    Malachi winced. "I keep forgetting you''re fairly young." - he groused - "There hadn''t been many slow hangings in recent years."


    "Slow hangings, sir?" - Clovis repeated, confused.


    "There are, generally speaking, two ways to hang a man." - Malachi began explaining gruffly - "The usual is to let them drop from about half a touse before the noose tightens. That breaks their necks. A reasonably quick death, all things considered. Drop, crack, done. Slow hanging is when instead of dropping them down, the rope is slowly pulled up. Neck does not break, instead strangulation happens. Much slower, could take up to half an hour to die."


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    "Fascinating, sir, but what does it have to do with a mixed stain of seed and piss?" - Zade inquired.


    "Hangman''s wood." - Grand Inquisitor retorted - "If you strangle someone with a piece of rope, some men, well... expel seed and piss in their death throes. No one knows precisely why, but it''s a common enough problem that in the past brigands who were condemned to slow hanging had their lower halves tied up into a sack to keep the indecency covered."


    Zade winced. "Then I should be glad that his highness does not order such executions anymore." - he remarked.


    "Oh, it''s still in the books. His highness just restricted the method for brigands who were ringleaders, rapists or childkillers." - Malachi retorted - "The rest get the drop. As though why you haven''t seen it happen? Mostly because brigands have better sense than prowl around Parsee. Still pretty common in the provinces. But we digress. This stain? The most likely theory is that someone was strangled on that spot. Let''s check the bodies properly, knife wounds might have been just for show."


    He quickly examined the neck of each corpse and stood up again, frowning. "Have people search the inn, Clovis. There should be a third corpse somewhere." - Malachi demanded.


    ___


    "So?" - Grand Inquisitor demanded. Sir Zade shook his head slowly. "No luck, sir." - he reported - "My men had found nothing worth attention in the inn or in immediate surroundings. The rooms those men rented are untouched entirely, it appears that neither had time to visit. The innkeeper did recall something, though. According to him, Hardlock was told by the presumed servant that his chest was knocked over, and he immediately went out to the yard to check. Presumably, he was stabbed in the back while he was checking on his chest. I would guess that Konistan went out after them, saw the stabbing and tried to raise the alarm and was stabbed in the chest for his troubles. Hardlock''s chest is unlocked and the key is still in the lock. Someone rifled through it pretty thoroughly, it is clear there was a number of items taken out. By the way, both of the bodies have been frisked too. Whoever killed them took care to remove the valuables, given that both men are missing cufflinks and presumably other trinkets. No coins were found in either''s pockets, and several of them were turned inside out."


    "Hangs together, except for one detail. Who got strangled, and why? And where is his body?" - Malachi grumbled - "Someone else coming upon the scene, strangling the murderer and carting off the valuables and body to throw off the trail?"


    "Unsure, sir. I believe at least one bedsheet from Hardlock''s chest was removed, given the state others are in. Possibly used to wrap up the valuables or body. Or both." - Zade proffered - "According to the stableman, Konistan had two chests of his own, but only one is still in the carriage. It is open and rifled through, but there were no further clues within. Whoever did this was after valuables that are easy to carry... Which brings me back to the idea that they were attacked by the man innkeeper presumed to be the servant."


    "There is something odd about it all, though..." - Malachi mused - "Wait. Idea."


    He strode off into the inn and came back with the innkeeper a few moments later. Portly man was not at all glad to be near the corpses, but nonetheless bent over the Konistan`s body and peered into his face intently.


    "...I don''t think so, your grace." - he hedged - "Many pardons, but that servant man? He had the looks of a man deep in the bottle, if you pardon the crudeness."


    "Imagine this man being deep in the bottle, as you put it, my good man." - Malachi rumbled impatiently - "Would he look like the servant then?"


    "...I... I do not know, your grace. Maybe? Thousand pardons, but I never bothered to look at the servant''s face all that well. Drunkards are all the same to me." - innkeeper whinged - "Excuse me, your grace, may I leave? I''m sorry I can''t help better."


    Waving off the innkeeper impatiently, Malachi frowned. "Well, there goes one theory." - he grumbled - "This man has a brother who is a known drunkard, but even so, people often comment on how close they look. Kaste is a brigand and a murderer many times over, I could easily see him... Hrm. Hm. No, even if he was the servant and got strangled after the double murder, why would his own killer remove his body, but not the other two?..."


    "Perhaps he was not the servant, but the person who strangled the servant?" - Zade offered - "Imagine. Servant lures Hardlock out to get into his chest, waits until Hardlock opens it and stabs him in the kidneys. Starts rifling through the chest. Vole Konistan comes out, sees the scene and tries to subdue the servant only to get a knife in his chest for his troubles. The servant continues to collect all valuables, ties them up in the bedsheet and prepares to escape and this is when Kaste Konistan happens upon the scene, strangles the servant as revenge for his brother and drags the body off somewhere?"


    "Why would Kaste be here?" - Malachi objected reasonably.


    "To meet with his brother? This inn is pretty remote from just about any other place, a perfect spot to have a pow-wow with your criminal relative." - Zade continued to build his theory.


    "Granted. But what does Hardlock have to do with them, in that case?" - Malachi continued sedately.


    "Well... Perhaps he knew Konistans have connections with brigands? He was just fired ignobly from the Academy, I wouldn''t be surprised if he wanted to hire some brigands to exert some sort of revenge." - Zade retorted.


    Sir Malachi mulled it over. "That... might have been what had happened." - he eventually proffered - "However, there is one person we need to talk to to get the full picture. Well, as full as we can get."


    "Whom might that be, sir?" - Zade requested - "We have already questioned everyone who was present in the inn."


    "Lady Gillespie, Clovis." - Malachi sighed - "You don''t know it yet, but the word is, Konistan had a meeting with her just the other day. Then he left Parsee in a great hurry."


    "That... might get complicated, sir." - Zade hedged cautiously - "If she is involved somehow..."


    "Don''t you worry about that." - Malachi interrupted him irritably - "This is above your ken. I''ll talk to her myself."

 A Look In The Past 5. Shady Meeting

    "This is becoming problematic." - one of the meeting attendants groused. At the round table, a number of nobles sat, each of them garbed in a robe with a deep cowl. Of course, this was but a token gesture, for everyone at the table knew everyone else... with the few exceptions, which was the main reason for such measures to begin with.


    "Problematic? Honestly, I''d go as far as call it ridiculous! A good third of kingdom''s nobility unable to put one uppity bint into her proper place." - another interjected shrilly. A woman, if the tone of voice was of any indication.


    "Granted, but one does not preclude the other. This girl might be off-kilter, but she''s far from stupid." - a third voice piped up - "We are haemorrhaging assets, honorable sirs and ladies. There is a certain dearth of qualified help in such delicate matters, and losing several in quick succession is a big problem."


    "Assets are one thing, but we are also losing important people!" - first voice interrupted - "De Braltar made it clear he will not act against Gillespies, upset daughter or no. In fact, he might have had reached some kind of arrangement with Gillespies and his daughter might not even be upset anymore. Sadoux nearly challenged me to a duel! He wants nothing to do with us now. De Brege is hopelessly compromised."


    "Considering you looked the other way when Konistan was robbing farmers blind in Sadoux domain, I can hardly expect him to be the fan of our coalition to begin with." - third voice mocked - "And de Breges are simpletons."


    "Silence!" - first voice bellowed - "Have a care how you talk about people of noble blood! Unlike yours, their houses served this kingdom for centuries."


    "But right now, they are not." - second voice suggested coyly - "Rather, they are for whichever reasons all content to sit by idly and watch the destruction."


    "To be fair, they all have personal reasons to." - fourth voice rose, - "De Breges had come up laughably short in every altercation they had, Sadoux had his sister cured of consumption, which is a miracle by itself, and no one even knows what kind of problem maiden de Braltar even had with Gillespies to begin with."


    Third voice scoffed - "I believe at this juncture it is obvious that Sadoux will not take our side, come fire or high water. Perhaps we will have better luck on the opposite side of this problem. Lemarchand sent his wife back to Sadoux for a reason, and I for one do not believe this malarkey about disease being the reason in the slightest! Mark my words, this Lemand is a bastard and that''s the truth! Why not fan these flames?"


    Second voice giggled - "That does sound pretty good to me. Darling Balthazar is undefeatable on the piste, let him humiliate Gillespies. He has a clear reason to intervene, too, his bastard and unfaithful wife being used against him like so."


    "That is a possibility." - first voice agreed, - "But let us not get ahead of ourselves. We already thought to possess the perfect solution too, and what a disappointment it turned out to be. What else can be done to hamper upstarts?"


    "Would be nice if someone could pressure them financially..." - fifth voice mused dreamily.


    "It would. But who? Gillespies are making gold hand over fist, while our own coffers deplete." - first voice retorted - "No trading house holds any promissory notes or liens for Gillespies, they pay with gold and up front."


    "Well, don''t look at me." - third voice defended - "I have no spare coin."


    "Coin, maybe not." - fourth voice suggested coyly - "But you did give Konistan Trading House a number of promissory notes. It would be such a shame if all of them were suddenly voided..."


    "What, and give Gillespies a claim to my own domain?" - third voice scoffed bitterly - "I think not. They have royal ear currently, king would rule in their favor."


    "For now." - first voice mused - "But things change. I believe there are certain other, ahem... concerned parties who are interested in removal of our problem as well."


    "Sultan''s dogs?" - second voice simpered - "They can bark, but their bite is weak. Honestly, if their best warrior could allow himself to be killed without even laying a scratch on a damn girl, what hope does the rest of rabble have?"


    "Not everything needs to be a duel." - fifth voice suddenly regained seriousness - "Does it really matter how skilled the hand is, if the dagger goes in the back?"


    Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    "Unfortunately, yes." - first voice rebutted - "My men at the academy report that attempts were made. And rebuffed with extreme prejudice."


    "They''re telling you tall tales, then." - fourth voice suggested - "It would be all but impossible to hide the fact hashishins appeared in Academy, not from the rumor mill."


    "Oh, it is possible if you kill them where they stand and incinerate the bodies before anyone sees them." - first voice disagreed - "And I know for a fact maiden Gillespie is not shy about doing either."


    "Speaking of Academy... Perhaps some of us should invite dean Ambercrombe for a little chat? Remind him who his friends are..." - second voice interjected - "Even royal favor won''t quite cover up flunking from the Academy for ineptitude, after all."


    "Not an option for many reasons." - third voice cut in - "For one, Ambercrombe is terrified of our problem. And even if we somehow managed to stiffen his spine, maiden Gillespie is a scholastic prodigy, and the whole of Parsee knows that by now. No one would believe she failed in studies, least of all - his majesty. And if the king himself pays attention to our proposed subterfuge with Ambercrombe, heads would roll and I don''t mean that metaphorically."


    "So to sum it up... We lack the wherewithal to affect Gillespies by the way of wealth because they are wealthier than we are. Spreading rumors about them is an equally lacking proposition, for anything we might have made into a juicy gossip is something they flaunt. Our one good plan is to pit Balthazar Lemarchand against them. Our one lackluster plan is to sit idly and hope hashishins prove themselves to be up to the task, earlier upsets notwithstanding. Does anyone have any political suggestions? Gillespie holdings spread across the north recently, as count bailed out some of our own vassals from their monetary ordeals. Could there be something in this?" - first voice suggested mildly.


    "Those milksops? Please, they will support whoever offers more money... and at the moment, it''s Gillespies and we can not outbid them. Not without crippling ourselves." - second voice shrilled - "Disloyal curs!"


    "What''s the matter? Upset your usual boytoys are no longer available to coerce into your own bed with vague promises of debts being forgiven?" - third voice jeered - "Though there is something to be said about this... I am actually thinking of maybe following their example."


    A shocked silence spread.


    "...Viscount, explain yourself." - the first voice demanded frostily.


    A shrug was given in return. "What is there to explain?" - third voice retorted flippantly - "With his recent acquisitions, Gillespie actually shares a border with me now. It stands to reason he would rest his eye upon my lands next. I could make a stand and remain near-destitute, or I can take his offer and abrogate myself of the majority of debt in one fell swoop."


    "And you would betray our cause for monetary relief?" - first voice inquired incredulously.


    "There is this and there is that." - third voice mused - "For what it''s worth, I agree with your points. Too much change, too quick, too soon. Too encompassing. A need in moderation is urgently needed, lest we find ourselves rudderless within the storm. But insofar, the best I can contribute is my name, and even that is not worth much, not in comparison to Gillespie. If I take his offer, however, I will definitely know more about their plans and movements."


    "And we''re supposed to just blindly trust you?" - second voice quipped acerbically.


    "What is there to trust me about, baroness?" - third voice inquired incredulously - "Being concerned about the fates of the kingdom is not a crime."


    "Enough!" - first voice thundered - "Viscount, you are treading a dangerous path. Gillespies had blithely ignored all of our attempts at reconciliation, they are neither interested nor willing to engage in dialogue. If you join them, even in name only, they will demand the same out of you, and we will NOT tolerate such a blatant betrayal."


    "Yeah, about that." - third voice retorted - "I have this distinct impression that Gillespies had failed to NOTICE your attempts at reconciliation, not chose to ignore them. Furthermore, I have made inquiries. Insofar, the demands count Gillespie impresses on his newly gained vassals are not nearly as numerous or onerous as you seem to believe. He demands a suitable workforce to be dedicated to spreading the tar roads, which even you have to admit are a vital improvement and to give fiscal accounting of domain''s resources and productions that could be made available for trade. That is basically it. I''ve yet to find out even one person who was told to change their political stances. If anything, I might be able to be that voice of moderation you were harping about."


    "Because surely the advice of rampant gambler will be taken seriously by a man of mercantile bent." - second voice leered - "Surely, this is the faultless plan we were all clamoring about, no doubt. Go for it, viscount, it would be worth a laugh at the least."


    "I do not hear you suggest any better ones." - fifth voice cut into the discussion - "At this junction, we might as well try everything we can think of. Gods willing, one of those disparate attempts will actually find that chink in armor."


    "I do not like it... but as baron said, we are not spoiled for choice here." - first voice proffered after a bit of silence - "Do as you will, viscount, but remember what we''re striving for. Don''t let the haze of gold cloud your good judgment."


    "He does not need the gold to cloud his good judgment." - second voice muttered sulfurously as the owner of third withdrew from the table.


    "Think he''ll betray us?" - fourth voice quipped lackadaisically.


    "What is there to betray?" - first voice chuckled - "He was right about that one thing, if nothing else. It''s not a crime to be concerned about the fates of the kingdom. Still... some hedging of bets would not go amiss, and de Brege should be eager to avenge his earlier humiliation. Is your illusionist ready?"


    "He is confident he would be able to produce a convincing enough image of the bint to fool that fool at least." - second voice agreed - "We''re just waiting for a word from you to proceed."


    "Excellent."

 Chapter 101. Debriefing

    Thankfully, the dark lull caused by my quick expos¨¦ on genetics and hereditary disorders is dispelled by an annoyance of an entirely different kind. Marquis de Brege in person, namely. He is ushered in by the majordomo, and for once, does not fail to notice the king, mainly so because he makes a beeline towards Abe as soon as he is in the room. Does not seem to notice anyone else here, though.


    "Your highness, many thanks for heeding my distress so quickly!" - he huffs - "I have been deeply wronged! Lady Gillespie had invaded my manor, mistreated my son and abducted his alchemy tutor!"


    Abe quirks his brow, tilting his head in my direction. "Really. And when did this happen, pray tell?" - he drawls sarcastically.


    "This morning, your highness! Barely a few hours ago. I implore of you to send the knights to apprehend the ruffian most urgently, lest she flees Parsee! I have no doubt she is already racing towards the city gates." - de Brege continues to astound with his lack of observational skills.


    Abraham huffs with suppressed laughter. "Hear this, lady Gillespie?" - he quips to me sardonically - "Apparently, you''re racing towards city gates right now. With alchemy tutor in tow, no less."


    De Brege whirls around, staring at the other people present. "Iii... Ah! What?... How?" - he stammers.


    "Well now, this is very interesting." - I retort thoughtfully - "Apparently, I also somehow managed to assault marquises'' household while having an audience with you, your highness. Truly, I must be the most devious villainess to ever darken the city to manage this astounding feat of being in two places at once."


    Me and Abe exchange knowing glances. He, unlike de Brege, is quite aware I actually CAN do that, but seems to find the assertion that I would openly attack marquis and his household to obtain an alchemist to be most amusing.


    "Out of morbid curiosity, marquis." - I continue - "Would you kindly explain what could I possibly need an alchemist for, considering that I am fairly well known as an apt alchemist myself? Between inventing the cure for cold and writing a textbook on mineral alchemy just recently, I would presume my credentials as an alchemist are fairly convincing."


    He flabs his mouth wordlessly, purpling and shaking as he tries to force something coherent out.


    Abe finally takes mercy on him. "I believe it is amply evident lady Gillespie is not involved in any kind of attack on your household this fine morning, marquis." - he proffers ominously - "However, given your unfounded accusations just now, I would not be surprised if she elects to call a blood feud on de Breges... and I am seriously contemplating the merits of giving her permission to do so. Your conduct lately has been most aggravating, I must note."


    Well, his self-preservation seems to be working, at least. De Brege promptly drops on his knees and pleads - "Mercy, your highness! I beg for mercy! I am at my wits'' end! I have seen lady Gillespie leaving my manor with my own eyes, with some oijan thugs in tow! I do not understand how that might have happened if she was with you this morning!"


    O-ho. That''s... curious.


    "And those thugs were dragging your alchemy tutor, I take it?" - Abraham drawls slowly. This is... getting pretty interesting.


    "...Ah. No? Not that I could see, your highness." - marquis bleats in confusion.


    "Then why do you think he was kidnapped by this mysterious impostor?" - Abe nails him to the floor with a simple observation.


    "He''s missing, your highness!" - de Brege responds promptly - "I have been paying the man handsomely, I can hardly see why he would leave if not taken by force. Furthermore, my son''s precious project had been stolen!"


    "And what kind of alchemy was your son dabbling with?" - I quip.


    "OOh, he is brilliant, he is, my darling Julien." - marquis crows, promptly forgetting his regrettable situation - "Why, I challenge you to find another scion to concoct an invisibility potion at such a tender age! You won''t, mark my words. My Julien is an alchemical prodigy!"


    "Really? And how long was he studying alchemy?" - Abe eggs him on - "I daresay this is the first time I hear of Julien having an interest in the alchemy of all crafts." Left unsaid is the notion that de Breges in general have not been heard of being apt at any craft whatsoever for generations by now.


    "Why, he had just taken up the tutelage, your highness, just the last week." - marquis continues to dig himself deeper - "Herr Nokhmakhn had just discovered his astounding aptitude, to be honest."


    Krauts. And... My yiddish is very rudimentary, but if I''m not mistaken, it should correspond to german ''nachmashen''... Herr Fake? Good grief. So it''s Klaus. Put the "alchemy tutor" in, discover "prodigy", produce potions just in time for hashishins to nab those for the cloaks. Probably leaked the information to them too, crafty bastard. Of course, with the tutor long gone, there is no proving it... and de Brege is left holding the bag as the guy who provided the hashishins with invisibility cloaks. Inspired nasty.


    Abe is clearly thinking along the same lines, if not suspecting Klaus, I would imagine, giving his rapidly darkening face.


    "Well, marquis, I believe I know where the invisibility potions went, at least." - he begins ominously - "They were used by hashishins to sneak into my palace in their attempt to murder lady Gillespie."


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    "But... but... but!" - de Brege stammers - "Why would she want to murder herself! Ooh, I knew there was something off about her this morning! Your highness, lady Gillespie must be in the grip of lunacy, there is no other explanation!"


    Everyone, including the servants, facepalms. There is simply no other way to respond to that. Abe turns to me. "Do you have better ideas, lady Gillespie?" - he inquires, barely holding himself from a bout of snide laughter.


    "Well... Let me begin by stating I have no need for invisibility potions." - I begin, and toss an invisibility spell over myself, eliciting a number of gasps as I simply vanish from sight - "I believe that marquis de Brege was thoroughly duped. One of the hashishins had posed as an alchemist in order to, ahem..."


    I reappear and do the air quotes with fingers as I continue - "To ''discover'' Julien''s ''prodigious alchemy skills'', so that marquis would purchase the rare and expensive ingredients for the invisibility potion. Once they were prepared, no doubt under the guise of alchemist showing Julien how to do it, hashishins had staged the ''assault'' and simply walked out with potions, alchemist shedding the illusion of Kraut gentleman in favor of donning my own image as a guise. Then they put the potions on the cloaks and carried out their infiltration. The outcome you already know."


    Abraham nods thoughtfully - "That sounds plausible. And leaves us with the unfortunate fact that marquis de Brege had, however unwittingly, supplied our enemy with the means of entering my palace unnoticed. Roland, there is no way for me not to address your part in this."


    He pauses, and sighs. "Baron de Brege, you may leave. Documents for your new title will be delivered this evening." - he then proclaims - "I do hope that you will take this rebuke as an inspiration for improvement on your diligence as a noble of Champagne kingdom. I also recommend you retire to your domain for now and devote some time and effort towards managing it. I find you as a courtier to be severely lacking and would enjoy a respite from your haphazard blundering."


    De Brege swallows. Pales. Purples. Chokes on air. Falls over in a dead faint, much to the alarm of everyone present.


    ___


    "One thing bothers me." - Abraham muttered as me, him, father, Jerome the lieutenant and sir Malachi trooped down to the dungeons to have a look at the hashishin - "Why would the fake alchemist don your image?"


    "To avoid making you think that de Breges were knowingly conspiring, most likely." - I retort - "I suspect, though I have no good proof for it, that alchemist was not actually a hashishin himself but rather someone who orchestrated the availability of invisibility potion to hashishins for their own agenda. If not for that, former marquis would have probably been executed for this, or stripped of his noble status altogether, and being part to such a loud crime would cause a lot of scrutiny to be placed on his acquaintances. I hardly think de Brege would allow a random alchemist from the street to tutor his precious offspring. Someone sufficiently noble had to introduce them in order for de Brege to actually hire the man."


    "You suspect some of our own nobles aided hashishins covertly?" - Malachi mused - "I wouldn''t be surprised, if so. Your achievements make you a thorn in the side to many of our esteemed highborn. As it is, even if we find out who made the introduction, they have a ready excuse that they had no idea the alchemist they recommended turned out to be an assassin in disguise."


    "Unfortunately believable." - Abe grouses - "What are the chances our guest here would know anything about this scheme that we already don''t know?"


    Malachi snorts. "Two, your highness. Slim and fat." - he jests - "Jokes aside, I would presume someone who was there to be the bait knows as little as possible about the case. Still, there is no harm in asking."


    Come to think of it, this is the first time I''m getting to see the palace dungeons. Extensive is one word for it, but it does seem that most of the area is used as storage, rather than jail. The actual holding area is pretty modest by the kingdom standards - only six cells. I guess this place is not really used as a jail much. Further credence is lent by the fact that only one cell is occupied... and it is one closest to the entrance.


    Actual interrogation kinda... does not happen. The guy in question is manacled to the wall, his knee is definitely not up to the task of being used for anything, and the only thing he does is mutter something quietly in oijan, ignoring our questions entirely. Well, right until the part when I enter the cell, because the moment I''m in, the guy lunges for me. I''m not sure what he expected to do, the manacle chain is far too short to reach, and he is not exactly in shape to stand. The huge hematoma covering most of his face shows where he caught my backhand. I guess he was under body reinforcement magic in time, I''d have outright snapped his neck otherwise with that much force applied.


    Stepping back, I shake my head. "I... find it dubious there is actually any point in asking anything." - I suggest - "This man already considers himself dead, as far as I can tell." Then I step to the side to dodge the well-aimed loogie. Irritating.


    Abraham considers the situation critically. Looks at Malachi. "What do you think?" - he asks shortly.


    "She''s right." - Malachi admits gruffly - "We might get more spit for our troubles, that''s pretty much it."


    Abraham considers the prisoner carefully, dodges his own portion of spit, and waves his hand abruptly. "Damnation. Jerome, give him what he desires." - he grouses. Lieutenant bows, pulls out the sword and steps up to the hashishin, thrusting the blade through his solar plexus without much ado. The effects are... interesting, as the assassin immediately begins to scream and thrash about. Jerome clearly did not expect this much, because he yanks the sword out with a curse and jumps back. We all stare as the man in front of us dies in very odd manner, blood foaming out of all his orifices, both natural and freshly made.


    "...Oh gods, what just happened?" - Jerome finally manages after a lengthy pause, as we all stare at the body that apparently expired with most of his blood boiling out. He stares at the pristinely clean sword, then turns to me with a crooked smile - "...Cleaning enchantment, lady Gillespie?"


    "...Contagion effect, I surmise." - I offer after a bit of consideration - "Pain is a sort of sacrifice, and blood definitely qualifies as something to clean off... Well, you can''t dispute the fact it did clean the sword off rather promptly."


    "That it did." - he agrees with a sage nod, and cautiously returns the sword into the sheath - "I believe I will be exercising extra caution, lady Gillespie, you seem to have produced a fearsome weapon."


    "Quite." - Malachi rasps - "Any chances I might get the formulae, lady Gillespie? That enchantment does seem to have quite an effect. I wonder what this kind of blade would do to a ghoul."


    "I''ll write it down once we reach the place with writing utensils, sir Malachi." - I agree. Curious. I didn''t really expect that much. It should''ve just boiled the blood off the blade, not off the body entirely... On the other hand, Malachi is right. This should be quite a nasty surprise to any of the creatures Inquisition normally deals with.

 Chapter 102. Can’t Touch This

    Back in the mansion... I am subjected to more CONCERN. Lily-Anne was not in any way shy about telling the rest of my harem everything that happened... and father did not help matters with his comments either. Really, the only ones who were more or less cool about it were Cy, Moon Unit and twins. Bridgit and Roxy took the opportunity to cluck over me like mother hens, and the less is said about mother''s reaction, the better. Then dad pours even more oil into the fire by retelling my short spiel on genetics. Mother cried, clutched at me a lot and made me feel awkward as all hell with her lamentations of how much of a burden I''m willing to place on myself by looking into family "curses". Thankfully, she does relent a bit after I tell her (and Lily-Anne confirms) that sir Pasteur will be brought in on the topic, along with whomever else Abraham deems to be sufficiently discreet for that bit of knowledge.


    In the end, I abscond to the back yard, where I conjure a couple of different swords and show to Cy and twins how did I halve the assassin on a couple of sizable logs. Twins take to the story with gusto and before long, I''m roped into giving them a bit of an impromptu lesson on swashbuckling. Apparently, they found it a bit unfair that Cy was able to repeat my performance with an appropriately sized sword and log. On the plus side, now Antoine and Jean-Paul both can do body reinforcement spell with their backup facsimiles. I wanted them to stick with flowers for now, but they made a surprisingly convincing argument that since me and Cy can do it with facsimiles, there is no reason for them not to learn how to do the same. On one hand, the mischief they will get into rises by a lot, now that either of them has the basic training on how to make themselves stronger, faster and tougher essentially on a whim. On the other, the very same also ensures they will be able to fend for themselves better, and with things heating up, this is a welcome bit of security.


    What happens next surprises me most of all, however. Apparently, mother was talking to dwarves. She inserts herself into our spontaneous martial lesson a while later. While her interest in swords is nonexistent, she introduces an interesting little wobbly into the things. That wobbly being a pair of flintlock pistols that she confessed to be carrying under her coat at all times. Coupled with a body reinforcement spell, it gives her the ability to snap off a pair of incredibly quick and accurate shots and quickly retreat. I''m impressed and express that much out loud.


    "Really, Alyssa?" - she chides - "Impressive was inventing those pistols. Much more convenient than a crossbow."


    "You know how to shoot a crossbow?" - and isn''t that a surprise. I had no idea mother had any kind of martial training of her own, she was never particularly fond of any violence and made it pretty clear throughout my childhood.


    "Not the skill I relish in having, my dear, but yes. A lady of the house might be called to defend it, after all." - she retorts - "Still, a crossbow is very cumbersome, and I do not miss it in the slightest. Those pistols are much better. In fact, I was going to talk to all of you about this."


    "Yes? What about it?" - I clarify. She simply smiles at me.


    "Give your girls a bit of time to join us." - she says. And that''s when my harem troops out, each holding a pair of flintlocks.


    "Surprise?" - Bridgit offers uncertainly - "Lady Gillespie brought enough of those, uh... pistols? For all of us."


    "So... why the arms race?" - I quip.


    "Well, dear, with the way things are going..." - she replies sadly - "I do not like it, but if it comes to such lows, I quite prefer all of you to be the ones left standing in the end. The next assassin just might be less knife-happy, you know. So I took it upon myself to make sure you all have an ace in the sleeve, as it were. Speaking of which, here is your pair. Rory had packed a crate with more of those, uh... firearms, yes. They''re in your airship. Not the small ones like these, long ones like spears. I obviously quite prefer you never need them, but better have them and not need them than find yourself in a bind, right?"


    "Fair enough, mom. Fair enough." - I answer absentmindedly, as I go about loading the flintlocks. No one seems to bat an eye as I do. Not even twins. I... hm. Hmm. Oh, mother, that''s pretty sneaky of you... I check, and certainly enough, twins each carry a pair as well. Goodness gracious, that''s... wait, Cy has a pair too? Mooom...


    The rest of the day is spent burning gunpowder as a family. And I am mighty thankful I skipped the black powder and went ahead with nitrocellulose. Strictly speaking, we don''t have powder at all, I have given dwarves a methodology for pulping and purifying woodchips, which are then subjected to the acid mixture, washed, dried and soaked with grain alcohol. The damp mess is then twisted into little cords, which are kept in a sturdy leather bag. Pull a cord out, slide it into the barrel, tamp it down, drop the bullet in, tamp it in too. Bullets are regular lead balls, I didn''t bother with oblong for now, the whole flintlock phase was meant to be just a proof of concept. One major improvement is the etched lily in the handle of each pistol. While in theory, flint is sufficient to ignite the guncotton, pistols work normally by adding a bit of fire magic to it. In fact, the whole flint assembly could be removed, but that would make the gun malfunction if it were used near the dragonscale pendant, so instead, there is a simple enchant etched in that probes the safety and then either kicks off enchantment or failsafes and permits entirely mundane ignition from the flint sparks.


    Once everyone had enough fun with pistols, I bring out the crate Rory sent. Muskets, how nice. With socket bayonets. Goodness, that looks menacing. Oh, what... oh. Oh, wow. They actually made a hand bombard, too. This one is magic-dependent, though. I wonder why. Safety''s much better, of course, without extra holes and levers to fail... And bombs are each with ignition engravement instead of fuses. Hm. Oh, I can fiddle with it. Normally, it just goes off from impact or when fifteen seconds pass if it didn''t strike anything hard enough. I can remotely fiddle with enchantment, though. Airburst? Why not. Hm. I should probably give one of the muskets to Alistair, he did ask for unusual weapons a while back. Later, though. Probably should pass some samples to the king as well. He should know about the stuff... And the fact dwarves are currently working out the details of producing cartridges and rifles. Not quite there, yet, but getting closer.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ___


    Something had occurred to me just now. Namely, that there will be speeches given very soon. And that I''m probably going to need to say something as well. And public speaking in this age is an exercise for the throat. Why not make it simpler? Really, the basics are already there. Copperphones. Simply shape one end as a microphone, embed the connected quantum pairing bits into membranes, set the whole things into wooden boxes. Voila. Speaker set - get.


    "...Alyssa, gods damn it." - my father grouses as he stares at the things - "What would it take to get you to relax?"


    "Dad, that''s how I''m relaxing, alright!?" - I''m more than a bit exasperated. Somehow, he is under an impression that inventing stuff is a hardship. That I have to wrack my brains for it. Goodness.


    "Well, this is going to be tremendously convenient." - mother''s take is much better. Not that she began any better, but speakers are currently being given a thorough performance proofing by Moon Unit, who appropriates the microphone part and uses it to sing. Nailed it, by the way. Amplification is good, but not overwhelming. Moon Unit still sounds soft and pretty. Just across the whole district, rather than just the backyard. Testing successful?


    ___


    "Hello, Ed. Hello, Selene." - I proffer - "What can I do for you on this nice day of Reflection?"


    "Did you build speakers?" - Selene bites into the issue at hand before she even manages to step out of the carriage.


    "Greetings, lady Gillespie." - Ed proffers formally, as he sketches a polite nod and nudges Selene to do the same - "Serenity, I quite understand you are excited, but some decorum, would you kindly?"


    She blushes and fluffs the back of her head, proffering contritely - "Sorry. Hello, Alyssa."


    He clicks his tongue at the first name address and gives me a long-suffering glance, taking her by the arm and leading her into the door, which I step out of with a welcoming gesture.


    "To answer your earlier question, yes. Yes I did." - I agree, as I guide them to the backyard.


    Ed coughs. "I believe there is a question long overdue that I really should ask." - he begins seriously - "What is your connection? More than a few times, I have noticed Serenity reacting with familiarity and excitement to the new inventions lady Gillespie produces. How?"


    I keep ushering them to the backyard. "Ed, just call me by name. We''re not in the court, no need to stand on ceremony." - I admonish - "As for our connection, as you so put it..."


    I cast a glance at Selene and quickly project a phrase in english behind Ed''s back so that she could see it, but not he. "I''ll do the talking, just nod in appropriate moments." it says. Selene, who was sporting a deer in the headlights expression, relaxes slightly and nods to me to signify she got the message.


    "Well, here''s the rub." - I begin, as we stop in the middle of the yard in front of speakers. The sight makes Selene''s eyes go wide with excitement and she strolls over to look over them.


    "How much do you know about Selene''s seer ability?" - I request.


    Ed shrugs. "What Serenity told me, more or less." - he retorts - "She had an extensive vision of future, broken into several dreams, covering the next three years... Well, two and a half now. A lot of her vision is what could have been but actually wasn''t, so there is little reason to put much stock into it now."


    I nod. "Yes, but did you ask how it looked like to her?" - I inquire. He blinks.


    "How did what look?" - he reasks. I quickly project another message to Selene on the back of the speaker she''s currently circling. "Tell him your vision was like a theater performance, and that between the acts you were shown, you explored the theater."


    "Ah... that." - Selene drawls slowly - "I didn''t mention it much. It still sounds outrageous to me."


    I "glare" at her. "Selene. Just... tell Ed everything you told me about it, alright?" - I "admonish".


    "Fine, fine..." - she grumbles - "It still sounds silly, just so you know..."


    She walks back to stand in front of Ed, and begins to speak slowly - "OK, so... You remember what I told you about the vision, right? Well... actual vision was more like a book than a vision. Or a theater performance, really. A lot of things I didn''t see as much as I saw people describing what they did and how they ended up doing it. And like in any performance, there were breaks. Sometimes, I would wake up. And sometimes, it was just like, you know... sitting in the theater between the acts. There were all sorts of weird things in the theater. Some of them I later found here. Mostly, in Alyssa''s hands. This is how I know. There were other people watching the performance with me, too. Odd people. They had an odd way of dressing, they spoke oddly, they called the performance ''a game''. They argued what the characters should say next. They poked fun, laughed and cried and argued with each other about who is going to end up with whom and why. There were actually several ways in which the future could play out. I could have ended up dating Alistair or prince Hohenzollern instead of catching your eye, for example. The performance repeated several times, actors making different choices each time. Sometimes my actor would end up marrying well. Sometimes, my actor would be sold to slavery, or killed or stuck as an old maid... Anyway, that''s where I know about those things. I... sort of lied a little, actually. The performance itself took about a week, but the visions of all the different variations continued for almost a year. I, well.. grew used to just sort of... living in a different world in my dreams. This is why. Funny, though. Not a single variant of performance was even close to what had really happened. Not even slightly. Really, the moment I met Alyssa in the Academy was the moment when it all broke and became unfamiliar... and yet, so reminiscent of things I saw in the theater itself."


    Ed nibbles on his lip thoughtfully. Sighs. Steps up and hugs Selene. "You should have told me." - he offers softly - "This was clearly harder on you than you''d like to pretend."


    Funny enough, that does not really register as a lie to light magic. Not... completely. The feeling I get from it is less "someone is lying" and more "someone is being vague and unsure". Wonder why. Does it mean our previous lives qualify as visions? Or Selene really is a seer and her transmigration was less of a direct transplant like me and more like memory upload? ...Er, actually, would I even understand the difference between those two? I''m pretty sure I don''t have a soul. At least, nothing separate from the rest of me.


    She hugs back, but then wiggles out of Ed''s grasp and saunters over to me. "So... speakers?" - she begins - "I heard the song all the way from the palace, by the way. What''s the plan?"


    I blink at Selene. "Well, I was thinking that there will be a lot of speeches on Ignition and Morning Glory." - I proffer - "At least some of which I will probably be roped into. Why not make sure people can hear me properly? I''m going to send off a message to his highness now for permission to mount those in the Market Square. Reasonably sure everyone who has a speaking part in festivities will appreciate the convenience."


    "...Why, I do believe I will." - Ed suddenly chuckles - "As well as father and mother and brothers. And your father too, most likely. But how do they work?"


    I toss mike to Selene. "Wanna show off? I turned them down, so you won''t blast the whole district." - I proffer.


    "Uuu can''t touch this!" - she belts out gleefully, speakers dutifully amplifying the rapping as Selene launches into a song, much to my bemusement and Ed''s stupefaction.

 Chapter 103. Somebody Stop Me!

    Ed was more than a little scandalized by rapping. Not enough to actually do something rash, but he did have a lot to say to Selene for such a "crude language", in a song even. In the end, we pacified him with a promise that Selene will sing something less abrasive for the masses on the festivities. She''s being furtive about the song she has in mind. Or songs, really. Oh well, she''s a big girl, I''ll leave such choices to her. It''s one thing to aid a fellow transmigrator to secure a cushy life, and quite another - to run her life for her. On a funnier note, Selene had apparently managed to get Ed hooked up on coffee too. On one hand, he had taken over the question of keeping them both supplied with beans, he definitely can afford it with our business dealings turning up a good profit for him. Glassware of all sorts continues to prove itself to be a hit on the market, and the fact that it''s all endorsed by the royal family ensures there is no shortage of demand. I have a feeling he was not exactly hurting for income from glassworks even before I stuck my nose in, but being able to churn out better and more varied stuff definitely bolstered his already respectable income.


    On the plus side, I was able to finagle permission to install speakers with minimal fuss, as Ed did report on their function extensively enough to make Abe decide his personal inspection was unnecessary. So here I am, commanding a squad of laborers... And trying not to punch this guy in the face. Labor was welcome, if not really crucial, but the addition of a court mage was very much unnecessary in my enlightened opinion. Old goat keeps trying to tell me that things shouldn''t be working when they clearly ARE. Dumbass.


    "...For the last time, no! This goes against the basic teachings of Cagliostro, which you would have known if you truly had any inkling of scholarly zeal!" - he rounds up his extensive speech on why my speakers should not be working at all.


    So I raise the mike. "Than you have a suitable explanation for how something that shouldn''t be working does?" - I answer him in return, my voice easily spreading across the plaza, making several of the laborers smirk.


    Old guy purples. "Were you even listening to me, lady Gillespie?!" - he bellows - "Using illusion to pretend enchantment should work when it clearly can not is... I don''t have words to explain how foolhardy it is."


    "As foolhardy as claiming the enchantment shouldn''t work when it clearly does?" - I retort irritably, still holding the mike - "Look, just... stand over there and don''t touch anything."


    And of course, this admonition had no effect as he storms up to the closest speaker and forcibly rips off the wooden planks covering the side. Well, he does know his body enhancements, at least. Than again, his doublet is literally covered with fresh flowers, I''d be annoyed if he proved himself incapable of basics.


    "Look at this! How could possibly a bit of metal produce any sort of sound?" - he demands.


    In response, I conjure a gong and smack it, making it produce a sound.


    "I will be sending repair bill to his highness, just so you know." - I tell him, as I dismiss the gong.


    "And I will be reporting to him that you are attempting to emplace enchantments that clearly could not do what you are claiming they will do!" - he shouts back - "I daresay his highness would be interested to know about that."


    "Yes, you do that. Go ahead. I''m waiting." - I needle him.


    "Are you doubting my resolve? Rest assured, if you do not cease this foolishness at once, I will. Distributed sound propagation, pfah. What a joke. Anyone worth calling enchanter knows full well you can not split the sound, lest it becomes too quiet to hear." - he tosses back.


    "I insist." - I tell him simply - "Either you go to the king right now and report to him your findings, or I will drag you there by the beard myself."


    For once, he appears actually taken aback and lowers his voice. "Lady Gillespie, please be reasonable. I apologize if my words were overly harsh, but I am merely trying to prevent your inevitable embarrassment." - he retorts - "What you want to happen is impossible, and finding out that it is in fact impossible in front of his highness and the whole crowd of people will shatter your reputation."


    I sigh and begin strolling in his direction. "By the beard it is." - I mutter. He pales and jumps back hastily, then turning around and rapidly walking away from the group in a huff.


    "Fine then! If my experience is not convincing to you, than perhaps his majesty''s authority will be." - he tosses over his shoulder, hastening the steps to just barely below running as I advance after him. I sigh, shake my head and reattach the siding to the speaker, doublechecking it to make sure it is back in the rightful place.


    Without the old goat trying to prevent workers from doing their jobs, things proceed smoothly. Of course, they proceed smoothly in no small part because I don''t hold back on magic to make it so. Bore hole in the ground, let the workers drop the pole in, fill up the hole with gravel and mortar, hit it with another bout of magic to make it set, levitate the speaker on top, let the pole slot into the clamp in the bottom. Voila. We make quick job of Merchant, Craftsman and Farmer squares and are just finishing work in the People square when the annoyance returns along with a number of men. Mostly palace guards, but the guy in the middle is prince Constantine. Huh, I guess Abe didn''t feel like sorting this out personally. Just as well, I don''t really have much interaction with this prince, if you don''t count brief encounter back when Abbas made his ill-conceived abduction. And he was concussed back then, not really a good condition to chat.


    So. I pick the mike again, just as they cross the Merchant square (which is closest to the palace). "Hello there, your excellence. We are just about done with People square and that would be it. Come on over here, would you kindly?" - I proffer - "See the installation." The reason why I left People square for the last is because that''s the place where the king will be making the speech, and so, there is a podium that I''m currently affixing a mike holder to. People are a little bit startled with me speaking from afar like this, and the old goat gets an expression like he has just been force-fed a bag of persimmons. Guess he''s about to be explaining himself to the prince. Fun fun fun fun.


    Since we are so close, I quickly pull a bunch of people from my shop to set up a nice table. And then another one, a bit simpler. And then a third one, entirely simple.


    "Alright, you people." - I address the laborers - "I am pleased with your efforts. Go seat yourselves at the table and help yourself to refreshments." They brighten up and pull their hats off, bowing.


    "Many thanks, milady!" - they chorus raggedly and troop off towards the table, where a pot of tea and assorted cakes are laid out. It''s pretty chilly out here, but sunny enough to make outdoor sitting for a bit of refreshments a passable idea. A few minutes later, the palace party walks into the square, guards turning their heads as they spot the speakers. Constantine makes a beeline for me, motioning impatiently for the bearded disappointment to follow. Guards flank around him, clearly practiced. I note that there are six of them, and four carry the tower shields, while two closer to the prince are toting hefty crossbows. Impressive security, I guess Abe was not thrilled with hashishins doing stupid things in his own palace.


    "Lady Gillespie!" - Constantine offers cheerfully as he steps up and takes my hand to kiss it - "How are you on this fine day?"


    "I''m good, your excellency." - I tell him placidly - "Came to see what I''m up to? I''ve just finished the setup, as you could hear a bit earlier. Care for some refreshments?"


    He tilts his head and peers at the table. "Sweet Dream treats?" - he quips with a smile - "Don''t mind if I do."


    I gesture to the second table, offering - "Good sirs knights, I have not forgotten you either. The area is under my magical surveillance, if anyone suspicious enters the market squares, I will know before you can see them, so please take the seats and enjoy some refreshments as well."


    They look at Constantine who smiles and nods benevolently, at which point they troop off towards the indicated table, take the seats and start picking out the sweets and breads for themselves to snack at. Which leaves me, Constantine and the mage to take the most lavish table.


    "Well now, my father had given me a brief explanation, but I was led to believe there is some kind of problem with your invention?" - Constantine begins sedately, as he picks out a clafoutis off the plate and bites into it with gusto - "MM. Your sweets are such a delight..."


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    I shrug... and smack my hand on the table when the mage opens his mouth. "The only problem here, your excellency, is that the, ahem, esteemed scholar next to you seems to be under impression that what I did should be impossible." - I explain sharply - "I believe you''ve already heard enough to see his opinion on that particular matter is not really factual. He seems to be under impression that my enchantment violates the principles Cagliostro laid out in his ''Materiel Thaumaturgy'', where he posits, among other things, that it''s fundamentally impossible to transmit sound into more than one destination without making it proportionally quieter, whereas my speakers are designed with the opposite in mind - sending voice into several places at once, while making it louder."


    I lift the microphone and say into it - "As you can plainly hear, it''s eminently possible. I believe the scholar hereby present might object that this is me faking the effect by using illusion magic, as he suggested earlier, but that much can be easily disproved by the fact I have managed to speak from here to you while you were crossing Merchant Square. If further proof is necessary, I believe you can simply send your guards to other squares and say something yourself, which they will hear."


    I lay down the mike in front of Constantine, and smile. Magus next to him wilts. Then perks up, as if he was about to say something else.


    "Another possible test would be to hand the microphone..." - I tap the mike with my finger - "To one of your knights and ask of him to venture to one of the other squares and say something, which we will all hear here. This way, we can verify what he said and what we heard would be the same thing, thus neatly proving that my enchantment indeed does what I claim it will do without a doubt."


    Mage wilts again, and glares at me sullenly. Constantine, who in the meanwhile had procured a cup, pipes up - "Honestly, I am already persuaded, but for the sake of complete surety..." He lifts his arm and flags one of his knights close - "Etienne, would you kindly take this artifact and go to the Craftsman square? Say a couple phrases into it, then come back and report what you have said?"


    The knight in question bows, sets the shield aside, picks up the mike gingerly and makes to leave, then returns sheepishly. "Ah... Lady Gillespie, how do I use this, exactly?" - he inquires. Smart of him.


    "Oh, hold it by the handle and speak into the mesh bulb. You don''t need to hold it too close, a hand''s distance from your mouth is optimal." - I tell him, showing at the same time - "Be sure to grip the handle firmly, it will not work if it is not in hand, so that only intended speech is spread. The loop on the end is just for holding, you don''t need to do anything special with it. Put it on your wrist, if you want to, it''s just a little convenience."


    A few minutes are passed in contemplative silence, with most people present taking advantage of free sweets and drinks. Constantine suddenly pipes up - "While we are waiting, lady Gillespie... Mind indulging my curiosity? I have heard rumors that you have invented some unusual method of cava preparation, so if it''s not too much of an imposition, could I try some?" He clearly spied my own mug. I shrug and pour him a cup from the percolator, making him doubletake.


    "Ah. Um... Much obliged." - he proffers, as he gingerly sniffs it.


    "I like it black, but the bitter flavor seems to be too strong for many people, your excellency." - I suggest - "If so, adding some sugar and milk will make it milder. I will leave it at your discretion."


    Casting a side glance on the mage, who is sitting stiff like a poker, I take a bit of pity on him. "Do you want a cup too?" - I ask him bluntly. He doubletakes, purses his lips, but then sighs and nods. "Thank you for generosity, lady Gillespie." - he agrees gloomily as I pour him a cup - "Cava is a rare treat for one such as I. Let alone cava personally poured by a highborn lady."


    Constantine in the meanwhile sips a cup and sputters. Then grabs the milk jug and pours some into his cup. The next taste apparently fits his preference better, but not quite, and a full spoonful of sugar goes in. "...Gods, that''s a very strong flavor." - he gasps, as he eyes the cup with some trepidation - "...Mmm. Yes, I believe milk and sugar do improve things for me quite a bit."


    "...Ahem.... I stood beside a hill smooth with new-laid snow..." - a voice suddenly erupts around us, as the knight on errand reads a short poem about stargazing on a snowy evening. A nice voice on that lad. The remaining knights clap politely as the poem ends. Appreciation for poetry? Well, that does match the stereotype of a knight, indeed.


    "My, oh my. That was even more impressive like this." - Constantine praises - "Well, magister Neloth, I do believe your worries are unfounded. You have my gratitude for vigilance, but in the future, please keep in mind that lady Gillespie so far had never failed to deliver on her claims, regardless of how outrageous they may have been."


    Mage slumps. "...My deepest apologies, lady Gillespie." - he forces out - "If possible, could you furnish the enchantment formulae for our education? It occurs to me that if one of the Cagliostro''s principles could be circumvented, than maybe something similar could be of use for other problems we had deemed implausible to achieve."


    I shrug. "I already sent the formulae to the royal licensing archives." - I tell him - "You have my permission to examine the submitted licenses so long as it is done for the sake of scholarly pursuits. I will ask for the tithe if you elect to put my findings to mercantile use."


    "Eminently agreeable." - Constantine interjects immediately, though it does not seem that mage is going to object either - "Wait, licenses?"


    "This is hardly the only enchantment I have designed and licensed for mercantile use, your excellency." - I explain - "I thought it would make things easier if I just give blanket permission for court mages to examine them at their own leisure to further the understanding of magical arts."


    "You are truly a boon to our fine kingdom." - Constantine states with satisfaction - "I am now finding myself regretful that my duties as a prince keep me away from Parsee so much."


    Well... Constantine is our primary ambassador, more or less. Oh, we do have people living in other countries at embassies, but he is usually the guy who conducts important talks. Well, ones that don''t require the king''s personal attention, at least. He spends a lot of time on the road. Actually... Hm.


    "About that, your excellency." - I proffer - "I believe you are traveling a lot. Have you considered traveling by air?"


    He sits up straight, and his eyes start sparkling. "I have heard tales from my father and Edward about your magnificent airship." - he offers excitedly - "I would not like to presume, but if you are offering, then yes, I would be glad if you could be available to facilitate some of my journeys."


    I quirk my brow. "While I wouldn''t be opposed to doing so if you are urgently needed somewhere, your excellency, this is not quite what I had in mind." - I suggest - "Rather, I wanted to ask if you would like to commission an airship of your own to facilitate all of your travels and possibly serve as a residence away from home."


    Next thing I know, Constantine''s chair tips over and clatters on the ground, as he leaps to his feet and bows to me over the table deeply, his face just a few inches from mine. "YES, PLEASE!" - he breathes out.


    It takes a bit of assistance and help for him to be seated again, and during this time, the knight returns from his errand, passes me the microphone and reports the poem he read word by word, thus concluding the test.


    "So... I take it you like the offer?" - I begin.


    "It would be incredible, lady Gillespie, but please tell me the requirements. While I''d love nothing more than just agree right here and now, I do need to know what kind of commitment the kingdom would need to make for such a commission." - he responds. Mage next to him had spent most of the altercation choking on cava and catching his breath. He is quiet, but also seems to be very interested in the topic.


    "Well... Let me see..." - I muse - "The costs? Let''s say three thousand golds for construction. The construction itself will take about two months, give or take, so it should be ready for use by spring. You will need to find and recruit a reliable crew to operate it. One captain of the ship, who should be used to command and capable of navigation by stars. Three to six airmen, who should all be trustworthy and preferably experienced people not scared of heights. Their primary jobs would be to man the rudders to keep the airship on course, to oversee the operation of the engine, and to perform landing duties, which would require some proficiency with carpentry, minor forging and rope handling. More or less the same duties you would expect out of seamen, so you could probably recruit from port cities. I would suggest ensuring at least one of the airmen is trained to navigate by stars as well, in case the captain is sick or otherwise unavailable for some reason. Ideally, all of them should know the basics. I can furnish the manuals for training immediately, but they will still require about a month more of practical familiarization with airship operation once it is built. All of them should be reasonably trained in facsimile magic, because while airship has onboard flower troughs, they are severely limited and should not be plucked for fresh flowers outside of dire emergencies. Maybe you can recruit your airship crew from the third and fourth sons of coastal nobles who are familiar with maritime operations. Keep in mind that weight is of utmost concern for the airship, so you should be very selective in picking people who accommodate you on board. I would recommend two servants, one of which would serve as a cook for the whole party, while the other attends to you personally, but realistically speaking, up to dozen people total can be put on the airship indefinitely, while leaving you with enough capacity for about the same amount of guests or passengers for short trips."


    Constantine''s eyes gradually grow. "...You know what?" - he then says - "Father can commission you for kingdom needs himself. This one is going to be my personal property. My men will deliver three thousand to your domicile tomorrow. Please lay down the airship as soon as it is convenient, I shall in the meanwhile find myself a trustworthy crew. Gods and stars, this is going to change everything, I... just... wow."


    Another commission, get... And since the bulk of work is going to be done by carpenters and other assorted labor who already did that much once, I won''t be needing to be present except to put the enchantments in the end. I can do it once me and the girls get back to Parsee. Still, maybe it''s a good time to think about laying down proper zeppelin craftworks so I could build more. I imagine that Constantine having his personal one will open the floodgates for more. Something to consider. Later.

 Chapter 104. Slow Winter Day (And Mayonnaise Bonanza)

    Farewells is weird. For me, at least. I don''t really have anyone I''d bother saying farewells to. Grandparents? Never knew them in this life, none of them survived long enough for me to remember them properly. Oh, I''ve been introduced to some of them as a toddler, I recall, but none played a significant part in my life. Dad''s father croaked before I was even born, gramma didn''t really live long enough to see me out of swaddling. On mom''s side, things were a little better, but neither of grandparents really lived all that long. I vaguely recall they died together in some kind of river-related mishap, but no one told me the details back then and I don''t really feel like asking now.


    Mom and dad obviously have people to think back to, their parents and other assorted members of the family they knew well back in time. Bridgit has her father to think back to, doubly so considering this year he was properly avenged, and that is a sort of thing you really mention on Farewells. Her mother too, I guess, she mentioned remembering her vaguely. Lily-Anne went back to the palace for today, I believe there are people the royal family remembers together, but I didn''t pry. Moon Unit is similarly occupied, her parents were gone relatively recently for an elf, so I shouldn''t bother her. That leaves me, Roxy, Cy and boys as people without much to do this day... Oh, and Selene, apparently. Since Ed is busy with his family, she is at the loose ends, and promptly called me to see if I''m up to anything. So this is my coterie for today. And, I guess, I''m the designated adult.


    "So.. What does everyone want to do?" - I ask.


    "Maybe a long walk?" - Roxolane suggests uncertainly - "I haven''t really seen Parsee much in spite of living here for months by now. Always busy at the Academy or something else."


    "Yeah! Let''s explore!" - Antoine is up for the idea, I suppose.


    "Maybe with a stop over at your shop, sister?" - Jean-Paul, are you trying to be sneaky?


    "Fireworks, mom." - Cy suggests, and I have to shake my head.


    "During day?" - I retort.


    "Making some, I mean." - she corrects herself - "Tomorrow evening is clearly the best time for fireworks."


    Oh. Well. I ruffle her hair.


    "It''s cute of you to think I didn''t make some already." - I tease, - "But sure, if you want to, we can tool around with alchemy in the evening."


    "Soo... Walk, sweets, more walk, then making fireworks?" - Selene sums up - "Sounds like a plan to me! Where to, first?"


    "That''s what I''m asking." - I retort - "I''m pretty sure everywhere is closed, so we''re stuck with parks and streets and such. Just wander around aimlessly for a while? I''d offer a picnic, but I hardly think any of you wants to sit in the snow, food or not."


    "...Dangit." - is Selene''s succinct reaction.


    "Oh. That is a problem, yes..." - Roxolane agrees, as she looks outside - "We''re really on our own here, aren''t we?"


    "Well, how about we walk around a little, see if it works or not, then come back here for lunch and figure things out from there?" - I suggest.


    ___


    We ended up coming back to the mansion and having a snowball fight after about half an hour of wandering over sparsely populated streets. The city is sporting a somber mood on a day like this, hard to get any excitement going. And right now, me and Roxy are making lunch. I''m pretty sure that will cause Bridgit to grumble at me, hence why being sly and sneaky about it.


    "...Mayonnaise? What''s that?" - Roxolane inquires cautiously. What the hell. I didn''t realize it, but apparently mayo isn''t a known thing? Well, darn.


    "A sort of sauce." - I respond as I look for things. Eggs? Here they are. Mustard? No problem. Vinegar... Vinegar... Oh, here it is. Hm. I wonder... Oh well. Salt, here... Oil. Oh, olive oil? That''ll do.


    Now, let''s see about... I look around furtively. "Roxy, watch the door, would you kindly?" - I suggest - "I''m going to do unnatural things with my hand to prepare it quickly, probably shouldn''t be letting boys or Selene see that, lest they ask far too many questions."


    She raises her brow. "This I have to see." - she quips, as she solves the issue by deadbolting the door.


    So I crack the egg in and twist my hand into a blender head, sticking it into the egg. Roxy jumps up at the sound of the egg rapidly becoming a foam.


    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    "What... how!?" - she demands. I lift the tip slightly, letting her see the bit of iron I conjured whirling madly in telekinetic grip, pouring vinegar in at the same time. Mustard goes in next, then salt. As I gauge the results to be uniformly whisked, I start pouring oil in, drop by drop. Roxolane watches in fascination as the whole mix thickens into an off-white sauce.


    "Why are you pouring oil in so slowly?" - she inquires.


    "If you pour it too fast, it won''t thicken, instead you will get a messy liquid." - I offer - "It''s not particularly good-tasting either, so... Mayonnaise favors the patient. Of course, I''m cheating here by using a conjured blade to whip it up really quickly. If you tried to do it with a whisk, you''d end up with sore hands by the time it''s done."


    "So... how does it taste?" - she inquires curiously.


    In lieu of an answer, I dip a slice of bread into freshly made mayonnaise and offer to her.


    "Hmmm? MMMMMM! Good! Very good! MMmmmm!" - well, guess Roxolane likes it.


    ___


    "What the... Mayo? Just... HOW!?" - Selene demands, as she sniffs the bowl.


    "Fun fact. Mayonnaise is actually pretty simple, just takes a lot of effort and patience to whisk up properly." - I explain - "Or cheating."


    "There''s cheating, there''s blatant cheating, and there''s you." - Selene retorts with a smile - "What did you do?"


    "Conjured a blender, essentially." - I explain and she groans.


    "...Of course you would." - she grouses - "Of course you would. Teach me the spell, would you kindly?"


    I peer at her. "Not a singular spell, duh. First you conjure a blade, then you spin it with telekinesis. Simple as that." - I explain to her, and she groans louder.


    "That''s just unfair." - she then complains - "You always know the best cheats... Bleh, I gotta practice this. I''ve had a hankering for smoothie something awful."


    "You know, if you figure out a proper mechanism for this, it would sell well." - Roxolane muses - "Everyone likes whipped cream, having a way to make it on a moment''s notice... I think every girl in Academy would buy this."


    "After the lunch, though." - I retort, as I pull up the lid and check on the potatoes. Butter dissolved properly, now all that we need to do is call in the kids. Wonder what they will say about the Kraina-styled meal.


    ___


    "Mistress..." - Bridgit is exasperated - "I''m supposed to serve you a meal, not the other way around."


    "And I let you do that most days, dear." - I retort gleefully - "So let me take care of you every now and then, alright?"


    She peers on the potatoes, at the cup of mayo, at the toasted bread.


    "Very well." - the then agrees - "But teach me how all of this is prepared later, please? I''m quite certain I don''t know how to make this sauce, and this is just not right."


    "Sure, but try it first." - I offer.


    "MMMM!"


    Heh. She likes it.


    ___


    "Oooh, I haven''t eaten like this in years." - Moon Unit quips - "Did Roxolane help? This feels like a Transbalkan dish... well, except for this sauce, I never had anything like this before. What is it made from?"


    "Eggs, mustard, vinegar, salt and oil, essentially. And a lot of whisking." - I explain.


    "MMM..."


    I guess she likes it, too.


    ___


    "...Alyssa." - mother facepalms - "First, thank you for the meal, second, why in the name of all that is sane did you cook? We have servants for that!"


    "Well, for one, they wouldn''t know how to make mayonnaise. For two, since when did I do things normally?" - I tease. She sighs and chuckles.


    "I''ll give you that, dear. You''ve always been odd. Good, but odd." - she agrees - "Mayonnaise? Now I''m curious... So, do I just... Oh. Oh, it''s thick. OOOH! MMm... MMmm~!"


    And I guess she likes it as well.


    "...MMm!... What is this made from!?" - father finally pitches in.


    "Eggs, mustard, vinegar, salt, oil and lots of whisking." - I offer.


    "Teach the cook, please. This is wonderful." - he requests - "...Ooh, it''s also good on bread! I wonder..."


    "Yes, it''s even better if you add some garlic in, but not everyone likes it, so I put garlic separately." - I tell him and he nods eagerly, far too busy with his meal to respond.


    He likes it too.


    ___


    "MMm! Moom, so good!"


    "Mnyam,mmm! ...Yesh!"


    "Yummm!"


    Good grief. Mayonnaise. A great success all around, I guess. I''d pester kids for the opinions more, but they are in a great hurry to stuff themselves. I suppose a couple hours of snowball fighting does bamf up an appetite a lot.


    ___


    Finally, it''s evening. Selene left an hour ago, citing the need to return to her domicile and fall over. Roxolane essentially did the same. I guess kids have worn her out. For that matter, Antoine and Jean-Paul are also exhausted and offer no resistance when mother decrees an early night for them. In the end, only me and Cy retained some sort of energy. Score one for unholy abominations, I guess. So now, we''re quietly sitting at my alchemy table. I''m granulating the metal salts, Cy is slathering up the paper strips with glue. A little bit of trial and error had confirmed that guncotton works for fireworks, but needs to be rolled up tightly with pigment to produce different flame colors. A bunch of dried reeds are already stuffed with guncotton, they will be the basis of our bottle rockets.


    "Mom, do you ever get the feeling like you know something... against the expectation?" - Cy wonders suddenly.


    "Like what?" - I inquire.


    "Well, like... Things out of blue." - she muses - "Like, everyone expects you to do something and you plan on it and... just sort of end up doing something else first that no one expected you to do..."


    "That''s called life, I believe." - I joke back, crumbling the granulated cobalt over the prepared petard. I conjured the metals, a bit tiring to make them last for two days or so, but well worth the show tomorrow, I think.


    "Well, you''re going to have a life." - Cy retorts - "I''m kinda really certain about it. Like Pinkie sense certain."


    I pause. Put things down. Turn to her and pat her head, offering - "If at all possible, mind holding back on channeling that particular pony until I invent the camera? I have a hunch it would generate a lot of photo-worthy moments."


    She grins - "I''ll try, but no promises."

 Chapter 105. Speech! (But not really)

    Well... this is tedious. I understand the need for public speeches, I really do. There are preciously few means of mass outreach in this world, yet, and speaking at the holiday is one of the more reliable ways to give masses some face time with the sovereign of the nation. Still, the whole thing necessitates crazy amounts of pomp and circumstance. I do not envy Abe. I do, however, sympathize. And he, as far as I can tell, appreciates the speakers a whole lot. I have my part in the ceremonies, so... yeah. Being patient and subtly spreading around the aura of warmth. Not emotional warmth, obviously. Court dames seem to appreciate that. I''m really appreciable today. As a space heater, if nothing else. And some of those costumes oughta be chilly. I mean, what the fuck do you have to be thinking to make a deep decollete on a fucking fur coat!?


    "...Thousand pardons, lady Gillespie, but is that you doing this?" - I hear a whisper from behind me. Hrm. That''s... Hm. That''s Louise de la Valliere. I expected explosions with that kind of name. My expectations were not fulfilled. Louise appears to be a bookworm wallflower with little interest in magic beyond requisite basics for a noble and a lot of placid yearning for quiet spots in the garden. She''s a decent landscape painter, while at it. People tell me she used to make exceptional portraits before, but stopped shortly after I enrolled. We haven''t really spoken in the Academy beyond basic pleasantries, she seems quite content with her hobbies, and I had little reason to pay attention to her either. Wonder how she figured me out.


    "If you mean subtle warming, then yes." - I retort equally quietly - "At the pace, I surmise I''d be surrounded by shivering and misery otherwise."


    "My thanks." - she offers, the conversation seemingly over. I wonder why she bothered asking, she is wearing quite a sensible overcoat. Not quite my, ahem.. "intriguing" choices as was remarked by some of the less delicate dames earlier. Apparently, a leather trenchcoat with studding is... a little bit on the nose. Then again, I kind of cemented the image of myself as a short-tempered person, so why should I be bothered if people assume this coat doubles as brigandine? Still, w...oh. That explains it. Louise might be sensibly attired, but her two companions are both quite... open to the elements. Weird, that. They all smell worried. Whatever. Not my problem... Maybe. Ish. Sorta. Kinda.


    It''s been snowing overnight, and there is a layer of snow on the ground. Not deep enough to make it worth shoveling, but sufficient to make people go "huh, so it snowed". My part is coming up soon, Abe had just finished with demerits accrued through the year, which are announced second. Well, first, today. Traditionally, the end year speech begins from bad and rolls up to good. In some years, it means a couple executions in the morning. Not this year, though, the worst of the lot and the funniest was the official announcement of de Brege''s plummet in ranks and the assorted reactions (mostly mocking indifference from commoners with assorted snickering, and a gamut of feelings from amusement to outrage from my peers). Now Abe had announced the granting of lands to several of the retiring knights... And it''s my cue to come up, as he calls for "house Gillespie". I scuff my foot on the ground a few times before leaving, throwing down a crude enchantment by simply drawing the formulae on the snow with the tip of my shoe and loading it up with power. There we go, for the next half-hour, the area here will be nice and toasty. I''m a nice abomination at times, innit?


    Abe''s being really florid with the language, but the gist of it is that he announces father as duke Gillespie, which makes our new rank one step below the king himself, as far as the hierarchy is concerned. While commoners seem to be just cheering, I am getting a distinct "oh fuckbisquits" vibe from so many nobles. Though a decent fraction of them are emitting more to the tune of "fuck yeah". I guess all of them are either dad''s subordinates or allies and stand to see improvements in their own influence now.


    "...and then, there is maiden Gillespie." - Abe rounds up and I snap out of my reverie. This is... out of the script. He was not supposed to... Ooor, maybe I was NOT supposed to know, given that dad is just smiling and nodding along. Gods help me, if Abe thought this is a good time to induct me into a knight order under the guise of reward, we will be having WORDS. He''s been good to me so far, and I can understand the urge to keep the nuclear option close, but I''m already marrying his daughter. No need for saddling me with military obligations.


    "You have done much for our kingdom this year, and there is no doubt you are planning to do more in the years to come." - he proffers grandly - "While this indeed played a part in promoting house Gillespie, I do believe you deserve a personal token of esteem as well. As such, I am granting you the Mark of Sovereignty."


    Nevermind, Abraham is awesome. Mark of Sovereignty is a little bit of nifty legalese that essentially declares me outside of the chain of command. Normally, if I were to obtain a domain through force, subterfuge or wealth, upon being legally realized as the lady of the domain, I would therefore fall under the command of a higher lord. For example, if I snag myself barony somewhere in Champagne for some reason, I would be nominally subordinate to the noble whose lands encompass my own, as their vassal. Which, given how polarizing my person is, is liable to cause problems because if I end up being technically subordinate to a hostile noble, I will rebel and in that case, my only recourse would be to decisively win and suborn them as well. The Mark neatly sidesteps all this, as the king had essentially declared that whatever I take over will be immediately considered an autonomous territory within Champagne kingdom, subordinate to crown directly. I guess he did this because he finds me trustworthy enough and knows I plan on taking over the Thousand Isles. The effect on the nobles is... impressive. And by impressive, I mean he would''ve probably caused less panic if he lobbed a grenade into their midst instead.


    "I am deeply honored by your favor, your highness." - I answer with the bow. He motions me to stand by his side, and mouths to me quietly - "Say a couple words, would you kindly?" Sighing, I speak in the mike.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    "Good day, ladies and gentlemen, nobles and commoners. It is traditional, I believe, to say a few words about the passing year and about the future one. Looking back, I am... passably content. Much was achieved, invented and created. I can not say I met every single goal I put before myself, there are still things I am working on. There will likely be more things to work on for years upon years upon years. I am satisfied, however, with the fact I laid the majority of foundations for my grander plans. The chief of which for the year to come is the restoration of the Ashenvale tract. It will take a while to make it happen, I admit, but at this point, I can confidently say that it is an achievable goal." - I begin. A bit of politics, but this much we did discuss earlier. For some reason, Abe is really insistent I should be the one to announce the official existence of the project to restore Ashenvale. Not sure why. And now for the other topic I was requested to broach.


    "There is also one persistent rumor that I believe I need to address." - I begin - "I''m sure that many of you are already aware that my engagement with his excellency prince Edward Cullen had been called off by mutual consent. What a lot of you do not know is the fact that his excellency decided to bow out of the arrangement in favor of his sister."


    Lily-Anne steps forward, parking herself next to me. The rest of my harem clusters behind us.


    "I would like to make it known that I have a harem." - I say it as plainly as I can, and I can hear Abe choking up in surprise. He refused to believe me when I warned him I will just state it bluntly. The joke''s on him. I should probably say something more, but there is something.... absent. There, in the crowd, there is a HOLE... Only there isn''t... Only there IS! Holy fuck, this is what active dispel field feels like? Crazy. How did no one notice? It''s like a literal fucking hole in the world... Which just appeared. I guess wanker has some kind of anti-magical device. Sounds a lot like Sultanate shit. So... Which one is... there!


    Ok, so... this dude is pretty tanned. And well-muscled, even if he hides his fitness in a baggy overcoat. And there''s the amulet... Looks like a two-scale dragonscale, but it''s attached to something crystalline-looking. I guess this is how he is doing the active field... Guess it activated when he stuck the addon to his amulet. Now, I wonder, what... oh. Oh fuck it all with a rake. Simple, blatant and probably effective against ordinary nobles. He has a short bow under his coat. Had. Right now, he is lifting it up and his other hand already pulls up an arrow... And it faintly reeks of something bitter. Poison?


    Good thing dropping into overdrive is pretty much second nature to me now. At 32x, I have plenty of time to mull it over. I can possibly nail him with some kind of spell, but with the active antimagic going on, it will have to be something AOE with considerable radius. Which will not help my reputation. Innovator or not, blasting a big hole through the crowd to get to assassin will cause a couple dozens of collateral deaths at minimum. I can just leap on him and maul him, but I have no guarantee he won''t manage to get a shot out in the process. Or simply end up stabbing someone close by with his poisoned arrows. Or... I can do the out of context thing. Mom had an interesting timing with her sudden interest in firearms.


    Oh, the guards noticed and are turning to lift their shields. Not enough of them to wall up, but they can shield Abe and Lily-Anne, at least. Meanwhile, I pulled out one of the pistols from under my coat. Trajectory A. The arrow nock is sliding back, hand seeking the string. Trajectory B. Octagonal barrel swings towards the assassin. Fingers touch the string. Imitation of finger pulls the trigger. A gout of fire erupts out of the barrel. Trajectory C. From the muzzle of flintlock towards the head. A brief moment of lead being airborne. Two eyes rounding in the last surprise. Fingers slipping past the string as the already dead body falls flat on the back with a neat hole between the brows. A wisp of smoke rising out of the barrel lazily.


    "...Gods damn it!" - Abe grounds out, forgetting he still has the microphone in his hand. I''m glad he elected to hold it next to me instead of just giving it to me entirely. ...I wonder what the people made out of it in places where they couldn''t see what is happening.


    "Aaaand that was a hired assassin." - he drawls into the mic sardonically - "And a quick demonstration why approaching Alyssa Gillespie with hostile intent is just a fancy way of committing suicide."


    He sets the microphone down on the postern and leans to me. "What in the name of all that is good and just was that just now?" - he hisses - "A new invention? I could FEEL the magic ebbing when that blackguard revealed himself, but you still killed him with a spell before he could get off a shot."


    "Not a spell." - I mouth back to him quietly - "Alchemical weapon, to put it simply. A piece of lead propelled with force by a bit of alchemy concoction exploding behind it. This is just a prototype, dwarves are already working on better versions. We should have something worth the army trials by the spring."


    "...Army trials?" - he repeats after me dumbly.


    "You know. When you and your chosen military experts examine a newly made weapon, see how it is used, what effect it has and how much it costs to make it and supply it with an eye towards buying it for the kingdom''s military needs, if it passes the examination?" - I expand on that.


    "...Not something we needed to do before, but I can see the utility, if you plan on introducing more weapons like this." - he whispers - "Good grief, you blew a hole straight through his forehead. If not for you already bedamning the Sultanate with the curse, I''d pay dearly to see their batal running across a platoon of shooters with those alchemical weapons of yours. Any chance of showing me what the prototypes are capable of? From what I can see, it''s already a formidable weapon well on par with a crossbow."


    "Well... Would you like to visit our manor tomorrow in the evening?" - I suggest - "Ashes should be pretty quiet, all things considered. Come with everyone in the family, of course. I''ll show things off."


    He hums contemplatively. "You know, this is the first time anyone just invited me to come over since I was crowned..." - he muses - "And now that I think of it, I do believe I shall take you up on that invitation. Along with family, of course. I daresay Alexander, Constantine and Edward would all be curious. Though I would appreciate it if you can find something sufficiently distracting for Monika, she is not fond of implements of violence in the slightest."


    "I do have some ideas on that front already." - I tell him, and he laughs quietly.


    "It is perhaps a little cruel of me to subject her to your creativity unmitigated, but you''ve never been malicious in your innovations. Overly fond of destroying common sense in your wake, though." - he admits.

 Interlude 16. Klaus Takes A Leap

    Setting things up took a little bit more effort and time than Klaus might have wanted, but he could be patient, oh yes he could. He could not afford to flub this, after all. Lady Gillespie was a cunning and ruthless foe, and Klaus was very cognizant of the fact that a misstep would likely get him killed on the spot. However, he was well used to high stakes in his craft. Honestly speaking, if he was sure that his goal would be achieved, he would be entirely content to die in the process. After all, his next iteration would be able to simply pick up where he had left off. To ensure it would be so, he left extensive notes in his table. No more guessing just what in the name of all magical happened to his predecessor... Well, no. He still was wondering just what went on to get his previous instance decapitated and where was the rest of the cadaver. Unfortunately, the only person who likely knew wasn''t interested in talking, and he currently had no leverage to ensure otherwise.


    Tracing the hashishins paid off in spades. While the attempt with invisibility had regrettably failed entirely, his men reported that the plan B actually went off without a hitch. It was complicated and expensive, but he managed to lead hashishins around to the "abandoned" cache of poison and ensure the nullification crystal was "sold" to the right person. Doing so had cost him three men, as hashishins were naturally disinclined to leave behind any witnesses that might tip off the target of an impending assassination, but according to the last report, hashishin had successfully infiltrated the crowd and activated the nullification field. His agent unfortunately was not able to secure the direct observation point and was forced to rely on magical tools to detect the activation of crystal, but that was for the best, really. No chances of lady Gillespie tying the attempt to his men.


    Now, all he had to do was wait. The note was sent to the aforementioned lady in the morning, notifying her that the only existing vial of antidote could be had in Kraut, provided some compliance. Given that the target was one of her wives, whom she seemed to genuinely love, Klaus had no doubt she would show up to see who had the antidote, at the very least. He was reasonably certain that he would be able to bargain for the cookie recipe with it. Just to be sure, the antidote was stashed securely in his office, which was very much NOT the place where the meeting would occur. Rather, he demanded attendance at the Ashenvale pass, near the proposed site for the tunnel entrance. So here he was, eyeing the lake of ash and waiting patiently for his quarry to show up. She would, he was certain of it. Lady Gillespie never made a secret out of the fact she mastered the instant travel magic oijans were so zealously guarding and improved upon it, given that she was known to definitely use it several times by now and did not expire as sultanate mages tended to.


    "Klaus. Why am I not surprised?" - the question took him by surprise. He was sure there is no way to miss her arrival, yet...


    "Ah, lady Gillespie." - he proffered glibly, turning around quickly to cover up his startlement - "I ask of you to hear me out first. Surely, the life of your wife deserves as much?"


    "Mmhm. So... speak. Given that you mentioned antidote, I do believe you had some involvement in that last attempt on me and mine. I presume you want something from me for it, no? And, obviously, the actual antidote is stashed somewhere well away from here in a secure place, just in case I decide it''s easier to kill you for it than give you whatever it is you want to bargain for, isn''t it so?" - she drawled. Klaus had to admire the iron countenance. She seemed bemused. An impressive ability to cover up her actual feelings, all things said, given the bleak despair she must have really felt knowing that the only chance to save her wife lied in the hands of a cunning foe such as himself.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "Oh, nothing onerous, milady." - he proffered - "I do readily concede that we probably have gotten off the wrong foot in our previous interactions. Particularly so, in the first meeting, if the condition of me upon the conclusion of it was of any indication. If it is of any consolation, I do admit that I was excessively heavy-handed in my demands and paid the price for it. I also acknowledge the fact that a gifted alchemist such as yourself might put faith in her skills at concocting elixirs instead of bargaining, if I ask for too much right now."


    He paused, forcing back the desire to rub his hands together gleefully - "So all I ask for is the recipe for the cookies."


    "...Cookies?" - she repeated with confusion - "Seriously? You want some baking tips? Good grief, what is wrong with you? For that matter, why ask ME for cooking help? Don''t you have any bakers in Berlinger?"


    "No need to be coy, lady Gillespie." - he chided gently - "You and I both know what cookies I''m talking about. The secret ones that negate the need for sleeping, if you need it spelled out loud. Give me the recipe, and the antidote will be in your hands by the sunset, my word on it."


    "Cookies that negate the need for sleep?" - she repeated, scratching the back of her head - "What are you talking about? I never made anything like this."


    Klaus clicked his tongue. "We have procured a sample and ascertained its effects." - he pressed on - "I admire your dedication to keeping such valuable knowledge secret, but surely the life of your wife is worth that much?"


    "Klaus, read my lips." - she retorted irritably - "I never made anything, cookie-shaped or not, that would negate sleeping. I never would, for that matter, because sleep deprivation would destroy sanity, regardless of how invigorated a body feels. If you found a cookie that made you unable to sleep, you have my condolences, but I had no hand in making it. Steep some poppy pods in milk, that should get you asleep sufficiently well to counteract the negative effects of sleep deprivation."


    He groaned, his good mood evaporating. "Really?" - he snarled - "Even though I have held the actual cookie in my hand, you insist on keeping this charade? Fine then. If you don''t know anything about it, then I do not know a thing about the antidote."


    He was not entirely unprepared for physical assault, but the fact that her hand morphed into a long tentacle to grab him by the throat was startling. Still, he grinned viciously.


    "Kill me, and you''ll never find the antidote!" - he rasped triumphantly.


    "Klaus, you soggy moron..." - she proffered - "I don''t NEED an antidote. Your assassin failed. I killed him before he could get a shot off."


    His blood stilled for a moment. NO. Impossible. That had to be a bluff. He had no time to object though, as the grip tightened, lifting him off the ground. He clawed at the tentacle, eyes widening as her whole form melted. ''...Oh gods, eyes... and teeth... oh godsohgodsohgodsOHGODSNOOOO!''


    <h4>"Y????????O????U?????-????????T????????H????I??S????-????S??I??????M??????????P??????L?????????E????????-????D?????E?????L?????U???????????????D??????E??D??????? ?????T???????I?????M???E????/????????????M????????????O??????????M?????????????E???????????N?????T????????/???????????O??????????????P???P???????O????????????R????????T??U????????N????????I?????????T??????Y?????? ???T?????????O???????? ?????F?????????L????????Y????????/????????A?????????S????????C???????E???????N???D?????/?????????????A???????????C??????????C????????E???????L?????????E?R??A????????T????????E????/???????A?????R??C???????????.???? "</h4>


    - the horror in front of him uttered before lofting him into the caldera. Sinking into the ashes was strangely relieving.

 Chapter 106. Father-Daughter Scheming

    Well, this morning was thoroughly perturbing. Still, that does advance my plans regarding Klaus. Nice of him to show up alone. Now I can finally get some observations on what is going on with his mysterious resurrection. Unlike the last time, I have made the entirety of body unavailable. Even if they know where he is, digging him out from the caldera would be quite impossible for them. If they had the know-how on how to empty the whole vast bowl of ash, the tract would already be restored. Moreso, I have quite thoroughly driven him mad... Well, madder than he already was. Cookies, really? Did he find some dawamesc or something? That''s the only thing I can think of that could be reasonably a kind of cookie. Not sure how it''s sleep-depriving, though, hashish isn''t really known for doing that. Lulling someone to sleep, easy. Come to think of it, what kind of substance do the locals know that might cause this?... Well, aside from coffee... Hrm. Maybe some local recipe including a concentration of coffee, with plenty of sugar to offset the bitterness and provide some kind of initial boost? Sugar rush can account for some of it, I suppose. Come to think of it, dad did call my coffee "a potion of haste masquerading as a beverage"... But that''s not a cookie, and I never made any coffee-flavored cookies. Weird. Another thing to keep an eye open for, if someone makes cookies that fuck people up with sleep deprivation, I might want to stomp on it.


    Now, what do I do with the rest of the morning? The celebrations really took it out of everyone included, considering we stayed up till midnight launching my fireworks. Funny thing, we were not alone in doing this, but all other displays I could see were magical in nature. Illusions, fire magic, air magic... Nothing purely alchemical like my stuff. Hm, let''s just be proactive. I''ll prepare for a royal visit... Ooh. Oh shit. I forgot to tell dad I invited king for a visit. Let''s hope he''s not going to be too upset about this.


    ___


    "...Really, Alyssa?" - is his exasperated reply, as he eyes me over the cup of coffee with cream - "You just invited our sovereign and his family for a visit? Just like that?"


    "Well, in my defense, he was really interested in firearms and mentioned no one ever invited him to come over ever since he was crowned." - I retort - "His highness might be our sovereign, but that does not mean he and his family can''t be our friends too, isn''t it so?"


    "It is, but... Just... Well." - dad sighs and shakes his head, taking a bite out of buttered croissant - "I''m not against it, obviously, just a little flabbergasted. You do realize that pretty much everyone is going to assume we''re royal favorites after this, right?"


    "I''m pretty sure everyone already considers we are, and have been for years." - I offer - "I mean, I''ve been set to marry into the royal family for years by now. Surely that means something."


    "Fair enough." - he chuckles - "So, what do you plan? I have already heard from the servants you''ve been giving directions for a feast and personally taking a hand with some kitchen preparations. More of the food no one ever tried before, eh? That sauce from yesterday alone would be quite a novelty, so what else did you prepare?"


    I think back to my two-hour stint in the kitchen crash-tutoring the cooks in some of the meals and start listing - "Ok, so... I made another sauce, first thing off. This one is primarily tomato-based, it should go well with meats and the new dish. I also got some soy sauce for the same purposes. That''s creamy, spicy and savory covered. There will be noodles, too. Assorted meats, obviously. Cava for anyone interested. Some herbal teas for those who prefer more sedate drinks. Deep-fried snacks..."


    "Wait wait wait wait. Soy sauce? Where did you even get such rarity?" - he interjects. I blink at him.


    "Pharos merchants bring some every now and then, and I quite like it, so I procured a quantity of it earlier in the autumn when I found one who had a keg." - I explain, and dad blinks back.


    "...Really now." - he drawls - "I do wish you''d tell me earlier, your mother is very fond of that one. Too bad we practically never have any brought up north."


    "Ah. Whoops? In my defense, I never knew that." - I reply - "I''ll make sure to split off a couple bottles for you then and put the notice for the merchant in question that I''m looking to buy more. That man is looking to cooperate with Northern Trading, he''ll jump at the opportunity to do a personal favor."


    "Much obliged, dear." - he chuckles - "Elene would be delighted. If you don''t mind, let''s... keep this a surprise until the dinner with royals, shall we?"


    "Sure. Anyway, the meal''s been covered, I guess, unless you have questions about other bits?" - I inquire.


    Dad looks intrigued for the moment, but then shakes his head with a smile - "I believe I will let that be a surprise for me as well. Odd you may be, but failing you''re not. I do look forward to the dinner, though. Now, firearms would probably preoccupy a part of guests interested in martial implements for the best part of the evening, but how about more peace-inclined guests? I hope you have figured out some sort of entertainment for those who aren''t interested in explosions?"


    I gesture towards the pseudoTV I had retrieved earlier. "I think I have it well in hand, father. Here, have a little sample." - I tell him smugly, as I queue up a short cartoon... Err, whoops. I was not sure what to show, and ended up tossing up a memory of an old Betty Boop short on the screen as a result. Riveting, I know.


    "...What in the name of... Just... Oh gods, how does that even... where..." - is his reaction as he watches the Mysterious Mose. He facepalms and turns to me as the animation ends. "So... You figured out a way to have a puppet theater without artists. And, apparently, poured a whole barrel of unadulterated lunacy into it for extra entertainment. I have to say, I''m impressed. Also confused. And perturbed. And amused. And a whole lot of different feelings on the matter which I will not go into, for now. I hope you have more sedate performances lined up, though? With more length to them, while at it? Because as weird as it was, I can not see the discussion taking the whole evening."


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Well..." - I proffer to him, and shake my head as I queue up another short. This one from Monty Python. He gapes at the Black Knight scene before guffawing at the absurd fight.


    "...Maybe something less violent, but I can see you have prepared an assortment." - he muses - "Alright then. We shall consider this handled, though I have no doubt that you will be asked to continue with this theater of yours after everyone gets their fill of alchemical smoke. Something to sell further on, perchance?"


    "Ah. Well... Not in the immediate future. This thing depends on me feeding it with imagined scenes to function. It would be complicated to train up people to do that. Very complicated. I am looking into easier ways of handling this, perhaps taking a page from Moon Unit and Selene and figuring out how to record the sights alongside the sounds. Not until summer in the very soonest, though, I''m booked solid with projects already." - I explain.


    "That''s fine. You do realize that most people would view any of the more outlandish things you do as their life''s labor, right?" - he quips - "Honestly, Alyssa. I''ve seen nobles make their family lines on ONE such marvel. You''re churning them out every month. I''m surprised you''re not seeing more assassination attempts already, that pace of yours is bound to leave many a man threatened."


    "I''m pretty sure we are getting some pushback." - I proffer - "Some of the things that happened definitely originate from someone in Champagne, and I have doubts that it''s just one person. Viscount Abbatour''s name floated up in one interrogation, by the way. Not sure if he actually has something against us or it''s just a red herring. De Breges, well... you saw what happened. Ambercrombes are an intermittent annoyance, though to be honest, I haven''t seen much from junior lately, and dean holds himself within the laws and rules, if not exactly fond of me."


    "Ah, well... About that." - father retorts - "Junior was actually sent to the Albic Isles as fishing harbor inspector. An important post, that."


    We exchange a chuckle. Inspecting fishing harbors on the isles? Cold, wet and ultimately pointless occupation, because there is nothing an inspector can actually change about harbors. Or fishermen, for that matter. Explains why he wasn''t around lately to sneer and annoy, Abe seems to have had reassigned him to the Arctic.


    "Well, those are just the early signs, I''m afraid." - I continue - "I''m pretty sure sooner or later we will have to face off against a coalition of more hm... conservatively inclined nobles. I''ve been cautious to avoid directly crowding anyone off the market for now, but I''m pretty sure some people by now ought to be feeling the pinch to the wallet."


    "True. I am working through things from my end, while we are at it." - father replies - "So far, I''ve had it fairly easy due to the fact that northern lands are not typically seen as particularly prosperous, so what nobles we have up there are not well on the money. Except for us and our vassals, of course, which made everyone up there at least consider an alliance, if not outright swearing vassalage to me in return for better means. Not to say I''m actually buying them off, barring a few cases of outstanding debts that were bought out and dismissed in exchange for more permanent vassalage arrangements."


    "But the easy pickings are running out, am I right?" - I observe and he nods slowly.


    "Indeed. As of right now, everyone we share a border with is economically secure... With one exception. Drageles. Their house is numerous and they have significant military influence, but owing to the head of the family being an incorrigible gambler, their finances are... well. And you have had recently gained consignment of one of their own for trespass, too. In a way, your gentle handling of this is a big help. Willem Dragele is not a stupid man, his unfortunate yen for gambling notwithstanding. I''m reasonably sure he would ask for talks soon enough. Speaking of which... do you have any ideas on that front? He could be a valuable ally, but... gambling. Could you think of something that would curb the tendency?" - he muses.


    "It depends on what are his reasons for compulsive gambling." - I hedge - "If the lure is in the risk of betting money, there is very little that can be done about it without damaging him as a person. On the other hand, if it''s the game angle that lures him in and money is simply a means of securing the game? I can think of a few things."


    "No hurry, I doubt he would broach the topic before spring." - dad agrees - "Maybe not even then. I''m somewhat sure he is leaning more against us than for us at the moment, and unless and until something changes for him significantly... Yes. I can see him bending knee for coin, but that is hardly a good basis for amiable alliance."


    "Hm. Say, suppose I figure out something... that is not quite an object, but more like a starting point for a craft, much like what I did for Lemand." - I suggest - "If we manage to inspire and nudge viscount Dragele towards a certain kind of craft that appeals to his gambling interests, would it help things?"


    "Potentially." - father proffers - "Especially if you do the impossible again and manage to hit the heart of the issue, much like the aforementioned case with Sadoux-Lemarchands. Speaking of which, this was beyond inspired, Alyssa. Lemand, by the looks of it, is a prize of a scholar on his own, and with the whole business about curing consumption, which he wholly attributes to your wisdom and guidance, him, his mother and marquis Sadoux himself are now viewing us as their best allies, nay, as the house they are honor-bound to support and eager to do it. Further enmeshing marquis into your pastry business, while amusing in comparison, does reinforce this alliance between us. He is, his somewhat peculiar interests notwithstanding, a very influential name in the south, and many of the lesser nobles out there either owe him fealty or respect his acumen deeply enough to consider our offers with an open mind. The only problem I foresee on that front is that Balthazar Lemarchand caught the short stick of it many times over. Did you know that his wife had denounced him for cowardice in the face of illness that befell her and petitioned his highness to dissolve their marriage de jure to reflect on its de facto state? He is not exactly poised to take upon us financially or politically, but..."


    Dad sighs and rubs his face - "I fear that he might try to challenge you to a duel. Strictly speaking, I am the better choice to demand a duel with, but with me attaining dukedom and not being directly involved, this duel just will not be sanctioned by his highness. Which is relieving for me personally, because he is a far better fighter than I am. But he might decide that defeating you might be enough of a coup to offset the dishonor of a grown man challenging a maiden."


    "It would be very convenient if he does, actually." - I riposte - "Please don''t take it as empty bravado, dad, but he has no chance of winning against me. I can do pretty much anything he does, so it comes to contest of his experience and skill versus my much more extensive magical expertise, and in that contest, he will lose. It does not matter how well honed your sword is, if your opponent is using a lightning bolt, to put it simply."


    "Don''t take him too lightly, daughter." - he cautions - "Balthazar Lemarchand had garnered his reputation for a reason. A better grasp of magic or not, he is still known as a superb combatant for a reason."


    "Fair enough, but... Don''t mention this to anyone for now, alright?" - I offer coyly - "I have recently figured out how to fly under my own power. He has no good counter to that in a duel."


    "Can''t fault me for worrying, my dear. That''s what parents do." - he chuckles.

 Chapter 107. Big Dinner

    I might have caused a bit of a, uh... misunderstanding. When I invited Abraham over, I did so under impression that he would treat this as a family visiting family kind of arrangement. Instead, he took along a bunch of other people as well. Granted, I can understand why all of them are here. Sir Malachi and sir Pasteur have a professional interest in the new weaponry, if not in the angle on it. And the third person... Hrm. Given the adornments, this short guy is career military, but I haven''t been introduced to him yet. He does tickle my sense of deja vu something horrible, however. Oh well, all the extra guests are high up in the castle to be treated as Abe''s coworkers and friends, so not much amendment is required, and the meals had always been prepared in excess. Leftovers are rightful spoils of the servants, and our family is rich and benevolent enough to make it a standing rule that there are plenty of treats left for our domestics to enjoy themselves as well. I''m a little bit hazy on why leftovers from the lord''s table are somehow more appealing than same kind of dish made by servants for themselves, though I suppose it might be because servants would skip the costlier additions like spices when making theirs.


    "Good day to you all." - Abe proffers informally as he takes the lead in a small throng disgorging from the three carriages - "Please keep the formalities low, lest we gather a crowd more than it already is."


    Dad twitches lightly, a little bit unsettled by how informal the whole thing is. I guess Abe is finer with it than dad. "Good day to you all as well." - father answers in the same tone, sketching a bow - "Please come right in, we have been expecting you all."


    Without further ado, we file in. I notice that Abe''s guards remain outside, forming a cordon outside of the gates. I pull the closest footman aside and give him quiet instructions to set up a table in the gatehouse and bring out refreshments so that knights could take turns and have a meal in as well. It wouldn''t do for them to come back to the palace hungry, now would it?


    Once we are all in and guests are divested of their outer coats, Abraham takes charge again.


    "Thank you for accommodating my request for extra guest allowance on such short notice." - he proffers with a smile - "I was thinking about the merits of having a collegium to appraise the new weaponry, and it suddenly struck me that I already have all the men I need for such an assembly present in the palace. So, with that in mind, I believe we should start with a round of introductions."


    Father nods but then nudges me forward. "I quite agree, your highness, but I would like to make a little amendment." - he chuckles - "Since this invitation was issued by my daughter unilaterally, I believe it is only fair if I let her fulfill the duties of host for today. Please just consider me an elderly member of house Gillespie for tonight. Alyssa will take on the lord of house obligations, if any."


    I peer at him. "Really, dad?" - I deadpan - "...Alright, I suppose fair''s fair. I should have asked."


    An assortment of titters and chuckles ripples across the hall, as I turn around and take a short bow myself. "Dear guests, welcome to the house of Gillespie capital manor. Tonight we shall dine to begin with, a meal including both traditional dishes and some of my newly invented ones, then take a short break while I explain the scholarly principles behind the concept of the firearm for those of us who are interested in the demonstration. For those of us of more peaceful inclination, I have prepared a theater show to enjoy. Afterward, those who wish to see the practical demonstration will come with me to the inner yard, while the rest will remain here with the theater show to keep them entertained. We will round the evening off with a light supper of cold cuts, snacks, sweets and liquors and a bit of firework show, as I still have unspent petards and bottle rockets that need to go." - I begin - "But to start things off, let me do the introductions. First of all, we have the head of house Gillespie, his grace duke Gerard Gillespie and his wife and my mother, her grace duchess Elene Gillespie. I don''t think I need a personal introduction, you all know who I am, but for the sake of brevity, I''m Alyssa Gillespie. Two rascals with matching grins next to my mother are my little brothers Jean-Paul and Antoine. Next, here''s my harem. Moon-Unit, Bridgit, Lily-Anne and Roxolane. Last, but not least, this little bundle of chaos is my daughter Cy."


    A couple brows are hiked at my harem introduction. Not sure if it''s because I flat out said it''s a harem, or because I made a point of not mentioning anyone''s titles. All in all, things seem to be within expectations.


    "Good to be here, maiden Gillespie." - Abe offers formally, then grins - "Let me introduce everyone quickly. My wife Monika and my sons Alexander, Constantine and Edward. Accompanying Alexander is his wife, Jeanette-Thereze. The gentlemen with us are my head of security sir Malachi, my personal doctor sir Pasteur and brigadier Buonaparte. I believe everyone here knows each other, with the possible exception of brigadier here, as he spends a lot of time on the southern coast coordinating the defense against Sultanate incursions."


    Huh. What the hell. "Pardon my curiosity." - I address the aforementioned brigadier - "But would your name happen to be Napoleon?"


    This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    "Almost, milady. I write my name as Napulione." - he answers - "But I am quite curious how do you know that much, as I am quite certain I never had the honor of being introduced to anyone of the house Gillespie before."


    "Oh, your name had cropped up a time or two among the students of the Academy." - I prevaricate - "I believe the students in question were from south themselves and aspiring tacticians to boot. Apparently, you''ve been doing well enough to be held up as an example to those with interest in leading an army."


    Aaand he promptly pinks up and perks up. "I think you just made his day." - Abe proffers to me conspiratorially - "I keep telling good brigadier that I wouldn''t have promoted him if he wasn''t doing a bang-up job, but he still seems to think he must be invisible to the court at times."


    Mondo interesting. Apparently, this world''s version of Napoleon is less ambitious. Or just having a self-esteem problem, maybe. Anyway, not making any assumptions, history names just don''t seem to line up with history deeds here. Cromwell is an administrator, DeGaulle is a small-time aristocrat, Munchausen is a merchant...


    The dinner proceeds smoothly. Sort of. Kind of. With a bit of excitement every now and then. To begin with, mother spies soy sauce. Squeals. Draws everyone''s attention. Turns out Jeanette-Thereze is also a huge fan of that sauce. I end up being declared a "good girl". Then someone tries mayo, and I''m buried under the avalanche of "what is it, why it''s so rich and tasty". I may have made the problem worse by pointing out there is another sauce hoping for a distraction. Which, in retrospect, was a silly idea, because ketchup is something NO one except me had tried here. In desperation, I ply everyone with french fries. Which are DIPPABLE IN SAUCES. Oh gods why. My only consolation is that Lily-Anne pats my head in consolation.


    Finally, the food orgy is... kinda done. Some of the guests are still partaking in snacks. To try and get away from the topic of how did I come up with new food, I fire up my new big screen TV and toss a bunch of Loony Tunes on the screen. That should be.... oh. Well. Fuck. Everyone, and I mean everyone, including the servants, are glued to the screen now. Thankfully, the cartoons are short enough for me to pretend the performance is over and I need to do nebulous something to load up the next show.


    "Incredible use of illusions." - Pasteur exults, as he peers over the device - "Pray tell, milady, could a performance of perhaps more educational manner be crafted? How do you craft those, even? Could you possibly just... throw your thoughts, as it were, onto this incredible theater?"


    "Would be nice if it could be made into a table that responds to thoughts." - Buonaparte muses slowly - "A map one could amend like this would be quite a boon for planning anything."


    Nice ideas, people, but let''s set this off for a bit. I don''t want to design those things right now.


    "Eventually." - I deflect - "This is a prototype, it''s not really stable enough for a permanent enchantment yet. I have to prop it up and it will unravel by the next morning anyway. Once I have something more stable, I''ll be sure to notify you, gentlemen. For now, let''s see something different."


    I blame the atmosphere for what I have done next. I showed them the parrot skit from Monty Python. Oh gods why. No, OK, I get it. Absurdist humor is humorous. But not the "laugh yourself to tears" humorous. Come on. Dad, why are you choking and pounding on the chair? Prince Alexander, why are you rolling on the gods-damned carpet!? Sir Pasteur, why are you purple and shaking and wheezing? Queen Monika, why, oh WHY are you dabbing your eyes and bursting into titters each time someone chortles "ee''s pinin''"?


    Out of other options, I turn the thing off and let everyone recover.


    "So... everyone is alright now?" - I request five minutes later - "No one needs water? Or to sit down? Or healing spell?"


    "Heeehehehee... Quite fine, thank you, dearie." - Monika manages - "Gods above, how did you even come up with this? The things those men would just say with straight faces, oh gods, how do they manage to say that straight-faced, ahahahahahaaa!"


    In the end, it takes another five minutes before everyone calms down enough.


    "Very well." - I intone - "I am going to load a selection of relaxing music into the theatre for now. As funny as the absurd comedy is, I do need to show the firearms as promised. So, here goes..."


    I plug the TV with a bunch of classic music, and for the heck of it throw in my memory of fractal visualizer... Then pause and blink at it as I realize it is not the memory of how it looked, but the memory of what it is. As in, it''s an actual visualizer that responds to music. Weird. I didn''t intend for that to happen, but oh well.


    "To begin with, the concept of the firearm is really simple, and it begins with an explosion. What is an explosion, in its core? Rapid burning of something, producing lots of gases that expand violently. If you burn something in the open, it just burns away. But put it into a sealed pot, and it will break the pot violently. The firearm is the logical continuation of the idea. What if we burn something in a pot covered with a lid? Logic suggests that it would be the lid that would get blown off the pot." - I explain - "And this is how a firearm works. A bit of alchemical cotton goes into a pipe with one end closed off, then it is covered with a piece of lead matching the bore of the pipe. When the cotton burns, it forces the piece of lead out with significant force."


    I pause and lift the flintlock in hand, pointing out the barrel, the touchhole and how the flint and iron interact with each other, igniting the charge. "I would ask of all of you to remember some basic safety. With a sword or a bow, it is easy enough to tell what would cause harm. But with a firearm, you have no way of knowing if there is actually a bullet in the spout or not at a casual glance. So, never ever aim a firearm at anyone you do not intend to shoot. Even if you are certain it''s unloaded. Ideally, keep it pointed away from everyone else if you need to hold it, put it down as soon as you''re done examining or trying it. Do not step in front of a firearm either, be it laying or held by someone else. Is this agreeable?"


    "Entirely sensible precautions." - rasps Malachi - "I would also add not handling firearm or cotton near an open fire, if we had any open fire in the vicinity."


    "Just so. Well, if no one has any more questions, let us go to the yard to put some practice into this demonstration." - I suggest.

 Chapter 108. Shoot Some Guns

    The attendance in the yard is as thus. Abe and his three sons, which I expected. Jeannette-Thereze, which I did not expect. Malachi, Pasteur and Buonaparte, which I expected. Moon Unit, which I did not expect. The rest stayed behind where the TV is alternating between playing music with visualizer and showing Loony Tunes shorts. I might have had more takers for the firearm demo if not for the cartoons, I suppose.


    "Alright. Let''s begin, then. I have a number of possible firearms to show you, however..." - I begin, as everyone settles down on the chairs under the awning. No reason to make people stand when there are comforts just a few steps away, innit?


    "I would like to stress to everyone that what I AM showing you right now is just prototypes. Proofs of concept. The basics. Once you grasp those, I will outline what I am doing to improve on the things and how soon it could be expected." - I explain - "So, with that in mind, don''t bother trying to work out if you want to adopt the things into service and how much it would cost, I have better stuff lined up that will become available before your order even can be fulfilled."


    This is met with some muttering, but no one raises an objection. So I begin with the flintlock pistols. Showing the reloading in detail first off. Then aiming and firing. I had servants place a crate of pumpkins nearby, they make viscerally enjoyable targets.


    "So... Who wants to try?" - I offer, as I lay out pistols on the table. In the end, turns out everyone does. I''m a little surprised Moon Unit is so enthusiastic about it, but if it makes her happy, I''m more than fine with it.


    "This is quite impressive." - Buonaparte offers after a few shots - "Even if you did not have anything better in mind, I''d buy a number of those guns and issue them to my officers. No magic involved means it''s a perfect counter to those damnable batal whenever they make an appearance. Putting them down quickly would discourage oijans right there and then."


    Abe raises his brow. "Brigadier, you''d want to arm condotierri leaders with this?" - he quips.


    Napulione smirks - "Sure, why not? Without the gun cotton, those firearms are just fancy mechanisms, and I would not hand out more cotton per person than maybe enough for a dozen shots. Having their fancy ace in the hole supplied would make them even more loyal, I would say."


    "Devious." - Abraham admits after a moment of consideration - "We might consider this idea in more detail once we figure out what we would want supplied. I mean, we just were told that there''s more than just these, no?"


    Both of them turn to me. I sigh.


    "Fair enough." - I offer with a smile, as I pull open the long crate. Musket draws a lot of attention, especially when I socket bayonet on it.


    "This is a musket, and it is the prototype of the weapon intended for common footsoldiers." - I explain, noting the sharp peak of interest from Buonaparte - "The rough idea for use is to have soldiers form several rows. The front row is keeping their bayonets pointed out as a pike wall and shoots. Back row reloads. Once the reload is done, the back row takes two steps forward and becomes the front row, letting the former first row reload. More staggering is possible, for example having the first row take a knee, and the second row shoots over their heads, while the third and fourth are reloading. The exact workings of this, well... I''m sure brigadier Buonaparte would work out suitable formations in short order once he is familiar with the basics, isn''t it so?"


    "It does pose a very intriguing problem, yes." - he offers with a glint in his eye and calculating expression - "If I had the luxury of picking my battlefield and arriving to it first, then I believe those, ah.. muskets? Would be devastating against a charging enemy. It would probably take cavalry to ride through the volleys without a complete rout. Worse yet, if all of the soldiers in line were to fire at once... I can easily foresee the enemy breaking just from the effect of the first volley. Unlike arrows that arrive from above, that one would scythe just the first ranks, where the most courageous and experienced soldiers are. That would be a lot worse on morale than arrows. Cavalry would face horrible attrition from those as well, especially if the order is to aim at the horses."


    I show that the musket is working on the same principles by reloading and firing it a few times. "One advantage a musket has over a pistol is the fact that it shoots much further and more accurately." - I explain - "Pistols are good at maybe, hm... twenty touse, give or take. Past that, while it would still cause a wound, landing an accurate shot becomes more of a gamble than skill. Musket can reliably hit a target at fifty touse, and with some training and practice with a specific musket, I imagine a diligent shooter would be able to guarantee an aimed shot at twice the distance. Volley firing would be effective for much further, owing to the saturation of projectiles. Like, say... two hundred touse, maybe two-fifty..."


    "So... One arpent for a trained soldier, two arpent for veteran, five arpent for a regiment firing in a volley, give or take?" - Buonaparte sums it up - "I''ve heard of Albish longbowmen regimens that offer the same performance with their bows. The usual archer falls short of that by about a third, if not full half. But given what I have seen so far, training people on these muskets will not be quite as long or talent-demanding as handling of a longbow."


    Passing the muskets around so people can try them out takes a bit of time, and gives me a bit of time to prepare the next showpiece. Bombard is complicated. I only have one, and I''m probably not going to just pass it around. Flubbing a shot would, at worst, result in some embarrassment and a hole in the wall or flowerbed. Flubbing a bomb would rather convincingly wipe out our whole demonstration with the exception of me, unless I react in time and contain it somehow or manage to fling it away before it goes off. So... Not gonna mess around on this one.


    "Right. This next piece is DANGEROUS." - I emphasize - "I only have ONE, and I am not going to pass it around for casual firing. You will see why in a moment."


    The faces when the bomb goes off are very pleasing to my ego, I admit. The whole round-eyed "oh shit" thing is ever so pleasing.


    "This is bombard. It shoots a bomb." - I proffer - "A bomb is a hollow iron sphere filled with guncotton. It also has a length of slowmatch coiled around the charge. There are two ways to use this. Unshielded is simply launching it. That way, the simple fire enchantment inscribed on the inner surface goes off when it impacts something. Another way is to tap this lever before shooting, it disables the impact-triggered enchant and instead lights up the slowmatch." This time the bomb falls on the ground and sits there ominously for three seconds before exploding.


    "...And if you were to shoot this bombard into a loophole, the bomb with burning slowmatch would tumble down to the base of the fortification and damage the whole structure, possibly even make a hole or collapse a part of the wall...." - Malachi muses rasply - "This is of interest to Inquisition as well, now. There are certain problematic infestations that favor narrow passages into their lairs. We usually deal with those by shooting arrows with lit oil rags into them or rolling stones with same when it''s below ground... Well, that and magic, obviously, but all of the methods are finicky and tricky to achieve properly without disgorging a swarm in process. Lobbing in the bomb that would just squash the majority of a hive in one go would definitely be welcome. Say, could the bomb be altered to maybe explode less, but burn more?"


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Interesting question, actually. I pick up the bomb, and carefully slice it in halves. Leaving one half full of guncotton, I fill the other one with conjured phosphorus, snap the halves back together and seal the lid with a dollop of conjured acryl. Everyone is backing away while I do this. I wonder why. I''m not going to set it off like this. Loading and firing... Ah, that looks neat. Burning phosphorus particles are like tiny meteors, leaving behind clouds of smoke as they spread around.


    "I think it''s doable, sir Malachi." - I proffer in the lull that occurs - "At half the guncotton, the explosion is just strong enough to burst the case, and the remainder of space could be filled up with purified phosphorus."


    "Ahem. That is impressive and intriguing, lady Gillespie, but what IS this phosphorus you are talking about?" - he requests - "It is certainly a grand agent of arson, that much I can tell you already, but I''ve never heard of such substance before."


    Fuck. Wait, no, I''m pretty sure alchemists at least know this one. "A certain substance that can be obtained from particular minerals via alchemy. It is notoriously prone to bursting into the fire, so only a rare alchemist dares to put up with the hazards of making it. It can be contained, albeit with some rather stringent precautions." - I explain - "It is not really used in Champagne for much of anything, but I believe that Pharos Empire does use it as a part of their infamous incendiary mix."


    "You know the composition of Pharos Flame?!" - Alexander yelps suddenly - "...Gods above, is there any secret you''re not privy to?"


    "Erm... your excellency, you are jumping to conclusions. I strongly suspect that phosphorus is one of the components of that mix, as well as assorted oils and tars and possibly coal dust, but I never claimed to know how exactly they make it. Pharos Empire is rather insistent on not letting any foreigners in on that particular know-how." - I retort - "I can give you my notes on incendiary mixes later, if you are interested in pursuing the topic. I''m not. I''ve perused the reports, and I don''t find it to be that great of a weapon."


    He subsides with an odd crooked smile. "The implication being that you already have something better in mind, I presume." - he proffers - "Alright then. Bedazzle us with new and wondrous ways to cause death and destruction, lady Gillespie."


    I shrug. "Bombard was actually the last of firearms I was intending to show." - I tell him - "This is the assortment that dwarves had produced to test the ideas I have given them and to build upon iteratively. I can show you some of the further developments of the idea, but you will have to put up with me not having any samples you could take back with you."


    "Erm... Pardon me, lady Gillespie, but did you just imply you intend to gift us those firearms?" - Alexander''s wife pipes up suddenly.


    "Uh... yes? The whole point of bringing so many here was so that I could present a decent sized sample for consideration and initial familiarization. The idea being that by the time I''m ready with versions I deem improved enough to offer up for mass production, the most trusted knights of his highness'' personal retinue would already have some grounding on how to handle firearms safely." - I reply. I mean, it''s fucking obvious, I want people to have something to muck around with that''s a little fussy to prepare, to begin with.


    "There is a crate of pistols with two dozens of them, a crate of muskets containing a dozen, a barrel of guncotton and a sack of lead wads in total." - I explain - "I''m not including bombard in this, it''s much more finicky to handle. A few samples of those with bomb supply will be delivered separately a few weeks later, once dwarves put them together. I''m thinking three bombards and a gross of bombs for training."


    Men exchange glances. "That... is a little more than we expected." - Abe hedges cautiously then - "Though if your goal is to ensure we have enough to give men some basic training, I understand the reasoning. Now then, you promised to show us something more advanced?"


    "Uh-huh. Let me start off by asking all of you to back off. I will be conjuring a big amount of molten iron and it''s not going to be pleasant to be nearby." - I explain absentmindedly, as I start doing just that, letting it pour into telekinetic form. Early cannons are pretty fun, and while I initially did not intend on introducing the concept until much later, I find the idea of making Napuleone an artillerist again to be wildly hilarious. Now, I need to... Ah, why not? I don''t bother conjuring the timber for the mount. Instead, I just use earth magic to form rudimentary support for the cannon. Speaking of which... shape good, cooling now. Phew, that was... intense. I really need to look into how I do this, the ability to just force the atomic grid into the desired shape while leaching excess energy is bullshit beyond compare.


    "Behold, gentlemen and ladies. Cannon. The logical continuation of the idea." - I announce grandly as I stuff a handful of guncotton into it. Oughta be just enough. Now, ram it in... And now, I need to make a cannonball... Easy-peasy. And ram it in again.


    "...If that is what I think it is..." - Buonaparte muses slowly, as he inches closer - "Milady, are you SURE about it? What you are making looks to me like it is to a musket like what a ballista is to a crossbow, and I am somewhat worried you might actually destroy a part of your mansion like this."


    He blinks and chuckles as at my gesture a pile of rock slabs arranged like a sea conch arches out of the ground, angle designed to deflect the cannonball downwards. "I stand corrected, you have it well in hand." - he proffers as he retreats back.


    "Everyone, you might want to plug your ears." - I tell them as I lift a stick of iron and focus some fire magic on the tip, heating it until it''s glowing red. BOOM!... Well. Crap. I underestimated things lightly. I mean, the cannonball itself did get deflected into the ground alright, but the back part of the shell spalls out and collapses in a cloud of dust, revealing a pile of rubble and the shell split nearly in two, with a huge gash in the middle. Thankfully, the space behind it was sufficiently empty that only a couple gravel shards reached the back fence.


    In accordance with my earlier remonstrations, I make a hole in the ground and stick the cannon into it vertically barrel-down before doing anything else. Then, I let everyone come up and examine the ruined stone.


    "You do realize this weapon renders the majority of existing fortifications obsolete, right?" - Buonaparte remarks, as he runs his hand over the crumbling edge - "Good gods, a few of those cannons would batter down just about any wall within a day."


    "Interested, brigadier?" - I quip at him.


    "Oh, definitely." - he retorts - "A couple demonstrations like these, and there would be so much less belligerence across the southern coast."


    "Well, there is an alternative method for using the cannon, you know?" - I suggest. It apparently catches everyone''s interest enough to demand an immediate demonstration.


    This time, instead of a cannonball, I conjure a bag of grapeshot, and instead of a stone shell, I put down a bunch of logs roughly human height and a stone backstop.


    "Antifortification is important, of course, but cannon is also good in the field." - I suggest as I light up the touchhole again. The cone of destruction is impressive. in the axis, the logs are simply uprooted and shredded. Along the sides, they are just shredded. There is a very clear trapeze of ruin cut into the log formation now.


    "Grapeshot." - I offer in the ensuing silence - "In the event of an enemy advancing in close formation, cannon excels at causing massive damage at once. The impact on morale from landing such a shot would be considerable, I presume. Also, this method is suitable for fending off ships - shredding the sails deprives ships of their mobility, leaving them stuck in the water to be leisurely shot by cannonballs from well beyond the best archer''s reach."


    "You are making the war a truly horrifying business, lady Gillespie." - sir Pasteur offers slowly - "To what end, I wonder, such brutal means are needed?"


    "To make the war so awful no one in their right mind entertains the notions of it as anything but a move of desperation, sir Pasteur." - I tell him.

 Chapter 109. Double Lives

    I was actually half-expecting to be called out on my bullshit. The question is, though... did they genuinely think it is possible to make war too awful to comprehend without resorting to stuff like mutually assured destruction, or did they just decide not to disabuse me of my "naive fantasies"? The sad truth is, it does not matter how advanced the implements of war are, there is always some asshat out there who thinks they have the right of it. Multitudes of reasons, really, but the end result is, well... War. War never changes. So the real reasons why I''m pushing through firearms? Primo, so that I have the best available armaments at my disposal. Training archers takes time, training mages takes time and luck, training riflemen requires just a little bit of investment and some research and development. Which, at least as far as training methods go, I can partially offload on the career military men in the royal knight order. Secundo, I want Champagne to be the second best armed country, right after whatever the place I manage to snag for myself. My family lives here, and will continue living here, and I quite like the current king and his successors. Making sure Champagne is the top dog in geopolitics makes a lot of sense.


    I honestly don''t want to dominate in the same way the Sultanate did, as the premier military force. It''s a lot of hassle and diplomacy and just... nah. My plans are more in tune with being the enlightenment center of the world, give or take. The research facility. I''ll leave the actual armies to Abe and Champagne. He''s got Buonaparte, that''s gotta count for something, right? Meanwhile, I''mma just bamf up the fleet, maybe do more about airforce and generally be "that one place everyone wants to be on friendly terms with because they have the best trade deals and tech on sale". With a side order of "but never pick a fight with them unless you feel suicidal". Which would be accomplished partially by my own forces, for obvious reasons, and partially by alliances with big players. Champagne and Kraut would be the obvious picks, but I''m also fairly positive I should be able to cut in some good will with Pharos, their culture is merchant-friendly after all. Ideally, I want to establish a status quo where no one wants to pick a fight with me because doing so would mean getting the shit kicked out of your country by most of the civilized world at once because they don''t want to see what I would respond with if they don''t.


    Anyway, here we are at the post-shooting supper. I''m getting lots of platitudes about "magical show", apparently everyone loved the half-remembered Disney shorts I started putting on after I run out of Betty Boop and Monty Python stuff that is not bound to cause cognitive dissonance. A lot of discussion happens, but I''m just... mostly deflecting, honest. I''m tired, I don''t feel like putting full attention on the conversation. I do pass on some tips to Buonaparte about differences in offensive and defensive artillery, how logistics becomes ever more important, how railroad could change the face of warfare, how curtain walls are even now in obsolescence given the existence of mages that can bring them down via explosion spells. He''s strangely keen on the topic. I mean, I''m pretty sure earthworks are a known thing in this setting. Alexander is also an avid listener. Constantine seems to vacillate between this conversation and the discussion between dad, Abe, Malachi and Pasteur about some of the routine they seem to be planning forward. I do catch the mentions of my stuff every now and then, but it appears they are planning around the things I''m doing, so I''m content to let them scheme to their hearts'' content.


    At some point, I''m curiously left out of the conversation, as Alexander, Napulione and Constantine are engulfed in an in-depth discussion of a new type of fortification they thought up on the fly based off the stuff I told them. I think it''s fine for them to plan, I mean, I did intend to offload this whole thing on them to begin with, so if they want a headstart, it''s just fine.


    "A... moment of your time, though?" - now this is a little interesting. I never interacted with Jeanette-Thereze much, so I am not sure what to expect. On one hand, she''s been a perfect lady in her behavior all evening. On other, she had shown a... distinct interest in my demonstration, shot the pistols, shot the musket and acted with obvious, if repressed, excitement when she learned I''m giving them the guns. Might be just an enthusiast, like my Moon Unit, though. Hm. Something to think about.


    "Sure. What''s up?" - I offer, then realize that this might have been a little bit too informal... Or maybe not. Until now, Jeanette-Thereze was making a good impression of the court lady. Polite, businesslike, calm. Now, though...


    "My interest, to begin with. You''re quite a fascinating maiden, my dear lady." - she purrs, her mannerisms and expression very different now. If I had to describe her now, the words ''femme fatale'' would not be remiss. Or I could just say she''s suddenly a seductress par excellence. I''d hit that... except that I have no intention of cucking Alexander, especially right in his presence. He''s practically within arm''s reach, if distracted right now. As they say, NTR is a trash fetish. Though I have to admit it, Jeannette-Thereze knows how to appeal to libido, when she wants to. The question is, why the fuck I''m the target of a seduction attempt, in front of her own husband too?


    "Do tell." - I prompt her neutrally.


    "Ah, well, I was just thinking back about your marvelous arms." - she coos at me, leaning closer - "How brilliantly they merge the mundane and the arcane into a peerless weapon. Though, I wonder..." She pauses, and continues quietly - "Could it be possible to take things further? That last demonstration, the one you called grapeshot. Could there be any possibility to craft an arm for that grapeshot that could be carried by a person, perchance?"


    Is she... seducing me for a shotgun? What the fuck. Whatever, it''s not that hard.


    "Sure, why not. It won''t have the reach of even pistol, however." - I explain - "The smaller the bit is, the less it can fly before it tumbles. Why do you ask?"


    "Could I possibly prevail upon you to craft something of the sort, I wonder?" - she inquires, now close enough I can feel the dissipating heat off her skin - "I would be VERY appreciative."


    At this moment... Alexander turns around. Gives me a commiserating look over his wife''s shoulder and mouths "Sorry and good luck!" and ducks back into planning. AAAAH, what the FUCK!? Good grief, what is wrong with royals!? Just... Did... Argh! Is that Alexander''s scheme to whore his wife out for an exclusive gun? And if so, WHY? Or is it Jeannette-Thereze being a freak and Alexander just going along with it? Or maybe it''s me and my libido making conclusions far in excess of common sense?


    "I suppose I can try." - I offer - "It will have to be a one-off, as I didn''t quite expect that mode of a firearm to be in use just yet."


    "Can I watch?" - she breathes, blinking her eyes at me. OOkay, and now I''m getting the same commiserating look out of Lily-Anne!?... I... guess the royal family is kinda used to Jeanette-Thereze being a temptress suddenly than if her and Alexander''s reactions are the same. I notice Lily-Anne whispering something to the rest of my harem, who seem to be tense... Were tense, at least.


    "I''m sorry, are you asking me to make it now?" - I demand incredulously.


    "Ah, um, well... It would be great, but I shan''t prevail so much...." - she stumbles, giving me doe eyes. For crying out loud, this is getting ridiculous. Fine, let''s just... get it over with.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "Well, if no one else has objections, I can spare half an hour to make it happen." - I tell her blandly, and loudly enough to be heard by everyone.


    Alexander pipes up before anyone else can interject. "I would be very thankful, lady Gillespie!" - he says equally loudly, then continues in a much lower voice - "I believe we can cope with your absence for a bit, if that''s what it takes to indulge Jeanette-Thereze." His gestures at the same time amply imply that he is more or less begging me to go ahead and do it. Whipped much, dude? Or there''s something else going on?


    I end up taking her to the workshop in the back. For some reason, in spite of me offering, no one else wanted to come back with us and watch, though my harem at least was visibly held back by Lily-Anne. What the FUCK is going on? Thankfully, I do keep enough of metal ingots and wood at the workshop here in the mansion to be able to just go ahead with it. Jeanette-Thereze seems to be just watching from the side. I was worried she might try to get... physical. Which bothers me, because I''m still not sure just WHAT is expected of me here. Is this a case of "oh that''s just how Jeanette-Thereze is" or was I just given a tacit request to fuck Alexander''s wife? And WHY, if second? I mean, there is ample indication everyone else was deliberately held back by the royal family, leaving us tete-a-tete, as it were...


    "Ooh, my. This is going to be my new shotgun, right?" - she mutters, and I mentally stumble. This... Is... Interesting.


    "That''s an interesting word you''ve uttered, here." - I offer, turning around - "Personally, I was going to say blunderbuss... Shotgun would be the next iteration. So then... how come it cropped up now, before I ever mentioned the word to anyone?"


    "...Well, darn. You found me out." - she grumbles without malice - "I think we saw the same world, didn''t we?"


    Hrm. So her implication is that she has the same "visions" as I did? That''s Selene''s excuse, but...


    "Saw or lived?" - I ask her bluntly.


    "..."


    Ok, that''s downright disturbing. Her whole appearance had changed, but she didn''t do a thing. Just microexpressions, poise, bearing... Oh. Huh.


    "Right then." - she offers briskly, and I''m back to dealing with the business version of Jeanette-Thereze - "Lived, obviously. Just like you did. What year was it for you?"


    "Twenty Twenty." - I tell her, and she perks up.


    "Oh! Then you can tell me. Who won, Obama or McCain?" - she requests, and my brain seizes up. Really? Fucking really? That''s the worst concern you had?... Granted, the chances of me knowing something more intimate are probably crapshoot.


    I sigh. "Obama did. I guess you were an american, then?" - I request, and it''s her turn to hitch up.


    "Ah, well... yes? I presume you were from England or maybe Australia than if you were not from the USA?" - she guesses.


    "Flattering, but no. I hesitate to claim any specific ethnicity, but if you were to ask former me about nationality, she''d tell you she is soviet." - I offer, much to her flabbergastment. I wonder why Selene never raised the topic of former nationality. Just assumed I''m from somewhere english-speaking, I guess?


    "Oh. Oh wow. That... wow." - she offers. And then her countenance changes again. "OOh, you are Russian! Does that mean you know orkish? How do you invent all that? Were you an engineer? Oh good golly gracious, I''m so happy to finally have someone else to talk to who understands! Thereze is a darling, but..." - and she trails off, her hands over her mouth.


    "Our apologies. Not something we intended to blab." - she proffers then, back into business mode - "Oh well, the cat is out of the bag. I am Thereze, and I''m the calm one. My sister is Jeanette, she''s the exuberant one. And we''re stuck in the same body. And we would greatly appreciate it if you keep that tidbit quiet. We''re just Jeanette-Thereze to everyone, no need to tell them otherwise."


    "Was your surname Voerman?" - I blurt out, as the parallels suddenly become painfully clear.


    "Why, yes. That''s our maiden name here." - she confirms - "And no, neither of us is actually a vampire. Though we did get teased about this game and how our names coincide with the character. And we''d appreciate it if you don''t mention that one either. Not our fondest memories."


    "But nevermind all that, tell us everything!?" - she blurts out, her mode switching back to flirting - "Who won the Eurovision, what anime came out while we were out, can you project any of the things you saw after twenty-oh-eight, oh gods did you see Nanoha movie, can you show that please please please please!?"


    I''m getting overwhelmed here. "Uh... Well... I do not know?" - I venture - "I''m sorry, I was a woman on the outs with her folks about her sexual choices in post-USSR Ukraine. I barely had enough time to sleep if I wanted to eat. And, engineer... sort of? I worked at techsupport hotline right until I presumably kicked the bucket in a road incident. I didn''t watch much in the way of anime and definitely wasn''t interested in Eurovision."


    She slumps down - "...Well, darn it."


    "Ostensibly speaking, Selene might help you out?" - I offer after a bit of consideration - "She also lives the second life, here. And I think she had more time to devote to popular entertainment than I did. She''s into music a lot." I''m going to try and make all known transmigrants aware of each other if they''re friendly. No sense to hide it from each other.


    "Selene is also?... Oh, oh, I really have to talk to her then. How interesting." - Jeanette is clearly interested, but this is where Thereze takes the reins of conversation back - "Are you certain we can trust her, though? She did interfere in your engagement with Edward quite thoroughly."


    It''s my turn to slump and groan. "And I have aided her in that as much as I could." - I retort - "I''m lesbian, OK? Ed''s obviously head over heels for her, she''s interested as well, so I used all that to lob the engagement over to her. Lily-Anne being interested was totally unplanned, but I definitely prefer her over Ed, as far as my own tastes go."


    "Wait, wait wait wait." - Thereze interrupts - "Are you telling us that you have intentionally conspired with Selene to make her Edward''s fiancee in your stead?"


    "Ayep. That''s the best outcome for everyone. Ed gets a girl that actually likes him, Selene gets a guy she has her eye on, house Cullen gets an infusion of blood powerful in light magic specifically, I get to marry a princess, Lily-Anne gets to be with a girl she was pining for ever since hell knows how long... Win for everyone." - I explain. Thereze is clearly at a loss. Jeannette isn''t.


    "EEEEEE! Oh, you are a devious matchmaker, you!" - she yelps with delight - "Now, whom else did you set up like this, I wonder?"


    "...Well." - I hedge - "It''s still in the air, but I think Hiram is interested in Rafiqa, and vice-versa."


    After a few moments of excited jumping and squealing, Thereze emerges again, smoothing her dress down. "My apologies for this unseemly display." - she proffers contritely - "And my thanks for the information. The nitty-gritty of royal romance is somewhat important to politics, as you can well imagine, and being forewarned like this does help my planning quite a bit. Furthermore, I do thank you for letting me know there is one more person we can trust with, ahem... odder circumstances of our existences."


    "That reminds me." - I quip - "Apparently, transmigration comes with cheats. Mine as you could amply see is production. I have an instinctive grasp of how to make things and how to arrange for them to be mass-produced. Selene has white magic mastery and extensive musical abilities. How about you? Any outstanding abilities?"


    Thereze scratches the back of her head - "Now that you mention it... Our abilities are mostly social. Me, I can remember in perfect clarity every single person I ever meet, including all the details about them I ever learn. Likes, dislikes, birthdays, preferences, interests, etc, etc, etc."


    Her countenance shifts as Jeanette emerges to finish - "Aaaand I have the charisma off the charts! Even girls want me!... Er, even straight girls, I mean."


    "Can confirm." - I deadpan at her - "I have been wondering all that time why would Alexander''s wife suddenly put such overt moves on me."


    She blushes and groans. "Sorry." - she then proffers to me - "Sex appeal is like, involuntary. So, very much sorry for being such a tease."


    "If you ever find out how to suppress those effects, please inform us." - Thereze takes over - "It is of considerable inconvenience to do this to people when we don''t mean it." She pauses, sighs and continues - "And while we both acknowledge that the obvious solution is just to let me hold the reigns, it seems overly cruel to condemn Jeanette to house arrest in her own body."


    "Fair enough. If I find out anything, I''ll let you know." - I offer - "In the meanwhile, have you tried dragonscale amulets? I believe the royal treasury has some confiscated from assorted batal. It might suppress the effect somewhat."


    "...Actually, we did not." - Thereze muses slowly - "We shall attempt this and notify you about the results."

 Chapter 110. Last Things

    I''m... tired. The whole "I forgot there is going to be a huge shebang I have to be present for" thing really put me off the game. At least, things are easier now. We are set to depart in the evening. The plans were amended a bit. For some reason, Cy is flatly against going to Evergreens. According to her, if she''s there now, there will be a me-flavored disaster. I''m guessing someone is foolhardy enough to try something with her and I overreact. So the plan is for Cy to stay with my parents and twins in Parsee, then proceed in carriages to our estate. Meanwhile, we visit Evergreens, stay there for however long it takes for me to square things out with my elven in-laws, and then we fly further north, to the estate. A couple days there, complete with visits to Grand Forge for everyone to take in the sights, and then we get Cy on board and proceed across the mountains to Kraut. We''re going to make a short stop-over in Berlinger, where I''m going to meet with Alphonse to express my displeasure with Klaus and his idiotic activities, then we go southeast, stopover at Nornburg, then proceed southeast, crossing over Confederacy until we are almost near the coast of Mittelzea, where Roxolane indicated her parents live.


    Weirdly enough, I have nothing to do. Supplies for the airship are already well in place, everyone has everything they need and want, the king had received firearms and the first princess got her blunderbuss, so that''s covered, I left instructions for the dwarves to cast three cannons in addition to the bombards so that Buonaparte has some practical aids as well... Business part, hm... Shops are fine, Lily-Anne''s boutique is going to open in two days (I''m teleporting Lily-Anne to attend the opening, and immediately after we go back, she thinks the whole mysterious appearance and disappearance would be a good PR move.), Selene has produced four different matrices for phonograph record replication... That all handled... Oh, Faria sent a letter, the party of would-be bakers is bound to arrive soon, I left the instructions to fold them into the Sweet Dream workforce and train them up properly. Just in time, too, because Sadoux also sent a team of bakers to apprentice, so both branch shops are going to open pretty much in the same time. Neat balance, north and south. Financial reports... Oh, well now, that''s just ducky. De Braltar put in a big order through my trading house for piping and pumps. I guess he worked out what he needed with dwarves.


    Now, one last thing I have to handle here. Today, in... half-hour, ostensibly... Lemand is giving a practical demonstration of consumption cure. Since Moon Unit was involved in this, and this is a momentous occasion, I brought all my girls along... except Cy, who was held back by mom with the rationale that a growing girl should not be near contagious diseases and that there will be a kids-only shebang later on that twins are attending and Cy should also attend. I want to object, to be honest, because I''m pretty sure Cy will introduce immense amounts of chaos into their proceedings, but since Cy herself wants to go, what can I do but smile and kiss her for good luck?


    The hall that''s been graciously set apart by Abe on Pasteur''s request is... moderately populated. Not quite to the point of packed, but also considerably past sparse. The far end is segregated into four cubicles, each containing a test subject. Or subjects. That apothecary''s family is placed as a singular unit, so there are two people to treat, and another cubicle contains a pair of frazzled parents and three children. Who, it looks like, are the ones who have TB. The other two cubicles are populated by a single man each, and the difference between them is like night and day. One is older, fatter and much healthier looking, even though he hacks up a storm every now and then. Other, while younger, looks one foot in the grave. There is notable malnourishment in addition to TB, he will require some extra not to die in the process. Thankfully, I did cover that much with Lemand beforehand. Still... I tap the earpiece, disguised as a fancy earring. "Lemand, be advised. One of the patients is severely underfed, you will need a nourishment potion before you can do anything to him, or he will not survive the cure. Not sure why he is underfed, though. Might be too poor to afford enough food, but might also be some kind of weirder issue. Be sharp around this one."


    This is a little precaution. Lemand''s earpiece is disguised as a circlet that keeps his hair out of his eyes, men aren''t really known for wearing earrings much in Champagne. While I''m confident he can present the whole thing convincingly, I am not discounting the possibility of sabotage, and presenting a patient that is liable to die during treatment is a good way to discredit it. And I can think of many reasons why one would want to discredit it. For example, out of the notion that if Lemand were to fail, I would distance myself from him, leaving him open to be picked up and coerced into revealing the treatment. To be rolled out as their own achievement a little later or just kept secret and furnished to close allies while denying its existence to everyone else. Of course, this particular plan won''t work for obvious reasons, but thought inertia is apparently hard to overcome. Even in the face of me flouting convention day and night, people STILL expect me to react like a template ojou-sama. Annoying, that. At least, there were no considerable attempts to get physical with me, considering I made no secret of the fact I smack back harder. That one was awesome, though. Stupid bint did three complete revolutions before diving into shrubbery... Ah, sweet memories.


    Anyway, here we are... And the theoretical lecture on the principles of the method is over. Oh, and here goes Lemand with the practical part. He elects to deal with three children first. Pasteur is observing, and so is Iohann... Huh, when did he came in? Then again, prelate of the temple obviously has an interest in new healing methods, considering that healing is one of the primary income sources for the whole organization. Ooh, and here comes the retching... And the parents are having much worse reactions than kids. Kids are, apparently, fascinated by what they hocked up. Thankfully, the jars are quickly removed, after their contents are shown to react strongly to disease-detecting spell. It seems kids had been infected only recently, because a singular treatment with a wide-spectrum antibiotic is sufficient to bring their spell reaction down to "fading traces". The fact they stop coughing also helps. The fact that they are actually hungry, weirdly enough, is taken as even more of a proof than lack of cough. And.... Lemand is left feeling way the fuck awkward when both mother and father drop on their knees and start with the "oh great lord, we are thankful for your benevolence, we are forever in your debt".


    "...Ehem. Please rise." - he offers after a few minutes of looking around helplessly. I might have prompted him to act by whispering suggestions over the earpiece. "Please rise." - he repeats, before leaning forward and grasping both of them by the forearms, forcing them up - "I have used your children to demonstrate the efficacy of consumption treatment, so my benevolence, as you put it, was not in any way selfless. Consider this a trade. You get health for your children, I get proof that treatment works. More on the topic, you are to come back in four days for a checkup. Consumption is an insidious illness and may linger in the body without showing itself, so we shall confirm the eradication before declaring this treatment complete. Now, I believe, your children need you more than I do, so I shall let you attend to them and move on to the next patient on my docket."


    Apothecary''s family goes over without a hitch, though both have much more extensive cases, and are slated for checkups and antibiotic administrations each day for the next week at least. The differences are being talked about, after being showcased and pointed out by Lemand. Pasteur has some questions, but Lemand fields all of them without any need in hinting from my side. Things get more interesting when we move on to the healthier guy. By my advice, Lemand left the other guy for the last, as the example of the worst case. But now the other guy is more interesting, because he does not show any TB infection at all! A brief argument erupts, with the man insisting that he is to be treated and Lemand explaining that there is nothing to treat. Meanwhile, I''m keeping an eye (and a load of detection spells) on the man, and when he starts hacking again, I notice something. The source of the problem is all around his throat, barely an inch past an esophagus. So I promptly tell Lemand about that. And now, we are treated to a slightly nauseating sight of sir Pasteur reaching down man''s throat with a pair of tongs... Aaaand he pulls back a moment later with a little branch of pine clenched in the tongs. Ridiculous. Guy''s coughing issues were due to the fact he had a part of a tree lodged in his throat, apparently. Some healing spells to deal with the scratches down there, and he''s fine as rain.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    That leaves us with the last guy... Who is, apparently, not that keen on being healed? Damn, I knew something was wonky about it.


    "...You can not help everyone, magus. Just let me go peacefully..." - ok, this is theater levels of pathos. The fuck is up with this dude?


    "Lemand, something''s off. If this guy doesn''t think he can get better, why did he sign up for this?" - I whisper - "Chances are, someone paid his family off to go and die on your performance to sour the news. He is going to be difficult, I think. Don''t let him sabotage you. Make him drink a nutritional potion before you do anything, and make sure he did drink it. Use the blue one, we need the fastest action possible. I have a bad hunch about this." Now that I think about this, it''s not out of the question that guy had deliberately avoided eating anything for the last week or so, specifically so that he''d die during treatment. He has a serious case of TB, well into blood-coughing, he expects to die any day now. I can easily see someone less than scrupulous striking a deal with him.


    Lemand apparently is even less impressed than I am, because the next thing we see is the guy writhing helplessly as Lemand grabs him by the nose, squeezes and pours the bottle of Nutri-Blue (horrifying concoction chock-full of ATF, protein and soluble fats, do not drink unless you''re starving) into his gullet, using a surreptitious spell to make sure all of it goes down the right tube.


    "Some people tend to give into despair." - he lectures dispassionately, as he lets go of the guy after making sure all of the potion clears the esophagus - "This is understandable, but not helpful. You may notice that I started with the use of potion, which is something I haven''t done in earlier cases. This is a nutritional potion, essentially a liquid emulsion of fats designed to quickly bring people back from the brink of starvation. It tastes horrible and will make you grossly fat if you drink it without being starved thin. This particular version was further treated with light magic to improve its healing capabilities and ensure it goes where it is needed the most. Why nutrition is important? Because that''s what the body uses to become better. If I were to try and treat this man without giving him the potion first, he would have died."


    "...Gods damn it, let me die, you scoundrel!" - the man on the bed explodes suddenly - "...Haah, had I not suffered enough from the disease that you make me endure further indignities for everyone to gawk at?"


    "Let you die?" - Lemand repeats after him - "How about no? You signed the contract to be treated, and that''s what I will do. Once you are hale and healthy to everyone''s satisfaction? Then we will consider the contract over and you may kill yourself at your leisure. But while you are under contract, forget about it."


    A murmur breaks out over this declaration. Some of the present are on the man''s side, and clamor that if he desires to die, than certainly that much is his right. The majority, however, seems to agree with Lemand that wanting to die is not a sufficient cause to wiggle out of contract, let alone a passable cause to make Lemand administer euthanasia. The patient in question, however, is clearly intending to push further.


    "...As, hah, hah.... As gods are my witness, ahh.. I demand a judgment!" - he coughs out - "T''is not right to deny a man his death!"


    I quirk my eye at Lily-Anne. Technically speaking, as a member of the royal family, she has the authority to administer the judgment that the man is asking for. Otherwise, someone else would have to be sourced out of the royal family. I imagine the guy is banking on none of the royals being available at a moment''s notice, thus giving him time to expire while the official judgment is being requested and administered. Not to mention the shadow it would throw over Lemand, if his demonstration is postponed because someone demanded judgment. She winces, but nods at me, and stands up.


    "You have been heard and answered, my good man." - she says out loud - "I am princess Lily-Anne, and I will administer the judgment here and now."


    Ooh, that''s a nice startlement. Dude, really shouldn''t have tried to fuck with my protege. Really really shouldn''t have.


    "Your excellency!?" - he yelps, trying to tumble out of gurney. He is held back by Pasteur, who tuts at him - "Lie down, you hothead. You''re far too sick to stand, royalty or not."


    "Sir Lemarchand, what is this contract you spoke of?" - Lily-Anne demands in the meanwhile.


    Lemand bows and offers her a scroll - "If it pleases your excellency, for this demonstration, I have had drafted contracts for all participants. Here is the contract for this specific patient, should you wish to peruse it, along with his signature for verification."


    Lily-Anne skims through the contract (she already knows what it says, we brainstormed the text together after all) and then addresses the patient.


    "Your name is Jacques Dermode, correct?" - she asks.


    "...yesh, your ehhelenshy.." - the man wheezes out, still trying to catch his breath from his silly attempt to stand.


    "You have signed this contract, correct?"


    "...yeh..."


    "You have read this contract, correct?"


    "...ah, well, haah... nah, your esselensy!... Ahh have not!" - he suddenly perks up - "Ah can''th read!"


    "Why did you lie right now?"


    "... your ehellency?"


    "I am reasonably apt with light magic to know when someone lies, Jacques Dermode. You just lied twice to me. Once about not having read the contract, and once about not knowing how to read. Give me a third lie, and I will rule in favor of sir Lemarchand without even considering your further arguments." - she replies, her voice taking a hard edge as she does - "I do not appreciate people taking me for a dunce, Jacques Dermode."


    "...yes, your excellency... I lied. I read the contract... kough, cough, haaah... But I do not agree with it!"


    "Immaterial. You can not sign the contract if you do not agree with it, the very signature confirms you have taken on an obligation to follow the requirements of the contract to the letter. In this particular case, your obligations are twofold. One, you are obligated to receive the treatment and cooperate with sir Lemarchand while you are receiving it to the best of your abilities. While you are under this obligation, you may not, in fact, refuse the treatment or undertake any steps that would render it impotent. Two, you are also obligated not to disclose the details of this treatment to anyone without sir Lemarchand''s permission. Failure on either part of the contract from your side will make you liable for hundred golds fee, transferable to your family if you are dead." - Lily-Anne continues mercilessly - "So if you were promised money for your family if you sabotage this demonstration, be assured that it will not, in fact, remain in possession of your family for long."


    "...gods why...." - he rasps in return, a little bit too distraught to offer anything more coherent.


    "I rule in favor of sir Lemarchand. As the contract is valid and had been signed in sound mind and clear understanding, you are obligated to cooperate to the best of your ability with sir Lemarchand to receive the treatment properly and become healthy." - Lily-Anne announces - "Furthermore, as a penance for your haphazard lie attempt, Jacques Dermode, you are hereby ordered to submit to questioning by our inquisition and honestly proffer everything about the circumstances in which you signed this contract with an intention of subverting it. Your further punishment will be decided once we know all pertinent details."


    I take note of the name. Gotta look into it. The guy was too distraught over being overruled, it''s not out of question he is being coerced to do this somehow. Family debts? Hostage? Gotta find out. For starters, what my trading house knows about this?


    ___


    As it turns out, my trading house knows lots about this. Jacques Dermode, a former employee, took out debts once he contracted consumption. The goal was to get his oldest son into Merchant Guild, which he achieved, but they are still indebted. To me, essentially. Which is very weird, because I had explicitly ordered to compile the list of people who... Ooh. Wait. He took the loan directly from Konistan and didn''t come forward when I announced the amnesties. Gods damn it. He probably was already sick by then and didn''t hear about me taking over from Konistan entirely. Well... Fuck. And of course, the loan had draconian terms... Which he wouldn''t meet in the next year. FUUUCK.


    Fine than. What was the... aha, he has a house over at the suburb. Perfect. I write out debt lien for Dermode''s house, then immediately log it in as fulfilled and dutifully transfer the whole twenty three golds that the debt was about from my pocket money to my account in my trading company. Next, I write out the letter to Malachi explaining the circumstances and including a signed copy of the extinguished lien as proof that Dermode debt is considered null and void, with a request for him to find out who the hell promised Dermode anything to sabotage Lemand''s presentation.


    With that final annoyance handled, I leave the study and stride towards the airship. Road trip awaits.

 Interlude 17. The Lows And Highs Of Being Sultan

    This... was a disaster. Somewhat predictable one, in retrospect. But... still... Just... HOW!?


    Salaadin grasped his temples, rubbing at them in a futile attempt to stave off the headache borne out of poring over the documents and listening to testimonies. Horrifying bloodchilling testimonies. He grew alarmed over the lack of communications with Alamut. Even if the target was not easy, they should have reported SOMETHING by now? At the very worst, the failure to do anything meaningful, if no better news? Spurned by suspicions and worries, he had dispatched a loyal guard to survey and report on Alamut. Although it was not likely, he did not discount the possibility of betrayal. Old Man on the Mountain was a force in itself, and he could have decided his chances were better supporting the White Witch. What his guard discovered was so much worse, he could barely comprehend it.


    Alamut was razed. The whole order slaughtered, shattered bodies piled high in a pile of rotting meat and crumbling bone, crowned with the head of Old Man himself, forever frozen in a rictus of horrified disbelief. What had the old bastard seen in his final moments to freeze this expression on his face? There were not many faces left of his underlings, whatever killed them had a distinct preference for biting into skulls, but the few that could be recovered reasonably intact had similar expressions of disbelief, horror, and dare he say this... madness. It was this last trait that gave him the certainty that Alamut was visited by White Witch in person. He shuddered, thinking back to the ill-conceived kidnapping of the Champagne princess. White Witch came right into his palace to retrieve her. Walked through the guards like they were not there. Took the princess back. Took his wife. Took his daughter. Left behind several corpses and a full courtyard of men and women all driven to gibbering lunacy.


    His surviving sages examined the lunatics in detail. Interviewed them. Nearly joined them in insanity. He thought about putting them all to the sword for the safety of the rest of the court, but in the end, he changed his mind. Mainly due to the fact that putting them to sword required someone wielding the sword to begin with, which was a complicated affair with bees enforcing the disarmament. His final decision was to exile all of them to the remote campus out of city bounds and assign a guard to make sure they wouldn''t leave. So far, the colony of lunatics had proved themselves to be remarkably low-maintenance. Everyone, including several formerly high-ranked nobles, had joined hands, planted crops, cut timber under the supervision of guards and even assisted the guards themselves by erecting a couple of basic guardhouses for them to inhabit at the most common workplaces. But then, the commune requested paints and inks. He saw no reason to object at first, but when he saw the results, he grew horrified. Everyone, every single person, man, woman, noble, commoner... All of them found some specific art they were good at and proceeded to create the most singularly creepy paintings, carvings, statuettes, tapestries, beadworks, jewelry and even flowerbeds he ever had the misfortune of seeing. Tentacles and stars seemed to be a prevalent theme in all of them, a surprising majority also including the feminine figure... Or part of thereof, conjoined with tentacles in some way. Or more disturbingly, conjoined with stars. He still could not get that damn enchantment out of his mind. A simple stone slab, no more than that, but after a day in daylight, it would project an illusion all night. A collection of incandescent spheres swirling around each other, never holding a shape and yet nonetheless inspiring the image of a statuesque woman in mind. Most disturbing artwork, and yet for some reason so alluring he could not bear the idea of parting with it, no matter how horrible it was to his perceptions.


    The conclusion his sages eventually reached was as disturbing as it was implausible. Yet, it matched the old legends with unwelcome precision. Salaadin''s people never interacted with elves much, but his sages nonetheless possessed fairly comprehensive records of elven mythology. However, that was the end point of the journey. The start lied with imps. He snorted at the thought. Salaadin rarely paid attention to the imps, given that they were a race of women and therefore naturally subservient in his mind. Yet, they had extensive mythology, and one of the figures they referred in hushed whispers to as "Star Horror" seemed to match White Witch well. A powerful being, capable of magic beyond mortal comprehension or scope, quick to anger and slow to forgive, inspiring insanity with the mere appearance... Worse yet, while there were several distinct myths involving Star Horror, none spoke of fending one off. No heroes nor sages nor tricksters. No sword nor spell nor cunning. Dragons were described as mere food to one. The best his sages could offer is that the Star Horror could be pacified with appropriate sacrifice. Maidens were mentioned, but never alone. Apparently, those beings were not satisfied with just womanflesh. No, they also demanded tribute. Lands. Castles. Gold.


    Well, at least the maidens were already covered... He had very complicated feelings on the matter. Why did White Witch take only one of his wives? His terrified harem readily regaled him with the tales of monster in gleaming plate, taller than his best warriors by half, wielding the hammer... and yet keenly intelligent one, capable of healing magic. Was it the true form of the witch herself or a demon she summoned to do her bidding? If second, then... Well. Hardly any demons his sages knew of were capable of healing. To be able to summon something so capable... If first, then the theory of White Witch truly being the Star Horror imps whispered about gained ground. Maybe that girl was taken because she asked to be taken, though. His wives were adamant krainian captive he never had the time to properly tame asked of the invader to be taken along. He did not like to ruminate on that point much, because the conclusion that HE was the less desirable option than submitting to demon rankled his ego something fierce. No one knew how did Rafiqa end up being taken, however. Her rooms were not in disarray, implying she left out of her own will or was taken from somewhere outside the rooms. A lot of jewelry belonging to her was missing, the kind that could be easily stuffed into a sack. Could it be that Rafiqa also asked to be taken? On one hand, she was the princess of the Sultanate, and treated as such. Best clothes, best food, best adornments, best soaps, best entertainment. She lacked for nothing... Nothing but freedom, that is. Salaadin was no fool. He knew that Rafiqa chafed in her role, that she did not want to be married to one of his beys, as befits of a princess. But did she loathe the idea enough to ask to be spirited away from her home?


    His remaining spies and diplomats in Champagne had brought to him some encouraging news on that front. It seemed that Rafiqa was treated with the same courtesies as afforded to foreign royals in Champagne, at the very least. She was given a room in the Academy, next door to the prince of Kraut at that. His people reported to him that the chambers proffered to his daughter were indeed one of the suits reserved for highest nobility attending, so at least in that, proprieties were observed. She was still treated as a princess. Granted, he did not approve of her educating herself in overly libertine ways of northern women, but being treated as a highborn hostage was honestly better than pretty much any other fate he could think about, barring her safe return home. That krainian girl, what''s her name... Roxolane? Lost cause, he wouldn''t miss her much. A slave taken from her family and sold to him for her beauty, a nice gesture but he really had no time to properly mold her into an acceptable mindset, not with her rebellious nature. Perhaps, if Abbas did not arouse the anger of eldritch abomination masquerading as a woman, he could have devoted the necessary time and effort to it, but as it were, he was far too busy to tame the wily woman. Good riddance, then. His spies did report that princess Lily-Anne herself was a lover of White Witch, so he could understand the extreme prejudice in storming his palace. The fact that Roxolane also elected to become a lover of a woman instead of his wife rankled a little, but if that''s where her tastes truly lie, he honestly wouldn''t miss her in the harem. Salaadin had women of women in his harem before, and he was not happy with the results. Even broken, they were displeasing in bed and sullen in manner. Disappointing to the last. He resolved the situation by sending them out to the imp communes, as was the usual custom to do with wives that grew too old or too infirm to serve well.


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Anyway, the truly interesting point was that by all indications, Rafiqa was not pressed into this parody of harem White Witch seemed to gather. Truth to say, he was a little bit curious as to how such a disparate harem would even function. A princess, an elf, a maid and a foreigner... To him, the whole mess looked like a house fire in slow motion. The squabbles between them must be legendary. So... why Rafiqa was excluded? Was it a slight against him, or was White Witch honoring Rafiqa''s silly desires of finding a husband on her own? And if second, than why would she do something so outlandish? Whenever he tried to think of the motivations and reasons for the things witch did, his common sense felt like a dog padding the quicksand.


    Still... The legends of Star Horror helped his sages find the commonality in the elven mythos. But what they found was, at best, a mixed blessing. Elves had their own name for such beings. Tools of Gods. Ominous, that. Did Abbas really go against the gods themselves with his tantrum? Was one maid''s chastity THAT important that divines themselves moved to punish Sultanate? Or was it simply due to the maid belonging to the Star Horror? Legends did say the beings were more than a little possessive of those who could withstand their presence with sanity intact, after all. On the plus side, elven legends were pretty clear on the topic of sacrifices. Tools of Gods claimed lands. Yes. Tools of Gods did NOT destroy lands, however. Rather, they built up the lands they claimed. Erected castles, paved roads, raised towns. Drained swamps, irrigated deserts, tamed the storms and cajoled the rains. Honestly, if it was not for the initial hostilities, he would not be averse to ceding some lands to the White Witch, if she truly wanted them to multiply the prosperity. The problem was, however, that the lands he would prefer to cede would be mostly within the domains overseen by Mustafa and Kemal. The deserts. And that would not work well, as the primary offender was Abbas. And the lands Abbas oversaw were... well.


    Technically speaking, Thousand Isles were perhaps the most convenient land to cede to Champaigne noble, or rather the abomination masquerading as one. Salaadin had the nasty suspicion, however, that White Witch would not settle for just a few of the isles. She would demand a significant part of them at the very least. Probably all of them. And with Champagne fully allied with her due to Abbas being a rash moron, there was preciously little Salaadin could do in return, now that Alamut was taken off the board for the foreseeable future. With that unfortunate conclusion in mind, he was currently awaiting one person that would be embroiled in the middle of it all. One person whom, honestly speaking, Salaadin counted as his closest friend, as far as Sultan could have friends. Vizier of Thousand Isles, Nazrudeen al-Hoja.


    ___


    His friend was... an old man, Salaadin thought with a wince as he saw Nazrudeen laboriously kneel and put his forehead against the floor in supplication.


    "<dfn title="My lord, how can this insignificant serve you?">Sayidi kayf yumkin lhdha alshakhs altaafuh''ana yakhdumak?</dfn>" - Nazrudeen gave the formal address, making Salaadin wince again.


    "<dfn title="Rise, my faithful servant.">Qum, ya eabdi almukhalas.</dfn>" - he offered a formal reply, irritably gesturing to the servants to bring the chair in quickly. No reason to make the old man struggle with his ailing knees any more than strictly necessary.


    Nazrudeen settled down into the chair with a thankful sigh. "<dfn title="My thanks, my lord. My knees are not the same as yesterday. What is your will?">Shukri raby. Rakbati laysat mithl''ams. Ma hi aradtuk?</dfn>" - he inquired.


    "How''s your Albish, Nazrudeen?" - Salaadin inquired in return.


    Blinking in surprise, Nazrudeen fumbled for the answer. "I dare hope I remain suitably fluent, oh my lord. If that is what you ask, then my humble ability with the northern speak might be of use in near future?" - he finally retorted.


    "Unfortunately. So I shall oblige you with a little practice, old friend." - Salaadin admitted grimly - "I will be frank with you. My fool of a son had angered something beyond mortal ken, and I am with my back against the wall. As you well know, the curse prevents anyone from bearing arms or casting magic, and sages failed to proffer any counterspell that would aid. Alamut had been razed, Old Man on the Mountain slain along with all his disciples. All signs indicate that the being in question is something imps call Star Horror and elves call Tool of Gods. Ominous names, as you can well see. At this juncture, I fear it is not long before I am forced to cede Thousand Isles to save the rest of the Sultanate. You understand what it means for you, Nazrudeen."


    "It means that I am to be surrendered with the isles, I believe." - Nazrudeen proffered slowly - "His eminence Abbas will not permit me to retreat with him, if such a calamity comes to us. My lord, do you believe that this White Witch will seek to punish me for his transgressions?"


    "I honestly do not know, Nazrudeen." - sultan retorted - "According to the reports of my ambassador, Rafiqa had been treated with all the due respect northerners accord to visiting royalty, her accommodations being the same as furnished to the first prince of Kraut. So, maybe not. On the other hand, the wife that was taken ended up in the harem of White Witch, so... I have my doubts White Witch will add you to her harem, old friend, but there is no indication as to how you would be treated in such a circumstance."


    "I understand, my lord." - Nazrudeen offered with a slight smile - "I shall endeavor to meet my fate with as much dignity as I can muster. In the event I am not executed or exiled or dismissed from service, what would you order me to do, my lord?"


    "If sages are not mistaken, Tool of Gods takes lands to improve their prosperity, as preposterous as it sounds." - Salaadin offered with a shrug - "If this comes to be, then you are to aid her in making isles prosperous to be the best of your ability... with regards to your health, old friend. Be useful, but do not burn yourself out for her sake. If she proves herself to be more brutal than legends claim, then do your best to aid the beys in leaving the islands. If needs be, we shall offer enslaved imps in exchange. In any case, be on the lookout for any information you can glean about the curse and send the word back as soon as it is safe to do so. Do not take undue risks, if you retain your post as vizier, as I am unlikely to place another loyal man in such a lofty position under her."


    "Regarding the curse, my lord." - Nazrudeen piped up suddenly - "I believe I have some interesting information for you already."


    "Well, don''t keep me waiting." - Salaadin perked up - "What have you found?"


    "One of the commoners discovered a peculiar habit of husks, my lord." - Nazrudeen hurried to report - "It appears that they could be cajoled into performing simple tasks. The commoner in question grew irritated at the husk blocking her way to the well and in a fit of pique, thrust the pot into husk''s arms and told it to make itself useful. It started following her and mimicking her actions as a result. Once she gathered her wits, she proceeded with filling up the pot at the well and emptying it into the household basin, and the husk repeated her actions. Then it proceeded to run back to the spring and fetch another pot of water. It appears that if the husks are given a tool, they could be lured into a simple routine which they will repeat mindlessly until someone takes the tool away or until something changes the routine. For example, the water-toting husk had stopped once the basin was too full of water to pour in more and waited with the pot in hands until enough water drained to empty it. I have tentatively given permission to entice the husks into carrying water and firewood, for now, but it appears that they could be also successfully trained into plowing the field or plucking weeds."


    Salaadin cocked his head. "So.. what you are telling me is that the husks, in addition to doing the guard duty, are also good for simple labor?" - he repeated.


    "In a way, my lord. There are certain differences. One being that husks engaged in a task never stop guarding. One of them was observed dropping the bundle of firewood, running in to subdue the sand jackal, then returning to the task at hand once the beast had its neck wrung. Another difference is that husks don''t eat, don''t sleep, don''t tire and don''t stop." - Nazrudeen explained.


    "...Ghahahaha!... That witch. That crafty evil abominable witch!..." - Salaadin chortled - "Prosperity, my ass! It was at our hands the whole time!... Gods damn it, I hate being duped like this, but... write this up, Nazrudeen, and tell your laborers to try all sorts of tasks with husks. We need to know what labors are they good for. There are dozens of those shambling around each village, if all of them could be put to work, the last dahkan out there would live like a bey."

 Chapter 111. Elven Intro

    "...All I''m saying, be very cautious." - Moon Unit repeats - "Keep weapons handy, spells on the fingertips and eyes all around. There were a lot of sore tempers over me leaving, and some of them are right bastards who won''t think twice about harming any of you to get at me."


    "So, to sum it up." - Lily-Anne pitches in - "You and Alyssa go first, assess the situation groundside, make preparations. In case you two deem it safe enough for us to descend, Bridgit and Alyssa will transport us down by magic. Airship remains up in the air at all points, lest someone overly enthusiastic climbs aboard, right?"


    "Yes, that''s about it." - Moon Unit agrees somewhat sullenly - "I wish I could offer you a better welcome to my homeland, but..."


    She outlined the situation in Evergreens prior to that, as an explanation for why such caution is a necessity. And, apparently, it is because of the struggle that occurred around the three seats and four siblings. Apparently, the assumption was that Moon Unit and her siblings would fight it out for the privilege of taking the seat, so assorted clans had scrambled to offer support to whom they deemed most preferable, and everyone made plans for the all too likely situation of seat number exceeding sibling number in the aftermath. Which would mean one or two Counsel seats up for grabs. The situation had came to head when one of the more ruthless clans had attempted to kidnap Moon Unit to break the stalemate over the inheritance. She came out victorious, having killed two out of three would-be kidnappers, which inflamed the already tense situation to a fever pitch. Since the attempt failed, another clan attempted to persecute the would-be kidnappers "on Moon Unit''s behalf". So Moon Unit''s decision to bow out of the dispute and leave the Evergreens altogether had knocked the ground out from under both. And as elves are wont to do in confusing situations, both clans had responded with copious violence, dragging in others in their frenzy.


    In the end, nine out of twenty four Counsel members were killed in the resulting skirmishes, four clans had ceased to exist in their entirety, eleven more became destitute and depopulated, including the original culprits, and eight rose to new prominence in the resulting power vacuum. As the previous head of conclave was among the perished, elder Tamaya assumed control and it is largely to her diplomatic efforts the situation simmered down to the current uneasy status quo. Some of the previously powerful clans had never accepted their fall from power and would be likely to lash out on one they perceive as "the root of it all". Namely, Moon Unit. Hence our initial sojourn. Moon Unit has to be there, because if I go down there alone, the likely outcome would be me gaining a couple hundred arrows in short order, followed by elves doing something needlessly rash in a panic. The variant with Moon Unit going alone is not in consideration. Period.


    Furthermore, in order to avoid causing panic anyways, the airship is parked off a ways. Clearly visible, but well out of reach. Which means we''re going to do a bit of a hike to get to the village proper. Thankfully, I have no stamina to worry about, and Moon Unit would actually enjoy the walk through the ancestral woods, dangers from her people or no. It''s actually pretty nice, to be honest. Forest has this, well... smell, I guess? No, not just it. There is more than just olfactory stimulation to it, but... yeah, well. The forestiest forest that ever forested.


    "Well, so far, so good." - I offer conversationally, as I trail after Moon Unit - "But I''m pretty sure we''ve been seen already, no?"


    "Well, the airship certainly was." - she agrees - "Which means there are all sorts of people moving towards us. Or away from us, in some cases."


    "Away?" - I puzzle - "I''m reasonably sure Dweezil warned everyone not to be too alarmed, no?"


    "Sure, but treeborn are hardly the only ones to prowl the woods, you know." - she retorts - "There are all sorts of folks who are out there for one reason or another and had no prior warning at all. Some of them are even here for reasons they would rather not explain themselves about. Poachers, for example. Cagey lot, they know full well my brethren would offer them no mercy if caught."


    "Huh. Come to think of it, I do remember vaguely there were certain animals prohibited from being hunted, but I don''t quite remember the reasons for it. Something about alchemy?" - I muse.


    Moon Unit sighs - "If only. More like, snake oil products. Things that do not really do what people believe they should be doing, but everyone remains confident they should be. Two-headed snake was in fact the first such prohibited animal. The myth went that boiling an alive snake in a vat of oil would produce an antidote to any poison. Lies, the resulting oil is actually mildly poisonous itself and numbs the skin if smeared on it. Hence the legend that it is an antidote, because smearing it over the wound causes numbing and thus alleviates pain. Which is usually mistaken for being cured of poisoning. Honestly, it''s common knowledge... And yet somehow does not register with those who actually pay for such cu... HEY! Watch out!"


    Watch out, huh? Well, there is a lariat loop approaching my head, and... Well, fuckbisquits. I guess things are gonna get a little stupid. Since time dilation kicked in already, I reach up, grab the loop knot and pull it to the side, making the rest of the lariat miss my head. Then I yank. I''m pretty sure that guy is not named Wilhelm, but golly, does he ever do the scream. Admittedly, being suddenly yanked off the tree is a good reason for screaming. I wonder, however, just what the hell did he intend to do if he did catch me? Brace against the branch somehow? Or just jump off on the opposite side of the branch and hope his weight is bigger than mine? Though that last one would be a murder attempt, if so. Maybe just expected me to fumble over being suddenly choked, gi... Oh, hell, there it is. I catch the shaft of the mancatcher just inches away from Moon Unit''s shoulder. Given the expression of the guy on the other end, he did not expect me to do it. Or succeed in doing it, in any case. I guess he expected his strength and copious amount of spikes on the end of the thing would thwart me. Then Moon Unit stabs him in the gut, and things get even screamier.


    So... 2-0 in our favor so far. The guy with mancatcher expired pretty much on the spot, Moon Unit gutted him like a fish, and the other one didn''t survive the sudden drop. Sheer misfortune, he appears to have actually managed to catch himself on another branch... only for it to break off as he was swinging himself up onto it, dropping him headfirst on the ground. Crack goes the neck vertebrae. Of course, there were more. And this guy is a fucking jackass. Slow clap and everything.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    "My, my. Not even in the village yet, and already killing kin?" - this guy is clearly in charge, his clothes obviously better and attitude obviously cockier. Admittedly, as far as he knows, he has good reasons to be cocky, given that he''s standing in the middle of four archers all aiming our way a good distance away. So the guys with catching implements were simply a distraction, then? Or this is a backup in case they fail? He continues, while I mull over the situation - "I suppose I should not be surprised you are as vile as ever, Ungrateful Daughter. Now lay down on the ground on your bellies, and put your hands behind your backs. Do not resist being bound, unless you want to be shot. It is more convenient for me to take you alive, but your body will do in a pinch. Best be on good behavior now, or your companion will get killed for your unbecoming attitude."


    MM... How about no. I subvocalize to Moon Unit - "I''m not inclined to play along. Wall off, then let''s see if they are any good with magic?" She nods and grins viciously, gesturing towards the guy in question quickly. I''m not familiar with the gestures she made, but if I were to hazard a guess, they were potently obscene, because there is a synchronized air intake from all four archers we can hear even here. To make things even more upsetting, I flip them a bird myself, then stomp on the ground, raising a wall of packed earth in front of us, curling on top to protect from arrows arcing from above, if any. Good timing, if the noises from the other side are of any indication. Moon Unit clasps her hands together, a ball of fire spinning up quickly between her palms. Really, fire magic in the forest? I guess she knows better than me, but still... The spell I''m preparing is more of a force blast than anything else. I figure if the fire doesn''t get them, overpressure will. She winks at me as we both lob the spells like grenades and step forward under the earthy awning to avoid the follow-up arrows.


    What happens next is, completely, a coincidence. An accident, even. Moon Unit''s spell was released earlier than mine, but for some reason was just a little bit slower. As a result, my ball of force impacted Moon Unit''s glob of fire from behind. The results are... well. The blast spooks all the birds in a mile radius, and the screams of burning elves keep them spooked as they fly away. No magic defense or we''re just too fuck-off powerful to notice them trying to defend? I wonder. Hm... Oh, actually.. the guy who was in charge survived, though his hands look pretty burned. His archers, apparently, didn''t react in time to raise any shields at all, and are currently rolling around on the grass and gurgling in pain. Third and fourth degree burns to the head and chest... Not exactly survivable, but... unpleasantly unhurried death. HMIC glares in our general direction, shouts something I can''t quite make out in elvish (I guess the initial greetings were in Albish precisely so I don''t do something stupid) and staggers off in an uneven run, holding his burned arms close to his chest as he goes. Wounded, but not lethally, I guess. Not immediately lethally, at least.


    "Lend me a knife, dear?" - I quip - "Someone needs to put those simpletons down, I suppose." She adopts a pinched expression, but hands me one of her daggers anyways. Dealing with gurgling husks is just a matter of a few moments. No reason to drag this out, just a quick thrust to the base of the skull to sever the spinal cord. Quick and easy. I could eat them to find out what is going on, but I have a hunch that all that they know is that the head honcho gave marching orders. And I don''t really like my food burnt, anywa... Waaaait a moment. The guy Moon Unit gutted should be still fresh enough, maybe even a little bit alive still. One that I yanked off the tree might also be good.


    "Dear?" - I offer as I return the dagger to her - "I''m gonna eat some heads, alright?"


    "No complaints from me." - she retorts viciously - "Those sorry losers, gah! Honestly, not even waiting until I announce myself to the Counsel, that''s just... ugh. Underhanded conniving cowardly rats!"


    Thus reassured, I pick up the guy Moon Unit gutted, lop off the top of his skull and slurp out the gray matter with a tentacle. Aaand I might have grievously overestimated how inured Moon Unit is to my oddities, if the sounds of messily losing breakfast behind me are of any indication. Well... damn. I drop the corpse, clear off my hands with conjured water and come over to see what happened.


    "...Good gods." - Moon Unit offers after a few moments - "I... thought you meant you''re going to be violent to their sorry lot, not that you would literally slurp out brains." She groans and splashes more water on her face, shaking it off then - "Why are you doing this, anyway? Do you need to actually eat brains every now and then or?"


    "Um... No? But if I get to eat a fresh brain, I can get some of their recent memories and thoughts that were on their minds last." - I explain - "For obvious reasons, eating still living brains works best for that, though a few minutes of dead is fine too. Further on, matter degrades too much for me to discern anything."


    She has a considerate expression on her face now. "Oh. Well... that''s vastly different from what I was thinking. Just to verify, it''s not something you need to do, just a, uh... extra way to get some extra intelligence out of freshly defeated?" - she asks cautiously.


    "No needs or urges to do that, no. Don''t worry." - I riposte - "The only eating I want to involve you in would be eating you out."


    She chuckles and grimaces. "Sometimes, you just don''t seem to read the mood, dear." - she tosses back wryly - "Very well, let''s go... I suppose you want to, uh... investigate the rest of bodies?"


    I shrug. "Burned ones are no good, and I already scavenged the other one. Nothing really worthwhile, they were doing it because their clan chief ordered them to." - I explain as I proffer my arm to Moon Unit - "Let''s hope there won''t be more delays of the sort. Because if we are waylaid again, I just might forego pretenses and just go with biting into skulls from the get-go."


    I blame the overall cavalier mood for what happened next. This whole talk about eating heads and Moon Unit being, albeit reluctantly, accepting of it, well... Add to this a sudden rustle from the side and slightly ahead, someone fumbling their stealth from, as far as I could tell, a shock at hearing what was said. My time dilation was already on trigger tip so to speak, so it kicked in the very same moment I perceived someone else, doubly so given how uncomfortably close he was. Good stealth, to dodge my attention this well. Weak nerves, though, to flinch on just hearing something unsettling. In short, with the combo of me being on a hair-trigger and the guy failing the stealth check...


    I headbit him. In classic xenomorph fashion. Complete with horribly abrupt sound effects. The hiss, the bite, the crunch and the horrified scream trailing off into gurgling.


    "...Dear, I''m sorry. Sometimes, the universe just seems to conspire to bring out the monster in me." - I apologize after a moment.


    Moon Unit''s slightly hysterical giggle is not as reassuring as I would like.

 Chapter 112. Greeting The Counsel

    Thankfully, we are left alone for a good long while after the whole brouhaha. More than enough for Moon Unit to stop looking a little unhinged, though she still steals little side glances when she thinks I''m not looking. Bother bother bother bother. I think my behavioral baseline is slipping a bit. At least, around people I trust. Which is kinda annoying when it dips beyond their tolerance margins. Still... Some useful data had been collected.


    "Out of curiosity, would it be surprising to you to learn that our last victim was not affiliated with the rest?" - I offer after a bit of silence - "That guy whose head I bit off was concerned a lot with not being seen by the others. If his memories are of any indication, right until we wrecked the first crew, he was more afraid of them than of us. Of course, once we did lay down the hurt, that got quickly amended. Still, he was kinda certain they''d kill him on the spot if they''d see him."


    Moon Unit sighs. "I''m reasonably sure the guy you bit the head off was Romeo of Montecchi. One of the few survivors of the clan that tried to kidnap me to begin with." - she offers after a few seconds of silence - "I have no doubt he was there to see if he could grab me or stab me before clan Capulet got their mitts on me. Speaking of, the one who ran off is Tybalt."


    I...blink. Then blink again. Shakespeare now? Good grief, do the references ever end?... And if not, then I am morbidly curious what the references to russian literature are going to be, given that russian is orkish in this world. Still... I just have to ask.


    "Now I''m morbidly curious. Why are those guys at each other''s throats so much?" - I quip - "Let me guess, cherchez la femme?"


    Moon Unit snorts. "Got it on one, dear." - she snarks back - "About two hundred years ago, Tybalt and Romeo both were making advances towards spinner Juliette. Imagine, two milksops barely thirty vying for the attentions of matron crossing off her fifth century. Of course she told them to go and grow up a little before coming back with proposals. Each of them assumed ''grow up a little'' means ''kill your rival'', and went at it. Both are kids of their respective clan heads, you can imagine what happened next. The idiots had been feuding ever since over just about anything under the sun."


    "So..." - I drawl, trying to wrap my mind about it - "They''re at the stage of ''doesn''t matter what started it, the feud is what is important''?"


    "Maybe." - my dear waifu grumbles - "But I wouldn''t put it past the idiots to STILL be hung up on who gets to propose to Juliette. Snagging a conclave seat does sound like good proof of being grown up to some people."


    "Wait, what?" - I stumble - "Didn''t you say it was two hundred years ago? Is that Juliette still around?"


    "Oh, sure. Spinners tend to live very long lives, as a rule. Only the most desperate or stupid ones would care to attack the historian, after all." - Moon Unit chuckles - "So yes, Juliette is still around and still incredulous those two just don''t seem to... Waaait. Wait a moment. If you just bit the head off Romeo, then... So... Oh gods damn it. Tybalt is going to lose his marbles over it. Someone else casually ending his precious rival? Good grief. Dear, I''m sorry, but, well... I am quite sure that our stay in the Evergreens is going to begin with the thorough extermination of Montecchi and Capulet clans. What left of them, at least. Shouldn''t be much in Montecchi''s case, there''s a reason why Romeo was here by his lonesome, but Capulets still have a number of retainers. The good news is, if you eat Tybalt, the rest should become your retainers by the rights of conquest, well the ones who survive, that is. Same with Montecchi''s retainers, if they still had any. We shall have to ask, but either you have already taken Montecchi by conquest, or there is Benvolio remaining. He was the man who escaped the attempt to kidnap me, by the way, and he did not escape unharmed."


    While we are talking, the trees recede as we finally reach the settlement. The glade is quite sizable, with a round pond in the middle, likely fed by underground springs, if the slight currents are of any indication. The domiciles circle the pond languidly, partially built on the ground, and partially sprawled up and through the trees around the glade, the pathways connecting the platforms built into and around the tree crowns. We are finally seeing some friendly faces, too, I have to mention. Dweezil shows up at the door of one of the bigger houses, waving to us. He is accompanied by several other elves, both elderly and young. I nudge Moon Unit. "Go on. They''re your relatives first and foremost, you get first dibs before everyone starts oohing and aahing about me." - I tell her quietly, and she skips ahead with a smile, crossing the distance to the house in a few graceful leaps, ending the last one in a tackle-like hug of her brother. I take my time following her, as the rapid burst of elven from up ahead rather amply implies there is no reason to hurry and all the reasons to tarry and give Moon Unit time for some family greetings.


    By the time I''m within greeting distance, the torrent of elven subsides a little, and I am treated to a number of welcoming smiles. Some are ''I never met you before, but you seem important, so I''m going to be polite'' kind of smiles. Some are ''oh my, you are oh so very curious''. One is ''holy shit, you''re going to wreck things up, don''t you?''. Dweezil, you''re such a card. All of those smiles stiffen up and curdle, however, as I suddenly find myself with an arrow in the throat. A moment of silence from everyone. Then I lift my hand, pull the arrow out and drop it.


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    "Well now, that wasn''t very nice." - I proffer mildly. That gets me two arrows to the chest, one right in the middle of the sternum, while the other is lower and to the left. Nice marksmanship, actually, first would have hit right in the tracheal split and the second is straight to the heart. I pull them out with the same lack of reaction, offering - "Whoever is doing it, I will shoot back if you keep annoying me."


    My answer comes in a form of three arrows. The first one bounces off my forehead, and I catch the other two, as they were aimed at my eyes, and this would just look gross. Fine, be like that. Having been shot six times gives me more than enough time to pinpoint the location of the shooter. On that tree off to the side, from the platform about halfway up. The distance is... pretty good, actually. I pull out one of my pistols, aim and shoot in one languid movement, the blast echoing through the glade, underscored half a second later with a scream that cuts off. At this distance, headshot would be a gamble, so I just aimed for the center of mass. The bullet hit somewhere around the solar plexus and made the idiot tumble off the platform and on the ground below. I guess he didn''t land well. I blow off the smoke from the barrel and stick the pistol back on my belt.


    "Alright then." - I proffer - "My name is Alyssa Gillespie, and according to my dear Moon Unit, I might be the Tool of Gods. Nice to meet you all."


    "...Are you fucking kidding me." - one of the guys next to Dweezil offers numbly.


    Dweezil winces. "I''m afraid she does not, Ahmet." - he offers apologetically - "I''m afraid she does not."


    ___


    "Allow me to officially welcome you to Evergreens, lady Gillespie." - offers the elder a few minutes later, once we are all within the building and seated - "My name is Tamaya, and I have the honor of heading the Counsel these days." There is a good number of elves present, including two of Moon Unit''s brothers, aforementioned Dweezil and Ahmet, as well as a selection of other Counsel members and several elderly spinners.


    "Regarding young Moon Unit''s theory regarding your, well... being..." - she continues - "Considering the revelations already given and testimonies of our brethren, we do believe there is merit in investigating further. To be entirely frank, we do not have any established procedure to verify such an outstanding claim, but our venerable spinners are very excited about the potential possibilities and have had devised a number of things to attempt that would allow us to make a judgment whether the theory is true or false. To begin with, Dweezil and Sparrow Jack had regaled us with a tale of World Tree name revelation, and they spoke of a deeply profound language you have spoken then. But there is just no comparison between being told about it and hearing it with one''s own ears..."


    She trails off meaningfully. Oh? Well then. "I don''t mind, but be warned that just hearing this is liable to defile anyone who isn''t defiled already." - I warn - "I will take no responsibility for anyone driven insane by that."


    Elves exchange wary looks, but no one seems to be interested in leaving. After a few tense moments, Tamaya gives me a sharp nod. "Your warning has been heard and understood, lady Gillespie." - she confirms crisply - "Everyone in the room understands the risks and bears responsibility for staying."


    Well, they asked. "Y?O?U-TH?IS?-?N?OW-GA?T?H?E?RIN?G?, ?TH?E? NAME/R?EFER?E?NCE/?M?ONIK?E?R/PO?I?NT?ER T?O? T?REE?/?D?A?TABUS/ST?R?UC?T?U?RE/?C?ON?NECT?ION OF? ?TH?IS-H?E?R?E?-?NOW?-SPE?C?I?F?IC?-W?O?R?LD?S?L?I?CE? I?S? Y?GG?DRA?S?IL?.? " - I tell them in conceptual.


    A number of elves fall off their chairs immediately. Several fainted, while the rest are slowly clambering to their feet. About half of them are swaying like they''re drunk. Out of those who remained seated, many faces had grown pale, pinched or clenched. Really? Notably, Moon Unit is entirely unaffected, and Dweezil is weathering it easily. I guess exposure is the key here. Then Moon Unit throws a big wobbly their way.


    "YOU-THIS-SPECIFIC-ENTIRETY, WHAT DO YOU-THIS-SPECIFIC REFER/CALL/CONSIDER/SEE THIS-PARTICULAR-ME-SINGULAR?" - she requests in a simplish, yet decent conceptual. Moon Unit, come on...


    "T?HIS-?H?E?RE?-?Y?O?U-SP?E?CIFI?C IS/?CO?NS?I?D?E?R?E?D?/A?CCEPT?ED?/DE?SIR?ED? W?IF?E/BE?L?OV?E?D/?S?PO?US?E?/FA?MI?LY?/LOV?E?R." - I reply wryly, sending more elves toppling. I''m guessing no one is going to dispute our relationship after this.


    It takes a while for the pandemonium to settle down. I am implored by Tamaya not to speak anymore conceptual, and about two-thirds of attendees are carted outside and settled in the chairs next to the pond. The rest seem to be made of sterner stuff, but still most sport the tell-tale signs of ''I just witnessed something deeply shaking'', except Dweezil, who is instead sporting a half-exasperated, half-bemused look. I guess the second time around is not quite hard-hitting. Or maybe he simply knew exactly what to expect and was able to prepare mentally when no one else could.


    I wonder what next. Do we wait for counsel to recover, or... Nevermind, here comes the distraction. There is a commotion at the doors, and then we see the jackass who run away barging in, along with several other elves carrying something oblong. "Brethren! A foul murder had been committed!" - he shouts with played-up gravitas, glaring at me in the same time. No guesses as to whom he holds as the main suspect.

 Chapter 113. Laws And Traditions

    Ok, so... what exactly is this jackass on about? Foul murder, is that it? He''s here with the body of the guy I just shot, but I notice he neither recovered his own people from the forest, nor bothered to find the remains of unmourned Romeo. I can see why he wouldn''t want to do first - explaining what the fuck was he doing with a couple archers and capture specialists in the woods would be a pickle, and Moon Unit would be perfectly within her rights to cite self-defense and throw the accusation back at the dude. But why didn''t he trot out Romeo along with this guy? Didn''t find out his rival got headbitten or he is betting on the shooter being of an unrelated clan, and therefore... what?


    "You mean the guy that shot me six times before I shot back?" - I respond lazily - "I''m reasonably sure that falls under self-defense. Speaking of which, who is that, anyway?"


    Eldest Tamaya takes a long hard look. "That appears to be Benvolio of clan Montecchi." - she sums up - "Clan Montecchi is in an open feud with clan Zappa, Tybalt of clan Capulet."


    Tybalt gives a coy smile. He seems like a pretty slick dude, come to think of it. Somehow, he managed to find time to get his hands treated and bandaged and still was here on time to cause trouble. Annoying fellow. Wonder what is his argument.


    "Esteemed eldest, the slayer of our brethren is not a part of Zappa clan, nor is she even of the leaf to begin with. That makes her a murderer." - he proffers triumphantly. That is an interesting assertion, there. He does not even bother to dispute that this guy shot at me first. Is it still a murder by their laws? Come to think of it, probably it is. Moon Unit did mention that elven law recognizes no agency for foreigners, which means they do not consider me entitled to self-defense if my opponent is one of their own. Curiouser and curiouser. Is this the point that Cy was worried about?


    "Not so." - eldest thankfully disagrees - "You have just missed it, Tybalt of clan Capulet, but Moon Unit of clan Zappa and Alyssa Gillespie gave spousal oaths in sacred language. That makes Alyssa of clan Zappa as well. I do believe you understand what it means."


    Actually... That gives me an idea as well. I turn to Moon Unit, deliberately ignoring Tybalt as he takes in a breath to say something else and speak first - "Dear, something occurs to me. Is not clan Zappa in an open feud with clan Capulet as well?"


    Tybalt pales and chokes on his words as Moon Unit smiles at him brilliantly and confirms - "It is so, beloved. Have fun."


    "...No, I refuse to..!" - and this is as far as he gets before I give him his own headbite, prompting a brief scream followed by a thud. Then a rather disgusting wet sound. Then a number of gasps, hisses, shudders and a few thumps as more squeamish faint. I have to hand it to Tamaya, the only reaction from her is suddenly paled cheeks. Tybalt''s henchmen startle, scatter and draw knives, only to pause, groan and drop them, following by kneeing. What the heck?


    "Ahem..." - Tamaya finally proffers after a few seconds of heavy awkward silence - "Brethren of the leaf, let it be known that on this day, the clan Capulet had been conquered by clan Zappa in entirety. All the remaining properties and retainers of clan Capulet are henceforth properties and retainers of clan Zappa, with the rights of first refusal going to lady Alyssa Gillespie as the renderer of decisive blow."


    Moon Unit (who did not toss her cookies this time, thankfully) leans over to Tamaya and whispers into her ear. A short but heated exchange in elven whispers ensues, by the end of which Tamaya adopts a pinched expression as she continues - "Furthermore, as I have just been informed, clan Montecchi had also been eradicated. As soon as the runners recover the body of Romeo of clan Montecchi..."


    She trails off meaningfully, then sighs and waves her hand - "In the meanwhile, let us all enjoy refreshments." And with that she marches over to the table, picks up a bottle of cherry tincture, rips the cork out and drains a good third of the bottle in one go. A sentiment clearly shared by a majority of attendance, as they swarm the table and pick it clean of alcohol. Sorry, fellows.


    Meanwhile, me and Moon Unit are left with Dweezil and Ahmet. Latter of which sports the openmouthed shocked expression, while the former is wincing and massaging his forehead. "Sister in law." - Dweezil then proffers - "As the current head of clan, I give you thanks for ending two feuds so decisively in our favor. Montecchi in particular were elusive rogues. That being said, could I possibly prevail upon you not to eat any more heads in the nearest future? I daresay you have had ascertained your claims to being who you are in astoundingly many ways so far. I fear conclave members might be having a bit of a mental whiplash right now. Oh, also, welcome to the family? It was wise of you to avoid exposing the other members of your harem to our... ahem, unfortunate hospitalities, but to the best of my knowledge, you have had, well... eaten the heads of most egregious enemies we have. After such a display of overwhelming power and invulnerability, you should not face any more rash hostility in the coming days. I would be delighted to offer some true hospitality to the entirety of extended family."


    ___


    In the end, Tamaya makes a decision that I''m probably safe to meet the entirety of Counsel, which is going to happen tomorrow. She''s being coy about it, but I think that''s when they''d ask me to showcase soul aria, as Moon Unit previously warned. I''m not certain how they go about it, and Moon Unit is also being coy and just keeps telling me I''ll see everything tomorrow. I guess there''s nothing much to it, then. If the actual procedure was tricky, Moon Unit would have tried to rehearse with me. Since she''s not, she must be confident I won''t have any issue with spells involved.


    In the meanwhile, we all retreat to Zappa clan grounds. As it turns out, clans possess smaller glades, which essentially serve as inner yards, while the residences are a mix of treehouses and ground constructions forming a sort of perimeter around the glade. Dweezil begs off, citing that the sudden addition of two clans worth of properties requires his attention. He initially assumed I would want to take hand in it personally to "have the first pick" and was a little flabbergasted to be told I trust him to handle everything. This causes a little bit of argument.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "Sister in law, this is just not reasonable. You have to claim some spoils out of the conquest, it''s a tradition and frankly speaking, I would be seen as a cad if you do not." - Dweezil posits with certainty. I suppose there is some sense in this.


    "MM, but... I don''t really need any of that stuff..." - I muse - "Moon Unit, what do you think? If I have to grab something, what should be good to satisfy traditions and not be a burden?"


    She taps her chin thoughtfully. "Well... Traditional claims are, in order of majority... the claim of loyalty, the claim of domicile, the claim of gold and the claim of knowledge..." - she proffers after some thought - "The claim of loyalty means laying claim to all the conquered retainers, which is probably not what you want. The claim of domicile means laying claim to the conquered clan''s glade as your residence and stronghold. Probably not what you want either. The claim of gold is pretty much what it sounds like, and the claim of knowledge is claiming the documents and secrets of the clan in question. The least problematic for you would be the claim of gold, as it just means that you take your spoils in form of gold and gems captured, the exact amount to be negotiated with the clan head. Claim of knowledge is the least of claims mainly because it''s a huge gamble - you never know if clan''s secrets and documents are worth anything or not. If it''s all the same to you, I suggest making the claim of knowledge. Both clans are fairly old, the odds are they have some antique scrollwork if nothing else."


    I smile. "I''m going to take my wife''s advice, then." - I tell them - "I am laying the claim of knowledge for both of the clans in question, as I''m not interested in their retainers or glades."


    Ahmet shifts uncomfortably next to me. "This is... Well..." - he begins - "I believe you should also take some of the conquered gold, at least. I can understand the lack of interest in glades, and I maybe understand why you wouldn''t want sworn people, but you definitely should receive a part of wealth. As a dowry, if nothing else."


    I''m about to answer him when I spy something we are walking past. A whole bin of coal. Curious, that.


    "Is that coal?" - I ask him bluntly, pointing at the bin. I can see Ahmet is confused by a sudden change of topic, but he nods nonetheless.


    "Dwarves are selling coal again, so we hurried to get some for the winter." - he explains - "Those past years had been cold and unpleasant without good coal to keep the heat up. Firewood just isn''t up to the task alone on particularly chilly days."


    Heh. Good, good. "So, might I have a piece?" - I ask. He is visibly befuddled, but nods nonetheless. Dweesil is equally baffled. Moon Unit, already knowing what I''m up to, starts giggling into her sleeve as I pick up a good chunk and smash it between palms. The coal to diamond trick never gets old for those people. Especially given that I can quickly cut and polish the resulting diamond before showing it off. Magic is at times stupidly convenient.


    Ahmet and Dweezil are both shocked when they see me outright smash the coal. On seeing what it became, they both adapt curious expressions... but the expressions differ. Dweezil''s is simply curious, but Ahmet seems to be slowly recognizing what just was made. His eyes grow round as he catches the diamond I toss in his palm and holds it up to the light.


    "This is... I don''t even... but... just... HOW!?" - he manages - "Is this diamond!? How is that even possible!?"


    I shrug. "You seem to know your way around jewels, Ahmet." - I quip - "How would you appraise this one?"


    He stares at me for a moment, then holds the gem up to the light again, tilting it this and that way slowly. "Big one..." - he says huskily, his voice cracking as he continues - "Enough gold to live a century comfortably, at the very least, if you find a noble wealthy enough to buy it."


    "Well, you can have it." - I tell him blithely - "As a reminder that wealth only means ever so much to me."


    He just stares at me in befuddlement, his eyes darting from me to diamond to me to diamond to me to diamond again.


    "Juuuust so we''re clear, if you raise the topic of dowry again, I''ll make a bag of those and give it to you as bride price." - I threaten them with a smile. Ahmed jerks back and cringes. I think he caught the implications.


    "Please don''t." - Dweezil interjects immediately - "That one alone would more than suffice for any formalities. A whole bag of those and we''ll never know peace from all sorts of thieves, brigands and scoundrels trying to make off with some. However, Ahmet is right. I understand that whatever wealth the two clans in their dusk might have had is but a drop in the lake for you, but there are certain formalities that need to be observed simply so you are not bothered over them by excessively nosy people."


    I hum. "Well... if that is the case, let''s make it a little bit eccentric, alright?" - I suggest, as I pluck the gem off Ahmet''s palm and alter it lightly. Among my abilities as a shoggoth, this one is the one I am elated by and terrified of the most. The ability to mess around with atomic structures. In this particular case, I alter the crystalline makeup of the diamond, while introducing a couple of boron atoms into it to outline the star shape. The result is interesting, as while it is just held in the palm, it simply has a lightly blue center and transparent edges, but when you hold it to the light, the star within becomes clearly visible in vivid blue outlined in transparent whole. I drop the altered gem back into his hand.


    "This should be sufficiently fancy to be shown off, right?" - I quip. Ahmet lifts the gem to the light again. His fingers start shaking a bit as he does.


    "...Clan heirloom." - he whispers softly - "Brother, this should be included with our heirlooms. This... Blue Star is one of a kind gem that simply can not be matched."


    Dweezil chuckles ruefully - "One could even believe you''re but a noble lady after a while, and then you would go and do something like this... I think I understand. One-of-a-kind gem is definitely good enough for anyone within the shade of the tree to accept as a bride price. I''ll have my trusted people canvass the domiciles of Montecchi and Capulet and collect the arts and oddities for you in return and add some scrollwork and odd curios from our own vaults. That should satisfy both the dowry requirement and the conquest claim and further confirm your interest in knowledges and arts."


    "That works, but try not to make it too much, if you please." - I agree - "There is only so much extra weight I can stuff on the airship before it becomes a problem. Speaking of which, might I bring the ship to hover over your glade? That should make things convenient for everyone."


    "No problem." - Dweezil agrees easily - "So long as you understand most of the clan will at the very least devote some time to gawk at this airship of yours. And a whole lot of others would be watching from beyond the glade bounds. Speaking of the glade, might I persuade you to accept housing within the clan glade? No requirements you live there or anything, I just want to have a treehouse set aside for Moon Unit and her family for whenever you''re visiting."


    I''m... not really sold on the idea. At least, until Moon Unit pitches in. "Actually, brother, I have a... thought." - she offers - "Is the dead tree still there?"


    "It is, but...." - Dweezil begins, cutting himself off as he starts blinking rapidly - "...Oh, you are crafty, little sister. That is, if your wife goes for it, I suppose."


    Moon Unit nudges me - "So how about it, Alyssa? There is a dead tree that needs to be extracted, and I believe you would be able to do it well. The resulting gap has to be filled with a sapling to grow, which we can claim as the family home."


    I just... shrug. I don''t really understand why this is somehow better than just getting rooms in a random treehouse or ground house in the glade, but if Moon Unit wants it to be like this, I''m all too happy to go along with her wishes.

 Chapter 114. Tree Up!

    Dweezil was right. Pretty much the entire clan turns up to gawk at the zeppelin. And there''s a circle of unaffiliated just behind the glade''s perimeter. Three layers deep and several layers tall. And I suspect it wasn''t even moreso simply because everyone who didn''t have anything vitally important to do turned up to look and there were simply no more elves to thicken it even further. Bridgit, Lily-Anne and Roxolane disembark by the ramp. I''ve decided not to give out the fact that Bridgit can teleport. Just in case. Hopefully, this precaution is unnecessary, but... just in case, indeed. Moon Unit is explaining to them the current state of events, while I''m examining the dead tree they want me to remove. It''s a pretty sizable specimen, but not a particularly old one, as far as I can tell. Ash, as it so happens. Which is a little... ominous, given that as far as I remember, nordic legends posited Yggdrasil to be ash as well. I can already feel this is going to be... odd.


    Practically speaking, ash is one of the hardest woods available in this part of the world. So I''m not surprised elves put off the removal of this husk for so long. It''s a lot of effort... For anyone else. For me, hmm well... Let''s see... the roots are going here, and here and here, and... hmmm... HMMM... KINETIC ADJUSTMENTS HERE, HERE AND HERE... STRIP THE EARTH... TRIM, MULCH, MIX... HMMM... QUALITY TIMBER, SLICE IT UP.


    "...Oh. Oh wow." - someone says behind me.


    "Yes?" - I ask, turning around. It''s Moon Unit... and the rest of my harem.


    "Is that... the tree that was here just now?" - Lily-Anne pitches in, gesturing towards the stack of planks next to me - "Good grief, Alyssa, how are you a lumbermill all of a sudden?"


    "Remember what I told you? Tool of Gods." - Moon Unit teases her - "Honestly, why are you even surprised?"


    Lily-Anne just snorts at her. Then asks me - "Well, that is done then? All that''s left is to plant the sapling and wait for it to grow into a tree? I''m sure it will be fine in a few decades or so."


    I shake the handful of seeds I was able to salvage from the ash. I''m... getting ideas. Honestly, this is... well. Hm. So there''s actually enough nutrients, and those seeds aren''t that hard to control... Hrrrm... And into the ground those seeds go. Now, let''s see here. ACCELERATE. CONTROL. TRANSMUTE. SHAPE. DEFINABLE REPLICATION. LOW-LEVEL INTERFACE. FRAMEWORK. AESTHETICS. ERGONOMIC DESIGN. PROVISIONS FOR ADDONS. BASIC NETWORK PROTOCOL... SCALABILITY ACCEPTABLE. TESTING. DIMENSIONALLY STABLE. LEAKS NOT FOUND. PHOTOSYNTHESIS QUICK TESTING... PASSED. SUSTAINABILITY... PASSED. OBSERVATION PENDING. STRUCTURIZE UPDATES... VARIANCE... HM. NEURAL NETWORK SORTING/LEARNING, SEED THE BASIS...


    Ok, this should do the trick, it would scan in the tree types and find commonalities before trying to plug in... Wait. Just what the fuck did I... Oh. Oh fiddlesticks. Well... residence get? Who is knocking on me. And why. Oh, hey there, Moon Unit... Why I''m a tree?... Good question... Oh, I was testing the network protocol... Oh. Fudge. I did it again. It being... uh... Scalable programmable treestruction?... So... well, shit. I''ll have to teach Moon Unit''s siblings how to work this thing, won''t I? I mean, I kind of... took over the whole glade? Not that they actually know yet. But they will... Hence it''s best if I tell them. Bother bother bother bother.


    "Yes?" - I try to say. Then I realize I''m a tree currently. So I change back to my "normal", and repeat - "Yes? Sorry, I got distracted."


    "Distracted enough to turn into a tree?" - Moon Unit quips sardonically - "...Well. Let''s go explore the, uh... what do we even call this? Living tree? Treehome? Unbelievable wonder of forest flavor?"


    So... I have taken the idea of a treehouse and run with it... way the hell away. What we have is... superficially, huge ash. With rooms being grown into the bulk of the trunk. The bottom seems to be a fairly sizable salon, the middle level seems to be a number of small rooms encircling a bigger central one, and the top level is a big room and several smaller ones, arranged in a way that implies a luxury apartment to me. The big room is the bedroom, two bathrooms, one big for soaking, one small for quick necessities, a kitchen and... hm. This is sort of study, I guess? The stack of planks from behind me is gone, and I think it went into making furniture for this domicile. Along with a bunch of stuff I teleported from the storerooms in Parsee and Grand Forge, apparently.


    Roxolane tugs my arm lightly. "I think you might have, um... befuddled the people around." - she proffers softly. This revelation prompts everyone to take a look around. Moon Unit facepalms slowly at the sight of the whole damn clan staring at the newly grown tree in openmouthed wonder. Mostly. The rest seem to stare at me with expressions I have no choice but to consider reverent. Bother bother bother bother. Totally didn''t intend this, but, whatever...


    ___


    I do my best NOT to react to the rather palpable reverence I''m being bombarded with. I''m not even exaggerating, here, the "holy shit, we just saw something incredible and probably sacred" is powerful enough combined to actually feel as a magical influence. Hopefully it will ease down to something less glaring over time... Or at the very least ramp itself into something reminiscent of dwarven reverence. Because they''re doing this thing too, but... Hm. Maybe I''m just used to them?... Oh well. Fine. It''s not like it''s malicious or problematic, just... there, existing within my sphere of awareness. I guess I''ll just get used to it.


    Anyway. Showing my wives around the newly acquired house. Tree. Treehouse. Hometree. Bleh. Need to figure out the name for it, really. The bottom level is rather obviously a hall. Suitable for welcoming in parties. Because of course I made that thing with dimensional fuckery going on. Spatial compression at a nice 2.3 factor and steady. And an innate property of the tree itself. If something happens, it''s going to peter out at about the same rate as the tree itself does. So less "suddenly squish" and more of "will get a little bit smaller each day once it''s dead". Center features a column with some sort of vine forming the spiral stairs upwards. Bioluminescent, too, so no missing the stairway. Lights up the whole hall, actually. I left it empty for now. The next level is... hm.


    "I think those are guest rooms." - I venture - "Or, hm... visitor rooms? Something like this. Anyway, they''re all the same." We have just poked through the closest one. The area around the stairs is set up like a parlor. Plenty of simple poufs and little tables, doors studding the walls, each of them leading into a room. All of them so far look identical, with bed, light source, storage and botanical analog of a chamberpot. Which is an inspired piece of magical munchkinry as it takes pretty much all kind of refuse and transforms it into tree-suitable nutrients. The leftovers that aren''t useful (mainly metals and some minerals) are being secreted as globules in a sort of "technical crawlspace" within the central column. Not really accessible to random joe. There is nothing more to see here, so up we go.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    "I take it this level is our family space." - Lily-Anne sums up wryly for all of them, as they take in the luxurious environs. For our personal space, I have put in a lot more effort. Good big bed, basin big enough for all of us to stretch in and soak, veritable workshop and library and alchemy lab all clumped together into a "work area" of sorts. I''m just going to call it study. Kitchen. I wonder... oh. Ooh, this is nifty. Open flame is a bad idea within the tree for obvious reasons, so... The solution I went with was in equal measures obvious to me and unadulterated black magic to anyone else. Simply put, the stove is a selection of slices of superdense wood forming heating elements. Each of them has a spiral of nichrome within. Even better, since I did bother including metal separation and refining into the design, the coils are self-replenishing. No burnouts. Electricity plus nichrome equals electric stove.


    "So convenient." - Bridgit approves, apparently. I was somewhat worried that she''d be upset I''m hijacking her maidly duties again by including surreptitious floor cleaning into the design, but apparently it''s fine. Showing off the laundry section actually gives me a prompt to try and install something similar at all domiciles. Not a problem, I did already make an analog of washing machine for the airship, not that there was a reason to do laundry mid-flight yet.


    While I did prepare a lot, there is still a bunch of things to unpack and prepare, and Bridgit takes charge on that. And... I''ve been exiled to go meet the visitors. Pointing out that if actual princess Lily-Anne is fine with doing those chores, than I definitely am good for it too was in vain... At least, Moon Unit is with me. But this is getting a little grating, and I make a mental note to do a lot of molestation tonight.


    ___


    I have a feeling Dweezil is going to bruise his forehead with all the facepalming. And Ahmet might have dislocated his jaw. Maybe. Oh, nevermind, he can close his mouth, he just feels like keeping it open a whole lot. Oh, and here is the last of Zappa siblings. Diva, unlike the men of the clan, is not struck a case of speechlessness. Rather, she is talking mile a minute right now. It''s funny how Moon Unit is the youngest, because Diva sports a serious case of babyface and probably could very well pass for Moon Unit''s daughter, if she wanted to.


    "...All interesting theories, but none of them are actually close to what I did." - I finally weigh in - "Grand spells have their place, but to handle a lot of detail with a single big spell, it has to be ridiculously complicated. So no, not one spell but rather an immense assortment of basics and cantrips."


    "That is all well and good, but!" - Dweezil interrupts in exasperation - "What did just happen?"


    "Well... You had a lot of dry ashwood there." - I begin - "I pulled it out, cut it into planks and dowels to put the most of it to good use, then mulched the rest and stuffed it back into the ground as fertilizer. I''ve been able to salvage a couple of viable seeds as well, so I planted them back and pushed their growth in desired direction. Treestructure is stable, will maintain itself and should last for a good long while. Then I used the planks and dowels to construct some basic furniture, pulled the rest of the needed materials from my warehouses in Parsee and in the estate and that''s pretty much it. There is a provision for the treestructure to spread to other trees and convert them to domiciles as well, but they won''t be as spacious or well-planned as this one. I''ll leave that one up to you, here''s the manual on the controls."


    Dweezil looks at the stack of paper as if it was a live cobra. Ahmet just looks flabbergasted and pained. Diva, on the other hand, gleefully snatches the papers and immediately starts to read them.


    "Just... one question." - Dweezil finally forces out - "Does this, uh... connection work only within our glade?"


    I shake head - "Nah, it... wait, actually, let me check... Ah, good, the basic network had already propagated itself through the Evergreens. Ostensibly speaking, you can command any tree to convert itself to domicile or some kind of utility structure right now. I''ve put in some prefabs, so you can just convert trees to storages, workshops, kitchens or dormitories at a command. And back to regular tree, of course. There are subsections here to each archetype, for example storage can be for granulars like grain or sand, for liquids like water, stackables like timber or shingles or singulars like tools or glassware. Keep in mind that each tree has a capacity you can''t really exceed, but you can grow younger trees quickly if you supply mulch or other fertilizer. Older trees probably won''t grow much even if you try, but they should have a pretty good capacity as it is."


    I think this is too much for them. Men rather synchronously cover their faces with palms and drop down onto the chairs, groaning. Diva does not even notice, she is far too busy scanning through the network protocol manual and muttering excitedly under her nose. Then she... tries something. Oh. Well... yes, that''s not a bad idea, really. I was worried for a moment she''ll try to alter the tree we''re currently on top of, but she seems to understand it might be a foolhardy idea, so her target is lone beech over yonder. It''s still growing, presumably, because there is no walkway connecting it to the perimeter. There WAS none, at least. At Diva''s issued commands, beech converts into a... Oh. Welp, I guess I just figured out who the mad scientist in this family is. The bottom level is alchemical laboratory, or at least the setup for one. I think I''ll do her a little favor, here... And added to prefabs and current construction. Fume hoods are an important thing. The top level is pretty spartan apartment. She''d have to supply her own furniture there, there was only enough tree resources for the counters downstairs. All in all, pretty respectable first effort.


    "Did it work!? It did!" - she yelps and runs out of the room immediately. I can see her entering the newly made place and poke around. Her brothers, in the meanwhile, seem to be still struggling.


    "Can I please just hand all of this over to Diva?" - Dweezil pleads with me for some reason. Moon Unit pats his head.


    "Uh... yes?" - I hazard a guess - "I mean, if she wants to, than sure, she can be your dedicated tree shaper. Just make sure she takes an apprentice or two and keep the manuals somewhere safe. Here, have a few copies."


    "I''m moving there!" - suddenly, a wild Diva appears in the window - "I''m moving to my new place!"


    Dweezil just sighs. "Fine, fine." - he mutters - "Come on in for now, I''ll get some people together to move your stuff after the dinner."


    He pauses, waves his hand, then forges on - "Diva, do you want to take over this completely?"


    "This? What do you mean, this?" - she blinks at him.


    "You seem to be well suited to using this... tree network, given you''ve made someplace you actually want to move in to on the first try, no?" - Dweezil proffers reasonably - "So. Do you want to be clan''s official Tree Shaper? We obviously want to shape a whole lot within our glades. We also might be selling the expertise to other clans later on a case by case basis. Figure out some impressive-looking rituals to go with it, let''s have people think each tree has to be handled individually. Anyone finding out we can just alter any tree at will is going to cause a lot of panic and rash decisions, best keep that one under wraps."


    I offer another book to Diva to go along with his suggestion. They all look at it. It''s one of the things I have prepared in anticipation of future opportunities. The title is "Timber Industry and You: 101 Spell For Your Wood".


    "A couple spells and alchemical know-hows I have put together for production purposes." - I explain - "You should be able to use this and design a couple trees to be dedicated woodwork shops to churn out furniture to specification. And some impressive-looking spells for planning out the place. Just visual illusions and telekinetics when you dig into the mathemagics of it, but looks impressive and sufficiently ritual. I think that would work out well with your ruse."


    "Out of curiosity..." - Ahmet begins slowly - "Clan Zappa not being prosperous beyond imagination was never an option ever since Moon Unit caught your eye, was it?"


    "Well... yes?" - I mean, what else did he expect? Of course I''d take care to make sure my extended family is wealthy and influential.

 Chapter 115. Lifes Little Hiccups

    The remainder of the day is spent on settling within the new treehome. While none of us are particularly inclined to move to Evergreens (even with the extermination of rival clans, Moon Unit professes a lack of interest in sticking around, citing boredom with static life), there is no reason why we shouldn''t make this residence as much of a home as any other place we might be spending several nights in. Not to mention that this is the first home we actually own as a family, come to think of it. And so, everyone is prowling around, figuring out the little things I missed and such. So far, it resulted in me making some additional furniture and Bridgit popping back to Parsee for a moment to gather up some more of our clothes and put an order with Lily-Anne''s seamstresses for more sets with an emphasis on forest environs. Meaning long sleeves, narrow skirts and snug belts. I do suggest pants, but the notion finds only limited traction with my girls. To be fair, this forest is not that bad to make pants a necessity, so I''m fine with the fact they concede to "and let''s have some of that too".


    "So... what exactly is going to happen tomorrow?" - Lily-Anne ventures after a while.


    Moon Unit shrugs. "Alyssa had already staked her claims pretty thoroughly, so... not much." - she proffers thoughtfully - "Just in case, the first thing we need to do tomorrow is to have all three of you ask of Alyssa what she considers you to be. For reasons that are many, treeborn consider the... way Alyssa can speak to be sacred. Therefore, having had been claimed as wives in that tongue is the best guarantee no one in Evergreens would dare gainsay you on that topic. While I''m pretty sure Alyssa had already put sufficient fear of her into everyone within the glades, there''s always some fool who didn''t grasp the clue... And if you all are claimed as wives, then as far as my people are concerned, you are all of the Zappa clan, and therefore must be treated like treeborn insofar as legalities go. Meaning that you can attend the meeting with elders."


    "Sooo... we need to make the claim first, otherwise, Counsel is going to ask us to go back to the treehome and wait here?" - Lily-Anne clarifies - "Yeah, no. I am far too curious what this soul aria thing is to even consider that."


    Moon Unit shrugs. "Essentially, an expression of one''s inner self through music. Or something approximating music, in any case." - she proffers - "Having a developed soul aria is actually a sign of maturity, as far as treeborn are concerned. Children usually produce an assortment of disjointed sounds when they are little, then slowly progress towards some kind of order as they figure themselves out. Counsel might make a lot of fuss about ''meaning'' of each sound, but..."


    She winces slightly and continues - "At best, those ''meanings'' are just going off previous observations and guesswork. While there are some broad rules that seem to hold in most cases, such as drum-like sounds indicating a person with martial inclinations, there are known exceptions to every one of them. A common opinion is that what is showcased is the potential, not the fate, but... Let''s just say no one knows for sure and attempts to clarify didn''t go well. So take any opinions they express with a grain of salt, it''s not a definitive judgment in any way whatsoever. Not to mention that hardly anyone right now would dare to pass any judgments on Alyssa."


    "Due to her status as a Tool of Gods?" - Lily-Anne queries.


    "That too, but mostly due to the fact she can and probably will bite off your head if you show no deference, as far as my people are concerned." - Moon Unit corrects - "As much as it galls me to admit, might makes right is... very prevalent in Evergreens. One of the main reasons why we revere Tools of Gods is because of deeply ingrained fear as to what they do to the opposition. It is also one of the main reasons why we call them Tools of Gods. They were originally known to us as Star Horrors. I believe some people out there still refer to shoggoths as such, and with a good reason."


    All of them stare at me after that. I... kinda just shrug.


    "Well... I can see where they''re coming from." - I finally offer, after the silence becomes a little awkward - "Remember when I told you that by shoggoth measure, I''m just a baby? It is just my hunch, but I think the ones your people have legends about were adults of my kind, ones who did NOT grow among the mortals. Their morals can be... blue and orange, let''s put it like this. Not to say they were actually malicious as much as simply did not understand the concerns that might be relevant to more fragile races."


    Stolen novel; please report.


    The silence continues to be awkward... Until Roxy, bless her, breaks it up with a question of her own. "Fragile..." - she muses - "Out of curiosity, just how... not fragile are you, Alyssa?"


    I keep on shrugging. "Well, I never intentionally tested that, for obvious reasons..." - I hedge - "But, let''s just say that barring some exotic magics, I''m pretty much invulnerable to any conventional means of harming someone. You can possibly destroy some of me with elemental magic, but I''ve already made sure there are stashes of me all over the world, so it would take an exceptional effort to track down all of me to do that. Not to mention that in a pinch, I can consume any matter whatsoever to convert into more of me. It''s obviously the last resort option, but if needs be, I can eat the planet and replace it with myself. Not keen on the idea, because it would mean that I both usurp the gods and take on the responsibility of being the world, which is... yeah, well. Let''s just say that this is going to be a REALLY last resort in case gods fall or something equally apocalyptic."


    "...And I wish I could just assume you''re joking, mistress." - Bridgit pipes up - "Please don''t become the world unless there is no other option?"


    I sigh and come up to gather all the girls in a big hug. "Sorry for the heavy topics, everyone." - I tell them - "I don''t want to be the world, really. It sounds like aeons of work without any holidays. And unless something really bad happens, I doubt the gods would let it go that far. They''ve been doing a good job of keeping this world ticking so far, after all."


    ___


    With all the domestic chores, we had not noticed the evening rolling in. It''s still pretty early when all of us are satisfied with the condition of the treehome, but definitely way past dinner time. Which is how we found out that elves don''t really do taverns. Everyone cooks for themselves. While Bridgit is all fired up about using the new kitchen, I have a better idea.


    "Why don''t we just pop back to Parsee and get some dinner from the tavern there and bring it back here?" - I suggest to her as she is trying to figure out what is available on the airship and how to make a meal out of it.


    "A..um." - is her response, as she blinks at me - "But... I... Oh, just... Mistress, why? Do you have a blood feud with common sense or something?"


    Still, seeing as it is practically effortless for her to make a jump from one of my instances to another, there are no demerits to this plan, and so we inform the other three of the intent to do so and depart among their incredulousness. It takes about half an hour to get the dinner together from the tavern nearby, and I use the time to quickly check on my businesses. No outstanding issues, all is good. However, just as we come back, we are met with a sheepish-looking Moon Unit.


    "Dear, there is a... guest." - she offers - "One of the younger Spinners had visited while you were away. He is waiting downstairs in order to interview you. I tried to get him to come back tomorrow, but, well... You''ll see for yourself."


    ___


    She is right. The guy in question is ridiculously exuberant. I had barely managed to secure his promise to be quiet and read the book on inorganic chemistry while I eat. I suppose I could be firm and just kick him out entirely, but after all the terror tactics in the morning, I really want some showcase of being able to people well, lest there is a panic about me being unrepentantly monstrous. Still, this is four hours later. I want him to leave, but he just keeps asking questions! Most of them are trivial, some are inane, and a few made me scratch my head in bewilderment.


    "That''s enough questions for today." - I tell him right after finishing a fairly complicated explanation regarding golemcraft. For some reason, the guy is really curious about all sorts of "conveyance". Trying to sneakily get some data on the airship? Or just being stuck on the topic after an impressive sight?


    "But..." - he begins with a woebegone expression.


    "Look, it''s late. I want to rest. We have already talked for over four hours, and I don''t mind talking to you again later, just not today." - I try to be strict.


    "Just one more..." - he fails to grasp the hint. Really, pal? Fucking really?


    I lean over him, looming menacingly - "I will yeet you past Karman line if you keep pestering me. I have wives to bed."


    "...What''s Care Man''s Line?" - he bleats, somewhat intimidated, but still far more taken with curiosity than self-preservation.


    "Karman, not... Agh, why don''t you go see it with your own eyes!?!" - and this is where my self-restraint snaps.


    Pro-tip. Don''t clam-jam horny shoggoth. Because they will literally yeet you into orbit. With accompanying life support spells, if you''re lucky... And maybe I shouldn''t have, but, whatever. He''ll live, and even come back in, uh... roughly nine hours, I believe? Yes, that sounds about right for a complete loop. Should reach far enough on perihelion to see sun and moon in the same time...


    As for me, I do exactly as I said - lock the door, go upstairs and bed my wives. ...Actually, no, that''s a dirty lie. I go to bed with my wives. Because they are already asleep.


    FUUUUUUUCK YOU, YOU CURIOSITY-BEFUDDLED SIMPLETON!

 Interlude 18. Sharp Presents

    Klaus panted from exertion, still clutching the bloodied knife tightly. The person before him had just lost conscience, and that meant that interrogation was over for the day. Or for good, really. If he were to be entirely honest, Klaus received all the information he needed within the first five minutes of it. The next ten were spent cutting the strips of skin off the incompetent idiot. He briefly thought back to the conversation. This was the person who conducted the observation of their patsy making an attempt at White Witch''s wife. One who reported back that it was a success. Falsely so.


    It took a couple days to review the notes his previous instance left behind. Thankfully, unlike the situation before, this iteration had the forethought to leave a detailed log of planned activities, so that Klaus could review what went wrong immediately. The last entry described an intent to try and extort the knowledge on some sort of alchemical substance codenamed as "cookies" from the lady Gillespie, using the antidote to rare poison provided to the hashishin as leverage. He had high confidence his previous instance had successfully departed to converse with the aforementioned lady and... vanished into thin air. His horse was found grazing on the meadow not far from Ashenvale pass entrance, which was indeed cited as the preferred meeting spot. Which very likely meant that White Witch exterminated the previous instance in some way that left no body behind or hid it convincingly.


    Why would she? Collating the data he had, Klaus had tentatively presumed that his predecessing instance made a mistake and Alyssa Gillespie did not possess the knowledge of the compound in question and thus had killed in a fit of desperation after his predecessor refused to give the antidote without receiving the knowledge she could not give. But according to his diplomatic contacts, there was no disturbance with the Gillespies. Which was odd, because by all the clues he had so far, lady Gillespie was head over heels in love with all four of her wives and would definitely throw a big funeral, should any of them expire.


    Which led to the current situation. Where Klaus clarified the validity of certain reports with the help of poignant questions and a sharp knife. And each answer he received had made him more and more furious with the incompetent buffoon on the other end of the conversation. As it turned out, the man had reported the success of the operation based simply on an observation that the addition to dragonscale amulet was triggered. No legwork to determine the exact outcome of it was even attempted - the report simply went with "everything went to plan" based on step one succeeding. What really galled him the most, however, was the blithe inability to comprehend the problem with not verifying the success of steps two through twenty by the man in question.


    He contemplated momentarily the merits of just stabbing the bleeding mess in front of him in the jugular, but in the end, put the knife down on the table instead. This man was inducted into an organization for his knowledge of magical detection methods first and foremost, and no one had expected him to be so devoid of common sense in other matters. A mistake Klaus intended to rectify as soon as possible. The man would be healed up, though only to the point of preserving his life, then he would be confined for life as a live-in teacher of magical detection, which from now on would be conducted by trained agents who''d know better than to assume that success of plan''s start meant it went without hitch in its entirety.


    As he went to wash his hands off in the basin, Klaus mused on the question of "cookies". It was not unheard of to create certain alchemical compounds in edible form, though drinkables were much more prevalent. So he could accept the existence of something that in looks was close to baked goods and had some sort of desirable effect. If his predecessor did not make a mistake in determining its qualities, this "cookie" substance should be a powerful antisoporific agent. Which, as he thought about it, was probably not entirely benign. Snubbing the bounties of the goddess of dreams probably did not come without a heavy price to pay. From the chronological order of notes and witness testimonies, his previous instance had been steadily growing more and more erratic ever since they had discovered these "cookies" in a scrying session. Which, in turn, implied that the compound was either addictive or caused direct brain damage that worsened with time. Or, and this possibility had worried Klaus significantly more, scrying a highly defiled person carried a risk of defilement-induced insanity on itself. And he knew lady Gillespie to be highly defiled without doubt, given the testimonies of Kassandra and White Witch''s own admissions to his highness Alphonse.


    As he lifted up the towel to wipe his face dry, Klaus sighed. As interesting as some of the scrying results had turned out to be, he would have to stop doing that. The combination of mistakes culminating in his previous instance being so thoroughly removed could not be repeated. They were lucky enough it was not a start of a serious diplomatic incident between kingdoms already, and Klaus had no doubt that there will be a price to pay for that screw up yet. If not from Champagne, then from lady Gillespie. Who, much to his trepidation and cautious delight, was proving herself to be the opponent the likes of which he had not faced in several lifetimes. Maybe even the greatest one he had ever gone up against. She wouldn''t even be the first Gillespie to make herself memorable to Klaus, come to think of it. Her grandfather Philippe was a cast-iron bastard with the cunning of a fox and ferocity of a bear and featured very prominently in Kraut archives. Often, as an architect of some family''s breathtaking plummet from grace. It seemed that the merits of old coot did live on in his descendants.


    ___


    Alistair entered his room, whistling merrily under his voice. He was pretty pleased with his life at the moment. He had made a good showing at all exams, had a pleasant End of Year festivities and was set for a leisurable winter vacation with but light duties and plenty of time to give his new weapon a thorough examination. Which, in fact, he had just been engaged in, having had the servants set up a number of targets for him to swing and poke with the Bec de Corbin at, starting from pumpkins and ending with rocks for all manner of hardness. He was delighted with the experience and subtly astonished. As far as he could tell, Alyssa did not enchant his hammer in any way, so all the unusual properties could be attributed simply to the construction. And those properties were quite unusual indeed! He was warned about the ''dead blows'' this hammer gave, alright, but the warning could not prepare him for the actual reality of it. He took the first swing at the pumpkin, expecting it to be knocked off the pole and broken into pieces, as it was wont to do when struck with a quarterstaff. Instead, most of the pumpkin sprayed around in pieces so small they were more liquid than solid, remaining few chunks splashing all around the yard. The show made everyone, including him, gape in disbelief for a moment or two. It also clarified somewhat the hushed stories that were passed among the palace guards about the "pulverizing hammer" and how it had a tendency to turn skulls into a bloody mist. Given what happened with pumpkin, he suddenly found himself much more inclined to believe Alyssa actually could mulch heads with a well-landed blow as the hushed rumors claimed.


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    He ended up spending a few hours exerting himself, followed by a visit to a bathhouse. Now, clean and invigorated, but pleasantly tired out, he was planning on a slow evening. Possibly read a book or maybe write a letter to his folks. Or... Or. He paused and leaned over the pile of boxes that were not there in the morning. A selection of them, of varying length and size, but none big enough to make it inconvenient to lift by himself. Though some were considerably lengthy. He was about to summon a footman and inquire upon the provenance of the boxes when he spied a flash of something white sticking from under the top one. Lifting it up slightly, he blinked as a letter fell out from under it. Since it has borne his name on the front, Alistair ripped the seal off and unfolded it, scanning through the note quickly. How... thoughtful.


    He put the letter away and considered the boxes with much interest. Apparently, lady Gillespie did recall their earlier conversation about exotic weaponry. According to her, each of the boxes contained some kind of weapon and a short summary on its name, use and origins. The letter also helpfully recommended he put the boxes with copper embossing on the latch for the last. On one hand, he became immediately curious about those, which he counted two of, but on the other, he was pretty certain the recommendation was made for a reason. With that in mind, he lifted the top box, which was almost square and about a pied by pied in dimensions, and cracked it open.


    Hrm... So. According to the annotation, this particular one was named kusarigama, and it resembled a sickle on one end. Attached to that sickle was a lengthy fine chain with a weight on the end. According to the explanation given, this was a weapon somewhat common in far orient, and the proper usage revolved around using sickle as a sort of hand-axe and hook while using the weighted chain as a flail and as a whip to wrongfoot and disarm the enemy and bring them within the striking distance of the sickle. Or, alternatively, catch them unprepared with a weight to the head. Tricky. Exceptionally tricky. He carefully coiled the chain back into the box. This was an interesting weapon, no doubt, but mastering it would not be easy, quick or painless. Better set this off till summer, maybe find out if there is anyone familiar with the thing at all among his contacts.


    The next box, narrow and about a pied-long, yielded something akin to a quarterstaff... if the staff was sawed in three equal parts and conjoined with loose hinges. The annotation claimed it to be triple staff and implied it was also of oriental origin. Setting it aside as well, Alistair opened the bigger box under the two of them. A long club with a metal spike on top. An unusual combination and an unusual name. Goedendag, as it was apparently called, was supposedly in use among the freemen of the northern Kraut and developed as a countermeasure to armored knights. He set this one aside, it did look like he could learn some basics of it quickly enough, drawing on his previous experiences. The slightly wider box next to it contained a sword with an unusual wavy blade. Flamberge, as it was named, was apparently something no one really fielded often due to expense and complexity in producing a wavy blade, but was cited as having a significant cutting ability and, somewhat alarmingly, for causing wounds that were much more likely to fester. Something he would have attributed to poison, but apparently caused by the construction of the blade instead. Mindboggling. He probably could use it off the bat, but on the other hand, the information about causing bad wounds made him resolve to put this one aside for really bad situations.


    The thick box underneath yielded something he had tentatively identified as a crossbow. The presence of pulleys and cross-shaped construction of shoulders was more than a little odd for him, as well as the string that formed a complicated loop. Reading the annotation made him swallow and set the thing aside. If what it said was right, and he had little reason to think otherwise, then this crossbow had the size suitable for horseback use, yet shot bolts with the power of siege arbalest. There was a short looking glass bolted to the back end of it above the stock. An interesting solution for aiming. This weekend, he and some of the other youngsters had planned to attend a boar hunt. That would be a good time for him to try this out. At worst, he''d be ribbed on for trying to use a boondoggle. At best, he would be the first to be seen using an impressive crossbow - and in that case, he would be certain to drop the name of Alyssa Gillespie in every ear. It seemed fair to him to send some business her way for such a thoughtful gift collection.


    That left two long narrow boxes on the bottom, aside from ones with copper boss. He cracked both of them open. The longer one contained something called bardiche. Which vaguely reminded him of the battleaxes used by batal. Vaguely. The shape of the blade, while obviously intended for chopping, could probably be also used to thrust if needed. The shorter one contained a flail with three balls. He was vaguely familiar with the weapon, but insofar all of the examples he ever handled were with one ball only. Three at once obviously added some complexity.


    Finally, he opened the two boxes he was instructed to leave for the last. A pair of flintlocks and a musket with a bayonet. He had already seen and used both, having been summoned to the castle right after the festivities along with some of the trusted knights and squires for demonstrations. He was very impressed. Firearms packed enough punch to make most armors pointless up close while being light and portable enough to make it a viable footsoldier armament. On one hand, it probably meant the end of chivalrous knight charges on the horseback. On the other, it meant that a kingdom with firearms would very likely win any conflict with one without. Maybe not every battle, surprise attacks and overwhelming numbers could possibly overcome musketeers in detail, but unless the command was given to utter morons, the war would still be won. And his highness Abraham did mention that the reason why they''re only given some limited exposure to firearms was simply because Alyssa was already busy developing better ones and would have something even more impressive by the time they would train up anyone to be a competent musketeer. Still, having such exclusive weapons as personal gifts did tickle his fancy a lot.

 Chapter 116. Not My Day

    Waking up the next morning is much nicer than going to bed was. All of us were slightly ticked off about the lack of sex last night, soo... Let''s just say we caught up on that in the morning. Not too much, for obvious reasons, we still have things to do and sights to see and elves to bedazzle. Though I kinda want to drag them all into bed for the next day or two, now. Oh well, something to do on the airship when we''re doing the long flights, I suppose... Still, with all the teasing and pleasing, it is almost noon by the time we''re, ahem... publicly acceptable. And kinda ravenous, so Bridgit commandeers the kitchen and sets about making a big dinner. Roxy elects to help her out, leaving Lily-Anne and Moon Unit for my escort. Not that I require escort, I mean, but rather they seem to be kinda certain there will be something amusing to see if they follow me, if I caught their whispers right. Really, girls?


    Well, now, let''s... huh, now what''s going on? A meteor just fell down in the lake?... Don''t tell me...


    Alright, so the good news is, the sage came back and even didn''t ignite on atmo reentry. The bad news is, going to orbit apparently counts as defilement. He didn''t quite shred his gears, as far as I can tell, but it goes without saying there''s a rocking chair and soothing music in his immediate future, while he gathers up the marbles back into the bag. I receive extremely respectful inquiries from a number of elves present, some of which are still attending to the waterlogged sage mumbling about stars and suns and void and who knows what else.


    "...Lady Gillespie, can you please give us some insight into the unfortunate condition of spinner Russell?" - Tamaya finally sums up their questions, as she takes a stock of the situation with aplomb I appreciate from a leader. I can see why she''s an undisputed Elder of the Counsel, that kind of wit and quick take is impressive. Five minutes to sort out the half-panicked queries and wild theories, sum up the likely witnesses and formulate the question best suited to garner the needed information in amiable manner... Very good.


    "Well..." - I hedge - "His name is Russell? Huh. Peculiar. Anyway, he visited me yesterday and... had a great many questions, let''s say it like this. And zeal for posing them far exceeding my tolerance."


    Tamaya facepalms and groans. "He outright ignored being told that you''d like to sleep, eat or bathe now and kept begging for "just one more question", I take it?" - she inquires with irritation - "My condolences, lady Gillespie. He never quite grew out of this childish habit, I''m afraid. Will he recover from whatever it was that happened to... actually, can you please just explain what happened to him to begin with?"


    I shrug. "He asked a lot of questions about what lies beyond the world." - I tell her simply - "It occurred to me that he would not be bothering me with the questions if he could just go and have a look with his own eyes. So I tossed him just slightly outside of the world to circle around it and come back. I''m sure he has plenty of experiences to speak of. Though, I didn''t think just visiting the border would be defiling to quite such a degree. Reasonably sure he would recover, though, given some peace and quiet. He does not seem to be manic, just overwhelmed with the experience."


    "...I''m sorry, what?" - she repeats numbly - "He asked too many questions about what''s outside the world, so you tossed him out so that he could see with his own eyes?"


    I grumble. "Ok, look..." -I begin, as I toss together some basic illusions - "This is Sun. It is our star. The other stars out there are someone else''s suns. Other worlds. The place we live on, the planet, is the globe of earth and water and stone and metal and air and other assorted things that rotates around the sun..." I keep my basic lecture on heliocentrism as basic as possible, because I can smell the frying venison on the air, and I''m getting hangry. Is the ''hold Alyssa up from simple pleasures'' going to be a running gag while I''m in Evergreens? Anyway, I point out the clump representing the planet - "Here is where we are. It rotates around the sun in an ellipse and around its own axis. Axial rotation is what gives us day and night, orbital rotation is what gives us summer and winter." Finally, I trace a narrow circle around the planet - "And this is where Russell went last night. Barely a glimpse around, all things considered."


    "..."


    "Dear?" - Moon Unit pipes up when the silence becomes awkward - "Maybe ease up a little on revelations? Look, everyone''s stunned."


    Tamaya, thankfully, picks this moment to cough and shake her head. "...I... see." - she drawls faintly - "This is very... I just... But... And... Wait, but... or... sooooo... Oh! Well. Well, merde!" She pokes at the clumps representing other planets in this solar system. Different from Sol by a lot, by the way. We are currently on the second planet from the sun, and the first one is something closer to Mercury than Venus in conditions, but the size of Mars and has two tiny moons. We are immediately followed by an asteroid belt that is big enough that I suspect it''s whole two planets'' worth of asteroid, then there is a trio of gas giants on the outer orbits, two of which have rings, and the outermost one seems to be very Neptune-like by my observations. We completely lack any planets that resemble Pluto, Mars or Jupiter, tho. On the plus side, I''ll have nearby and robust asteroid mining when I get to space exploration stages. On the minus, no good planets for colonization in our own system. Though, depending on the richness of belts and gas giants, it might be immediately feasible to start construction of ringworld or Dyson sphere... But I''m kind of digressing, this is in FAR future, if we ever reach those heights of advancement. Lofty dreams, Alyssa, lofty dreams... But damn, it''s probably hella convenient to live in Kardashev class two civilization. Or even class three, if we ever work out the universal matter-energy manipulation... I mean, I can do that right now, but I don''t want to become a civilization by myself. I want to lounge around in a post-scarcity society that does not require me poking the "improve things for everyone" button every five nanoseconds.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Aaanyway, back to our muttons... Tamaya walks off muttering things under her nose, and by the looks of it, her current sentiments are shared by many people present. And some are still standing there looking dazed. Come on, the heliocentric theory is NOT a revelation, I read about it in the Academy library before, I know I did!


    "Well now, are you upending astrology today, Alyssa?" - Lily-Anne offers - "At this rate, I might as well ask of my father to just gather all the wise men in the Champagne for a quick seminar about the principles of the world. Might save time for you, actually."


    "Lily-Anne..." - I plead - "Please don''t. They''ll get offended and attempt to "educate" me instead, I''ll get angry and toss half of them into orbit, and probably eat the heads of the remainder."


    Moon Unit gives a full-body shudder when I mention the last one. "And she MEANS it, Lily." - she whispers quickly - "So please don''t give her ideas? Please? She already ate Tybalt''s head in front of the whole Counsel, I so don''t want to see Alyssa do it again."


    "Wait, what!?" - Lily-Anne yelps - "As in like, literally ate someone''s head!? Alyssa, what the fuck?"


    "In my defense, he brought in a corpse of a guy who just shot me six times before that and tried to say that me shooting back once is a murder." - I retort - "It was just self-defense in the most practical way available."


    "By. Eating. Someone''s. HEAD!?" - she is getting progressively louder with each word.


    "To be entirely fair, our lore does explicitly stipulate Tools of Gods eat the heads of people daring to obstruct their efforts..." - Moon Unit explains with a wince - "So doing it once in front of everyone actually made for some good proof Alyssa is who she is. Still, I''d very much rather NOT see my wife eat someone''s head again, if it is at all feasible. Please?"


    "...Eat. Heads." - Lily-Anne repeats numbly - "Why!?"


    "Several reasons. Primo, because it''s absolutely terrifying to everyone else and thus makes them much less inclined to be difficult just for the sake of seeing if they might coerce some concession out of me." - I explain with a sigh - "Secundo, because it''s a quick and reliable way to deal with someone dangerous. Finally, tertio - because if I do this, I get to peruse the most recent memories the person in question had. What was on their mind, more or less."


    She shakes her head and leans to Moon Unit. "Welp." - she proffers bleakly - "Our dear wife is apparently a man-eating monster sometimes. I''m concerned how little I am concerned about that."


    "I prefer eldritch abomination, actuall... WATCH OUT!" - I begin, smoothly transitioning from banter to shoving Moon Unit and Lily-Anne to the side, as I see someone lunging for them from the opposite side. They both start to yelp, turning to see what alarmed me while still stumbling. Time dilation at hundred and twenty eight, by the way. I bat the dagger downwards, in the process probably dislocating the wrist holding it, consider the trajectory of the stabbing, come to the conclusion that it was aimed straight for Moon Unit''s liver, become volcanically angry and bite the head of the would-be murderer off. And cringe. Her memories are straight-up unadulterated madness. A descendant of a clan infamous for women being shoggoth whisperers, apparently, and her sole reason for attacking Moon Unit was the inane conviction that her rightful place was "usurped" and that I would have rejoiced if she were to kill Moon Unit and step in herself.


    "...aaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" - Lily-Anne sums up her resulting feelings on the topic, as she flinches away from the corpse falling over. I...sigh. Burp. Bow my head. "I''m just having no luck here." - I complain to no one in particular.


    ___


    Lily-Anne is not cool with it. At all. She is sitting on the bed with her knees to her chest, hugging herself and shivering under the blanket. Weirdly enough, my presence is not actually considered a hindrance, and she actively, if feebly, insists I stick around and hold her while she''s setting her nerves down. Weird. I really really really REALLY need to try and amp down on monstrous behavior while within wife eyesight. Bridgit and Roxolane are next to us, clicking their tongues in concern. Roxy is slowly rubbing Lily-Anne''s back, while Bridgit is giving her sips of warm tea with a splash of whiskey from the cup little by little. Moon Unit is next to me, leaning on me. And sipping a small bottle of rose tincture, while at it.


    "What happened?" - Roxolane ventures after a moment of compassionate silence. Lily-Anne hiccups. "SSsomeone tttried to ssstab Mmmmooon aaaand Aly-aly...aa... eeet heeed... Fueeeee!" - she offers, hiccuping and stumbling over the words as she does.


    "Alyssa did what?" - Roxolane repeats in confusion.


    "Alyssa pushed me out of the way and bit the head off my would-be murderer." - Moon Unit proffers bluntly, her own voice having a bit of tremor to it.


    "And I''m terribly sorry about doing that." - I state firmly - "It was a snap decision, and in retrospect I should have knocked her down and used more traditional interrogation methods. Moon Unit, Lily-Anne, I sincerely apologize."


    Lily-Anne somehow finds enough magnanimousness in herself to pat my hand. "I, iiii, oh gods..." - she warbles, as she leans on me and starts crying for real - "Thaaaawhawhat was soooo scaaary!"


    Mea culpa, girls. Mea culpa.

 Chapter 117. Recitals Of Soul Kind

    I''m kind of... annoyed with myself right now. Giving mental trauma to wives is NOT how this harem is supposed to work. Honestly, I should have taken the fucking cue from the fact Moon Unit was not cool with it. Because, out of all of my wives, Moon Unit is unquestionably the most worldly and used to bloodshed of all sorts. The rest are way less prepared. Lily-Anne was very much sheltered. Oh, she got a good education on how to deal with violence, but all of it was theoretical and playacting. She never actually saw anyone die before her right until the time Abbas decided it''s a good idea to kidnap her. Bridgit is even less exposed to the concepts of violence than Lily-Anne is, she had her big shock when she was little, and then got snapped up by dad and lived the rest of her life until now as a maid in a powerful county. No violence at count''s own estate, obviously. The worst she ever saw from the time her dad got murdered would be occasional whipping. Well, up until the time when Klaus got his henches to work her over and I killed them all in response, that is. Roxolane is, ostensibly, the only one of my wives left who did not see me killing someone right in front of her in some circumstances.


    That being said, the annoyance I''m feeling right now is of a different origin. I cast a jaundiced eye over three elves in presence. Tamaya clearly doesn''t want to be here and thinks it''s a waste of time. Same goes for Dweezil, plus a heap of worry about his sister. The third elf, however, is the linchpin to this whole situation.


    "Even if my niece''s services were unneeded, it''s not a reason to execute her." - he repeats himself, surprisingly calmly. Not that it somehow decreases the level of annoyance he is causing.


    "And if she tried to approach me in a reasonable fashion, nothing of the sort would have happened." - I riposte - "However, she gave no indication there was anything but hostility to convey."


    "It is our birthright." - he continues, still infuriatingly calm - "We are entitled to demand satisfaction from any usurper."


    Seriously? Se-fucking-riously?


    ARE YOU INSINUATING THAT YOUR DISCRETION IN THIS MATTER OUTRANKS MINE? Y?O?U-?THIS-S?P?ECIF?I?C?-N?O?W ?C?L?AIM/P?O?S?I?T?/?AS?SE?RT? IN?D?EL?IBLE-?I?NH?E?R?E?NT-?EX?IS?T?E?N?T?-PERM?AN?ENT? OWN?E?RSH?I?P/?SO?V?E?R?E?I?GN?I?TY?/E?N?T?ITL?E?MEN?T/?G?RA?SP OF? ?THIS-ME?-?S?PE?C?I?FIC?-EN?TI?R?E??? Y???????????O??U?????????-??????N???????????O??????????????W??-?????????D??????U???????B???I??????O??????U?????S??????????L??????Y??????????-???????C???????????????O?N???????????T?????????I?????N?????????U????I???????N???????G????????? ???????E??????N????????D?E????????A??????V??????????O??R????????/????????A?????????S?????S????????????E????R??????T???????/???????D???????A?????R??????????E?????????????/??????C??????????O??????????V????E???????T???????!??????????????????


    ...ookay, I think point impressed. He is unconscious and has bleeding ears. Tamaya and Dweezil are both holding hands over their own with pained grimaces, though neither seems to be bleeding like the guy in front of me. They blink at me as I wave at them, cautiously pull their hands off their ears and blink at each other and me in resulting silence.


    "Lady Gillespie..." - Tamaya ventures slowly - "...Are they as servants this vile to you?"


    I sigh. "Look." - I begin, tamping things down back to reasonable ranges - "The first time I heard about this clan actually feeling entitled to be in my service? It was from this guy. His niece didn''t even bother saying anything, she introduced herself by trying to stab Moon Unit in the back with a dagger. I have actually perused her surface thoughts after eating her head, and she was insane, pure and simple. In her mind, she somehow came to believe that I would ENJOY seeing her kill Moon Unit in front of me. Would you want to employ someone who believes that killing your beloved wife in front of you would bring you pleasure? All I saw was yet another killer aiming for Moon Unit. And now that I know what she felt and what this clan believes in? I do not want any of them anywhere close to me. Simply for the reason that somewhere down the line they have forgotten the simple fact that servant is not entitled to a master. Just because their ancestors were picked by my fellows often does not mean I want to or have any obligation to pick them as my representatives. So no, until this fellow understands that their having history with my kind is in no way relevant to what his niece tried to do and what she got eaten for, I will not consider any of them as anything other than potential hindrances to dispose of."


    "That will probably just cause a rash of suicides within the clan." - Dweezil warns - "Being rejected by Tool of Gods, a being that they believe they are destined to serve? A lot of them would simply not cope with this."


    I sigh. "While I''m not thrilled by the notion, brother in law, a number of suicides in a clan I care not for is preferable to me over putting my wives in danger by accepting the service of overly entitled idiots." - I tell him bluntly - "They went directly AGAINST MY WILL by trying to attack Moon Unit and claiming any kind of righteous agency about this action. What the fuck do I need defiant servants for?"


    Tamaya brightens up suddenly. "AH! That explains everything." - she exclaims confidently - "My apologies, lady Gillespie, I failed to comprehend broader implications. Whisperers are definitely aware of you claiming Moon Unit as your wife, this much was seen by the entire Counsel. As such, a member of their clan trying to attack a declared member of your family is clearly an oath-breaking crime." She pauses, and then ventures slowly - "Would you be willing to accept into service those of the clan who recant the association with the clan?"


    ...Hassle. On other hand, I guess I can find something to put them towards to.


    "Provisionally." - I finally state - "While I am not seeking servants at the moment, I understand the dilemma the clan is facing, and I suppose I can offer a chance to those who can comprehend the problem and explain why it was a problem. Here are my terms. First, I require anyone from the whisperers who wants in on that plan to write me an explanation as to why, in their understanding, the actions of clan head niece angered me and why what she did was defiance and oath-breaking of the highest order. Second, I require anyone who desires to enter my service to study the basic law of Champagne, for doing my bidding can very well require of them to venture outside of Evergreens, and it would not do for them to be executed in the first town they stopover at over not knowing better. Third, I require anyone who desires to enter my service to compile a list outlining their skills and competencies as well as preferred tasks. If, for some reason, someone aside from Whisperers expresses interest in serving me directly, as opposed to joining the Zappa clan, they must fulfill second and third terms. The first term is just for Whisperers. If the candidate is illiterate, I will permit a verbal petition, but they should be aware that not being capable of reading and writing sharply decreases their chances of being employed under me. I prefer educated people. I will leave the decision on admission to Zappa clan to Dweezil, if any of the Whisperers prefer to simply join clan Zappa instead of seeking direct employment from me."


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    I would expound further, but we are interrupted by a hoarse moan from the floor. Dumbass woke up. Well, I like his attitude better right now. For someone striving to serve, he was far, far, FAR too fearless in the face of my disapproval before. The expression of terror he is sporting now fits the role much better, methinks.


    "Oh. How nice of you to grace us with your attention again." - I remark frostily - "I do apologize for yelling. I presumed someone claiming to be a servitor would be more resistant to the full range of my voice."


    His face contorts at this dig, but I give him no chance to respond. I''m pretty sure that letting him speak more will cause me to do something rash and final to him out of sheer annoyance. So I''m just going to browbeat him a little and toss him out to greener pastures, figuratively speaking. Let him mull over the "we just abjectly failed to impress the one we wanted to be our mistress" for a while.


    "I am going to sum this in simple words, so there are no second guesses about it." - I continue - "I have had claimed Moon Unit as my wife in a language you people consider sacred and immutable. The claim was made in front of the entire Counsel, which you are a part of, I remember you sitting in the second row. Your niece attempted to kill Moon Unit. So. Either you had failed to inform your clan about a vital declaration given by one you were hopeful to serve, or your niece had attempted to directly contradict my declaration to pander to her delusions. Regardless of which it really was, the end result was an attempt to attack whom I have declared as mine, and thus, a direct attack on ME. I will NOT accept being attacked as "service". Understand? Good. Now begone. Your clan has failed."


    "...But she did not mean..." - and this is as far as he gets before I heft him by the scruff and toss out of the doors, helping him achieve exit velocity with a well-aimed boot to the rear.


    Dusting my hands, I turn back to Dweezil and Tamaya - "You know, the more elves I see, the more I come to believe a whole lot of you never grow up beyond teens." They sigh synchronously.


    "No. They really don''t." - Tamaya agrees quietly - "What a bother."


    ___


    According to Tamaya, the recital of soul aria traditionally takes place during sunset. Which is why we are here slightly before sunset, all four of my wives clustered up behind me as I face off against the Counsel again. Clearing my throat, I state loudly - "THIS-SPECIFIC-ME-CURRENT STATES/DECLARES/ASSERTS/CLAIMS FOUR WIVES/SPOUSES/LOVERS/FAMILY AS PRESENT-EXISTENT-HERE-NOW." To make it entirely clear which girls I refer to, I kiss all four of them in turn.


    Tamaya, who has a blush of a person who took perhaps one too many cups of brandy already, stands up and bows - "As witnessed, so recorded. Moon Unit of clan Zappa, princess Lily-Anne Nortrop-Cullen, Bridgit Baumhoff and Roxolane are hereby known to the treeborn as claimed wives of lady Gillespie, the Tool of Gods. As such, we the Counsel welcome claimed wives to take up their seats and hear the soul aria of Alyssa Gillespie."


    Granted, I am curious now. This was building up for quite a while, and it seems like the process is pretty simple. They have an inscribed circle which is actually rather straightforward. I have looked into some of those formulae when I was researching dreamwalking. Honestly... I kind of expected something more elaborate. It just sort of transcribes the noonoise produced by one''s thinking process into air vibration using a pretty dumb formula. On one hand, it''s like listening to music on a mono speaker. On the other, it will clearly cut off any dangerous frequencies and amplitudes. No causing panic with infrasound or fractioning retinae with ultrasound or blowing eardrums with decibels.


    So. Let''s see what my thoughts sound like. Goodness, it would be weird if I end up blasting them with some death metal or something of the sort. Fitting, but weird.


    ...


    atz


    OK


    atm0


    OK


    at&f1&c1&k2&b0&u0


    OK


    atdt8796753753462466747


    RINGING


    CONNECT 42Tbps


    Well... It is good that I do NOT have any conventional pain transmitters, because I totally just bit my tongue. Dial-up train sequence was not in any way something I expected to hear... Or, uh... perceive. I''m more than a little rusty on at commands, but... variable speed, data compression mandatory, hardware datastream control... The number is obvio... wait, what? Interdimensional? I''m dealing up outside the universe? Holy shit, the phone bill is going to be out of this world, literally. Alright, jokes aside, I''m really trying... and apparently succeeding to connect to the internet somewhere way the hell outside of curren... waaaait a second. Am I going to get an uplink to the internet from my previous life? Yep. And at ridiculous speeds, too. Forty two terabits? Good grief, someone hooked up my brain to fiberoptics while I wasn''t looking. Further poking into what I can and can not do reveals that a whole lot of stuff comes with assorted read-only flags. Basically, pulling data is fine, but posting from beyond the grave isn''t gonna happen... Whatever, it''s not really that important to me. No family I''d care to get back at. I''d drop a line or two to some of my former girlfriends, but I have a feeling they''re either going to treat this as a prank... or, in one case, believe me on the spot and promptly throw me a scandal over living it up in the next world. That relationship was not one of my brightest ideas, to be honest. Someone who takes wicca seriously, c''mon, what was I even thinking getting into that one... Oh, right... Tits. And ass. Either of which was very pleasant to fondle. If only they came with the slightly less cray-cray mind. Heh.


    Wait. I''m supposed to play some music to the elves out there. Holy shit, did they get dial-up sound instead...? That would be... awkward. Hm. No, doesn''t seem like it. In fact, they are already... Oh. Ooooh. Well... that is not that bad of a choice, really. The song is sufficiently mystifying and I really like this remix. So I quiet down and pretend I''m in trance, as it is expected of someone translating their mental noise into sounds. And subtly listen in to conclave whispering their observations to each other.


    "<dfn class="tooltip" title="...is something wrong? I don''t hear anything?...">...se yon bagay ki mal? Mwen pa tande anyen?...</dfn>"


    "<dfn class="tooltip" title="Shh! The trumpets!">Shh! Twonp¨¨t yo!</dfn>"


    "<dfn class="tooltip" title="Is that a... voice?">¨¨ske se yon ... vwa?</dfn>"


    "<dfn class="tooltip" title="Oh gods! Struck with multitude!">Oh bondye! Frape ak foul moun!</dfn>"


    "<dfn class="tooltip" title="So many suddenly?... As expected of a sacred being...">Se konsa, anpil toudenkou? ... K¨°m espere nan sakre ke yo te ...</dfn>"


    To be clear, I have just hit them with a cover of Parabola by Tool. By Brass Against. Aka, the orchestra worth of people covering the rock and metal with symphonic instruments, mainly assorted brass, hence the name. Well, I guess there were a lot of trumpets in this one, indeed... And apparently, now that I''ve dialed in, I can use the translation tools. Let''s see... Hm. So, people started wondering if something is wrong when it started slow, then commented on brass starting on, then someone realized it''s actually a song with lyrics, then the bass was dropped and everyone heard it, and finally, some comments about how such complex music is definitely what they''d expect out of sacred being. Huh.


    Well now, I guess the recital was a success. No one went insane, everyone had a good time and there is a very lively discussion of what all this means in elven. Which I now recognize as a somewhat altered form of haitian creole, come to think of it. I... Oh. Oh wow. Oh goodness golly gracious. I was thinking the connection is going to go when I leave the circle. I was already planning to inscribe something similar on myself. Turns out once I dialed in, I stay dialed in. Just had to be in the right spot for the first time connecting, I guess. This is going to change things by a lot, I can tell that much off the bat... But I''m going to keep this under wraps as much as I can, because the moment I let Jeanette-Thereze know I have internet hookup now, I''m going to be conscripted as her personal Crunchyroll terminal for the foreseeable future, I just know it. Wonder if it''s something unique to me, or the kind of thing I can impart on other transmigrators? Good thing I memorized the ritual circle in its entirety, I''m gonna run some experiments on Selene and Jeanette-Thereze the moment I''m back in Parsee.

 Chapter 118. Nonsense Of All Kinds

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

 Chapter 119. Goose Moments

    SHOGGOTH does not care if what you are doing is aligned to our customs or not. Our ancestors also believed they were in the right until the very moment their heads were eaten. This being said, I wash my hands of you. I have given you a warning, what to do with it is entirely up to you. In all honesty, I am just making a pointless gesture of civility here, your fate likely was sealed the moment the challenge was issued. Lady Gillespie was very clear numerous times she views any and all attempts to command her romantic affiliation as a personal affront and has zero hesitation in affirming her views with overwhelming violence."


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

 Chapter 120. You dun goosed up good!

    I am on my best behavior. As a goose. Or, rather, geese. Since I can not just murderate everyone undesirable in the area, I decide on psychological pressure instead. And therefore, each of my wives aside from Moon Unit is now holding a goose-me, as we all line up to spectate the impending curbstomp. And no one doubts it would be a curbstomp, it''s just that Elsinores have this asinine idea Hamlet is the one with the advantage. Though right now, all of them including Hamlet himself are very nervously eyeing my feathery selves. And obviously wanting to make inquiries about this unexpected factor, but not quite daring to disrupt the duel they so painstakingly arranged.


    On the piste, Moon Unit is facing off against Hamlet. For some inane reason, elven customs require of each duelist to declare a forbidden type of weapon or element that may not be used by either of them. I have asked Tamaya and Dweezil about it, but their responses were not on topic. And more than a little vulgar. I suppose I should have explained to them that I''m a collection of geese right now to start with. So now Tamaya is massaging her temples and very pointedly not looking in my direction, while Dweezil and Ahmet are passing each other a flask full of rectified brandy (I brought some presents for my extended family, obviously, a casket of newly introduced hard liquor was among them. Call me cynical, but I have surmised my usual shindigs would give Dweezil a lot of reasons to want a tipple.) and periodically shuddering, while again very pointedly not looking in my direction. I''m not sure why talking goose disturbed them this much.


    Anyway, forbidden weaponry. Moon Unit called out the short bow as a weapon she would like to be banned. Hamlet made a hammy speech about not really needing to avoid anything, but "in the interests of preserving tradition and out of respect for our law and custom" he is electing to forbid the element of light. Not sure why he picked that one. Pure bravado forbidding the "healing" element to show off how he is not afraid of anything, or he just has some idea that Moon Unit is primarily light-aligned and wants her to be stuck with magics she is less experienced with in his comprehension? On one hand, the second reason is pretty canny, on the other I have no idea if it was actually his decision to begin with and not Polonius giving him sage advice before the fight. Anyway, fight now... and no, he just keeps blathering. What''s this now?


    "...Why not just surrender this bout, my fair maiden? We both know the outcome, why exert yourself pointlessly. I promise you will not find my attentions lackiii... Iiieargh!" - he begins, cutting himself mid-speech to make a desperate jump to the side as Moon Unit nails him with a spell mid-word. Nasty thing, too. I guess Moon Unit took the "do not use light" a little bit personally because this is a pure darkness attack. AOE attack at that, what she hurls towards Hamlet is basically a cloud of entropy. To the naked eye, it looks like a cloud of thick oily smoke roiling on itself as it slides across the field, leaving behind a stripe of half-dried half-rotten grass.


    Hamlet jinks to the side, obviously keen on avoiding the contact with this clump of moving death... and stumbles over his unlaced boots, faceplanting into the grass. He barely has enough time to lift his face when the cloud rolls over his legs, covering everything from mid-thigh to toes for a moment. The shriek he gives out is much different from his bonvivant airs just a moment ago. It''s a desperate scream of a wounded animal. I''m impressed by the sheer amount of malice injected into the spell, Moon Unit really really really REALLY has strong negative opinions of the whole mess. His legs are pretty much gone, mummified to the "spent couple centuries in a tomb" condition in a span of a second. The way his face and shoulders visibly shrivel strongly implies the hit had at least partially dehydrated his whole body.


    I think Moon Unit was not counting on the spell connecting, because she is leaping forward the moment she let the spell fly, her knives tracing a double arc in the air. If Hamlet didn''t stumble, that would have ended with him stabbed in the gut and groin. As in is, though, Moon Unit pulls back out of the lunge, her daggers held at the ready as she eyes her foe warily. Honestly, this is pretty much the end of it, he is incapable of standing. Neither now, nor ever again, those legs are not salvageable in any meaningful way. His only chance of survival is immediate amputation.


    "Brother! NO!" - aaand Laertes springs into action. Rather literally, yanks the dagger out and jumps over the low fence, running towards Moon Unit and prone Hamlet. Claudius jumps up a moment later, clutching at his waist. Huh, turns out Laertes grabbed the wrong handle and run out swinging the dagger that Claudius had on him, instead of his own. Really, it''s more of a shortsword than a dagger. Gladius even, though I''m not sure this is the right local word for it. And... It glows faintly green and I can feel the weft of conceptual poison from here. This is pretty high-end alchemy and magic, to my consideration. Damn thing seems to be able to propagate via spell traces and its primary method of action basically sends the magic of receiver haywire, making it poison and tear up the receiver with uncontrollable magic bursts. I make a mental note to avoid this shite. It is strong enough to harm me, and while I will survive getting stabbed with this, it will hurt like a bitch.


    I''m about to call out a warning to Moon Unit about the poison when Laertes trips on his own unlaced shoes. He does not quite faceplant like Hamlet, though. No, what he DOES is stab the poisoned dagger deep into Hamlet''s buttock. Owch.


    As he jumps up to his feet again, apparently not even noticing the lack of dagger in his hand, Hamlet reaches back and yanks it out of his ass. His facial expression is strange. Rage, hurt... Does he assume that Laertes had intentionally stabbed him in the ass?... Apparently yes, because he plunges the blade all the way into his pal''s asscheek, knocking Laertes down again.


    "Gods and stars, is that Primal Rot?" - Tamaya yelps loudly enough for everyone to hear. Claudius snorts derisively - "Family heirloom, elder. Entirely legal to own and keep on myself."


    He stands up slowly and looks down on the piste with a pinched expression. "Finish it, maiden of Zappas. Neither of them has enough strength to admit humiliation, not after receiving Primal Rot so abruptly." - he demands. Cheeky and bastard kinda move, this shite is virulent enough to easily jump over to Moon Unit if she were to approach. And since it''s a poison that works off magic, there is no telling what it will do with spells. But leaving them to die? It might take several days, during which Moon Unit needs to be present and conscious within the piste because her leaving while they''re still alive will count as forfeiting. Unfortunately for Claudius, Moon Unit has a third option.


    Two bangs echo through the glade in quick succession as Moon Unit executes the idiots with a shot to the head for each. Mercy kills, really, they would have been in never-ending pain until their death a few days later, otherwise. No antidote, obviously, magical poisons rarely can be counteracted cleanly unless they were designed with a specific "emergency abort" option. Well, huh. Claudius looks very pissed now. I think he actually counted on Moon Unit being unable to deal coup de grace without getting infected herself. But even this obstinate obliviot is not able to find much to harp about. Initial magic was obviously dark-aligned, and even though he has no idea what firearms are, it is painfully obvious it''s neither a bow nor light magic.


    "I do believe I am victorious." - Moon Unit announces crisply, forcing all of us to turn and look in her direction. It is a statement hard to dispute. Even though Claudius could possibly claim the bout was tampered with, it is his clan member who interfered. So arguing that this disgrace somehow qualifies as a win for Elsinores is a task even he sees as impossible. So he simply nods imperiously. Asshole.


    I do give Moon Unit time to leave the piste, obviously, but as soon as she is out of the ring and surrounded by the rest of the wives, I HONK.


    "Claudius. By your actions here, legal or not, you have made you and yours repugnant to me. By the elder laws, I call a blood feud with the clan Elsinore." - I tell him, still as a goose. He is... very much at a loss as to how to respond to a death threat expressed by the bird. His expression remains befuddled as I waddle into the ring and beckon him with the wing. "Come. Your death awaits. Duel me for it or be eaten." - I quack at him, and... oh gods, this is fucking hilarious. I should challenge people as a goose more often.


    "Go on, Claudius. Either step onto the piste and try your skills, or start fleeing." - Tamaya tells him with a smirk - "And do forgive me for this, but... I told you what would happen. Now reap what you have sown."


    He swallows and looks uncertain for a moment... Goodness, he just might start fleeing at this rate. Time to egg him on.


    "C''mon. Goose versus chicken, it will be a fowl fight!" - I needle him from the ring. His face hardens into an angry rictus and he kicks the gates open, marching onto the piste and in my general direction.


    "I will not be mocked like this!" - he shouts as he closes the distance - "To fight against a gods-bedamned bird is a disgrace!"


    "Astute observation." - I honk back at him - "This is the grand total of respect I have for you, Claudius. Also known as zero. Mighty Elsinores falling to a bird, heh. They will remember you for ages for this, Claudius. Elsinores, the clan that got goosed. En garde."


    He chokes on air as his face grows blotchy red. "You dare... En garde!" - he hisses, immediately yanking out a tulip from inside of his coat. Nabad, nabad, he probably has a special pocket there with a holdout flower or three. The ball of fire that smacks right in front of me is pretty respectable, this guy is a decent fire mage at the very least. Of course, that was also a very stupid thing to do, because he basically just obstructed his own line of sight towards me. The next thing the guy sees is a flapping mass of feathers and attitude about to land in his face as I simply fly over the blaze. Well, flap. Wings are complicated.


    Claudius jerks back, trying to avoid me, but I expected this from the very beginning, and my trajectory is lined up accordingly. And, bingo! I land on his chest and smack him in the nose with my beak while clutching his coat with my palmates (Goose feet, basically. I don''t know why, but the scientific term always stuck in my head as amusing.). And then I switch up the game. Is that a goose? No, that''s a langolier. Claudius lets out a hoarse scream of terror as my beak and head split in three fang-studded "petals" that wrap themselves around his cranium and PRESS. NOM.


    He falls backward as the fragments of bone and meat and blood squirt in every direction. Huh, he knows surprisingly little, all things considered. As I suspected, the real brains of this clan was Polonius. And Gertrude, somewhat. Whom Claudius was apparently more than a little terrified of. I throw back my blood-drenched head.


    H??????????????O?????????????N???????K??????????!??????????????


    Oh, yeah, terror levels at optima.....aaaoh shiiit, I just headbit someone in a particularly horrifying manner right in front of my WHOLE harem. FUUUCK. ...Though, there does not seem to be much of a problem. I mean, each of my wives is holding their own instance of goose-me. Let''s see. Moon Unit... is actually looking pretty bloodlusty herself. She is wincing but also grinning in a manner that is probably somewhat terrifying in itself. Lily-Anne... is using her goose-me as a face pillow and did not look at the duel at all. Bridgit... Is blinking and wincing, but seems to be strangely calm about it. Wonder why. Roxolane... turns away and imitates Lily-Anne, lifting me to nuzzle her face into my feathers. She is trembling a little but doesn''t seem to be TOO upset. Probably just an unappetizing show. Well, they were at a much better distance this time, and at least theoretically prepared... Also probably headnomming someone as a goose has a level of disconnection, unlike when I headbite someone in my usual shape. Something to make note of.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Dweezil and Ahmet are cringing and passing the liquor flask between themselves somewhat frantically... and Tamaya just joined them for a turn on the flask as well. Several less important on-lookers are pretty spooked, but a good deal seem to be exhibiting less of terror and more of "oh fuck now that''s what I call bloodsport" expressions. ...Wait. Where''s Polonius? His chair is empty, and I can''t see him... Well, fuck, he just did the smart thing and run. Too little, too late, of course, but...


    I push off from the headless corpse and take flight. I need to find him and finish him off quickly, I want to wrap this whole annoying business by the dinner at the latest. Now where he might be... Ah. Oh. Well, that''s cunning of him? A horse, really? Well, the plus is that he is already outside of the inhabited areas. And proceeding further south rather quickly. Sparsely populated forests there, a lot of places to hide out. Well, unless your opponent can do an aerial survey, I suppose. Gliding in. I don''t feel like toying with him. What I got from Claudius implies Polonius is a crafty bastard. I should have realized something was up when I heard he''s infamous for blundering in fighting. I mean, obviously, the blunders did not hinder his ability to survive the fights, n''est ce pas? Therefore, either all the blundering is a pretense for some reason, or he has some kind of esoteric combat style that... well. That looks like blundering but actually is pretty efficient. Something a-la drunken fist or some such.


    So. My plan is simple. Swoop in and eat his head. Why complicate the tried and true method? I am legally permitted to do that much, owing to a blood feud being declared in his presence, so... Besides, I want to know what kind of plan was it. Would there be other annoyances cropping up? Or something even worse? As I just saw, elves DO possess certain things that might be... unpleasant to experience. If any of those are aimed at my family, I want to know about it yesterday.


    PTUUI! Bleugh!... YUCK. Oh for the love of all that is sane, why!... So... I have learned several things. Thing A. Doppelgangers taste horrible. Thing B. This particular one was an aberration nearly three hundred years old, more than four times the theoretical lifespan of a doppelganger as far as contemporary science knows. Thing C. This is so fucking messed up.


    I shift my focus toward the goose-me in Moon Unit''s hands and gently poke her with my bill. "Bring me over to Tamaya, dear? I have some... weird news to share." - I whisper to her. She blinks, but nods and brings me closer. Meanwhile, the other me collects the remains, packs them up and teleports to our domicile. This is easier than trekking back on feet, and I do not want to shapeshift into a flying form large enough to haul about two hundred livres worth of dead body by air. Still, it will take me about five minutes to get back to the central glade with the corpse on my shoulder. Enough time to explain things.


    "So. Turns out Polonius was a doppelganger. And he is largely responsible for Elsinores being bugfuck crazy." - I begin... and trail off as I notice that there is one more elf standing next to the Tamaya now.


    He sketches a respectful bow in my direction. "Good morrow, milady." - he offers courteously - "My apologies for intruding, but I do have a vested interest in the Elsinore clan. Would it be permissible for me to hear what you have found out about them and how doppelganger affected them into this... insanity?"


    "Uh-huh." - I offer to him - "And... who are you? You obviously seem to know who I am."


    "My name is Fortinbras, milady, and I am tangentially related to Elsinores. They are a splinter clan from my own, and as such, I have come over to discuss the situation before anything... overly rash occurs. Such as someone less than cautious mentioning the relation between the clans to you without clarifying the details." - he proffers - "Because I am most certainly NOT in agreement with the actions Claudius undertook and very much attached to my head. Literally and emotionally. So..."


    I peer at Tamaya and Dweezil. They peer back. I honk at them. They jump. "Your advice, please." - I tell them after another awkward pause - "I''m not exactly well-informed about clan politics."


    They exchange glances. Then Dweezil coughs. "I... do not believe there is any reason for you to want to extend the blood feud to Fortinbras clan." - he then proffers - "Elsinores parted from them on very bad terms and they are not allies by any stretch of the word. Furthermore, clan head Fortinbras is well known for his deliberation and level head. I believe he is wise enough not to put his head in dragon''s maw. I also see no reason to keep the circumstances of clan Elsinore from him, he would in fact be the first person we''d want to consult on how to proceed in this situation."


    "Very well." - I agree - "Clan head Fortinbras, I do hereby formally state that I do not seek to extend blood feud to your own clan and will not seek to declare one unless you and yours deliberately and intentionally harm me and mine."


    He smiles slightly. "Heartening to hear." - he agrees - "Now, would you be so kind to explain what kind of calamity had beset the clan of my grandsons?"


    "Aside from me?" - I snark - "Well... It all goes back to Gertrude and Polonius. But first, a little explanation. I am sure everyone knows by now that I tend to eat the heads of people who act with hostility towards me. What is not so well known is that by doing so, I get to perceive their current memories to a degree. As such, I have a reasonably good idea what prompted Claudius and Polonius to act the way they did."


    Fortinbras nods sagely. "I am not surprised." - he offers sadly - "I was adamantly against the marriage of Hamlet and Gertrude... Oh, forgive me. Hamlet''s father was also named Hamlet. I shall refer to younger Hamlet as Junior from now on to avoid confusion."


    "Huh. Well, here is the thing." - I proffer - "Apparently, when Hamlet Senior was ambushed, Polonius was with him and died in the ambush as well. A doppelganger happened upon the corpses and removed Polonius while taking his guise. It was the doppelganger who brought Senior''s body back to Elsinores. Gertrude was the only one to notice something about him, and she apparently confronted him at night about the discrepancies between him and actual Polonius. Then... the weird part happened. Upon forcing the doppelganger to admit his true nature, Gertrude proceeded to seduce him. Or be seduced by him. The actual memories of this event are hazy, Doppelonius didn''t really like to think back to it for some reason. Gertrude had agreed to keep his secrets in exchange for sharing the bed. Doppelonius had eventually persuaded her to officially marry Claudius, who was bound to ascend as the clan head, in order to keep influence and wealth accessible to them. I don''t know how or why or when, but eventually, Doppelonius had ended up falling in love with Gertrude and continued to have regular trysts with her throughout her marriage to Claudius, while at the same time using a combination of his innate magic, gullibility potions and very well-considered words in order to instill a deep belief in the power of law in Claudius and the rest of clan. Somehow, by constantly reinforcing the notion that regardless of what he really is, he is legally Polonius, Doppelonius had somehow managed to get the entire clan to provide him with magical sustenance, simply from believing he is legally the high-ranked person in the clan."


    Everyone cringes at that. A moment of silence is then broken by Fortinbras smacking his fist into his palm. "Gods damn it, I warned them." - he grouses - "I told them that they''re not going to make it alone, that caution is how clans survive and thrive... So. The doppelganger assumed the guise of Polonius and then proceeded to warp the minds of everyone in the clan in order to sustain itself?"


    "Not everyone." - I hedge - "As far as I was able to interpret what Doppelonius was thinking about the matter, it was quality versus quantity situation. He did not bother instilling any particular loyalty or obedience into retainers because they were already loyal to the clan, to begin with. He just messed with the minds of the clan head and immediate family. Gertrude was fully aware and complicit in doing this and supplemented his effort with dreamwalking, forcing Claudius, Laertes and Hamlet to adapt a, well... Their mindset can be summed up as "if we can twist it to be legal, it is the right and acceptable and enjoyable". Insofar as they, by some leap of logic, were able to explain away their actions as "it is mandated by law", they all experienced pleasure from it and sincerely believed the same must be true for everyone else. Claudius, in particular, was entirely certain that not following the law to the letter was a sign of one''s degeneracy and feeblemindedness. I imagine that attitude didn''t gain him any friends."


    "He made up for it by making plenty of enemies." - Tamaya snarks wryly - "So let us sum it up. Clan Elsinore is?"


    "Extinct, honorable elder." - I confirm for her - "Hamlet and Laertes were shot by Moon Unit in the first duel, Claudius lost his head against me, I chased down and did the same to Polonius right after and Gertrude had died the night before. In the interests of full disclosure, I''m tangentially responsible for her demise as well. She tried to use dreamwalking on me last night. It didn''t go well for her."


    Fortinbras blinks. "Excuse me, but how?" - he asks - "Did you somehow trace the attempt and retaliated with fire magic?"


    "No? I simply permitted her to enter my dream." - I respond.


    "..." They''re all looking at me in confusion.


    "Oh, come on. I am an eldritch abomination from beyond the world''s edge. What do you THINK I dream about?" - I tell them with exasperation - "In this particular case, my dream was based on my memories of Oneiros. A ruined world, rent by the unthinking arrogance of its inhabitants into disparate ruins forever floating in the void of eternal twilight, to wax poetic about it. Or to put it simply - a world that had been destroyed by a magical cataclysm aeons ago. It is populated by horrifying monsters spawned by the combination of immense death and uncontrollable magic. I never even got to talk to Gertrude in the dream, she disconnected from it before I was able to even make it over to the place where she connected. I initially assumed that she woke up in gibbering madness and Claudius or Polonius used fire magic to put her down, but according to their memories, the fire was actually made by Gertrude herself, she probably tried to defend against the dream monsters and started casting in her sleep, setting her bedding on fire. Elsinores did what they could for her when she woke everyone up by her screams, but, well... having most of your body burned is not exactly conducive to one''s well-being and she expired by the dawn without regaining consciousness."


    "But... I have been in your dreams without..." - Moon Unit begins uncertainly. I beak at her gently.


    "Intent of the spell matters, dear." - I explain - "You were driven by curiosity and affection, Gertrude was there to lie and dominate. You got my memories of places I view fondly, she saw the remembrance of desolation."


    "...Well then, that puts us in a bit of a pickle." - Fortinbras muses - "By all accounts, you have conquered the clan... But as a splinter clan of mine, this puts an obligation on me to try and regain what was theirs... And honestly speaking? I very much do NOT want to do this."


    "Are there any provisions that we could use to negate this?" - I inquire - "In all honesty, I really don''t want to kill you either, being cautious is precious beyond measure in treeborn, given how rare it is."


    Dweezil leans to Tamaya and they discuss something in whispers, then pull in Fortinbras to their huddle for a moment. Then Dweezil straightens up - "I think we have an idea."


    Fortinbras continues - "Per tradition, offering up a conquered clan can be considered an alliance overture. I have no ill will towards Zappas and would not be opposed to an alliance. However, this all hinges on your decision, because doing this would deprive you of the two most valuable claims a conqueror can make. The claim of loyalty and the claim of domicile."


    "No offense, but I have no interest in either. I make the claim of knowledge." - I tell him, wiggling in Moon Unit''s arms as she snickers at his gobsmacked expression.


    "...Beg your pardon, knowledge? Not wealth?" - he sputters.


    Dweezil elbows Ahmed. "Show him." - he demands. Ahmed shakes his head and gingerly reaches into the satchel to withdraw something. A box? Oh, they made a box to hold the gem I made for them the day before yesterday. Fortinbras and Tamaya both look in and draw surprised sighs as Ahmet holds the open box to the light.


    "...Marvelous." - Fortinbras whispers reverently - "But what is the significance of this treasure?"


    "Bride price." - Dweezil responds simply - "This gem was created for clan Zappa to satisfy the law of bride price and dowry. Moon Unit''s dowry is comprised exclusively of scrollwork and objects of art and knowledge. Tools of Gods have little need or regard for wealth as they can create valuables on a whim. We had the very same reservations as you just did regarding the conqueror''s claims, and this was our answer. To lady Gillespie, the claim of knowledge is more valuable than the claim of wealth by far."


    Fortinbras chuckles. "I see." - he muses - "I guess even common sense can be quite duplicitous sometimes."

 Impressions 1. Insignificant people

    Pierre wiped his brow with the sleeve, stretching out laboriously. After a whole day of work, he could use some stretching. Next to him, his friend and chaingang fellow Louis stooped over, his hands on his knees. "Phew." - he opined - "<dfn class="tooltip" title="I can see Parsee from here.">Je peux voir Parsee d''ici.</dfn>"


    "You sure can." - the gravelly voice of their overseer, a dwarf by the name of Erkule, shook both of them out of reverie - "Tha''s it fer now, lads. Go gitcher food, ye earned it today."


    "<dfn class="tooltip" title="We`re done...">Avons-nous fini...</dfn>" - Pierre began, then trailed off remembering once again that their overseer didn''t speak a lick of the old tongue - "Uh... We be done this day?"


    Erkule nodded without looking up from his tablet. "Done as of an hour ago, lad. Now go get fed, yer gettin'' the hang of roadlayin'' right fine." - he rumbled back.


    Neither he nor Louis cared to argue. Truth to tell, neither of them was particularly unhappy with their current predicament either. Sure, they were on a chaingang, but Gillespies were nice enough to skip the chain part of it entirely, so long as they put in the labor as demanded. And the labor demanded was not beyond their ability either, come to think of it. As they neared the camp, they nearly bumped into a trio of other convicts. Pew, Ben and Israel used to be pirates... Or so they claimed, anyway. The first two were from Albic isles, and only gods themselves knew what land Israel was born in. Grand claims of high sea adventure beside, all five of them used to be on the same gang of brigands until their boss run into a Kraut spy and foolishly agreed to murder some nobles.


    "Done with the gravel, chums?" - Israel greeted them jovially. Out of the five survivors, he ended up being their... Not leader, per se, but rather the elder they took advice from. Pierre lifted his hat briefly in a greeting, a motion repeated by Louis. Ben returned the favor as the only one behatted.


    "<dfn class="tooltip" title="Yes. It must have been two quintals today.">Oui. ?a devait ¨ºtre deux quintals aujourd''hui.</dfn>" - Louis returned dutifully. Being the burliest in the group by far, Pierre and Louis were charged with hauling gravel and spreading it on the road. Pew and Ben handled the huge steel roller and Israel as the eldest and presumably most responsible was spreading the boiling tar with a long ladle on a pole. Between the five of them, they have managed to pave more than an arpent of the road today, which was their daily norm. Early days were the longest, as they learned to handle the tools, from dawn to dusk to begin with. That much was quite expected from chaingang work. What surprised them however was that learning how to do the job quicker did NOT earn them extra work. The norm was one arpent of road per day, and finishing earlier meant they were allowed to rest longer.


    Getting back to the camp took them about twenty minutes of leisurely walking, exchanging idle talk about their admittedly boring circumstances. The weather was decent, the work was boring and nothing else happened at all. No one followed them, but none of the five even thought about running off. They all saw what happens to runaways. Gillespies were nice enough not to work them to the bone, yes, but they were also utterly ruthless to any sign of defiance. The last chap to try a runner, well. The rest of the laborers all passed by him the very next day, pinned to the tree with dozens of crossbow bolts. And that was the easy option. The guy before him, one that thought to attack the overseer, had been beaten by dwarven hammers until his limbs were nothing but bone crumble, then simply left by the roadside to expire as a lesson to the others on their chaingang. Pierre shuddered briefly as he remembered the pitiful cries of the moron. He learned THAT lesson well. Work honestly and you will be taken care of, rebel and the rest will walk past you and leave you to die in the ditch.


    As they entered the camp, Israel as their elder stopped by the guard. "Third road crew reporting, monsieur." - he proffered - "Israel, Pierre, Ben, Pew and Louis. All workers accounted for and dismissed by foreman Erkule."


    Guard considered the list briefly, then nodded. "Hit the kitchen and retire to the assigned tent." - he ordered, his attention already on the next approaching group. None of them saw any good reason to object.


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Coming up to the kitchen, Pierre couldn''t help but wonder. Normally, nobles could not care less about how convicts were treated like. Gillespies were not normal in the slightest. And one of those examples stood right in front of them. Field kitchen, as they called it, was a contraption of cast iron and heavy timber, wheeled wagon that was a humongous coal-fired stove and cauldron in a single hull. Pierre''s mouth started watering as he lined up behind Israel with a bowl in his hands. He had heard stories about some lords feeding their convicts with nothing but mildewed grain and rotten legumes. Gillespies were different. Food was fresh and varied. Nothing fancy, obviously, just hale and hearty stews. Today was, uh... Thornday? Pierre sniffed the air again. Yes, Thornday, he confirmed to himself as he took in the heady aroma of fish stew. Tuneday and Caturday were meat days, Thornday was fish day. The rest of the week, their stew was either beans or potatoes.


    He thanked <dfn class="tooltip" title="ladler">pelle</dfn> as the man slopped a scoop of stew right into his bowl, complete with a chunk of fish. He said nothing in return, but that was fine. The guy never bothered to talk to any of them. He DID, however, give some care to give the polite ones better portions, and so the entire third road crew quickly got into the habit of thanking the man with the ladle, verbal indifference notwithstanding. Pierre moved along, extending his free hand to receive a bun of rye bread on his way past the breadman. The whole meal procedure was a well-oiled routine for them by now, and everyone knew better than to disrupt anything. Guards made a point of not intruding on hungry convicts expressing their displeasure with the disruptive elements overnight.


    On this day, however, their routine was interrupted. "Third crew?" - a thin man with an eyepatch inquired. Pierre shuddered briefly and wondered what they did wrong. That person was the quartermaster of the camp, maitre Soloturn, and third in command in the whole area, right after the captain of the guard and dwarven gaffer. As Israel cautiously admitted to being the third crew, maitre Soloturn scanned through the list on his own tablet and hummed.


    "...Demerits... Commendations... hm." - apparently done with the list, maitre Soloturn gave them a crisp smile - "Rejoice. By the grace of duke Gillespie, all the crews who worked diligently and faithfully are being rewarded today." He turned around and pulled out a clay jug with a wooden stopper out of the crate. To Pierre''s consideration, it was a quarte jug. Maitre popped the stopper open and swung the jug around slowly, letting them all have a sniff, then corked it back and handed the jug to Israel, who scrambled to receive it.


    "Keep up the good work, and be thankful to duke Gillespie for his mercies. Diligence will be rewarded furthermore." - with those words, maitre Soloturn dismissed them to the tent.


    Pierre maintained his silence until they huddled into the tent where they slept and ate. He knew better than to attract attention to their good fortune, even if it seemed that their crew was far from being the only one rewarded. Once inside, however, they all crowded around Israel as he gingerly pulled the stopper out again.


    "<dfn class="tooltip" title="I haven''t drunk wine since the summer.">Je n''ai pas bu de vin depuis l''¨¦t¨¦.</dfn>" - Louis breathed out heavily as all of them smelled the jug again. Israel corked it back quickly.


    "Food first, lads." - he admonished - "Wine is not going anywhere."


    "Gods above, we sure lucked out with the lord." - Pew grumbled - "Whoever even heard of convicts getting wine?"


    "Have you heard master Soloturn?" - Ben piped in - "Digi... di-li-igent will be rewarded. And that''s us, lads. We''re gonna be rewarded."


    Israel whapped Ben on the back of the head lightly. "We already got rewarded, boyo." - he rumbled - "But yer right. We work well, we get more of this coming up, if I get this right."


    As it turned out, Israel was quite right, and maitre Soloturn had become the most adored sight in the camp in short order. Much to Pierre''s surprise, the reward was not always wine. In fact, Pierre did not even know what the next week''s reward was. He assumed initially that it was a loaf of bread (And wasn''t that a disappointment after wine?) but his mother taught him to never waste food, and so he set about eating this loaf as well. The next thing he knew, he was staring at the empty platter and licking crumbs off his lips. That bread was SWEET! Like honey, except not quite. Later on, he found out that what he ate was called sweetroll and that it was prepared with zukerrohr, something he had never tasted before, but heard much about. This night, he visited the portable shrine in the camp and gave thanks to Lothak for making him a convict in Gillespie duchy. He ate like a lord, slept in a dry and warm tent and had steady work. As far as he was concerned, Pierre had it made.

 Impressions 2. Significant People

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

 Impressions 3. Royal People

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

 Impressions 4. Despicable People

    Panting heavily, Abbas threw the vase against the window, reveling in the clamor of broken glass and pottery. He glared around the room, seeking something else to throw. A chamberpot caught his attention, and he wasted no time grabbing it and heaving it across the room out of the broken window, spilling the contents across the carpet as it flew. His nostrils flared at the stench of piss, and he shouted for a servant... Then snarled and kicked the pillow laying nearby as he recalled the latest indignity visited upon him by his father. The very idea that there were no more servants to attend to his needs was preposterous. So he ordered that man''s face beaten with chains, so what? It was that damn wretch''s fault anyway for having a face reminding him of northern king, let his progeny rot alive. That insignificant should have praised Abbas for giving him a less shameful visage!


    He fumed helplessly, taking his anger out on the bedding as he thought back to the whole mess. Taking away his servants was just the latest in a long string of unwarranted strictures and humiliations. Damn his father for doing this! And damn those northerners for not kneeling in supplication as they rightfully should have! And damn his father again for lacking the courage to defend them! That thrice-cursed White Witch entered the palace like it was her own hovel and Salaadin did nothing to rebuke her! Worse, not only the hostage was taken back, but two of their own were taken in retaliation! And all that his father dared to do was to cover in fear and escape in the carriage as soon as he saw the witch! Abbas pointedly ignored the fact he had outright lost control of his lower body out of terror in the same encounter. It was not to his liking, therefore it did not happen, so there!


    Abbas kicked the ripped pillow across the room, feathers spreading around like a little blizzard. Gods damn it, why could his father not give due respect and appreciation to his efforts? They had the damn princess and everyone knew northerners are ignorant of woman''s proper place and value. They could have forced that king to hand over the witch to properly deal with! If only his father was not such a coward, that very witch could already be the property of Abbas as it should be!


    He threw himself on the ruined bed, howling in dudgeon. UNACCEPTABLE!


    ___


    It took Abbas a better part of the day to calm down enough to be able to walk past a vase without throwing it against the nearest wall. His rooms were utterly trashed in the process, necessitating the current walk. While his father''s nonsensical strictures forbid him from dealing with servants directly, the upkeep of his rooms was still very much up to them. So everything would be fixed or replaced come next morning. In the meanwhile, he would spend a merry night entertaining himself in the best establishments for important people. Like himself, obviously.


    Of course, Abbas would hardly deign to walk the road personally. He was not some commoner, thank you very much. Unfortunately, the prohibition that prompted his fit of rage earlier meant his usual mode of transport was not available either. Which delayed his departure for another hour as he raged and threw things around some more. Surely palanquin did not count as servants, right? So what if it was carried by men, obviously they should have counted as part of palanquin, right? In the end, Abbas had to settle for riding a horse. Which, much to his annoyance, he was not particularly good at. Perhaps he could have been better at it if he did not insist on picking the biggest and fiercest looking stallion for his mount, but that consideration was wholly beyond emir''s mind. As far as he was concerned, he was entitled to best horse the stables had, period, so any discomfort surely was the fault of the horse itself and stablehands being inept at training it properly.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    It never dawned on Abbas that riding a horse that had no respect for him was... not the safest idea. Thankfully for him, the road was not crowded and his dubious riding skills were not overly taxed on his trek towards the bathhouse. Once there, he could expect the proper respect and deferential treatment again, of course. So what if his father was being petty at the moment? He''d just leave the old man to stew in his own discontent and go out, where people knew better than make their treatment of him lacking in any manner whatsoever. They''d better, heh. Abbas snorted. Perhaps he should find a fault with bathhouse proprietor, just to remind everyone the price of slacking off in his august presence. Orrr, even better idea - find fault with one of the pleasure women there. His breath quickened as he vividly imagined womanly shrieks under the lash. Abbas licked his lips absentmindedly. Yeah. That was a good idea. Those commoners could not be reminded too often to fear him, after all. Slackjawed imbeciles, the very notion of not being fearful of Abbas was UNACCEPTABLE!


    ___


    "He... what?!" - Abbas was flabbergasted and terrified at the same time. What was just whispered to him was abominable to the highest degree. He was already sore with his father''s shortcomings, but this? Oh, that was the feather to break the camel''s back, so to speak. The men across the table from him dipped their heads deferentially. Farouq ibn Hafiz and Yusuf ibn Muhammad were up and coming firstborn of beys close to the court, closest supporters of Sultan really. Their fathers served his father, and they would serve him. In fact, they were already serving him just now. No doubt Salaadin did not intend for Abbas to know this much for now. No, certainly not. To think his father''s cowardice extended that far.


    "That''s what we were able to find out so far, most glorious emir." - Yusuf simpered - "Nazrudeen al-Hoja had been summoned by his eminence sultan himself, and given vast instructions in the northern tongue. There is no doubt that he was tasked to parley with the barbarous northerners."


    Abbas rubbed his face, his earlier plans to find a fault with some commoner woman disappearing amidst the sickening worry. He suddenly felt himself in no mood to enjoy his power over the little people. The only reason why his father would discuss things with that dotard vizier without involving Abbas himself would be a decision to give in. To placate the White Witch with gifts and concessions. Rank cowardice and failure, that''s what it was! To think, his father sagged so low as to kowtow to a damn WOMAN! Gods and their mercy, at this rate Salaadin would find himself being ordered around by his own harem! UNACCEPTABLE!


    ___


    Having lost his yen for relaxation, Abbas returned to the palace early. A fact he was reminded of when he saw his rooms still being in quite ravaged condition. To think that servants were so lazy as to not even start on them yet. UNACCEPTABLE!


    <h5>UNACCEPTABLE!</h5>


    <h4>UUUUNAAAACCEEEEEPTAAAAABLEEEEEEEE!</h4>

 Impressions 5. Mysterious People

    - ...Well now. As much as I loathe the necessity, I do actually need to take your report. Things are getting a little urgent.


    - MM, sure, sure... Just, ah... One moment while I mmm... Oh quit it, I can hardly think of serious things if you keep distracting me like that!


    - But it''s ever so fun. How could I possibly resist?


    - Flatterer... Mm, just keep it slow for now, alright? So... HM. What to begin with?


    - Well that''s easy. Tell me a little story about Champagne court.


    - Those folks, mm? Well, they''ve been busy. That little prodigy you keep mentioning is literally burying them under an avalanche of new and exciting. Not just by herself, either. To be frank here, we keep hearing odd things about all of it. On one hand, we are quite certain the engagement with the third prince was dissolved because she wanted it gone. On the other, she immediately turned around and dragged the third prince into a joint production effort. Speaking of which, would you kindly arrange for a bit of extra funds?


    - Oho? Didn''t we already buy a whole gross of spyglasses? I''ll grant that they''re quite useful for certain kinds of job, but... Aaah, I see, something else they''re offering that caught your eye?


    - <dfn class="tooltip" title="Aunt">Mume</dfn> Magdalene and her girls were quite vocal about graduated glasses...


    - Do tell?


    - Oh, yet another of those "so simple yet so useful" little things. Remember the measuring cups? Well, imagine the same cup made out of glass. And having a stack of marks on the side. Fill it up to the first mark, that''s onse, fill up to second, that''s two, fill up to third, that''s posson. Or a bigger jar that fits a pinte with posson marks. Or a fine vial that lets you measure out quarters of onse...


    - I see, I see... And that''s hardly the only thing they make for alchemists, I wager?


    - Dokter Netsboym had been making noises about "Royal medicos kit", whichever that is. According to girls over at the guild, a fine and extensive collection of instrumentarium for a medical scholar. A little pricy, but I do believe we should get at least one, see what new things are inside. Maybe take some notes and pass them to our own artisans for, ahem... inspiration?


    - Yes, that sounds reasonable enough. I''ll see what can be done about extra funds later... For now, continue. So the new keeps coming?


    - Just so, yes. NN, a little lower... Yessss... Anyway, the latest buzz among the knights is some kind of new weapon. They''re being cagy about it, so we don''t know much yet. Here''s what I''m confident at. One, it''s something similar in use to bow. Point and shoot. Two, it requires only one hand to aim and shoot, much like a small crossbow. Three, it''s something alchemical in nature. Finally, fourth, it can punch a hole clean through the solid steel helmet, front and back. Not sure from what distance, though.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    - Wait wait wait wait. Helmet? Not chainmail? Solid cap?


    - Yeah, we actually have the helmet in question. Oh, this is just a conjecture, but we believe that this weapon was what Jungfrau Gillespie used to fend off the assassin on Year''s Ending celebrations. If so, then we additionally know that using it produces a loud sound reminiscent of a thunderclap and that using it comes with fire and smoke. We also strongly suspect the projectiles are small round pebbles of the kind you''d see used in a sling.


    - So our standing recommendation should be...


    - Don''t piss off any Gillespies or Cullens if they can see you. Chances are, if they can see you, they can make a hole in you at their convenience, and neither amulets nor armor would mean much.


    - Scheisse, Old Man is going to be a problem there, won''t he?


    - Yes, indeed. He is supremely capable in the art of pissing powerful people off, unfortunately. On the plus side, after getting killed two times in a row, even he has a measure of healthy caution insofar as Jungfrau Gillespie is concerned. She is worryingly and remarkably unconcerned about erasing inconvenient people out of existence.


    - Are your gals and pals safe?


    - Oh, I have explicitly ordered all of them not to be inconvenient. We will have much need of them later on, when Old Man inevitably shits in the soup once again.


    - Now, now, it''s not like you to be so weary.


    - Sorry. It''s just... he used to be someone we all looked up to. A hero. A person to build yourself after. To see this... mockery of him resurrected over and over and OVER again... And to realize that we did not see how incapable this, this... this facsimile of a person truly is... Ugh.


    - To be completely fair, I suspect the chief problem here is simply in the fact that being killed twice over in a short row gave Old Man pretty much no time at all to grasp all the new things that occurred in the last year. The pace is breakneck for the living, let alone revenants like him.


    - True enough. I''ve certainly been wondering if I''m actually awake a time or three.


    - Alright. So we know Jungfrau Gillespie is the real deal. How does she do that, do we know that much? God-blessed? Stable of scholars? Lucked out with her defilement target?


    - Everything, by the looks of it. Champagne Temple is confident she''s gods'' chosen one. Kassandra confirms she is very thoroughly defiled. Plenty of scholars around her, both as lovers and as employees.


    - Lemand Lemarchand, you mean?... What can you tell me about that consumption treatment? Something worthwhile or?


    - Oh, that one is a real deal alright. Reliably cures consumption in any stage, so long as you stick to instructions and don''t screw up.


    - Oho? I suppose I should not be surprised. How many people are known to be already cured?


    - We do believe at least two dosen, partially in Parsee, partially in Grenwille. Soon to be more, sir Pasteur gave his unrestricted endorsement for the treatment last week.


    - Can we get our hands on a detailed enough description of procedure to reproduce?


    - Sure, so long as you sign off on obtaining license.


    - ...And they will give license to someone from Kraut?


    - On standard terms, yes. I have already made inquiries. His highness Alphonse had already signed off on royal endorsement of this license within Kraut.


    - Ahh. So it''s just a matter of getting herr Netsboym through the licensing office, then? Good, good.


    - ...And now I have a premonition that Old Man will try to steal it.


    - Why would he? It''s basically given out to us as it is.


    - Because he would never be able to believe there is no hidden cost or trap with what was proffered to us voluntarily.


    - ...Scheisse.

 Chapter 121. Homewards, Estate Edition

    I am pleasantly surprised. After the absolute fustercluck that sorting Elsinores out turned out to be, Fortinbras is a refreshingly reasonable person to deal with. He is considerably older than Dweezil but does not seem to be considering his age to be a reason for extra considerations, so far. While technically I can not abstain from the deal, neither of them insisted I take on more than being the silent threat to anyone disagreeing with their decisions. Fortinbras will be adsorbing the remainder of Elsinore retainers into his own clan, and the glade they used to own will be treated as a secondary it used to be before the split. Fortinbras and Tamaya are taken on a tour to show off new treehomes that Zappas are going to be offering from now on on a limited basis, and Fortinbras immediately works out several treestruction projects he wants to have in his glades. Which is the point where they leave Tamaya with Diva and abscond to do whatever prosperous elves do in the evening. I presume they''re gonna drink. Tamaya for some reason is nigh-obsessed with the treehomes and with Diva''s willing and wanton aid is deep in designing a very customized tree for her own personal domicile.


    I... just have to ask. "Why such an interest?" - I quip lazily, as I glance at the plans Diva and Tamaya are frantically altering.


    Tamaya jerks up and... kinda falters before mustering her resolve. Wonder what''s up with that. "You know that treeborn have a connection to the woods, don''t you?" - she then begins slowly, brightening up as I nod - "Well, in some of us, like me, this connection is especially strong. I am, by the very nature of it, bound to live on a tree, lest I lose my mind in short order. And thus, living within a tree, one that is purposely grown to be my domicile? It appeals to me grandly."


    "Ah." - well, that kinda explains it. So I point out to her and Diva how several advanced options could actually integrate with each other. I am then treated to a surreal image of an elven matron skipping around excitedly within the illusory outline of the room, poking at things. Well, that should make up for the nerve-wracking conditions of the last few days, I hope.


    ___


    "Moon, dear. Darling. The light of my life. I am SO VERY DONE with your homeland right now like you wouldn''t believe." - I announce firmly.


    Much to her credit, Moon Unit simply giggles at my exasperation. "What is wrong, dear." - she offers jovially.


    "I think I just gave the majority of Counsel the idea I''m about to... I don''t even know what." - I grumble, as I flop down on the couch and sulk.


    Lily-Anne seizes the moment and clambers on my lap, making me chuckle. "Can''t be worse than eating heads." - she quips cheekily.


    I sigh. "Ok, so... I found out that I can actually sing along to soul aria." - I offer somberly - "I also learned I probably should not. Oh, I also don''t need the circle any longer, I''ve got it downpat well enough to just trigger the effect anywhere at will. So... I can have theme music or something if I want to..."


    "What did you sing, though?" - Moon Unit is curious - "I know you''re not really musically inclined, dear, but surely it wasn''t that bad, now was it?"


    "The musical part was fine, I think." - I explain - "It''s the lyrics..."


    Seeing that they still don''t seem to get it, I give up and just reprise refrain for them - "Turn off your conscience, leave the world outside. Nothing at all can ever make you feel that anything''s so real so you just... disconnect."


    Aaand I get four synchronous shudders in response.


    "...Please, oh please tell me you are NOT really feeling that." - Moon Unit proffers then tremulously. What''s wrong?


    "Um... What?" - I blink at them.


    Lily-Anne leans closer and bops me on the forehead. "When you sing that, you feel... OTHER." - she says, hitching up and putting both hands on her mouth as a very odd sound slips out. Oh, wow, slipping into conceptual? Sounds serious.


    "Other as in... how?" - I inquire. I seem to be giving out vibes I don''t perceive myself and that might be a problem. I''m an eldritch abomination, and being subconsciously unsetting is our bread and butter. And kinda a problem for masquerading as a not-so-normal human, so...


    "It feels like... like..." - Roxy begins and trails off thoughtfully - "...like we sort of feel the glimpse of not-you that you could possibly turn into if you turned off your conscience. Like something that wears your face... but looks at me like I''m... a dinner."


    "And... do I give that kind of impression often?" - I venture.


    "If I may, mistress?" - Bridgit interjects - "I believe I feel the same as Roxolane, but she picked an unfortunate word to describe it. Perhaps replacing dinner with a spool of thread or a plank of lumber would be better. It feels like you consider the person before you and gauge if they''d be best used nailed to the wall or stitching up the blankets... And yes, sometimes you do look at people like that. When you talk to people in your trading house, mostly. It gets better when you are talking to someone you know well, but random servant? Yes, well..."


    "So... I creep random underlings out?" - I muse and Bridgit stammers for a moment before coming up with - "Maybe not exactly quite as strong as precisely creeping but well a little bit somewhat a little in part... yes."


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    She yelps as I tentacle her close and pull on the lap next to Lily-Anne. "Mercy mistress!" - she cries, giggling as I tease her with a flurry of kisses. Lily-Anne leans in for her own share, and before long, the annoyances of ill-considered song choices are forgotten. I have four wives to kiss and pamper, I have no time to brood.


    ___


    We are, thankfully, quite done with Evergreens. I''ve obviously seeded the house well enough to make it trivial for me or Bridgit to bamf back there should we ever need something around here. After one last night at the house in question, we board the ship and depart amid much fanfare. Literal fanfare, even. Clans I care about are in very good standing right now, there were some discussions about possible further trade deals once they get used to the whole tree industry I dumped on their heads. If it goes like I plan (and I will put a lot of pressure on any... obstacles) then Evergreens is going to transform into an exporter of natural luxuries and exotic arts. I MIGHT have clued Fortinbras and Dweezil in one interesting tidbit - if something is forbidden, it is much more costly. So the plan is (among incredulous headshaking) that official exports would be "lesser" wares like furniture and basic scrolls... And there will be a "hidden smuggling ring" carefully supervised by clan leadership that would export more luxurious items under the guise of "forbidden elven artifacts". Which are artisanal items like artistic scrollwork, simple enchantments themed to forest and elves and other assorted oddjobs flim-flam that would appeal to collectors and hoarders as "unique elven treasures".


    The funniest outcome of this was when Dweezil announced complete amnesty to any actual smuggler who wants to sign up within his clan. Turns out he had a bunch. Who knew another bunch. Then Fortinbras made the same announcement... And well. The end outcome is, that apparently minor clan Garret is basically comprised out of such smugglers and has ties with pretty much all other clan petty people. So they''re now included into the alliance and will be the official "unofficial" face of the elven smuggling. On my end, I have done some... creative executive decisions that basically mean I pay the tax on "smuggled" items in exchange for being the backer and reseller of them across the Champagne. Which, in TURN, makes the entire organization I "inherited" from Konistan heave a collective sigh of relief. Apparently, they are SO used to something shady going on that being "scrupulously clear" was causing some paranoia incidents. So now that they are "unofficially" in the big smuggling business again (which, again, I pay taxes to Abe on, something he is endlessly bemused about), there is a palpable sense of "oh gods finally, the period of loyalty testing was terrifying" across the board.


    Whisperers with an inclination for that sort of work are partially merged into Garrets, partially dispersed among the allied clans where Garrets themselves lack the manpower. I have to note that Fourth (the name of the current clan head of Garrets, apparently they just take their sequential number as a name when they take the headship) is one sneaky crafty cunning bastard I did not expect to encounter among elves, and his expertise in making things look "inconspicuously almost legal" is a gift par excellence. Moreso, he is not unfamiliar with the scheme I proposed, though according to him, this is way bigger than anything they managed in the past, let alone something crown-approved. The most amusing part of it all, however? The whole "elves are ageless teenagers" thing strikes AGAIN. Turns out that tailoring the whole thing as an "underground illegal clandestine operation" mightily appeals to the sensibilities of participants. Up to and including to a point where they willingly and eagerly prescribe to discipline and rules if it means they''re "on the in", so to speak. I need to keep an eye on this. Lots of eyes, actually. Because I have this annoying feeling I have just kickstarted the elven mafia to span millennia. Still, having them run "barely legal" stuff and exchange passwords is better than rampant literal backstabbing that was their traditional occupation.


    ___


    "...I didn''t think about how short of a trip this would be." - I grouse. I was all set on molesting my wives, dammit. Well, molesting insofar as it is even possible with their full connivance, that is. Reconfirming mile-high club membership and all that. But the grand total of the distance between Evergreens and Gillespie estates was covered in less than three hours. No, I get it, travel by air is stupidly quick by contemporary sensibilities, but... Just... Argh. Throwing an orgy in the estate is just going to be weird and awkward and arglbargl. And... I probably need to talk to Sally and Louise sooner then later, before they decide that if Bridgit warms my bed, they should do so as well. Sometimes people just... yeah. Not that I''m not prone to jumping to conclusions myself at times, of course. All the more reason to watch out for those kinds of misunderstandings piling up.


    At least I got some kisses out of the trip, darn it. And some cuddling. And... yeah, well. Even with my considerably better capacity for multitasking, entertaining four girls at once is not a quick process. In no small part because no one is in any kind of hurry to get it over with, while I''m at it. So, begrudgingly, I remove hands, fingers, tentacles and other assorted appendages from impolite places and... I was going somewhere with this, darn it! I''ve got lewd on my mind and it interferes with my inner narration. The bane of having a harem - lewds come to mind easy and often and in variety. ...Especially in my case. Far it be from me to complain, but I simply have to make a note out of the fact all four of my wives seem to be in possession of eminently healthy libido and are not in any way hesitant about exercising it. Perhaps I should... Eh. Not all at once. I should do more one-on-one dates with them all and figure out more about their individual fetishes. To be unabashedly corny - ahegao is justice.


    ___


    There is some kind of hubbub going on in the estate. I''m still on the glissade, and I can see the activity from all the way up there. Dad''s going out for some reason? With gendarmes, to boot? What''s up? Just as I am about to start finding things out, my pocket rings. Dad''s on copperphone, huh.


    "Yeah?" - I mutter into it, as I keep the descent steady.


    "Alyssa? How soon can you be at the estate?" - dad sounds urgent. What''s going on?


    "In... Ten minutes, give or take, why? What''s happening?" - I ask him, at the same time arming the enchantments on the zeppelin. I haven''t had the reason yet to fire fear arrays in anger, come to think of it.


    "Wha?" - aaaand he sounds entirely befuddled. Then he looks up and I hear the smack of facepalm through the receiver. "Talk about serendipitous. How many more men your airship can carry?" - he asks.


    "I believe we can take a dozen gendarmes if they all agree to sit next to each other. What kind of problem are we facing?" - I try to steer him to clarification.


    "I do not actually know. We''ve received a pigeon from la Vallieres, but all the note says is that they are under attack and need assistance. I doubt it''s a matter of armies, given they are essentially in the heartlands, so the most likely issue is a monster or a mage." - he grumbles - "I''m going to handpick some men and wait for you to land. You should probably consider leaving your wives at the estate in safety, as well."


    "Let me ask them." - I offer - "See you soon."

 Chapter 122. Delusion and Denial

    In the end, it turns out that my wives are unwilling to disembark at the estate. Their reasons are varied and many, but Lily-Anne had the most impactful of them, and it sounded like "a few more men at arms will not do much, but someone to talk you down from wanton slaughter just might". Or, to sum it up, they pointed out that lack of firepower is not my problem. The lack of restraint, on other hand... Dad just facepalmed when it was pointed out to him. In the end, we are taking along the dozen of gendarmes, all of them young hale men with swords and muskets. Ostensibly speaking, they also have ranseurs, but there was just no good way to bring the spears into the cabin, so they''re just tied in a bundle outside on the cabin siding. I''m surprised father bothered training musketeers, he knows better than anyone that dwarves are... oooh. Oh. Crafty of you, dad.


    "So I see dwarves finally licked the breechloading design?" - I quip casually.


    "Indeed. As of last week. Some of the gentlemen here were instrumental in testing out the prototypes, and all of them trained with long firearms." - Gerard confirms curtly - "Between their arms and our magic, we should give quite a pause to just about anything short of a dragon."


    "Good to hear, because we''re going to arrive in twenty minutes." - I agree. Some of the men doubletake at that.


    "...That''s... quick." - father offers after a bit of a pause.


    "Well, you did say it''s an emergency, so we''re running flank speed. Forty leagues per hour." - I tell him. Doubletakes increase, followed by curious rubbernecking towards the windows.


    "Your propensity for breakneck speeds is to our advantage today." - he agrees - "Hopefully, we''ll be there before anything unfortunate occurs."


    A few minutes pass in silence. I am rather curious as to what the fuck is happening with the la Vallieres, and therefore I am in the nose compartment using a spyglass. Dad''s right next to me with his own looking glass at hand. No smoke. Which is already a good sign. Whatever happened, no one put the estate to the torch, as it were. Now that we''re getting closer, it does seem pretty fine in general. At least, I can''t see any obvious ruination or abundant corpses or anything else... Hrm, except for that guy hacking at the front gates with an axe, that is. Curious. One would think a couple men with pointy sticks would be able to dissuade Lumberjack McUndesired to get a move on... So either he''s way the fuck good with an axe to fend off a couple of spearmen at the same time, or there''s something wonky going on. Let''s see if I can sort things out remotely. If this guy is a problem, let''s see how he deals with a sudden panic attack.


    ...Aaand apparently he just pushes through... Or, wait, no. The initial burst had the effect, I could see him flinching. But then he did something and now the effect is just sort of bouncing off him instead of affecting his mind. Curious. Guy has some kind of inborn talent for nulling magic? That''s pretty rare. Someone successfully chimerized a little bit of dragon into their bloodline, perhaps? That would explain la Vallieres asking for help, I suppose. Well then. Since the gates have to remain closed, if this guy is the problem, I''ll just hover over the inner yard and drop the ladder. It seems that the guy did not fail to notice our presence, given his gogging. I have to hand it to him, however, he is remarkably quick to return to his breaking in. Tenacious bastard... Who knows the word zeppelin... Curiouser and curiouser. I have been using airship near-exclusively, and there is no historical context in this world for the word "zeppelin". So. Transmigrator? Jumper? Planeswalker? Hell if I know, but he''s blatantly not local, now that I think about it.


    On one hand, someone else who has a clue would be a good addition. On the other, well... La Vallieres are allies and this guy is being blatantly hostile towards them right now. Might be tricky defusing this. While I mull this over, gendarmes deploy. Not bad, not bad. They could use more training with aerial disembarking, obviously, but lacking practice or not, they''re all physically robust young men. Maybe I should build a zeppelin for father to command. And give him some ideas about quick reaction force. That would bolster our reputation and security as a domain... Food for thought.


    On the ground, dad''s exchanging pleasantries with the lord and lady la Valliere. I vaguely remember the anime they seem to be cribbed from, but my expectations do not pan out, just like with Louise. Lady la Valliere appears to be an artist, of all things, I can smell oil paints on her. I guess this is whom Louise had picked her artistic inclinations from. Speaking of whom, she is also present... and fidgeting a lot. Her older sisters are fine... though again, subverting my expectations. Eldest is... kiiinda plump. Not quite into the "fat" category, but she is definitely well-rounded. And smiles more often than not. The one that was supposed to be sickly is actually... hrm. Either she''s a fitness nut or aspires to be a knight, which is odd for a woman but not entirely unheard of. Scratch that, definitely aspires to be a fencer, I can see calluses on her fingers from over here.


    "Greetings, everyone." - I proffer as I walk up next to dad. I was about to say "good day" when I realized it would be inappropriate as a greeting, given the situation outside.


    "Ah, salutations, maiden Gillespie." - lord la Valliere offers. What''s his name?... Dammit, I can''t remember. Nevermind, not that important. He coughs awkwardly after a pause and continues - "As you could probably see from above, we are in a bit of a quandary here. To preempt the obvious questions, that fellow outside seems to be capable of some strange magic that makes him utterly impervious to any harm. Thankfully, he is an ordinary man otherwise. I am at a loss to explain his hostility, however, as to the best of my knowledge, we have never met before, and I could not think of any recent action I have undertaken that could be construed as a slight towards anyone in particular."


    "He is not interested in talking, is he?" - I quip. It can''t hurt to doublecheck, a lot of bad shit went down due to simple misunderstandings.


    Viscount frowns. "Oh, he is." - he grits out angrily - "It''s just that he refuses to talk until we hand Louise over. Which, obviously, is not an option. Before you ask - we''ve gone over the last year with Louise already, and we''re certain this fellow had never approached her before, so I am at a loss as to why this is his demand. He had been taking an axe to our gates after our refusal and all that we were able to get out of him is that he is, as he puts it, inevitable, and the sooner we bow to that, the better for us. The gall of that bastard!"


    "Inevitable, huh?" - I retort - "You know, I think I''ll go and chat with the fellow. Point out to him that whatever his durability is, he''s still groundbound. Where''s his vaunted inevitability would be if I just airlift all of you to Parsee?"


    Viscount brightens up and chuckles. "Oh my yes." - he chortles - "By all means, go ahead. I do look forward to seeing his reaction. Inevitable, hah. Impotent is more like it."


    Well, that''s.. wait. "Before that, though... Did that fellow injure anyone already? He seems to be remarkably, ugh, determined." - I quip.


    "Regrettably, yes. A couple of our guards had been manhandled roughly, though thankfully their comrades were able to pull them away before that ruffian did something... unfortunate." - lady la Valliere pipes in - "Do not worry about that, however, my modest skills with healing magic proved to be quite sufficient for that."


    Thus reassured, I jump over the gates, drawing a number of surprised and appreciative gasps in the process. Apparently, gendarmes are impressed.


    "Hey, Thanos. Let''s have a chat." - I call out confidently, as I conjure a table and two chairs. I want him to assume I''m flippant and cocksure, people tend to say more when they assume their opponent is in over their head.


    He jerks. Wonder why... Oh. Oh fuck. I just let him know in no uncertain terms I''m also not from here. GG, Alyssa, give your trumps out before the game, now won''t you? Guy sets the axe down in the meanwhile. Very... curious. He should have been winded from swinging that big thing around for at least two hours. It is just as well that he has no fucking concept of how to handle the axe, he could have broken through the gate a dozen times already if he had a clue. As it stands, the gates are pockmarked with slashes all over, but being sturdy oak braced by iron bands, they still stand intact. Dumbass had been trying to strike between the bands of iron, ignorant of the fact that the other side has crisscross of them.


    "You''re like me, aren''t you?" - he grumbles - "Thanos, hardy-har-har. Well, I was here first, so bugger off. This is my isekai, my adventure, my fucking destiny. Do not interfere, I don''t give a damn! And stop introducing goddamn anachronisms, for crying out loud! It''s too early for dirigibles."


    "And... how exactly do you know you were here first, pray tell? It''s not like I had dirigible in my pocket coming to this world, yanno." - I riposte, getting comfortable on the chair - "You have some fucking gall, noob, coming into MY isekai and stirring shit up."


    He sputters, whatever line he had coming up next bungled up and forgotten. This fellow doesn''t seem to be particularly strong with logic if this simple rebuttal makes him confused. ...On one hand, it''s likely I''d be able to talk rings about this fellow. Which is good. On the other, he might prove himself to be too stupid to fool. And would you look at it, he finally has something to say. It wasn''t even five minutes, wow.


    "Whatever! It does not matter, don''t interfere!" - he finally comes up with - "I don''t care if you''re like me, I will fight back if you push it."


    "Maybe you should start with introductions, you know. And at least some outline of what is that you expect me not to interfere with." - I point out - "To set an example, I am Alyssa Gillespie. I own a bunch of stuff here and there and generally have a lot of say in this kingdom. You, on the other hand, are a complete rando noname. And I mean it, I haven''t heard about you at all, meaning you''re either the noobest noob or have been so lame so far no one remembers you. So which one it is?"


    He grimaces in my direction. Was that supposed to be a fearsome expression? He just looks constipated. The impression exacerbates when he pokes himself in the chest with a finger and then points at me.


    "I''m going to use simple words." - he says, while doing the aforementioned gesturing - "Me, god mode, you, squishy. Fuck off."


    "It''s so cute of you to think you''re the only one who got cheats." - I dismiss him airily - "If you think you''re so tough, come on at me, bro. I''ll toss you into orbit, and I mean that literally."


    That gives him a pause. I wonder why. Did he seriously presume no one but him has access to unusual abilities? But, if my prior experiences with such people are of any indication, he is going to dismiss what I just said as a bravado if I don''t do something to confirm it. These types don''t listen unless you hurt them first. Of course, with his ability to block off attacks, I''m going to have to be a little creative about it. With that in mind, I make a show out of using telekinesis to grab a flower from a meadow over yonder, and "use it" to cave the ground beneath the idiot opposite me, dropping him waist-deep into the ground.


    "It''s not like I have to hurt you directly, you know?" - I chirp at him - "Keep mouthing off like a caveman and I''mma fucking bury you alive, y''dig? Sure you can dig yourself out, but it''s gonna take a while with your bare hands. Imagine - I''mma drop you into the ground, take my time airlifting everyone here to Parsee and just come back every other week to rebury you deeper. Maybe get some laborers over eventually to demolish the structures here and erect a hedge maze instead. We''ll call you Minotaur and invent some legends about keeping you contained. How long do you reckon you''ll last before you simply go nuts from being repeatedly buried?"


    "You''re psycho!" - he yelps, clambering out of the hole hastily - "What the fuck is wrong with you? This is fucking murder you''re threatening me with!"


    "Says the guy recreating a scene from Shining." - I deadpan at him - "You are breaking down a gate leading into a house of my allies with an axe and refusing to explain yourself. Why should I not treat you as an ax-crazy serial killer in the making?"


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ...I think I''m getting through his thick skull a little. At the very least, he is capable of considering how his outward appearance could dictate his treatment.


    "...Goddamnit, fine!" - he yells out loudly, then hushes up, looking around himself in... stupidly shifty manner. Honestly, he could not be more conspicuous if he tried. "Look. I guess you didn''t watch the series to the end, or you wouldn''t be bothering me." - he then proceeds in a harsh whisper - "Louise is the only one who can save Halkeginia from catastrophe and they just would not fucking listen! She needs to come with me to do what needs to be done! Don''t spread this around, the church are all utter bastards and no one else wants to believe."


    I... facepalm. "This is not Halkeginia and you''re not a familiar of Zero, dumbass." - I then explain slowly - "You are in the kingdom of Champagne, which in terms of FoZ setting would correspond to Gallia AND Tristania AND Romalia. As one kingdom, yes. The analog of Germania is Kraut, which is to the east, not to the north, and separated by a mountain range. Albion corresponds to Albic isles, which are the dominion UNDER Champagne. Furthermore, and most importantly, people are not limited to one element per mage. You just saw me doing earth magic, now watch this."


    I ignite a sizeable plume of fire on top of my palm to underscore the point, then extinguish it with a microblizzard, which is water and air in tandem. One would think this is sufficient proof he is sorely mistaken and any name coincidence is in fact just that.


    "I know, fuck! The timeline is all tipsy-turvy! I mean, I''m a fucking Brimir, I''m not supposed to even meet Louise!" - he shouts back, cutting himself off when he realizes this is easily audible beyond the gate. He looks around, then ambles closer and takes the chair, leaning on the table intently. "Look. Just... help me, if you insist on butting in. This world is about to go boom and they refuse to even consider working against it." - he continues his whispering - "No one wants to listen so I just have to do things my own way. But I need other void mages to do that, and the only one I know about is Louise!... Wait, wait a moment, if this place is Gallia then the king is another!"


    "The king of Champagne is his majesty Abraham Cullen." - I inform him patiently - "He is not Joseph, he was never named Joseph, he did not usurp the throne from his relatives, he does not have a trusted aide named Sheffield and he is not a sadistic nutcase. I happen to know him personally, having been engaged to marry into the royal family, and I can assure you, he is not what you''re looking for."


    This does not go over well, given that fellow in question descends into glum muttering. Bother.


    "Why do you even think you are Brimir?" - I poke at him - "He was not exactly known for invulnerability."


    "I know who I am, thank you very much." - he snipes back - "My name is Brimir le Reimir Nidavellir and I have the power of denial."


    I... struggle very hard not to snort at that admission. He is in denial, alright.


    "Denial of what, exactly?" - I keep poking at him - "And how do you figure it''s void magic?"


    He looks at me with what presumably is an exasperated expression. "I just know, OK?" - he bites off - "And I can deny anything I want to. I stumble my toe? I deny the pain and it does not happen. I swing axe all day long? I deny the tiredness and it does not happen. Someone tries to stab me? I deny the wound and it does not happen. Get it? Any harm that comes to me, I can just deny. I can''t be wounded, can''t be poisoned, can''t be confounded and I can''t be obliviated either!"


    "Oh, I''m sorry, we''re in Hogwarts now?" - I quip sarcastically - "Don''t go there. Seriously, just don''t. You can''t afford THAT lawsuit, let me assure you."


    He just stares at me in confusion. Then waves his hand dismissively - "You know what I mean. Can''t have my mind messed with."


    "Sure you can." - I needle him - "Maybe not by magical means, but no cheat abilities would save you from regular old lies or gaslighting. Who told you you''re Brimir? Who said this is Halkeginia?"


    "...I know where you''re going with this." - he suddenly changes tack - "Nothing happening, buster. I''m the hero of the story, and I''m keeping it this way. Since you''re in the know, you can be my sidekick, but forget about horning in on the main role. That''s for me."


    ...I''m very much not alright with this. The guy is seriously delusional, and his denial powers, as he puts it, are a considerable issue for most people. He seems to have had preemptively denied any kind of being tired, wounded or poisoned. But that last one has to be selective, or he... wait, no, he could have just denied getting hungry. Fuck. I... wait, wait a second. That sounds like an opportunity. I activate a version of me in Paris, quickly throw together a pizza and teleport it inside of myself in situ. Then just surreptitiously pull it out from under the table, set it down, and start nomming on it.


    "...Oh you are a cruel cruel bitch." - he tells me, swallowing saliva right after. A bit overly familiar, pal? I''m not your friend. But fine, I will tolerate the breach of etiquette for a moment.


    "I''d offer you a slice, but I''m pretty sure you denied getting hungry first thing off, no?" - I tease him. With any luck, his skill with denial ability is crude and he will turn the whole food denial thing off entirely.


    "...Fuck, I knew I was forgetting something!" - he grumbles, taking a slice. What? He didn''t think to turn hunger off? Good grief. Munchkinry is not strong with this one.


    "Let''s take five and have a snack, alright?" - I suggest - "I have a gist of what you''re on about now, but I''m sure there''s an easier way to get what you want. For example, there is no reason to go after la Vallieres with an axe, you''ll just scare them like this. Peace out. Let''s find out WHERE Louise is needed before grabbing her, you know? I understand that you''ve been expecting adventures, but it''s not going to start well if your first companion is abducted at axepoint. Not to mention, she is a timid girl and would just cry and beg to be set free all the time."


    He guffaws. "Louise, timid? Did you even watch the anime!?" - he demands incredulously.


    "I live here, and I know her personally." - I explain patiently - "She is a timid girl who does not like crowds. Her hobby is painting. She does not have a temper nor does she have any specific inclination towards explosions. Moreso, she is reasonably apt with water magic, which she uses to keep her paints at optimal viscosity. I''ve seen her painting many times in the Academy, she could not be further from show''s Louise if she tried."


    Dude doubletakes. "You''re having me on!" - he then blusters through a mouthful of pizza. Gods damn it, pal, say it, don''t spray it!


    "First rule of lying - do not tell a lie that is easily verified." - I riposte - "What would I gain out of giving an obvious fib? Think about it. There are considerable divergences between what you expect to find and what actually is. Why wouldn''t Louise be entirely different either?"


    "She''s supposed to be a void mage, so she can''t be good with water magic. You''re just having me on, though I don''t get why. I''ve already told you I''m not giving up on being the hero." - the guy insists - "Oh, I get it! You want to set me up! I''m onto you, buster!"


    "So are you Brimir or Saito?" - I demand, as I compress a cubic meter of nitrogen and transform it into a kilogram of assorted cookies, then teleport the cookies in the same way, pulling them out as soon as pizza is over. A pot of real tea comes up next, having been teleported from Parsee. This fucker needs to go. He is going to insist on his delusions, and his talent makes his insistence a bit of an issue because he really can ignore a whole lot of methods typically employed to detain someone. I''m not sure how far his denial can reach. Like, can he deny being caught by lasso? And if so, how would it work? So... let''s see how well he can deal with subtle methods.


    "I am Brimir." - he explains, as he takes a cookie without even asking if he is invited to them. Unceremonious asshole, we''re NOT FRIENDS, don''t act like we are. Goddamn idiot. "I''m also Saito." - he continues, as he keeps popping those cookies down - "I told you, I''m the hero of the story. I grab Louise here, we go on an adventure, defeat the king here, then move south to meet the elves. I''m certain I will meet Sasha there, and because I will have more void mages with me, we can stop the cataclysm the first time without needing to postpone things for six thousand years. So no getting stabbed by my familiar in the name of saving elves, we just turn off their magic bomb in the making and go home amid much applause. I suppose you can help... Let me think, oh, yes, the skyship pilot. That would work out very nice."


    There is only a quarter of cookies left by now. He is just... devouring them by the handful. And... he just reached into the bottom layer. The one I coated with a dusting of arsenic. Let''s see what happens. And he just gulps down at least three grams of it at once. Twice over LD50 for someone of his weight, pretty much a guaranteed lethal dose. Now let''s see what happens.


    What happens is the guy flips the table. "You fucking bitch, did you just try to poison me!?" - he yells as he leans over me menacingly. I kick him in the nuts. He had his injury and pain denied, of course, but apparently he did not think to deny recoil. I can practically hear the winces of men along the wall as the guy ascends almost two meters in the air, landing on his back a couple steps from me with a thud.


    "Personal space means anything to you?" - I inquire acerbically, as I stand up - "Get up, motherfucker, it''s time to end this farce. You''re not a hero, this is not Halkeginia, the elves do NOT live in the far south and there is no such thing as windstones. You think finding someone named Louise la Valliere is proof you''re in your favorite wank material? Think again, because I just had tea with Juliette last week. Followed by watching a duel featuring Hamlet and Laertes. Shakespeare is not your thing? Well good golly gracious, visit Mersaille then. If you''re lucky, you can meet brigadier Buonaparte there. Napoleon, dude. Literally Napoleon. My own mother used to be Bradford before marrying into Gillespie family. X-Com, anyone? Or Silent Hill? Or even better, I''m friends with marquis Sadoux, who by all accounts does seem to be this world''s version of de Sade. Oliver Cromwell had written to me to discuss the colds remedy purchase! This world is an agglomeration of historic and belletristic names thrown about willy-nilly. A whole lot of them are NOT really similar to what you would expect out of them either."


    Aaand... this all goes straight over his head, I see. He hops up and thrusts his hand in my direction imperiously.


    "FUCK you, bitch! I take your cookies and I deny your poison! Forget everything, I''m not taking you along. Fuck''s sake, what if I wasn''t immune to poison? You''re not a fucking character, you should know better than trying this shit! Goddamn it, you should be arrested!" - he bellows. Very deeply delusional. I guess he just doesn''t see people around him as people, given that he calls them "characters". However, his body is still subject to the very same physical considerations as any other, since he neglected to magic it away. And his explicit statement that cookies were accepted is very foolish. Very.


    "Very well." - I agree - "Goodbye, we will not meet again. Because you''re about to die." And with that parting line, I raise a wall of earth, ducking behind it.


    He is clearly intending to scoff when his eyes round. He lets out a burp, farts, grabs his bulging stomach... and bursts with a loud bang, splattering the immediate vicinity with a mixture of blood, shit and shredded intestines. Cookies were nitrogen. A whole cubic meter of it. And that whole cubic meter suddenly reappeared inside of his body, partially in the intestines and stomach and particularly already in the bloodstream. A cubic meter of nitrogen might not sound like much... but there is one issue with this. Nitrogen is a fascinating compound that can be molecularly rearranged into interesting shapes. In this particular case, I have finagled the transformation. The nitrogen going into cookies was your ordinary atmospheric N2. The nitrogen the cookies reverted into? Octaazacubane, N8. Energy-wise, that amount is equivalent to a little less than five kilograms of dynamite.


    Surveying the area, I locate relatively intact arms and head, though hands are mostly absent. Legs... are more or less shredded up top but remained reasonably intact from the thigh and lower. There are unidentifiable pieces of meat, bones and organs all over the place, generously mixed with half-digested shit and blood. The smell is... considerably vile. I''m glad I made a wall to duck behind, getting splattered with this would be annoying. I pick up the head by the hair and consider it critically. Deader than dead, blood flashboiled and turned brain into a sponge. Good riddance. Now... I have to explain. I drop the head back into the mess and turn around to face the opening gates.


    ___


    "...So to sum it up, this person was a madman convinced that Louise needs to be, uh... used for the sake of saving the world from some kind of magical catastrophe that is wildly implausible and impractical?" - viscount reiterates - "And he was so deeply delusional that exploding him from within was the best way to ensure everyone''s safety?"


    "He intended to go find elves next." - I agree - "I''m certain you have a good idea what happens if you trespass into Evergreens. He might have had his strange power to protect him, but Louise most certainly would not enjoy the same protection and for the elves, there is no reason to make a distinction among trespassers."


    He frowns. "He would have gotten Louise killed, no doubt." - he agrees gloomily - "Gods, what a horror. To lose one''s mind so badly that execution is the best cure... Though, I have to ask. We could not hear most of what was said, but there was one shout... That man shouted that he was not even supposed to meet Louise. Why was he so obsessed with her if he himself believed he is not supposed to meet her?"


    "According to his delusions, he was supposed to set things in motion six thousand years ago so that Louise could finish them today." - I explain - "I have no idea how that was supposed to work. Either he thought himself to be six thousand years in the future or he believed himself capable to travel six thousand years in the past. I hesitate to say which assertion is more asinine than the other. Anyway, everything he feared about was hinged on so-called windstones. Which, according to him, are the stones that collect air magic and eventually become lighter than air. And he thinks they are everywhere and eventually will cause mountains to fly up. Which Louise was supposed to somehow prevent by killing lots of elves. Madman, no other word for it. He also believes that elves do not live around here at all, but could be found in great numbers in the Sultanate. Oh, and he was planning on either attacking or kidnapping his majesty king Abraham, so it would have been an execution in any case whatsoever."


    Father slaps viscount on the back jovially. "Cheer up, Carolus. The nutter is gone and not coming back, you can breathe freely now." - he proffers - "Whatever strange powers his madness brought him, he can hardly bring them to bear after being torn to shreds like this."

 Chapter 123. Shoggoth And Cleanup

    "Ah-ah-ah!" - I interrupt loudly, - "My apologies for butting in, but don''t do that."


    Viscount sputters mid-word, turning to me curiously - "...What''s the matter, my dear?"


    "I think we will need to do something more thorough than just collect the big body parts and wash the rest off." - I explain - "This man, mad as he was, had some odd magic at his disposal. And while I''m confident I have exploded him rather thoroughly, it wouldn''t hurt to make sure there are no last minute problems. I wouldn''t be surprised, for example, if that man took advantage of his curious invulnerability had soaked his clothes in contact poison as a last ''damn you'' to whoever managed to kill him."


    Servants collectively take a step back, as they all glance at the remains uneasily. Carolus strokes his chin thoughtfully. "...A sensible worry, my lady." - he then rumbles - "It is, indeed, hard to fathom what kind of nonsense might come from a lunatic. I imagine you have a suggestion?"


    "Fire''s a good idea when you are getting rid of unnatural." - I suggest - "If you don''t mind, I can just set the area splattered with remains on fire for a while. Then we can sweep up the ashes and have them buried in a clay pot somewhere."


    He grins. "Thorough, but inexpensive! I like that." - he offers - "Then if you would, please? And after that, a dinner. A feast is the least I owe the house Gillespie for coming to my aid with this peculiar trouble."


    I step past the visibly relieved servants and consider the area critically. A quick detection spell highlights the splatter, which is a sizeable area about ten touse in diameter, roughly circular. Thankfully, our interaction happened in the middle of a plaza of sorts in front of the manor gates, so it was remarkably free of any construction. Less hassle than I expected, good. I raise a waist-high barrier of the earth around the perimeter nonetheless. They shouldn''t need to cross it, it will serve as a firepit reasonably well. Now, let''s see about igniting. I could just use good old fire magic, but I''d have to fuel the reaction with my power all the way, and it will be, uh... odd. Magical fire has some weird properties compared to regular conflagration, and if at all possible, I prefer to make the majority of fire basic old fast exothermic oxidation. Cover the place with a layer of conjured gasoline? Now that''s an idea... Hrm. Or better yet, transform some air into gasoline.


    ...I think I''m flubbing it. I mean, it started just fine, but then I realized I could cut some corners and save some time if I just use my shoggoth bullshit to nudge the atoms around to make things happen faster, and... this is gonna be a runaway chain reaction, I think. I... HOLY SHIT, IT IS!... I barely manage to extend the "firewall" and curve it in before the whole mess of fusion-fission in front of me goes critical.


    ...So. Good points. I can, apparently, survive some pretty harsh conditions. Bad points - I still burned the fuck out of my surface layer, it''s just a layer of fine ash on top of me. Owie. Useful point - the remains of jackass are fucking disintegrated on a nuclear level. Bullshit point - I just stellarated the fuck out of the plaza. The surface within the area is a uniform concave layer of glass. On sunny days, it would probably roast birds in flight, if any of them are stupid enough to pass through the focal point. Which is gonna be, uh... approximately 250 meters up in the air.


    "Oh my gods, are you alright?" - is the first thing I hear when I drop the wall. Or, well, try to drop it. It had been glassed as well. So I settle for floating up and over it instead via self-applied telekinesis. Call me weird, but I''m feeling a little bit fragile right now. Apparently, I remained walled off long enough for everyone to gather in to gawk and be worried. Initial flash and boom were a good attention-getter, as well. I turn around, cringe and swipe the ash off my face, prompting a number of horrified gasps, because for a second it looked like I just swept my whole face off. "Pthui." - I am, as always, the paragon of eloquence - "I think I overdid it. Slightly."


    "...I''d say so, daughter. Ever so slightly." - dad''s on the point with his sarcasm today - "So what was that you actually did?"


    I pause to collect my thoughts. I''m freaking out here, cut me some slack. I''m not fucking supposed to be capable of stellar ignition under my own power, damn it! This is absolutely bullshit levels of power.


    "I think I just tried to ignite a new star by mistake." - I offer slowly - "...I''m sorry, I''m freaking out a little. Everything I know suggests I should be unconscious from magical exhaustion right now at the very least."


    "Star?" - lord la Valliere repeats - "I doubt that. I mean, the latest theory among the astronomers is that stars are akin to our very own Sun, just much further from us... Though you did scorch the ground to the point of melting stones... still..."


    "Why do you think I''m freaking out a little?" - I snark back - "I''m not actually supposed to be able to do that, insofar as conventional wisdom goes. At least, not THAT easy. Good grief."


    He looks unconvinced, but then brightens up - "Perhaps you have only barely begun the process before dropping the spell? I imagine the heat... aaaactually, how come your clothes survived the conflagration if your very skin did not?"


    I sigh. "They didn''t. What I''m wearing right now is hastily conjured copies. So, if no one minds, I shall abscond to rinse off and change on my airship before the conjuration expires." - I explain as I turn around and march away towards the zeppelin in question, ignoring the shocked looks following my casual admission that I just held a conversation being technically naked.


    ___


    Thankfully, the rinsing, changing and dinner all go without a hitch. La Vallieres have a capable cook, it looks like. Nothing all that exotic, but everything that''s on the table is juuuust so. This suits me just fine, I direly need a slice of normality after the revelation that I''m apparently orders of magnitude more powerful than I presumed. I''m still mildly freaked out because I''m pretty certain I COULD have continued the ignition and it would have worked. Well, right until the moment when I''d run out of available matter by subsuming all of the planetary mass... but on the flip side, this would also count as a sacrifice of everything living on the planet, which can be easily parlayed into permanent conjuration of enough elementary particles to create a second star out of the planet. Which, depending on where it is in relation to the existing sun will either subsume the existing sun explosively, spawning a whole new solar system to work with or become a binary star, which is even freakier. So, technically speaking, I have the reset button for the civilization... with an option of making really impressive tombstone instead of restart, if so desired. Freeeeeeeaky. Real freaky. I''m presuming gods will step in before I start stellarating things on an astronomical scale, though... I hope they will, at least. Brr. Honestly, I''m kinda unnerved by the fact I am a walking WK-class end-of-the-world trigger.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Additionally, I figured something out about myself that... well. The top layer that got singed? Apparently, unless I intend to split, I am a reverse nesting doll of layers, each underlying one thicker and harder and more resistant than one above it. Dimensionally compressed, while at it. Pretty sure my core layers are at the neutronium density or some such. Or even beyond that. It makes a perverse kind of sense that I''m actually made out of degenerate matter. Oh, but it is to laugh... Fuck.


    Equally thankfully, dinner and conversation over it do mellow me out enough to stop mentally wallowing in existential dread. Insofar as I could experience existential dread, anyway. To the best of my knowledge, shoggoths don''t really... well, they don''t seem to have a subjective sense of self-worth altogether, instead considering their own value by a grand total of resources stored, memory capacity, computational power and comparative volume of pseudobiomass that makes them up, which is a surprisingly objective and quantifiable method. And since I''m hooked up to the internet of higher reality, my shoggothly perception of selfworth is roughly at the levels of "whoa momma, check out how fukken important I am". That leaves the self-worth as experienced by the human-minded components of me, of which Alyssa-Local''s selfworth is on the levels of "I am a noble and therefore divinely chosen to lead, protect and enlighten all the people under my aegis" and Alyssa-Prime''s is her usual psychopathic "I''mma the most important piece of existence ever". On one hand, it''s pleasant to have unflaggingly soaring self-esteem, on the other I am somewhat worried about getting over my head at times. At least that makes wallowing in existential dread a surprisingly mild experience altogether.


    And now, I''m poking around the glass basin I have inadvertently created. It''s actually pretty nice after I hit it with a bunch of spells imitating a sandblasting of assorted fineness. Gleamy. Still, it kind of...


    "You know, I quite like it like this, I believe." - lady la Valliere comments suddenly - "Add some benches along the sides, pour some water in, and it would be a nice basin."


    Viscount makes a thoughtful face as he prowls around slowly. "...I do believe you are quite right, my dear. Assuming, of course..." - he mutters, as he approaches one of the walls and tugs on it, carefully at first, then with force. It''s a mineral glass of considerable thickness, easily a palm''s width. It does not budge. "Oh my. Sturdy, isn''t it?" - he quips, as he tries several different places - "What would you say, lady Gillespie? Would it be feasible to keep it as a basin?"


    I shrug. "Alright." - I tell him simply. Basin, huh? I can fill it with water, but... Making it a refillable basin doesn''t sound right to me. The aquifer is pretty close in this area. So I jump into the basin, ignoring the gasps some people make when I clear the top edge at a leap. Wonder why. The center of the basin seems like a good place to drill in... And I have prior experience with stellaration, I should be able to control the reaction more precisely this time... YES, it makes a nice glazed pipe right down the... Oh. Shit. I barely manage to leap back out when a pillar of water and steam erupts out of the hole, falling down into the basin with a roar. Oh, oh oh fucking shit, I forgot that drilling with star-grade heat would create a temporary geyser as my heat lance went into the aquifer itself. I think I fracked the thing a little with a steam explosion. Well, it should cool down quickly enough, and the pressure should be enough to keep the basin topped up properly... Actually, I need to deal with this! A few quick pokes create drainage slits along the sides of the basin, four of them at cardinal directions, a quick minimoat around it all for the water to drain in, connect it to these ditches, now let''s pull up some excavated stone and make some grating to cover the ditches and the geyser, which is thankfully cooling down already... Tres bien, I like the effect. Now benches, oh just melt and shape out the resulting quadrants a little like this, and... and... Aaaand I got distracted crafting stuff again.


    La Vallieres are all watching me with round eyes, while my dad and wives are facepalming. Whoops?


    "...I... believe we''ve just seen just how the recent prosperity of house Gillespie came into existence." - viscount offers slowly, eyeing the resulting fountain incredulously - "I.. This..." He comes over and dips his hand into the basin. "This water comes from the underground springs, does it not? How did you know there is a spring down there, even?"


    I shrug. "I, well... bored down until I hit the aquifer?" - I offer - "It''s pretty close to the surface here, only slightly more than twenty-seven touse."


    Facepalms and round-eyed staring continue unabated. "How do you even stand channeling that much though facsimiles?" - offers lady la Valliere dazedly. Huh.


    It takes a bit for the astonishment to wear off, but once it does, everyone pokes around the newly made fountain. I think everyone likes it. Given it''s subterranean water and it''s running, it should not freeze easily. Not quite volcanic springs, though. It''s just liquid, not hot. I think we''re done here. They can plant shrubbery around it later, I''m not going to do absolutely everything for them. I''m pondering the merits of taking my harem out for a walk, given that la Vallieres offered and father accepted to stay overnight when I''m waylaid by a curious appeal.


    "I... believe I owe you apologies, lady Gillespie." - Louise stammers. She''s agitated. I wonder what it''s all about. That fellow?


    "Why?" - is my rather blunt reply. I am genuinely unsure why she would think so. Gratitude, yes, that much is understandable, but apologies? What does she think she did?


    "...Please do not think ill of me for that, lady Gillespie, but... I happen to have a certain gift... a skill of vision, you might say." - she begins softly - "You might have heard about me drawing portraits of people. Well, when I do that, my gift permits me to paint them as they truly are, not as they appear like. Sometimes, those portraits come out beautiful. Sometimes, the truths are repulsive. Sometimes, even unremarkable. But... For the first time in my life, a portrait came out... eldritch. Terrifying. Otherworldly. And it was yours."


    She pauses, collects her thoughts then continues - "I have drawn it in the last days of summer, as we were all waiting at the Academy for the studies to begin. I... Well... I hid what I have wrought upon the canvas and have never dared to paint another living being again for fear of... of..."


    She is getting considerably nervous and agitated. I need to calm her down a little.


    "Perhaps you can simply show me what had unnerved you so?" - I suggest, and she gulps, but nods timidly, motioning me to follow as she leads me deeper into the house, towards what I suspect are her private rooms.


    She brings me to her sitting room and then disappears further in. It takes a while and some rummaging, but then she comes back with a canvas on a frame, covered with the linen. Squeezing her eyes shut, she removes the linen and turns the portrait around, showing it to me. Remarkable likeliness. Of course, it also looks singularly creepy because it''s a superposition of TWO faces, one of which is the one I consider current and one which I wore in my past life. And both of them are then superimposed over a star that... wriggles, regardless of the fact it''s just an ordinary oil painting. "Ah. I see what made you unnerved now." - I agree slowly - "To explain why you saw me like this... this is the consequence of being very highly defiled. I did not just peer beyond the edge, I have subsumed a LOT from out there. Up to and including, a full collection of memories from someone who lived in an utterly different world."


    She lets out a small sigh - "And this is why I owe you apologies, lady Gillespie. Even though I have never shown this picture to anyone but you, I have become wary of you back then, and I am afraid my new attitude had not gone unnoticed or uncommented. I believe I deflected with generic assertions that you seem to give mysterious and eldritch airs, but looking back on how it was taken, I feel like more than a few persons had taken my incautious admissions as a sign there is something... wrong about you."


    I shrug. "Don''t think you''re the only one who arrived to the same conclusions." - I toss back at her - "Why, I''ve been told by my entire harem that I tend to be a little creepy when I''m talking to people I don''t know or care much for. Given my usual level of care for a majority of Academy students was ''so you exist, jolly good for you, bubba'', well... I would hardly attribute the entirety of attitudes towards me to your artwork. A drop in the bucket, that''s all that it was."


    Aaand she promptly pinks up heavily at the word harem. Honestly, she should find herself a girlfriend once she''s back to Academy. Maybe I should introduce students to the wonderful concept of lesbian until graduation?

 Chapter 124. In Which I Do Not People Well

    I have expected a return trip to our own estate to begin shortly... but I am waylaid again, and this time the guilty party is Eleanor. Who is Louise''s elder sister. The naming throws me off because barring the viscount himself, whose given name I simply did not remember, the rest of la Vallieres match their anime analogs by name, but drastically differ in everything else. To wit, Karin is not infamous for her martial prowess, Eleanor is not a bitch and Cattleya is not sick. Rather, Karin has some modest fame as a healer and herbalist, Eleanor is well known as a grand amateur and patron of cooks and Cattleya is apparently an aspiring knight. Louise is well-adjusted, if timid, have had inherited an interest in art from Karin (and to my admittedly not so expertly consideration, seems to have a lot more of a talent for it than her mother) and certainly does not match any expectations one would have from anime in question. Too bad that my attempts to convey that much to self-proclaimed Brimir ended in abject failure. Anyway, Eleanor. Who... Apparently wants ME to put in a good word with my mother for some reason because she seems to believe mom can aid her with some undefined cosmetic issues.


    "I''m sorry, but what are you talking about?" - I tell her - "You don''t exactly seem to be lacking in appearances." Not exactly to my taste, I prefer slimmer girls, but to anyone who appreciates full-bodied women, Eleanor would hit pretty close to the golden standard.


    "Ohoho, my thanks for the compliment!" - she responds jovially - "However, it is not for myself that I ask. Rather, it is on behalf of a friend of mine."


    "And what is the issue that friend of yours needs help with?" - I press her - "The more I have to tell my mother, the better the chances are she would know what to advise, after all."


    Eleanor is surprisingly reluctant to divulge details but finally cracks after a few more entreaties, admitting that the issue seems to be unwanted hair. She is even more reluctant to say who the friend is, for some reason.


    "What exactly is the problem?" - I offer finally - "I find myself less than enthused about running errands on behalf of someone I don''t even know. And honestly, if excessive hair is the problem, then all I have to do is look around in the Academy to find out who they really are."


    "Surely you would not deny a lady a bit of mystique?" - Eleanor wheedles.


    "Considering hashishins are after me? Yes, yes I would. In a heartbeat." - I bite back, making her recoil and blink.


    "...Certainly you do not suspect me of being a hashishin, now do you?" - she comes back with a retort, but I do notice a considerable drop in confidence as she does so.


    "You personally, no. However, I do entertain the possibility of your friend being fooled, coerced, blackmailed or otherwise enticed to cooperate with hashishins. The unwillingness to tell me who it is does raise my suspicions quite a bit." - I explain. This is, strictly speaking, a misdirection because I have rather comprehensively beheaded hashishins as an organization a while ago and wholly expect the survivors to retreat back to Sultanate to try and rebuild themselves. Or finish exterminating themselves in suicidal attacks on me, that is. As far as I understand their modus operandi, the average hashishin was trained to mingle with commoners and avoid nobles unless explicitly ordered to. And I have had killed everyone who possibly could have had the rank and influence to lean on nobles in Champagne in their order.


    Eleanor heaves a sign. "I see." - she says curtly - "My apologies for bothering you, then."


    "You DO realize I will now put my rather considerable resources towards finding out whom exactly your anonymous friend is, right?" - I quip at her - "At this juncture, the very fact they desired to approach me and mine while keeping their identity secret is suspicious enough for me to pry regardless of how successful your brokerage on their behalf was."


    "Said friend has NO idea I was trying to parley on her behalf." - she hisses back - "So I daresay you shall find no grand conspiracy there."


    "...So, to put things simply, you have endeavored to solicit an assistance with an embarrassing appearance problem for someone who has no idea about your assistance?" - I sum up - "Leading up to your friend suddenly receiving completely sudden communique from duchess Gillespie regarding ways to remedy an embarrassing appearance problem? And nothing about this seems odd or... politically incautious to you?"


    She pinks, then purples. "Gods, no!" - she then not quite shouts - "Is there ANYONE or ANYTHING you are not suspicious of? If you must know, I have intended to receive the advice myself and pass it to my friend in the privacy of a personal visit."


    "Good, now what is the name of that person? If they have no idea you are asking on their behalf, letting me know who is to benefit from our actions should not be any problem. Unless you have different reasons for keeping their identity secret?" - I press her. The way she is obstinate about identity makes me think there IS something to be suspicious about.


    "Lady Gillespie, I formally request that you vacate the topic." - she grits out - "I have made a grave mistake in trying to solicit your assistance and I shall not approach you or your family for it henceforth."


    "What are they blackmailing you with?" - I demand bluntly - "There is literally no reason for you to withhold their name unless they have promised unpleasant consequences for you for doing so. Oh, and you might keep in mind that I AM fluent enough in light magic to detect lies. So yes, I know you lied about your friend not knowing you intend to, ahem, parley on their behalf, as it were."


    Given the way she jerks back and glares at me, extra pressure is needed. So I continue, talking over whatever she tried to object with - "Actually, nevermind, I''ll just talk to your father about you being blackmailed. I imagine he would find information important."


    "I AM NOT BEING BLACKMAILED!" - she shrieks indignantly - "Gods, you''re infuriating! I am just trying to look out for my friend! Why is that so hard to grasp? What kind of ghouls are you cavorting with if you see only sin in every single sentiment you witness!?"


    "There is NO benefit in keeping the name of your friend from me unless you were forced to maintain silence on the topic." - I riposte logically - "Think about it. You could dispel every suspicion simply by saying who desires an advice. Instead, you evade and even outright LIE for them. Why would you do that, if not under coercion to? It should be blatantly obvious to anyone smarter than a hare that at this point, the next thing that WOULD happen is me talking to your father and consequently viscount simply ordering you to divulge the name. Or consigning you to house arrest if you still prove yourself to be recalcitrant because at this point we both would entertain entirely reasonable suspicions that you''re being forced to act against our interests. The next step would be investigating every single one of your friends until we pinpoint the one who is putting you to this."


    "Have you considered the simple alternative of me being reluctant to name my friend simply to protect them from your attentions?" - she demands frostily.


    "Good gods, no. That would be an asinine thing to do. I''m fantastically busy as it is. The last thing I want is to hound people who want our advice." - I brush her suggestion off. Honestly, who does she think I am? Ambercrombe? Aaaand apparently this is the root of the problem because Eleanor is doing a rather faithful imitation of fish out of the water right now.


    This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "So. Do you want to tell me the name at last, or we''re going to involve your father after all?" - I push - "Honestly, if I were you, I''d go for the first, but it''s your life. If you want under house arrest for a while, don''t let me stop you."


    "Asinine!? How dare you! You, this... just... AGH! To stand there and have the gall to claim you''d help Elaine as if you were not snubbing her for months!" - Eleanor explodes suddenly, clamping her palms over her mouth once she realizes what she blurted out.


    Huh. That''s actually pretty amusing. She was asking for de Braltar''s daughter, then? Well, then. Let''s just cut this gordian knot. For reasons that are many, Elaine was offered a chance to buy a tablet as soon as I started stamping them out, along with the chairs she ordered from Lemand, and she took the offer gleefully. So I simply pull out my own tablet, select Elaine de Braltar out of the list and wait for her to pick up, turning up the volume on my own tablet for Eleanor''s benefit. Who is, once again, doing her fish out of water impersonation, though I''m not sure what this is about, now.


    "...Yes, what is that you want, Alyssa?" - Elaine''s voice comes out of the tablet suddenly - "I''ve only just settled for an afternoon nap."


    "A little birdie named Eleanor told me you need a method of dealing with unwanted hair, or at least she thinks you do?" - I suggest mildly. Judging by the clatter, Elaine had just dropped her tablet.


    "SHE WHAT?!" - she roars afterward, a long pause taking place before she sighs tiredly - "...damnation. I... suppose I could use something of the sort. I just wish Eleanor was not quite so incautious in her solicitations."


    "To be entirely fair, I had to push her quite a lot to make her talk." - I explain - "She was under an impression I would refuse to help specifically you for some reason."


    Elaine sighs again on her end. "My apologies." - she then says tiredly - "We exchange letters by pigeon, and I simply had no time to write one after our meeting. I was saving it for a personal meeting later, it is rather big news after all. Witnessing the first successful consumption cure and all that."


    "Fair enough. Since la Vallieres are our direct allies, I think no one would see it as odd if I just give a tablet to the viscount. I''ll drop you a line when it happens so you could just call him and ask for Eleanor and have your conversation." - I suggest.


    "...Actually, can I just buy a tablet for Eleanor?" - Elaine requests suddenly - "I presume you are right now at la Valliere estate, correct? Please give Eleanor her own tablet, I will reimburse your costs as soon as we meet or when Academy starts up again, whichever happens sooner."


    "That good of a friend?" - I quip sardonically.


    "The best." - Elaine is surprisingly sappy, and Eleanor pinks up heavily at that little bit. Were they close? Elaine is on the third year of Academy and Eleanor is a year over her, so last year they were both in Academy.


    "Elaine, this, just... how!?" - Eleanor suddenly finds her voice - "What HAPPENED!? Why... just..."


    "I assume you''re talking about unexpected amiability between myself and maiden Gillespie, right?" - Elaine cuts to the chase wryly - "To sum it up, it turns out that my attempts to connect with her in the Academy were sabotaged by someone foolish meaning well. It does not help that Alyssa is an odd goose among the ducks, if you pardon the fowl metaphor. I assumed things, she assumed different things, we butted heads, I came off distinctly worse. Not going to cover it up, I cried ugly. Thankfully, things came out in the same time and we were able to talk it over thanks to my father. Since then, Alyssa had let me in on some historic events and we reached a new understanding. I don''t try to treat her like an average noblewoman and she does not rip my head off. Metaphorically speaking, though I am not convinced she could not do it for real if given a reason."


    "She''s... certainly abrasive." - Eleanor agrees gloomily, glaring in my direction.


    "Talk to her like you''d talk to a wealthy merchant." - Elaine gives surprisingly rational advice - "Because that''s who she is, strictly speaking. She does not care about courtly politics as far as I can tell and considers everyone she interacts with from the viewpoint of profit first and foremost. I''m pretty sure she''d sell swords to someone she is in a blood feud with, if the price was right."


    "Still here, Elaine." - I remind her wryly.


    She snorts - "Tell me I''m wrong, Alyssa, I dare you."


    "Well... You DO exaggerate. If I were to sell swords to someone I have a blood feud with, I''d sell them blunt ones and charge as if they were sharpened. Otherwise, yeah, you''re pretty much spot on." - I agree - "I''m going to give Eleanor her tablet now. Just leave the payment in my rooms, I have someone keeping them up, they''ll collect it."


    "Fair enough." - Elaine agrees without much ado - "Please call me from her tablet, so I''d add it to my favorites."


    I... think I was a bit too hasty in introducing that kind of thing, but what is done is done. Oh well. I''ll just introduce cars next to thin out the population of people on the phones 24/7. It all works out.


    ___


    I don''t think Eleanor was really ready for me. She''s certainly frazzled right now. On one hand, the tablet does bring her back to a "very grateful" condition, on the other she is very clearly doing the "I''m reassessing the way I interact with that person from the very roots" mentally and not really liking the results. Though, if what I''m hearing is right, it''s less being dissatisfied with the way I am and more being dissatisfied with how she did not figure it out before it almost bit her in the ass. Heh. Funny thing, she does not even realize how close she was to having her head eaten. Because that was seriously in consideration if it turned out she is voluntarily collaborating with someone meaning me and mine harm.


    Speaking of which... I have finally pinpointed Klaus v3. It seems that putting the body out of reach is not effective. This might be a version of my own trick of distributive being, but... Klaus certainly does not feel like shoggoth. Other option, and the one I am currently tentatively assuming to be my next working theory, is that real Klaus is holed up somewhere really secure, and the ones I have encountered are remote puppets or clones. I''m leaning towards second, Klaus is too much of a practical bastard NOT to use the ability to seemingly be in several places at once. Wonder how it really works. Is there some kind of template they split a copy of, or real Klaus just body-hops somehow? I wouldn''t put it past him to become some sort of parasite just overtaking people and turning them into his next iteration, but me tossing him whole into the ash should have put him in a bind, if that was how it works. Unfortunately, they''re being really cagy with the location of the facility they resurrect him in. It''s gonna take me a while to narrow down where the fuck it really is.


    "...Just... HOW!? Gods witness me, she is a terror an inquisition would be proud to call their own!" - Eleanor shrieks back in the room, waving the brand new tablet around - "...This... I... ARGH! If only you could SEE how she looked at me! As if... as if... as if I''m a DINNER, uuuh!..."


    She''s... having a bit of a nervous breakdown there, apparently. Good grief. Sometimes I can people good, I guess, and sometimes I just roll snake eyes on all the persuasion rolls. Natural twenties on intimidation checks, tho. Thankfully, Elaine is calm... I SAID CALM! Not commiserating... Argh.


    "She did turn into a dragon briefly when confronting me and my father." - Elaine shares from her corner of the world, making an exaggerated sound of shuddering right after - "I... Sorry, darling. I probably terrified you with my cavalier attitude towards her."


    Eleanor hiccups. Is she crying over there? Bleh. I think I''m going to leave that problem to Elaine to handle, I don''t think Eleanor is going to benefit from my presence in any capacity right now.


    "...Scaaaaary." - she drawls, sniffling - "I, just... Is THIS what happens to... No, I mean, just... what is WRONG with her!? She is... feels, well... just barely human at all. I look at her, and, oh gods, this is just... skin-deep. The maiden, she is just the thin surface. The glamour."


    "Ely. Listen to me." - Elaine demands strongly - "Do NOT think about her. Do not. This way lies madness. I have confirmed it with prelate Iohann, she is so defiled there is barely anything humane left in her. We are LUCKY she wants and tries to pretend for our sakes. If not for her harem, she would be a consummate monster, and I am not using this word lightly or figuratively. I don''t know HOW they stand it. Gods, I probably owe them a lifetime of apologies for how I tried to use them to get at Alyssa. I just... didn''t know. Didn''t realize that they are all that stands between us and oblivion that is she."


    She pauses, hiccups, then continues, her voice cracking - "Let her pretend, Ely. Let yourself be convinced, even if her pretense is thinner than light breeze at times. Believe she is but a maiden because we will NOT like what she is if she is not."

 Chapter 125. Were done here, people

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    (At least I think that''s what the looks are. That or rank jealousy.) and proceed to the cabin.

 Interlude 19. Boldly Ignorant

    "...Excuse me, did I hear this right?" - a man could not contain his incredulity - "Did you just say young lady Gillespie had just, uh... exploded some fellow on behalf of la Vallieres?"


    "I know, right? Them noble mages are terrifying people, for certain." - innkeeper retorted jovially - "Not to say I''m not grateful for the roads, of course, my coinpurse had been heavier and days busier than ever lately, but the very thought of... Nay, t''is but empty scaremongering, I''d wager. If she saw it fit to explode that fellow, then surely there must have been a good reason for it."


    "There are good reasons for exploding people?" - the same man quipped sardonically - "A fresh pint of ale, while you are at it, if you please? I''m out."


    Innkeeper swept the empty mug off the counter absentmindedly, sticking it under the spigot of ale barrel as he continued, lowering his voice conspiratorially - "People have been saying that fellow was quite touched in the head, to be frank here. Tried to lure away young lady Louise, if you can believe the rumors..."


    "Ahhh so that''s what it''s all about." - thirsting man agreed amiably, receiving his fresh pint and promptly halving it - "Hah, that sure hit the spot! Man, I always said them noble maidens are nothing but trouble for us simple folk. Betcha an ecu White Witch wouldn''t even notice''em if he didn''t try getting involved with''em. Even so, since then Gillespies sell sword? S''not like that house lacks for coin."


    As the pair at the counter descended into an extended discussion on whether having cellars full of gold meant peaceful life or not, the person in the corner of the hall grimaced. He was pretty certain White Witch needed no additional reason to kill someone legally aside from the option to kill someone legally. She was, to his consideration, exactly that kind of person, if a monster like her even warranted being considered a person. He lifted his own mug, one he had been slowly nursing for half an hour already, and took a modest sip. He had to be conservative with his alcohol, at least until the person he was awaiting would arrive. She was running late, already, and that worried the person in question a lot.


    Just as he started seriously mulling over the plan of action accounting for the absence of his contact, she walked into the door. Maybe? The way she tended to go around wrapped in a hooded cloak was pretty noteworthy, at least. Gathering his will in a fist, he waited for her to get her own drink and sit down at his table. The less attention he pulled to himself, the better his chances would be later.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    "Hello there, Leonard." - she ventured finally - "I have what you''ve asked for."


    Wordlessly, he slid a pouch of coins across the table. Each of them earned through his own sweat and tears. It was the majority of his savings. It should be enough. It HAD to be enough. The person across the table was not easy to get in contact with, nor was she cheap to hire, but he considered the matter worth it. The pouch was opened briefly, then disappeared somewhere within the heavy cloak. A moment later, a vial full of murky liquid was slid in opposite direction.


    "If this touches your skin in any manner, you are a goner." - the woman warned him quietly - "Find yourself some good leather gloves before opening or use tongs."


    "How quickly does it act?" - he inquired quietly, palming the vial off the table casually and slipping it into his satchel, which he stuffed full of hay in preparation. The alchemical poison he just purchased demanded reverent treatment, lest it claimed the wrong victim. And while he would not be opposed to trading his life for success, he refused to succumb to such a base mistake. Not before he could see the light fade out of that monster''s eyes, at least.


    "Seven heartbeats is all that it leaves you." - the woman shrugged - "I suggest you don''t dawdle. In seven days, its potency will wither."


    Nodding curtly, he stood up and walked towards the door out of the tavern, neither hurrying nor tarrying. It took a while to find out where SHE would be for sure but now was his time. As he crossed the road, he reviewed all that he knew. SHE was taking one of the maids to her bed, doubtlessly to slake the lusts most unnatural. Without a husband, too. Clearly, SHE was selfish and indulgent to the extreme. Given what he found out about the maid''s father and who was responsible for his death, it would not be hard to talk her into assisting his revenge. And then... Then he could probably rest. Doubtlessly, the count... no, the duke now... Anyway, that man definitely would not leave anyone making attempts at his daughter unchallenged. Leonard''s uncle met his end at the end of the noose for trying, after all. And that sacrifice was in vain, as the monster in the guise of a girl had burned the village anyway. Leonard''s parents fled to the woods, fearing the retribution after it had become known that his uncle was caught redhanded trying to end the little hellion before she caused a disaster, and by the time they got enough courage to come back home, all that greeted them was ashes and coals. So all of that was in vain. The fire still was thrown around and the village was still burned, all for the sake of entertaining a juvenile noble.


    Leonard smiled grimly. His parents may have had given up on the cause, but he... He would take revenge for all of them. Even if it killed him.

 Interlude 20. Maid Interrupted

    "...Oh my. That''s... quite a selection." - Roxolane mused. She considered the display of cutlery critically, finally settling down on a selection of forks and spoons - "Excuse me? How come this is so cheap? This looks like silver..."


    Stocky dwarfess tending to the shop hurried to look. "Ah. S''not silver, lass. T''is melchior." - she rumbled - "Mostly copper an'' summat else, the way I heard it ta be. Still, looks purty fancy, innit? Hardier than silver too, y''won''t be bendin'' this one by accident, nuh-huh."


    "Melchior?" - Louise piped in, leaning over to take a look at the set in question - "Never heard about that kind of metal before."


    "No wonder, cause t''is one o''them tek-no-logical things godblessed young lady''s been teachin'' menfolk." - dwarfess explained immediately - "And right good it is fer them hotheads ta take a cue from a woman for once. Goodness, iffen one of them men done got those wisdoms, mark my words, they''d be thinkin'' of nuthin'' but swords and helmets. Not the a''chual useful stuff, nope."


    Roxolane chuckled lightly. "That does sound like Alyssa." - she remarked absentmindedly - "I think I''ll buy this set, please."


    "...ah." - dwarfess suddenly wilted - "...Beg yer pardon, but are ye young lady''s friend, perchance, to call her by name?"


    "I, um... I''m one of her wives?" - Roxolane ventured haltingly - "Oh gods, it feels so odd to say this out loud."


    Saleswoman sighed. "Ah see." - she murmured - "Ah suppose I''ll go pack this up fer ya...?"


    Roxolane nodded, thankful for the topic change, and started rummaging through her purse for the necessary coins. She was still at it when the dwarfess came back with a wooden case presumably containing the cutlery set.


    "Here ya go, milady." - she proffered the case, startling when Roxolane extended a handful of coins in her direction - "No, no! Yer young lady''s wife, ye donna'' haveta pay here."


    Roxolane frowned. "Actually." - she proffered crisply - "I''m pretty sure Alyssa would be cross with me if I did so. She would insist on paying the price if she were here herself, even."


    It seemed like the shop clerk had her doubts, but she wisely elected not to argue and received the coins as they were proffered. Her decision may have had been influenced by Louise frantically nodding at her to shut up and take the money.


    "Many thanks, then! Come back again, y''hear?" - she proffered as a conversation ender, retreating to put the coins into the money drawer.


    "Welp, that''s it." - Roxolane sighed, as she went out of the shop - "Where are we supposed to meet Sally and Bridgit again?"


    Louise shrugged lightly, following the guest. It was a little bit odd for her and Sally lately. On one hand, to their best consideration Roxolane''s social status was more or less equal to that of Bridgit, and thus, by conventional wisdom - in the social class of their own. On other hand, ever since Alyssa picked Bridgit up as one of her wives, Bridgit''s own social status in the household entered a state of weird flux. Louise pinked up as she remembered the discussion she and Sally had a while ago when they learned about all this. How neither of them could decide if they should be glad for Bridgit, relieved it''s not them or envious for the same reason. A discussion that ended in, uh... Uhhh. So very... uhh. Suffice to say, she and Sally attempted what they believed to be "skinship" that night and agreed that the experience was weird and peculiar and probably best left for those who actually had the inclination, like Bridgit. Still, in times like these, Louise did wonder what would have happened if...


    "By the well in the plaza, I believe." - she proffered - "I''m sure they''re already waiting for us."


    ___


    "Bree, wait up!" - Sally exclaimed, struggling to hold straight under the weight of basket on her elbow. She probably should have taken along one of the men for portering, she surmised. Bridgit slowed down, turning to look at what happened to be the problem and immediately smacked her forehead.


    "Good gods, why didn''t you say something sooner?" - she yelped in exasperation as she stepped to the side, entering a side alley and tugged Sally along to follow.


    "Bree, what are you doing!?" - Sally demanded, surprised by the sudden change of direction - "I don''t need to... ooh. D''oh!"


    She made a sound of realization as Bridgit promptly vanished with the basket. "By the stars, I''d never get used to this!" - she muttered, staring at the place Bridgit was just in. The casual teleportation, which Bridgit took to like a fish to water was an object of much envy among all servants. It was too bad that the only way to get that ability seemed to be in persuading young lady Alyssa to defile you by snu-snu. In all honesty, Sally considered, if Alyssa herself was feeling amenable, she probably would have had more than a few volunteers from the household staff, women and men. Unfortunately... or maybe fortunately... Alyssa made it clear that she finds her current harem entirely satisfying and is not looking for extra lovers at the time. Sally pinked up, recalling that particular conversation. Admittedly, she probably should have had asked Bridgit before assuming the young lady would expect skinship service from all the maids in the household. The young lady was quite nice about it, even... very sarcastic, though.


    "Frau Baumhoff?" - a voice from behind her startled her - "A moment of your time if you please..."


    Sally turned around - "I think you have a wrong person, sirrah. I''m not Kraut, nor my parents were."


    Shabbily dressed man in front of her faltered momentarily before regrouping - "My apologies. I am looking for frau Bridgit Baumhoff, whom I have been told is working as a maid at the count''s estate..."


    Sally backpedaled from the guy, back towards the street. She was unnerved to see him following, but he did not appear to be trying anything else so far.


    "Duke''s estate, you mean?" - she corrected the guy - "His grace lord Gillespie had recently been promoted to dukedom by the king, may he reign long and prosperous."


    "Duke? Truly?" - the man echoed - "I have been abroad and did not keep abreast of the news. Good luck surely shines on house Gillespie. Still, my apologies, but would you happen to know frau Baumhoff? As I mentioned just now, her given name is Bridgit. I happen to have certain news about her father..."


    "You do?" - came a voice from behind him suddenly. Leonard whirled around, startled. Sally chuckled.


    "Good timing, Bree. This gentleman had been asking about you, I think." - she proffered - "Goodness, you never said you actually have a family name."


    Bridgit''s expression soured lightly, letting Sally know the topic was not particularly pleasant. She shook her head. "I... think I need to hear this." - she proffered quietly but firmly - "Sally, can you go ahead and meet up with Louise and Roxolane? Please tell them I won''t be long."


    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    Sally scratched the back of her head. On one hand, she really didn''t feel like leaving Bridgit alone with a suspicious stranger, on the other... Between news about Bridgit''s father, whom Sally knew to be dead by ill means, if not the exact details, and the fact Bridgit could simply vanish if any harm were to be leveled her way, she did not feel like butting in too much.


    "Alright then." - she agreed lightly - "Remember, don''t be long, or mistress will be upset with you." Thus having had let Bridgit know that Alyssa would be told if she is missing for too long, Sally sallied forth to look for the other half of their shopping party.


    Bridgit followed Sally with her eyes, then stepped back into the alley, motioning for Leonard to follow. Which, albeit unintentionally, matched Leonard''s expectations to the tee. He presumed Bridgit kept the murder of her father a secret from Gillespies, because in his consideration if count Gillespie knew his maid was the daughter of a man he ordered dead, he would have gotten rid of inconvenient witness long ago by now. Bridgit, on the other hand, was presuming the man in front of her to be a scoundrel. Either he was connected with actual murderers, or he was here to try and swindle her with lies because, after hearing out Verwaand''s confession, she had pretty good ideas on who might know about her personal tragedy and why.


    "So. What do you intend to lie to me about?" - she inquired coldly.


    "Beg your pardon, frau, I bear no lies." - Leonard proffered easily. Bridgit''s eyes narrowed. The very way he said "frau" made it certain the man in front of her never learned more than a few words of Kraut. No, his pronunciation marked him as champaigner through and through.


    "I''ll be the judge of that. Do tell me what is that message you intend to give me from my father." - she demanded.


    "Aaaah. My dear maiden, I see the problem now." - he proffered, trying to be suave and failing miserably - "I am sorry to bring up this old pain of yours, but I am aware that your father is unfortunately dead, and had been so for years by now. The news I bear are simple. I know who is responsible for the death of your father and why."


    Bridgit bit her lip. That... was getting intriguing by now.


    "Go on." - she whispered tersely, inadvertently giving an impression of a girl bracing for shocking news.


    "Before I do, I must implore of you to steel yourself." - Leonard offered - "The name I am about to give you belongs to a powerful person and if he finds out you know, he will not hesitate to silence you by any means necessary, and this man considers murder to be the simplest solution to inconvenient people."


    "Do tell. I am prepared." - Bridgit urged him on.


    "As you wish. The man who ordered your father dead is no other than your employer. Count Gillespie." - Leonard ploughed on - "Your father resisted count''s avarice and refused to give in to his mercantile demands, and so count had your father killed as a warning to all other merchants."


    "No, it''s not him..." - she started, cutting herself off as she realized blurting out her knowledge of the actual perpetrator might be not to her advantage right now - "How do you know it is like this?"


    To Leonard, this sounded like a simple denial of a woman finding out her master was actually a murderer of her father. And so, he stuck with his story.


    "I am sorry, but that is the truth." - he offered quietly - "Although count impresses a gentile mien towards the public, he is really a vicious and venal man who spills blood like water. The leader of mercenaries he hired to carry out the attack had been bragging about working for the count while deep in his cups and the name of your father came up."


    "And you just happened to be in the vicinity of such a violent man?" - Bridgit proffered dubiously.


    Leonard sighed, looking downwards. "No. I did not." - he "admitted" - "You see, I have had intentionally sought the company of the man and spent many a sol plying him with spirits in order to loosen his tongue. I have been wronged deeply by the count in the past, and I so I have sought the men of ill-repute who were rumored to work for him in order to expose his wrongdoing and have my revenge."


    "...I see. Wronged, you say? What happened?" - Bridgit inquired curiously.


    "My uncle happened to be a seer of some renown, you see." - Leonard answered mostly honestly - "He had a vision regarding a disaster caused by count''s daughter being incautious. However, when my uncle visited the count to warn him about that, he was repaid with the blackest treachery. Rather than remonstrate his daughter, count ordered my uncle hanged and then permitted her to burn our village to the ground. The only reason I survived was because I was on a long hunt in the woods and thus was overlooked."


    Bridgit kept her opinions silent. Her first impulse was to berate the man for slander, but that urge was quickly squashed by a worry of a sicker variety. She knew about the incident with the seer and village, knew that seer was hanged not for the vision, but for trying to kill a child over it, knew that villagers were made to vacate the village first. Why would this man give her such a heaping of lies?


    Leonard took her silence as a sign of being too shocked to speak, and kept digging his own grave deeper - "The whole family is rotten to the core, as I''m sure you know all too well. Does the daughter not take you into her bed by force? To demand skinship when she is not even married yet, such decadence. Like father, like daughter, both of them are villainous scoundrels."


    He paused, taking in the look of wide-eyed indignation, which was what he expected, but got for entirely wrong reasons. "Is it not natural to want revenge against such despicable people?" - he whispered, pulling out the satchel from behind his back and putting it into Bridgit''s hand - "Here. I have spent every last denier I had on this. A drop of this in their food or even just on their clothes, and your father and your dignity will be avenged. It is made by the famous alchemist. No one will ever suspect poison, it would appear as if they died of natural causes. Only you and I will know that it is their comeuppance for their sins."


    Bridgit bit her lip and forced herself to take the ominous satchel calmly. She tied the binding to her own waist next to the knife, her fingers shaking slightly from the nervous anger and worry. Then, she straightened up and enacted her own plan.


    Leonard watched in satisfaction as the maid took the poison. Either she''d manage to poison the targets successfully, or she would kill herself and pass the poison to everyone touching the body. Either way, the death of the monster was all but certain in his consideration. Then she straightened up... and vanished from his sight. He yelped in surprise, startled by disappearance, become startled again by the fact his yelp was silenced by a palm, then groaned from a sharp deep pain in his back.


    Bridgit teleported behind the murderous bastard, grabbed his face from behind to muffle him and thrust the knife into his liver, just like Moon Unit taught her a while ago. Thrust, jank, slide and the tip of the knife rips the liver in halves. Then she concentrated and teleported herself and the man back to a stretch of road close to the river, a place that never saw much traffic due to clay pits at the end of the road having been exhausted years ago. By now, it was overgrown with plants so much only long-time residents even knew there was a road there before. Letting the dying man slump down, she kicked him in the ribs to turn him over on his back and crouched next to him, drawing the edge of the knife against his throat roughly. That move she did not practice before, but the strengthening spells Alyssa taught her before made that irrelevant, the blade severing the windpipe and major blood vessels in one deep cleave. Blood spurted upwards, missing her sleeve by mere inches.


    If Leonard could actually manage to blurt something out, it would be "WHY?!". He did not understand what happened when he felt the pain in his back, he did not understand how did he end up in the forest when he was just in the town alley and he did not understand why everything happened. He DID understand however with crystal clarity that his life just ended when he saw the knife sink into his throat.


    Bridgit waited for a few moments for the man to stop gurgling. When his eyes turned glassy, she wiped the bloody knife on his clothes and used it to cut off the coinpurse from his waist. He was somewhat truthful about spending most of his money on poison, given there was but a handful of deniers in the purse. There did not seem to be any other valuables on him either. Done with this, Bridgit fired up the strengthening spell again and dragged the body by the legs towards the river, kicking it into the stream as hard as she could once she got it on the bank. The next league or so of the river was entirely unused, so by the time the body would be found, there''d be no indication as to where exactly he ended up in the river, nor who did the deed. To all and sundry, the man would simply be buried as yet another victim of brigands. A fitting fate for someone who... argh, just thinking about what the man tried to trick her into doing made Bridgit furious.


    She considered the body drifting away. Nodded in satisfaction. Turned around and messily vomited. "Oh gods, I just killed someone. I did it on purpose." - she whispered hoarsely - "And gods forgive me, but if it''s for the sake of Alyssa, I would do it a hundred times more if needs be."

 Chapter 126. Disparate Threads

    ...I am having second thoughts about things. I mean, I more or less already introduced the concept of photography, given the addon camera module for the tablet... But after today, I am suddenly gripped with doubt. It would probably be mortifying if dad actually had any photos regarding "Little Dragony". As it stands, it was embarrassing aplenty to have him regale my wives with the STORIES of this happening. Good grief. Then mom joined in, too. What is that about parents that compels them to try and embarrass you? Oh, and if you ever dare to recall one of the many instances when they goofed up in front of you? Tragedy, world-ending tragedy amidst the sea of imprecations and complaints...


    Aaactually, I''m just grumbling. And maybe ranting a little about the first set of parents I had. Current ones are pretty cool with return fire, so to speak. And, I suppose, have a somewhat better sense for when it is time to lay off. Or maybe I just have thicker skin in this incarnation?...


    Honestly speaking, I am not even sure just how much of original me actually is retained. The memories are just that. Memories. I suppose I could claim something is right or not right, but would that claim have any objective validity, I do wonder... Previous me did NOT have many options current me has that raise the quality of life to... unprecedented levels. Access to magic alone is a hell of a change, let alone shoggoth bullshit. That ought to have an impact, at the very least, let alone having two whole other personas crammed into headspace. I''m still not sure how that did not result in some... psychiatrically unsound consequences. Divine intervention, heh.


    Now, let''s see what today can bring. Yesterday, after getting back from the la Vallieres, the remainder of the day was monopolized by mom and dad reminiscing about me to my harem. Not exactly optimal, but honestly speaking, I don''t care enough to really offer anything more than the token "I am not fond of you bringing up my childhood foibles" resistance. Come to think of it, they would have probably persisted harder if I showed more care. Buut, I was kind of emotionally drained after finding out I''m not entirely impervious to mental magics, and so I am afraid my resistance had come across as a morose resignation. Probably sapped the fun out of trying to embarrass me. Maybe. Or maybe it was less lack of fun and more abundance of consideration for my feelings on the matter. Either/or.


    Anyway, I got me a full night of sleep and cuddles (after personally pushing three beds together to make something suitable, note to myself to build a better-sized bed for my estate room visits) and now I''m feeling heeled well enough to try something motherly-daughterly with Cy. Namely, we''re going to take a scroll through the burg next to the estate. Bridgit is catching up with her fellow maids, Roxolane wanted to pick up some presents for her family, Moon Unit is being kind and generous and Lily-Anne somehow caught a cold yesterday. The last two events are tied, by the way. Lily-Anne woke up sniffling and having a bit of fever and Moon Unit had volunteered herself to look after her and hit her with light magic periodically. Between that and cure for cold, she should be right as rain by the evening.


    Admittedly, I did plan on hovering around Lily-Anne myself, but she and Moon Unit had managed to persuade me they would be fine and I should rather spend some extra time with Cy.


    "Eeeet food! So cool!" - aaand Cy is teasing me.


    "Yeah, yeah. I''m a shoggoth and so are you." - I retort, ruffling her hair - "And we''re on the roof. So, let''s try this again, now that we scared the everloving shit out of several squirrels to find out how exactly do they glide."


    I''m trying to teach Cy how to mimic appearances, and we have agreed that a squirrel is a respectable first goal. Unfortunately, the example of a squirrel that we found was of the flying variety. Which means that Cy is considering it a matter of importance to learn how to do that as well. The results are... mixed, let''s say it like this. For both of us. I do have some half-forgotten experiences of gliding on deltaplane to fall back on, but at least half the time those actually complicate things instead of making them simpler. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Cy does manage to glide across the yard and all the way beyond the fence to the tree. But when I try to do the same, I am caught in a sudden gust of wind and end up losing direction.


    "Oh gods what!? Blasted critter! Out you go!" - Moon Unit is not happy about me almost landing in Lily-Anne''s soup.


    "...Gods and stars, Alyssa, must you!?" - she yelps as I give her the puppy dog eyes and transform into a doll-sized copy of myself because she seems to be about to put me into a chamberpot instead of tossing me out of the window when she was under the assumption this is a random squirrel attack. Lily-Anne stares then starts giggling uncontrollably, as Moon Unit fumes at me and I try to placate her with assorted inane assurances that it was a tragic silly accident, not a deliberate prank.


    "Why not a goose, then?" - she finally concludes as I explain my reasoning for doing what I do.


    "Mom says I''m not ready to be a goose." - Cy chirps happily as she comes into the door in her human guise - "Something about insufficient malice."


    Lily-Anne and Moon Unit give a synchronized shudder at that remark. "MMm, yes, better stick with squirrels for now, ahaha..." - Lily-Anne ventures nervously.


    "Moooom. Have you been traumatizing your wives again?" - annd Cy earns a glare for that remark.


    "Only as a side effect." - I concede - "And I said I''m sorry, too."


    Given the nigh-palpable doubt I''m suddenly subjected to from all three directions... I''m not nailing it.


    ___


    ...


    ...


    ...


    It IS considerably annoying to be angry without any valid outlet for it. I sigh and pat Bridgit''s head again, hugging her closer. I did not want this. Not in the slightest. Honest. Just because I''m willing to kill people to give Bridgit closure on certain events does not mean I expect of her to return the favor. In fact, I''m very much against this very notion. Still... What she did, unsettling to her as it was, was done with best intentions. Technically speaking, we are in the clear - de jure, the man in question was trying to give Bridgit a contact poison to use on me, and therefore he was guilty of attempted murder. Several murders, actually, given that Bridgit herself would have likely not survived the experience either. I tested the stuff that was in the bottle, and this is some nasty shit there. Nothing that will hurt me much, but... Yeah. As far as I can tell, the poison in question is essentially a liquid nerve agent with impressive adsorption capability. Unless you know the mechanism of action and rather specialized spells to halt it and bind the toxins, the only viable way to survive is to amputate the body part that got splashed with it. And you have to be really quick about it too, if it gets into any major blood vessel, you''re dead.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    One thing of note is that Bridgit mentioned this was bought. So... Apparently, we have an alchemist around that is both capable enough and unscrupulous enough to sell something like this to a commoner. That is worrying on many levels, because while I have no doubt they charge dearly for their services, an alchemist of that skill level is rarely if ever without a noble patron and exclusivity contracts. So...


    Primo, it might be someone under a different noble picking some side cash. Possible, but the least plausible, given that aristocracy tends to be pretty big on monopolies and will not tolerate such breach of contract lightly. It COULD be that noble in question is addicted to something in secret and alchemist is their sole source of this, but all the stuff I can think of that would make an alchemist untouchable tend to be fairly.... obvious... Hrm. But I do not do the whole courtier business, so it''s not out of question there ARE very literal crackheads out there among the nobility.


    Secundo, it might be someone unaffiliated. Which is possible, though questionable. Why would someone that capable be without a patron? Social skills so poor they''d be better labeled antisocial skills? Previous history with nobles that precludes seeking patron in some manner? Backing of less than scrupulous commoner organization? Hrm, might be onto something here, an alchemist affiliated with an organized crime would in many ways be the most obvious option to turn to if you need a poison like this.


    Finally, tertio, it might have been an alchemist acting with tacit or explicit permission from their patron. Which, to my consideration, is the most likely scenario. There are nobles out there that would love to see me dead for one reason or another, and most of them would like to see dad dead as well. Some are rumored to be ruthless enough not to care about the collateral damage inflicted on the other residents of the estate, even. This kind of arrangement also seems like just the thing some of the smarter assholes out there would implement. Send in unaffiliated disposable cat''s paw, wait till things shake out in some manner, celebrate success or deny involvement in failure.


    It''s too bad Bridgit tossed the body into the river, I have no leads to.. wait. River. I do have some assets further on, the river does a bend there and flows pretty close to the Grand Forge. I can trawl upstream and hopefully catch the body.


    "...I''m not happy." - I tell Bridgit in the meanwhile - "Not with you, though. Rather, I''m not happy there actually are idiots out there who try to use you in this manner. I... might have to do something about this." I sigh and stroke her head. Bridgit was pretty shaken by the whole thing. First premeditated murder can be a pretty upsetting experience, I imagine. Well... arguably, a case can be easily made for this whole thing happening in a state of affect. Regardless, it was upsetting, and I do owe Bridgit some extra comfort and reassurance for going above and beyond.


    ___


    Fishing the body out turns out to be more trivial than I thought. For all her capabilities and skills, Bridgit is not an experienced brigand, and her method of disposal was not quite up to par. She should have weighed the body down with some rocks so that it would stay on the bottom of the river long enough for aquatic fauna to deface the corpse. As it was, clothes caught enough air to let the body float down the stream relatively unhindered. I did fish it out with one of my extra clusters about two leagues downstream from the Grand Forge in the evening.


    No real point in eating waterlogged brains, but searching the clothes does give me enough of clues and smell samples to proceed. Shoving the corpse back into the river (with a sizeable boulder on top of it this time), I shrink this instance back into it''s squirrel shape and set it off on patrolling route, expanding a different one around the place where Bridgit reported to have had met the man. I''m in luck, the guy spent quite a while in the alley standing in one place and saturated enough of his scent there for me to track it back confidently. Unfortunately, it leads back to a barrack where poor travelers may sleep for free. Scouting the place with cockroach snips does net me a couple threads from the guy''s coat, but nothing other than that. So I can confirm he spent the night here, but at this barrack, the trail goes cold.


    Or... does it? Hm. I-dea. Let''s take advantage of my shapeshifting for a bit. Hrm, yes, I do feign one genuine idiot quite well. What his name was? Darn, Bridgit didn''t mention it. Either she forgot, or he really didn''t bother introducing himself. So... wearing his shape, I approach the barrack, feigning being drunk and maudlin. A task easily amended by secreting a bit of wood spirits on the surface. Smells like cheap booze, it does.


    "Leonard!" - one of the current barrack tenants addresses me as I pass by, adding a swat to the shoulder for good measure - "Done with your leeetle corvee?"


    Corvee, I surmise, means a task or something similar. I want to stir the trouble, so I respond back with agitation - "Non, let the gods damn it all! That alchemist must have cheated me, the stuff had no effect."


    The guy I am conversing with heaves a deep belly laugh - "Well, fo shore! Maids are dab hand in alla them con-coo-kshons. No wonder your little kraut bird didn''t bite. Hear my advice, boyo, stop with all that luuurve potion mumbo jumbo and just go tell''er you want her legs shakin'' up the air around your ears. Wimmen like it when ya tell it straight-up honest."


    I... feel strangely lucky that my elected model of behavior for "Leonard" called for wincing and pushing the guy away irritably. Crass much, pal? And hands off my maids. Especially Bridgit. Only I''m allowed to make her legs shake up in the air around my ears. Maybe the rest of my harem too, if they''re in the mood for fooling around with each other. But no one else. Especially no unwashed commoners.


    The guy takes the shove in good spirits, but decides to needle "Leonard" a little more - "Well, hey, if yeah potion was trukue, go an'' ask for money back, amirite?"


    I turn around to nail him with a glare. "Yeah, sure." - I muster all the "drunken" sarcasm I can - "Just walk up to them and, what, demand back all the silver..." I make a show of trailing off, before "perking up" "drunkenly" - "Aaayanno, I just might!"


    And with that I amble right back out. The guy makes no move to stop me, but he does frown as I leave the barrack. "Didn''t he say he got that satchel from Tremper?" - he asks sotto voce from the man next section. The man was apparently already in process of settling in for sleep, but nonetheless, he does bite back tiredly - "So he''s gonna turn up in the river sometime later, what of it? Good riddance, goddamn moron kept me up half a night snoring and moaning about family and revenge in his sleep."


    Welp. "Tremper". That sounds like a lead I''d like to investigate. Let''s pop in to Parsee and find out what sir Malachi knows about it.

 Chapter 127. A Bloody Break

    Welp. Turns out, sir Malachi is out on a job. Weird, that. I was kind of used to the idea he is the administrator and trainer. Apparently, when the going gets tough, he comes out personally to lend a hand. I was about to just leave him a note, but the page taking the messages for him did mention that he''s investigating a ghoul infestation not too far from the city. Which is interesting, because I have no idea what ghouls in this world really are. The usual undead is a case of accidental golemcraft, but I''ve never heard of ghouls cropping up in that context. In fact, I have preciously little data about ghouls at all. Which is weird, because they are something well known to the Inquisition... Yet, apparently, inquisition does not really know how the fuck do they actually happen. Moreover, ghouls only appear in the records for the last two hundred years or so. Doublechecking with Juliette (who is remarkably unflappable about me just popping in to ask questions) confirms that ghouls are a fairly recent thing. Curiouser and curiouser.


    Back in the estate, things are sedate. Bridgit had regained her equilibrium and is currently doing something with her fellow maids that I''m not privy to, Roxolane is packing her presents, Lily-Anne is recovering and Moon Unit is overseeing the recovery... Oh, and Cy is running around with Jean-Paul and Antoine. So I just park my instance back in my room and have it "nap in the chair", while I investigate the ongoing ghoul problem. I''m curious, and if I help out, Malachi will have some time to answer my questions. Oh, and I might ask if he left specific instructions regarding me, or his subordinates are just being a bit too loose with information. I shouldn''t have been able to just ask for his location like this. I think? Maybe? I''m... actually not sure what exactly my status in the palace''s hierarchy is, given my marriage to Lily-Anne. If that is enough to consider me "also royal" or...? Questions upon questions.


    ___


    Holy shit why. This is industrial grades of nope right there. Ghouls. Turns out, they''re a case of a mind-controlling parasite. The results are... well... bad. Thankfully, while the parasite in question is at least partially fungus, it also requires a fairly sizeable initial chunk in order to successfully infect, so spores are not a problem. The fact that ghouls would actively capture and force the parasite embryo into the new hosts IS a problem, however. Thankfully, the host has to be mammalian and exceed at least thirty kilos for the infection to proceed to the stage of active parasitism. Smaller animals just die and the whole mess becomes a fairly distinct mushroom. Furthermore, the bigger animals require a bigger helping of embryos... Actually, no, calling it embryo is kind of misleading. Egg clutch, I guess? Well, while a group of ghouls can possibly wrestle down something like a deer and force parasite into it, there exists only a short window of opportunity where it has to be recaptured by a different group of ghouls in order for infection to take. Otherwise, large mammals just experience a bout of sickness not unlike toxoplasmosis, but usually survive. Thank gods for small mercies, I suppose.


    Oh, but it gets better. The whole thing? A product of a magical experiment. Supposedly. If what I can glean on the issue is right, the person in question was another transmigrant. Thankfully, I don''t have to do anything about the fellow, because the Inquisition burned him within his hideout when they set about to exterminate the infestation with fire. Because dude apparently was working on a more advanced version that would give him control, instead of creating fungal zombies. And produced ghoulified moose and bears.


    So. I have been multitasking. Some of me have just crawled all over the library and restricted Inquisition archives for data on ghouls. Some of me had cased the area in question, having gotten some of the mass there quickly via goose methods. And some of me is currently searching for sir Malachi. I have tentatively quarantined the area, set up a cordon of me disguised as small critters and containing the ghoulified fauna within this section of the forest by judicious application of pit traps and fire. Now to find him... Oh, here they are. Huh, I was thinking this is serious if he''s out in the field, but turns out he is conducting what seems to be a field lesson for a bunch of people. Inquisition cadets, I would imagine. Huh, Malachi has many hats to wear in this kingdom. I wonder if he is really the primary instructor, or if this is some kind of exam he is taking rare time off to oversee personally... Hrm.


    "...you heard that, right?" - one of the students whispers to another. He seems vaguely familiar. But I just can''t put a name to this face yet. Not when he''s covering up his mouth for some reason... Oh, sniggering as he chortles - "Man, what an old geezer like him needs with a lady, anyway?"


    Like... ruuuuude. Sir Malachi is a refined gentleman with ample experience and a sharp mind. If I were interested in men, I''d rate him pretty highly, because he''s clearly not letting his age affect his physique. Let''s see YOU being that spry when you''re not a chicken anymore, dude.


    Apparently, his comrade agrees, if the smack delivered to the back of the head was of any indication. "Shut up, Leeroy!" - he snarls - "You already got all of us into trouble, don''t add to it by offending sir Malachi! Whatever his affair with the lady is, it''s not ours to belabor!"


    "...Man, lighten up! What''s your problem? I mean, can you even imagine him with any woman whatsoever!?" - Leeroy continues to gleefully dig himself deeper - "Like, what would he even be doing with one? Tell her stories about good old EEEP!"


    The last word was yelped in a markedly different tone. I presume it is due to sir Malachi sneaking up on him and lifting him by the scruff.


    "What I might or might not be doing with a lady is really none of your concern, squire Jenkins." - Malachi rasps into his ear menacingly - "And if I catch you unawares like that one more time, it''s going to be page Jenkins until summer. Next summer."


    He drops the moron unceremoniously... Oh, hey, now I remember! This guy tried to stab me back when dean Ambercrombe called in sir Zade on me. Fun times. He''s STILL being reeducated? Goodness. Then again, his name is Leeroy Jenkins. Biiiiig hint right here. Oh, huh, Malachi is talking again. Seriously.


    "That being said, the lady in question right now happens to be lady Gillespie." - he smirks - "Someone you had personal experience with, squire Jenkins. Care to tell your fellows just how far did you get with the lady in question, hm?"


    Leeroy pinks up. Huh, what''s up with that? Don''t tell me he''s got a crush on me or something. "Sire, that''s rather unfair of you, I have to say." - he huffs - "I simply was not ready at the time, that''s all there was to it."


    That... apparently was the wrong thing to say, as Malachi halts mid-step, then plants his feet down hard and turns to the hapless squire with a furious expression.


    "What was THAT, page Jenkins?" - he thunders - "You were brought in as a part of a party to subdue an imposter hazard, you had a blade in your hand, you attempted to attack first... and you were still NOT READY AT THE TIME, as you so curiously put it? Do tell, what was there left for you to do to achieve this nigh-mythological state of readiness you are blathering about, then?"


    "Beg your pardon, sire, I was intending to say I was ready for the wrong thing." - Jenkins backpedals hastily - "I was expecting to battle against a talbot with the help of my comrades, but what ended up happening was that I faced off against war witch alone."


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Malachi sighs. "While I have no doubt lady Gillespie could meet and exceed the standards set for warmage, to the best of my knowledge she never expressed any interest in taking the examination or joining the standing army." - he huffs - "So don''t you go calling her a war witch. That being said, I do readily agree she could wipe the floor with you on any day, regardless of how prepared you think yourself to be at the moment."


    He pauses, clears his throat, then casts a menacing glance across his coterie - "That goes for ALL of you, youngsters. While some of you show potential to be good inquisitors, do NOT let it go to your head. None of you could possibly fight her off, if she wanted to brawl. I have personally seen her using fivefold haste in combat, and I have no reason to believe she can not go higher if she wants to. And all of that strictly through facsimiles. Alyssa Gillespie is quite well known for her aversion to using live flowers, as a matter of fact."


    "But how is that even possible, sir?" - one of the other cadets asks respectfully - "It is common knowledge that the human body can not withstand that much. The best ever witnessed is threefold haste achieved by viscounts Lemarchand..."


    "In short? Facsimiles." - Malachi explains patiently - "By rejecting the power of singular focus, lady Gillespie instead gains the option to use many assorted facsimiles all casting their own little spells. It goes without saying that she is capable of incredible mana throughput to cast through facsimiles with the same power as one would expect out of a live flower... But that aside, some of my fellows have had attempted to recreate her effort with facsimiles and achieved success. You lot will not be trained for this until your magic matures a little more, though, we expect our applicants to be of age. Still... With four matched facsimiles and some effort, one can cast three times haste and once body reinforcement at the same time. It has been verified to be achievable by several of our inquisitors, meaning they can match the speed of viscount Lemarchand for a time."


    "Sir Malachi, what are the requirements to be considered for such a training?" - asks the lone woman in their midst. Curious.


    "You must be of age and attain the sash." - Malachi answers without hesitation - "How successful you will be with it is entirely on you, mind. Some people just can not wrap their minds around the simultaneous casting."


    Of age in this context means "arms-bearing age" and means eighteen. Attaining the sash simply means one has to be an Inquisitor in good standing. Sash is the graduation token and it is given when cadet successfully passes the practical examinations. Which is what they are doing today, I surmise. Except for Jenkins, he was just held back two years. Or even three, if Malachi expects him to become squire again before applying for the examination. Malachi must be really pissed off with him to do that, it''s pretty much one step short of saying outright Malachi does not believe him to be Inquisition material.


    "It helps if you practice doing several cantrips at once first." - I add absentmindedly, inflating my search goose to a full-sized human figure... And facepalm back at the estate when hindsight kicks in with a remark that maybe it was not the best idea to behave blatantly inhumanely in front of Inquisition. Students... react. A couple of them shriek, yelp, backpedal or just fall over. Jenkins, impressively enough, manages to do all four in quick sequence. Malachi simply glances at me... Though I can tell he had a pretty hefty fireball on the tip of his fingers to go, if necessary. Somewhat more impressively, about half of his students also have some sort of fire or light-based spell ready to go... or going. Thankfully, the ones who have too twitchy trigger fingers all went with the Ray of Purity, which does bupkis to me for obvious reasons.


    "...Lady Gillespie." - Malachi drawls - "Did something urgent happen?"


    I shrug. "Not really? I just happened to want an advice from you, and your page said you''re hunting ghouls... And then I realized I have no idea what ghouls actually are, so I came over to catch some and find out what''s that all about." - I explain to him - "Speaking of which, there''s a whole bunch of them nearby. Look oddly matched, too."


    "...Matched?" - he echoes.


    "You know. All men, all of them roughly of the same age prior to infection... I would hazard a guess all of them were between eighteen and twenty-five. Seems to me like that was intentional, while we are at it." - I explain further - "Someone tried to make an army of ghouls, I guess? Or at least a platoon."


    Oh. Wow. Malachi really does not like the news. "FILS DE SALOPE!" - he thunders suddenly, smacking his fist against his hip - "...Pardon me, ladies, but that gods-bedamned blackguard! An outbreak, my ass! He was breaking king''s orders all along!"


    I quirk my brow at him. He is visibly fuming. "Sooo... do you want directions to the ghouls, or you''d rather assess the investigative abilities of your students by letting them find out themselves?" - I ask.


    He snorts. "Point the way, please." - he then requests shortly - "Everyone, form up on me! Swords out, fire magic ready! Do not break the formation, do not run off to finish stragglers, do not leave your mates unguarded while you chase an extra kill. This means you especially, page Jenkins! Lady Gillespie, I would not presume to order you around, but your help would be very appreciated."


    Hm. Something''s off? Oh well. I shrug and inflate the instance to the combat form I used back in Sultanate. The armor and the hammer are conjured, obviously... though I have to go with the battle dress because I don''t want to give an impression I am in habit of wearing conjured clothes all the time and... waaait, I just inflated my height by like half again what I usually am. Fuck. Oh well. Sensible armor, in that case. S''not like sir Malachi is somehow unaware I''m ridiculously powerful mage as is.


    "I''ll take the point, you take command?" - I suggest to Malachi, who quirks his head, then grins ferally.


    "Now, people, I don''t expect any of you to actually match the lady here, but by the gods, you WILL take meticulous notes while you have this priceless opportunity to see the real power in action." - he suggests - "Work defensively, rely on magic first and foremost. You two with the bows, flank lady Gillespie and take shots at any stragglers. You two next to them, stick close to your archer pals and keep the riff-raff off them. The rest of you, split into two groups! You''re screening the flanks, keep your distance, use two-line formation. Front row watches for runners, rear row uses fire magic!"


    "Oh, while we are at it. I have my golems keeping the circle around the ghouls. They look like big azure squirrels, so pay attention." - I suggest - "Not sure if ghouls are smart enough to scatter or not, didn''t want to take chances."


    Malachi snorts. "They are not, but this is a good tactic if you have the prowess to spin golems." - he comments as we proceed further - "Lady Gillespie, this is not crucial, but if the opportunity presents, try to disable some of the ghouls, would you kindly? Shattering the limb bones is fairly efficient, but the best results usually come if you can break their spines."


    "Sure, but why?" - I quip.


    "Royal wizards like to have live samples for their investigations." - he proffers simply - "They have high hopes for reversing this curse."


    I purse my lips. "Ah, well..." - I hedge - "I''m afraid ghoulification is not reversible. If the infection really takes, it destroys the brains entirely. I''ll send you my notes after we''re done, but the gist of it is that they would be better served figuring out a substance or spell that disrupts the fungal framework that keeps the whole thing in place."


    "Fungal?" - he repeats after me. What?


    "Yeah, you know. The thing that grows over the brain and takes over the body. It''s a symbiote made out of a specific mushroom and some sort of protozoa colony. I''m not sure about the exact makeup of protozoa, they look artificial." - I try to explain.


    "Veeeeery interesting... Yes, I would definitely like to peruse your notes on the ghouls, milady." - he growls - "And if you are amenable, show them to those tower peacocks. I told them the damn thing is an infection!"


    "Out of curiosity, what are they treating it as?" - I ask as we step out on the glade that contains the majority of ghouls. Judging by the howls, they saw us too.


    "A curse by dark magic, of course. The fools." - he bites out as I kick off the usual bevy of acceleration and sensory spells and bash the first ghoul in the head. Whoops, melon meet hammer time. Dodge to the side, skewer this, reverse the swing, toss the body off, stomp on it stepping forward and to the side, the second swing... yes, caught it right between shoulder blades, nice and... whoops. Sorry, Jenkins. In all honesty, I didn''t expect that the heart would blast out through the ribcage like this. Still, you''re an Inquisitor in the training, getting a faceful of gore shouldn''t be a problem for you.


    "Hrphroooo!" - he opines - "....Aaah, aaaaaaah, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"


    Oops. Meh, more ghouls to pulverize first.

 Chapter 128. Taking An Actual Break

    As all amusing things, the brawl ends way too soon. As it turns out, I don''t really need to do much more beyond swinging the hammer. Maybe setting a thing or two on fire as well. Hysterical Jenkins aside, the whole group of cadets performs quite well, keeping their distance, using fire and occasional earth to corral the ghouls in and exterminate them one by one. A few particularly aggressive specimens did manage to get close but were cut down by the sword-wielders before they could do anything more than snarl. I am rather enthused to see they have no compunctions about hamstringing the ghouls. That''s nice, I was somewhat worried the more "noble" of them would balk at "dishonest" fighting. Now to deal with Jenkins.


    I am thankfully preempted by Malachi conjuring a stream of water to hose the unfortunate bugger off. Unlike me, Jenkins does not seem to be up for pushing the filth off with magic. Actually, he does not seem to be up to anything at all. Wonder why... Oh, if his hysterical gibbering is of any indication, he is under impression that contact with "heartblood" will definitely ghoulify him. After he is rinsed off and shocked by the coldness of water into silence, I am finally able to clue him in.


    "Blood is not infectious. Not unless you drink it by the glass or manage to somehow pour a good deal of it into your own veins. And even then, the most likely outcome would be just a long bout of fever. In order to cause ghoulification, a piece of the headgrowth is required, and you have to have it shoved down your throat too. Or into a wound, I suppose." - I explain - "The whole thing is remarkably independent of magic, it''s just nature going the wrong way. Or the right way. Depending on where you are headed."


    Jenkins does not seem to be entirely persuaded. In the end, Malachi sends off two cadets to escort Jenkins to Parsee post-haste. I offered to teleport him, but for some reason, Leeroy had gone into panic once again and had to be reassured that no more intervention from my side would be given.


    "...So then, how do they propagate in such numbers? This whole situation seems rather suspicious." - Malachi muses.


    "In such, they should not be." - I agree with him - "As far as I can tell, the way things usually shake out makes them pack hunters. A group of five-eight ghouls roams together and upon seeing something of suitable size, they dogpile on it, wrestle it down and one of them shoves a piece of headgrowth into the victim''s mouth."


    Malachi''s lips thin as he mulls this over. "Damnation. It seems that someone got their hands on something they should not have." - he mutters - "Blast it all, I thought we burned all the Wessker''s manuscripts decades ago!"


    "...Who''s manuscripts?" - I echo, struck with very unpleasant premonition.


    "Albrecht Wessker. He was before my time, but his manuscripts still crop up every now and then." - Malachi mutters grimly - "We do not know if the man was the reason ghouls exist or simply fascinated by them, but he is well known for his obsession with the creatures and attempts to make them controllable. Thankfully, Inquisition did put a firm stop to his experiments when he began to abduct villagers to turn them. Still, he managed to create a large number of ghoul deer and ghoul dogs, and despite our best efforts, we''ve yet to exterminate this plague entirely."


    He looks around, gesturing towards the cadets who are using a mix of magic, sticks and protective clothing to haul all the ghoul bodies into the center of the glade, presumably to burn. "And these things happening do NOT improve our situation in the slightest." - he grouses - "Because every now and then, some particularly foolhardy moron would stumble upon a copy of that foul man''s notes, make their own or two and then go forth and infect a whole lot of creatures or people in a bid to finish the damn work. It is as if the words themselves are cursed to make the people reading them into monstrous cretins bent on spreading this foulness."


    "So... Who''s the likely suspect for this outbreak?" - I query. The name dropped was very alarming, but given the timescale, I can tentatively believe the man is really dead. If it was more recent, though... Yeah, well. I''d be gone hunting for the bastard, then. Him or his grave, whichever. Malachi harrumphs and instead of answering, orders everyone to gather up.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    "Corpses are all piled? Yes? Good. You lot, fetch the firewood. The rest of you, doublecheck the area and clean everything up. Once we are done burning this, we are going back to Parsee." - he orders. Then he turns to me and continues in a lower voice - "I already have people in place watching the man. We suspected foul play from the very beginning, which is why I''m here with a throng of cadets instead of sending in experienced knights. But our initial assumption was that he was simply negligent and failed to report the appearance of ghouls until things got that bad. What we''ve seen here suggests there might be more at play than simple negligence. I would really prefer you do not involve yourself in the situation further, the man in question is one of your vocal critics and he will become alarmed if you crop up all of a sudden. I''d rather arrest him in his own house, rather than give chase or siege him out of whatever hideout he had surely prepared."


    "Fair enough." - I agree. It is really not my problem, now is it? I''m sure Malachi will contact me if it so happens my assistance is required after all. I dismiss the armor and the hammer and shrink down to my usual humane appearance, reverting the clothes to dress in the process - "Well then, I''ll just ask for your advice as I said initially and I''ll be on my way afterward. What can you tell me about an alchemist who goes by the moniker of "Tremper"? I am already aware they sell poisons and are not really concerned about the legalities of using what they sell."


    Malachi rubs his face tiredly. "Tremper?" - he repeats - "Yeah, I know about that one. Her real name is Elsa Magrit and she can be usually found in Verdan. Not affiliated with any specific patron, as far as I can tell, just an unscrupulous alchemist for hire. I do believe she has connections to the criminals in Verdan and whereabouts, but she is cautious enough to never do anything actually illegal in front of witnesses."


    "I see. So if she made the poison someone tried to slip to my maid, then it''s simply because someone paid her for it, not because there is someone else pulling the strings?" - I inquire.


    "What? Oh dear. Is your maid alright?" - he asked with clear worry - "Tremper''s poisons are generally known to be nasty."


    "Ah." - I chuckle - "I should clarify. Someone thought I''m bedding Bridgit by force and therefore she would be a willing accomplice to poison me. It goes without saying she reported the whole thing right back to me. Unfortunately, the fellow who gave her the thing managed to disappear before I could chase him down for some poignant questions, so all I have is what he said to Bridgit. And it is a sob story about revenge for a village I have supposedly burned on a whim. While I was eight years old, even."


    Malachi snorts - "Yes, I remember that story. Your father was livid about the whole thing. Still, I have thought that the villagers in question had been properly remonstrated back then? And duly impressed with the mercy shown, considering your father was well within his rights to put the whole village to the sword for such an offense."


    I shrug. "I guess someone didn''t get the full story. Or elected to believe differently. People tend to believe all manner of weird things, I have found out." - I agree - "Well, unless you do have some idea who might have introduced our hapless avenger to Tremper, I guess this is the end of this investigation."


    Malachi purses his lips. "Hard to say." - he then offers - "Tremper is known of by many people, from gutters to manors, so... No real way to narrow it down if someone recommended her and if so, who."


    ___


    The investigation, such as it was, being wrapped up to my satisfaction, I retreat to the estate to spend the evening with my harem. Orrr, rather, I begin by breaking the beds down and reassembling them into one big lair much reminiscent of what I built in the Academy and flump on it gracelessly as soon as it is done. And this is how Roxolane finds me, face-down on the bed.


    "Alyssa?... Eeep!" - she shakes my shoulder and yelps as I turn around, grab her in a hug and roll back on the bed, now holding her.


    "Tiiiired." - I murmur, and she giggles.


    "I should get everyone if you''re in a lazy mood." - she proffers. I respond by hugging her tighter for a few moments, then let go with a grumble. A few minutes later, all of my wives are within arm''s reach. Lily-Anne is still a little under weather but objected vociferously when I suggested she should stay in a separate bed and rest. According to her, hugs are the best cure. And so, I am hugging them all now.


    "Is everyone in favor of staying in bed until tomorrow?" - I venture lazily after a while, feeling satisfied. Since Lily-Anne was unwell and Bridgit had a bad shock, they end up being shuffled next to me on both sides, with Roxolane and Moon-Unit spooning them, respectively. I surreptitiously stretch my arms to be long enough to hug them all at once, of course. They notice and riff me about it. It is nice. Low-key relaxing nice. Sometimes, you just have to take some time off for cuddles.

 Chapter 129. The Trip Begins

    The next morning, I am entirely reinvigorated and ready for whatever may come. In our case, a whole morning of packing. I''m not too ruffled about possibly forgetting something, given the availability of teleporting, but I''m guessing this line of thought is just too novel for people to jump onto. Therefore, the whole mess with filling up my airship with the stuff we will ostensibly need for a month-long cruise across the not-Europe.


    For once, I just take the backseat on everything and entrust the decisions to my wives and family. I''m just feeling really lazy right now. No specific reason, I''m just struck with an inexplicable urge to sit and watch people run around. It''s soothing. Oh, I''m also sorta programming in the background? Sort of. Porting, I guess. I did promise Cy Doom and Carmageddon on the tablets, so...


    By the dinner, I am more or less done, and so are the porters packing the stuff into the airship. Bridgit took advantage of the layover to completely strip out every single linen and blanket and replace them with freshly laundered ones. Thoughtful of her. A similar kind of deal went for the larder - leftovers out, fresh food in. What else? Hm. It seems like we''re actually all set to depart in the afternoon. And this notion does not arouse any objections. It would have in the past - when you travel by horse and carriage, leaving after midday is rather silly, given the inconvenience of guiding horses in the dark and the lack of decent light sources. Magic does help somewhat in that regard, but until my introductions, the best on offer was a sort of magical torch that was essentially a clump of quartz on a stick with a bunch of loops for flowers to attach to it. On one hand, it was low-powered enough to make the type of flower largely irrelevant, so it could be resupplied simply by plucking any random flower on the field, no matter the alignment. On the other, it provided exactly as much light as one would expect from an actual torch, if without the accompanying smoke. Meaning it was all but useless in the rain and did not permit better speed than a leisurely trot even in calm weather.


    Dwarves are all over the headlamps I designed for them a while back, tho. Does require a little getting used to, but they were already familiar with the idea of "wear a skullcap when mining for safety", so all I had to do was pitch the idea of attaching a lantern to it. Looking into reinforcement spells was very useful for this, as the enchantment I have ultimately settled on used the bobbing of the miner''s head to store up the mana in a simple coil, feeding into formulae etched into a flat button at the bottom of a half-spherical cup of polished metal capped with a slab of glass to keep it nice and reflective. All of that riveted to the iron skullcap with padding. Much to my relief, dwarves accepted the moniker of "miner''s helmet" without any problem. I guess it was in a big part ensured by the fact none of them needed to question what the name actually means. See, I did learn from the disaster that was naming the new roads. Which, much to my chagrin, will probably remain "tar roads" for the foreseeable future because even the most simple to explain "blacktop" just didn''t catch up.


    Speaking of tar roads, the teams graciously provided by the kingdoms of Champagne and Kraut are going at it full-tilt, and I expect the Kraut side will be ready for my intervention within the week because in accordance with the plans I provided, they are building a road up to a cliff near the caldera blocking the way further into the Ashenvale. My plan is simple. The old tract, insofar as I could ascertain, winds up over the southern edge of the caldera and then downwards into it, and exits through the crack between two cliffs. This path is now not traversable due to the crack in question being partially filled with stones. Which on its own would be annoying, but fairly trivial to dismantle, if not for the thousands upon thousands tons of ash behind this barrier. Attempts to dismantle the barrier have been made before, as can be seen in the league-long scar of scoured land extending from it. The attempt was made shortly after the eruption when the ash was still hot, and according to the accounts of the resulting ash avalanche, only a tenth of workers survived the wave of ash that eradicated all life in a fan of black and grey. What few trees were girthy enough not to burn off outright became bizarre outcroppings of coal sticking out of the pumice layer. Since then, it was "common knowledge" in Kraut that trying to break open the "Dwarven tomb" was to court quick and inevitable death.


    I doubt it would be easy to get the locals to buck the tradition, and it is not needed anyway. Instead, I intend to bore a tunnel that would connect an elevated spot through about two arpents of cliff rocks straight to the point where the old tract is about to begin a descent into caldera, thus circumventing the whole ash pit entirely. A number of dwarves had departed earlier soon after my demonstration of cement mixing to set up a camp at the mouth of Ashenvale from Champagne side. They come with a big supply of preserves and hunting implements and pre-made girders and timbers in order to quickly dig in and establish a point of arrival for the road. There is an unfortunate truth that all the road construction is heavily dependent on snowfall, and while light dusting is not that much of a problem, a serious snowstorm would halt the progression of all road crews in the area for a good while, potentially all the way to spring. Magic helps, but there is only so much magic that can be brought to bear when a significant chunk of your workforce is convicts.


    The good news is, the road to Ashenvale itself is pretty well-established and extremely well-used, even though the years since the eruption had significantly lowered traffic on it in the eastern part. So the crews have much less work to do with it than one would expect and can move much more quickly along it. It also helps that with Abe''s tacit approval, I have shifted all the work crews that could be reasonably moved into the area on time to pave that road. Once it''s done or once the snow hits it so bad nothing else can be done, the crews will be distributed back to the neighboring lands to further their infrastructures... Except for those who will be retained for work in Ashenvale itself. For this, dwarves who are establishing the head camp are provided with several different versions of protective clothing and gear with instructions to test them in Ashenvale conditions and report on it. By the time we''re ready to de-ash the old tract, I expect a basic hazmat suit ready for use, as well as some basic work-up to supplement the workers with dry cement and cement-pebble blocks to construct the road with. Ashenvale stretch will have elevation and parapets to ensure the road is not covered in ash. The stretches most likely to be ashed up will get full-sized walls to keep the ash at bay. Of course, those places will be also the first spots where we will be taking ash from for the cement once the head camp at the mouth of Ashenvale grows into the cement factory I have envisioned.


    Pursuant to that, the last task that dwarves in the head camp had was to locate the most convenient deposits of limestone to exploit. I have been assured by them that limestone is relatively abundant in the mountains throughout the range and that it''s a given there would be many different deposits for use within the Ashenvale, as they WERE used by dwarves prior to the explosion, but limestone is relatively weak and I had no clue just how badly the deposits within the vale would be damaged by heat and ash contamination. Best locate some deposits outside of vale but close to the camp, simply to make it easy to keep the proportions before a more advanced cement-mixing setup can be built and calibrated to handle the ash contamination.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ___


    "Alyssa." - well, that seems to be an... interesting conversation my father''s about to start, given the mood and inflection - "We need to talk."


    "Mm? What''s wrong?" - I offer languidly, as I push aside the last report from the dwarves I''ve been doublechecking.


    "You''re slipping." - he says bluntly - "And I am not sure why."


    "Slipping?" - I echo.


    Dad winces. "I.. WE were aware you have... a special connection with magic." - he proceeds - "I have done my best to downplay and trivialize those issues, but... It''s still showing. I am not certain why. Maybe you are simply losing control of your magic because you keep running yourself ragged. Or maybe it''s your magic bursting at the seams and making you manic about putting all that you have glimpsed beyond to record..."


    He pauses, sighs, then soldiers on - "Anyway, well... I want you to pay attention to what shape you are when you talk to other people. Particularly so, our allies. In a way, we are lucky that la Vallieres have been our friends for generations by now. Most other people would have called Inquisition on you. Who would have found nothing objectionable, I dare hazard a guess, given how friendly you are with sir Malachi, but call an Inquisition they would. As it stands, I had no choice but to tell Carolus about your, ahem... childhood foibles, let''s call them so."


    "Huh. Alright? But why?" - I am a little puzzled, to be honest.


    "Because having an inborn penchant for shapeshifting magic that you worked hard on controlling is more palatable than having no explanation at all as to why you would suddenly sprout scales." - he proffers with a deep sigh - "Gods help me, Alyssa, I love you with all my heart, but do you ever make it hard being your parent sometimes."


    Huh. Yeah, he actually has a point. I''m making things harder for him than they should be.


    "...Sorry." - I offer after some consideration - "You are right, though I am not certain if there actually is a good way to solve this. Because I would wager that being randomly dragon is just a tip of an iceberg insofar as my oddities go, no?"


    "Only ever so slightly, my dear." - he snarks.


    ___


    "Final check, ladies." - I offer lazily - "Everyone who goes aboard, everyone who stays on the ground? Good, good. In that case, we have liftoff."


    And we do. If I charted the route right, we''re going to very briefly stop over at Berlinger in the morning so I could give Alphonse an update on the Ashenvale and notify him of certain financial... updates. While insofar, I am decisively coming on top of every altercation with Klaus that I have, I do plan to register my disapproval of his tactics in a manner every king pays attention to - by raising the prices. Not by much, this is a token gesture, but over the bulk orders it would quickly add up. I have intentionally targeted luxuries and military goods to make it blatantly obvious who''s pocket I''m punching. I do wonder, however, what will be the conclusions Alphonse makes from that message? He does not strike me as a man who would pander to his vanity in spite of common sense, but then again, Klaus is supposed to be a master spy. Which is not something I''m really seeing here, given his bumbling. Do I really have THAT much of an advantage over your ordinary noble, or there is something wonky going on with Klaus? Maybe whatever it is he does to come back from the dead is not perfect... Hrm. Something to mention when I''m talking to Hiram next time, I guess.


    "What do you want for supper, Alyssa?" - Bridgit jolts me out of political scheming with a surprisingly mundane question.


    "A, uh... Did anyone else ask for anything yet?" - I fumble for some answer.


    Bridgit shakes her head lightly. "Other than Cy wanting micropizzas, whatever that is... not so much." - she offers.


    "Oh. Well, why don''t we make pizzas, then?" - I go with the suggestion, such as it is, as I turn around and start towards the kitchen, making Bridgit snort and follow me.


    "You know, one would think that one of the perks of having a maid is not needing to cook personally..." - she teases.


    "But I like cooking." - I object matter of factly - "Especially with my maid."


    Given how she blushes, I guess I got that one out right.


    ___


    Upon hearing the reasons for me wanting to stop over in Berlinger, my harem (and daughter) had all voted for departing as soon as I''m done talking to Alphonse. I counteroffer to simply send off an instance to land at the castle once we are flying over the Berlinger, which is the plan of action we all end up being in agreement with. And so, I split off an instance, goose it up and toss myself out of the zeppelin window. Good times.


    I am... a little bit cavalier about such things recently, come to think of it. On one hand, I did overhear enough to understand that my little quirks are not quite as little as I have thought, but thankfully for me, everyone who noticed (aside from my harem and daughter, obviously) are all explaining it as consequences of defilement. Explains the conversation I had with dad before departing, come to think of it. I really need to reel it back a little. My family indulges me quite a lot in that regard, so if they are voicing their concerns, then maybe I should put some effort and attention into being less blatantly inhumane.


    With that in mind, I find a good spot slightly outside the castle to land, shuffle out of possible view and scan the surroundings for potential witnesses before inflating into a human shape. Alright, covert injection is a go. Let''s see... Huh. On one hand, I am tempted to randomly show up within the castle to spook Alphonse up. On the other, I really shouldn''t be spooking him up THAT much. Seriously spooked kings tend to give less than ideal orders. So I simply approach the gate along with a selection of other people. It might be that he has no room in his schedule for me, in which case I will simply leave him a letter.


    "...Pardon me, fraulein, but are you perchance of the house Gillespie?" - one of the gate knights asks in Albish. His accent is funny, come to think of it. Nothing even close to usual Kraut. Considering his olive skin tone and thin features, I surmise he was born somewhere in Pharos. Wonder how''d he ended up a knight in Kraut kingdom.


    "Alyssa Gillespie, yes." - I confirm. No real reason not to.


    "Ah!" - and suddenly I find myself shuffled out of the crowd and towards the gatehouse. Politely, mind you. Wonder what''s up.


    "We were informed you might be visiting incognito." - the guy from before proffers - "What can we do for you?"


    Oh. Abe must''ve warned Alphonse I have a habit of just showing up at the gates when I have something to show. Well, no reason for him not to, they are related and all that jazz.


    "Well, I do have an update for his highness regarding the progress of the Ashenvale tract and the latest price list." - I explain - "Since we talked last, Grand Forge had mastered new products. Some of the old wares are priced differently now, as well. I would like to speak to his highness if he has the time, otherwise I will just leave the papers for his perusal whenever convenient."


    "I see. If it pleases you, I will call the servants to show you in and notify his highness about your visit. They will inform you if there is time for an audience right now or not." - he proffers after a moment of consideration. Works for me.

 Chapter 130. Raise The Prices

    As it turns out, Alphonse is busy right now, but has some time in half an hour, if I can wait. This much is fine, so I tell the knights I''m fine with waiting. Of course, me waiting at the gatehouse is out of the question - I''d be in the way of their usual operations. Which makes sense, but kind of annoys me, because the alternative I''m being led to is a room without any people, which means I''ll be bored.


    "Jungfrau Gillespie!" - oor maybe not, because I''ve just been greeted by someone who gives me oddish vibes. I''m taller than your average woman out there, and yet, I am the shorter one here. And by a considerable margin. Which makes the woman in front of me a few centimeters shy of two meters even. Impressive, especially considering she is also very robustly built. This world has no concept of amazons, but if they did, she would likely be compared to one. Wait, there are no legends about amazons?... Huh, apparently none, at least none that I know of. And considering I have had scanned through the whole Academy library in my downtime... I''m pretty sure that even if such legends exist, they are not common or popular. Still, I believe I do need to answer before I drift off mulling over folklore...


    "Yessss...?" - I drawl, cocking my eyebrow at the woman, who for some reason blanches and sketches a quick bow.


    "Ah, pardon! My name is Anne-Marie Geldstein and I am the knight assigned to aid you for the duration of your visit here!" - she belts out hastily - "Please come in, this room had been prepared for sensitive materials. His highness king Alphonse Hohenzollern will arrive as soon as the benedictions are completed."


    I rifle through my mental dossiers. And blink. Huh. That woman answers to Klaus. Directly so. Lady Geldstein, the third among seven children of count Geldstein, a man infamous for not having a single arpent of arable land in his county. Apparently, the count had suddenly found himself getting richer because his lands contain every single tarpit on Kraut side of the mountains. I wonder what''s her angle.


    "Benedictions?" - I echo absentmindedly as I enter the door she opens.


    "It is a custom of our kingdom to grant knighthood to aspiring squires on the first day of spring. It is considered the most auspicious day for new beginnings." - she explains - "Benedictions, therefore, have to be conducted during winter."


    Not really explaining much here. It... has something to do with knights, at least?


    "That''s nice, but what exactly the benedictions are?" - I inquire blithely. Probably a bit of a blunder, but I just can''t bring myself to be politically correct in front of the spymaster''s puppet.


    "His highness assessing the potential knights to be?" - she proffers in a questioning tone - "My apologies, I was under the impression benedictions are common enough in Champagne as well?"


    I nibble on my lip as I mull it over. "We don''t call it benedictions, and generally speaking, any knight seeking to promote a squire simply presents them to the king during public audience hours. You people seem to be doing things differently." - I offer - "Indulge my curiosity. Do you have a specific day of the year for benedictions, or it simply happens whenever there''s a sufficient number of squires eligible for promotion?"


    "Second, jungfrau." - she offers back after a moment of consideration - "Whenever a knight order amasses enough of squires they seek to promote, they would seek benediction from his highness."


    "And since the first day of spring is considered the best time to mint new knights, winter''s the usual time for benedictions, I surmise. Gives a little flexibility to the orders to give the last few training sessions to those needing them..." - I muse - "Out of curiosity, what do the independent knights do?"


    "I''m sorry, independent knights? Kraut kingdom does not really have any truly independent knights. One remains in order one was born into or joins a different one, depending on personal circumstances." - she replies.


    Well, that is different. Champagne knight orders are really function-based and order membership is much like membership in an artisan guild - a proficiency in a specific skill and a way to connect to other professionals in the same skill area. If what was murmured in the background is of any indication, there might be a new order of knights I am directly responsible for. L''Ordre Royal des Fusiliers, to be exact. Knight order of riflemen. Makes me a little bit curious as to what this will grow into. Kraut knight orders seem to be more concerning themselves with locale than with the focus of order. Riter Khbrusashaft fun Berlinger, for example. Knight order uniting the knights residing in Berlinger and neighboring settlements. Includes, by necessity, the king''s guard and personal armsmen and answers directly to Alphonse. That is not to say that there are no other orders in the area. While it''s not uncommon for any decently big town to have their own RKhbS, there also exist Inquisitorial orders that are responsible for monster extermination in their sphere of influence and assorted orders more in line with Champagnan function-oriented organizations, like Royt Royz Bruderschaft. Not sure what red roses have to do with an organization dedicated to training shocktroopers, though. Royt Royz specializes in training knights how to fight in full armor with a greatsword. It''s brotherhood simply by the dint of lacking the women of requisite burliness to handle the full-body chainmail and grossmesser. The grand total of gear they''re expected to fight in is to the tune of 40 kilograms. They''re great at breeching the pike line and are, more or less, the counterpart to Sultanate bujatir.


    AAAanyway, back to the more pressing topics. Kraut knight orders are funny and all, but I''m not really in need of this information right now. I''m more interested in finding out why this woman is here. Is this because she stepped up to take over from Klaus, or it is because Klaus already respawned somehow and feels it unwise to interact with me again? I''d ask, but I''m pretty sure she wouldn''t tell me anything worth the effort of hearing. For all his foibles, Klaus did know a thing or two about properly training up underlings in opsec. Hell, he invented the concept of opsec as a definite craft that can be taught in this reality.


    The lull in conversation is sufficiently long for me to find a chair to settle down on. I wonder if Anne-Marie is here to simply observe me, or she''s about to try and wheedle some information out of me under the guise of small talk. Given her relative size, it might have been an attempt at intimidation, or she might be here to silence me if talks don''t go the way Kraut kingdom wants, but I very much doubt either of those. By now, I''m pretty sure it''s common knowledge I don''t scare easily nor do I shy away from violence. That... um. Wait a moment. Why is she looking at me like this? Did I forget to do something? The expression is kinda like as if I forgot to put on a skirt coming out on the street. Weird. Not sure what this is all about, though. I''m dressed, I''m not dirty, I''ve got all my needed papers in the folder... Hrm. Whatever, it''s probably some kind of courtly trick I am forgetting. Don''t care, I''m here to give Alphonse bad news. And good news, I guess, but primarily I''m here to grind his nose against the latest annoyance from Klaus and to let him understand in no uncertain terms that there will be monetary consequences for letting his spymaster run wild.


    ___


    In the end, I never found out just what was that I did or did not do that shocked my escort of the day so much. Which, frankly, was a big old cue for me that it was not something I really care about. The important thing is, Alphonse is here. It''s been a little over an hour. Not ideal, but better than it could be. While he was at it, I had ample time to sort things out, and lay the piles in the order of importance. The most important would be the pictures taken where I marked out how the new tunnel would be laid out, and the assorted pictures taken by dwarves as they surveyed the conditions at the Champagne side of the tract.


    Thankfully, I am not too preoccupied to rise for a greeting. If memory serves, remaining seated while the king is coming in would be... Diplomatically problematic, let''s put it like that. On the plus side, as someone technically related, if not by blood, I am not required to do more than that. A commoner would have to kneel in supplication, a lesser noble would be required to bow and to wait until being addressed in order to actually start the conversation. Me, well... I do believe Alphonse has some idea that I''m less than jovial right now because he does not dawdle. A quick greeting, an offer to sit, and we''re good to go.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Well, this is just an update on the progress." - I begin, as I lift the stack regarding the Ashenvale - "Here, these are the reports and measurements on the path as it would be laid through the Ashenvale and the proposed spot where the tunnel circumventing the ashbowl at your end will be bored. I''ve already tested the spells I intend to use for that, and the results are promising. I was able to hit the aquifer and solidify the channel. Upscaling it to a carriage-passable tunnel is trivial. So we''re all set. If there are no last minute things, I will bore the tunnel itself during next week, I will be passing through your country anyways so..."


    "Pardon me, passing through my kingdom?" - Alphonse hedges. Not sure why he''s looking so discombobulated.


    "Yes? One of my wives is from Kraina and I did promise to visit her family sometime soon." - I explain. Not sure why this is something he cares about, to be honest.


    "Oh. Oh!... Yes, well. I understand. Would you... oh. You are using your airship for this, right?" - he proffers - "No need nor place for escort, I surmise?"


    I shrug. "Essentially. I appreciate the thought, but I don''t intend to be close enough to the ground to need any sort of escort." - I agree - "If it helps, I do intend to do a stopover at Nornburg. Try some local delicacies, see the sights, move on in a day or two."


    Anne-Marie is clearly making a notice of that. Hrm.


    "Well, about the tunnel..." - I begin, trailing off when I notice Alphonse had checked out of reality in favor of gawking over the photos.


    "Good gods, how?" - he then demands, waving one of the pictures in front of me.


    "Made a device to do that?" - I return his question with one of my own - "Tablets to take pictures, printing machines to lay them out on paper like this." I lift the next stack and hand it to him - "Our new price lists. Includes the devices in question. Might take a while to ship them to Kraut, though if you make a bulk order, I will throw in a teleporting service."


    "...I''m sorry, what?" - he repeats dumbly.


    "If you buy a lot of them, I will use the magic I took from Oijan mages to instantly transport the goods from my manufactories to your palace." - I explain simply - "Everything is in the price lists. I would imagine you need a bit of time to scan through new options and confer with your advisors to put together a purchase order that would address the needs of your kingdom the best."


    He grabs for the booklet listing our wares and starts rifling through it. He does pause at the first page of the metallurgy section, though.


    "...I do remember these springs being offered for an ecu less..." - he drawls - "And while I don''t recall the exact prices offhand, I do have a distinct feeling there was a little extra tacked on pretty much everything you offered for sale last time."


    He trails off and just looks at me. Leaving the ball in my yard, are you? Well, then. I have no problems explaining why.


    "Yes, the listings I gave you last time were the version I made for close allies. Minimal profit, maximum convenience." - I explain, noting how his eyes get wider than narrow - "The list you have now is simply for friendly foreigners. I also have lists for neutral foreigners and passively hostile foreigners, each of them with correspondingly higher price hikes. Those last two also exclude the best offers. No complicated devices, advanced metallurgy or enchanted anything. Listing for passively hostile foreigners also excludes things that can be easily weaponized or turned into weapons, like steel or alchemical components."


    "...I would appreciate it if you explain why Kraut Kingdom''s standing with your trading house had dropped from allies to friendly foreigners if you''d be so kind." - he growls, setting the papers down firmly.


    I shrug and pass him a letter I got from Klaus inviting me to the pow-wow. "I''ve got this missive from your spymaster." - I explain - "As you can see, he is under impression that one of my wives is poisoned with something exotic and only he has the antidote for it. As it so happens, there WAS an assassination attempt earlier by an oijan hashishin, who wielded a bow with poisoned arrows. He failed to hit anyone before I killed him. I killed the assassin in a public place and I did it before he was able to loosen any arrows at all, so only me and king Abraham''s guard know that there was poison on the arrows. And, somehow, Klaus. Now, can you think of a good explanation for that? Just how did Klaus know about poison but NOT about the outcome of the attempt?"


    "...And?" - he prompts me, clearly refusing to comment on the situation while not knowing enough of it.


    "To my consideration, Klaus had to be aware of the assassination attempt before it happened in order to know about poison, but not about the attempt failing." - I explain - "I have no idea if he supplied the poison or simply found out what it was and procured antidote in anticipation, and frankly I do not care. What I DO care about is the fact that he had to know about assassination before the attempt was made and he did not try to warn me. He waited until it happened and THEN informed me that he just so happens to have an antidote I surely desperately need. Does this sound like a trusted ally to you?"


    He frowns. "I admit, this looks... underhanded." - Alphonse finally ventures - "However, did he really ask for anything impossible?"


    "I wouldn''t know, since no asking was done." - I return blithely - "As the assassin failed, I obviously had no need for an antidote and therefore, no need to bargain with Klaus at all. I was in the middle of my preparations to go on vacation with my harem, going to meet with him would be ridiculously inconvenient and fruitless."


    I let him draw his own conclusions from that, but he does not seem to be making any kind of comment or rebuttal for quite a while. Eventually, I give up on this waiting game. "I am considerably discomfited by the attempt." - I explain firmly - "In my understanding, an ally would volunteer information about impending attack as quickly as possible. Failing that, an ally would just send over the antidote immediately, instead of requesting a clandestine meeting in a remote area. I would not even begin to understand what Klaus was thinking when he arranged all that, and I do not want to know. I just want to lodge my displeasure with his actions, and I choose to do so by the way of the coin. If you can make sure no other... ill-conceived actions occur within the year, I will consider giving you preferential prices once again."


    "This... incident worries you enough to risk offending us?" - he ventures slowly.


    "This is not the first time Klaus did something extremely questionable targeting me." - I rebut - "I am quite sure kronprinz Hiram had reported the items I have passed over to him after my initial altercation with Klaus at our own mansion. I elected not to cause a diplomatic incident over attempted enslavement, but you can hardly expect me to forget what that man tried to do. I kept my peace because I was assured by Hiram that the incident would NOT be repeated under any circumstances. I''ve begun to doubt that decision after receiving this letter. The change in pricing is my last olive branch. If I find myself being a target of Kraut spies once again after this, I will deliver what was already promised and agreed upon to the letter, and then I will cut any and all trading with Kraut kingdom."


    I lean over the table lightly - "I am not asking for anything impossible either, now do I? I''m not demanding Klaus to be executed, or for you to admit to wrongdoing, or even gifts to make up for slights caused. All I request is paying actual market prices for my wares from now on. You even have the option to regain the discounts later on, and all you have to do is to keep your spymaster and his underlings from openly hostile actions towards me. I don''t care if Klaus puts his people into work crews or keeps track of what I import into Kraut and why, it''s his job after all. But I DO care very much when he shows clear signs of being involved in trying to kill one of my wives."


    He sighs. Puts his finger down on the pricing. "Those are actual prices at which you would sell wares to anyone cooperative with your mercantile efforts, correct?" - he proffers tiredly.


    "Yes." - I agree - "Subject to usual amendment, as every price on the market is."


    "Fine. I will abide by the new prices from now on." - he grumbles - "As for this letter, I am not confident it was actually from Klaus at all. But I understand your reservations. Here''s hoping the next year you can be assured that there is no foul play from our side."


    "That would be nice." - I agree neutrally - "I am quite tired of foul plays, to be honest."


    ___


    Well, that went... passably well. Alphonse is obviously less than pleased with the price hike, but just as clearly is not feeling sanguine about calling me out over it. I was pretty clear on what I would do, and it''s an effective threat. He can hardly justify strongarming a merchant from a different kingdom to match his preferred prices. The usual response would be to simply buy from someone else, but no one else offers the stuff I do, and will not for quite a while. I had a good laugh about Kraut blacksmiths trying to recreate springs by casting them. No-go, obviously, you have to forge them in order to give them the necessary flexibility. Cast iron just crumbles if you subject it to excessive force.


    With any luck, he will direct that anger at his spies. I rather doubt he would do anything drastic, Alphonse is not a bloody-minded nutter like Vlad, but I do believe he would chew them out for souring the deals. Nothing angers politicians worse than a fruitless mistake, after all.

 Interlude 21: A Couple Letters

    (written in Kraut language)


    "...therefore, consider this missive to be official orders. You are not, by action or inaction, incur the ire of the aforementioned jungfrau Gillespie. The only exception we the king of Kraut permit to you is if you can prove to our satisfaction that the lady in question is committing hostile activities towards our kingdom of Kraut or royal house Hohenzollern. Should you find her embroiled in any manner of legal dispute within our domain, it is our will that you assist in the situation by whatever means necessary to attain a compromise that satisfies lady Gillespie. Should that prove to be impossible, you are hereby ordered to immediately report any such situation before taking any action. Any existing plans that MIGHT result in involving the aforementioned lady, be they just schemes or already occurring actions, are to be halted immediately, subject to royal approval.


    Do not, under any circumstances, allow another such blunder, Klaus. Crownmark is the lifeblood of Kraut, and our country hardly needs to bleed gainlessly."


    ___


    (written in Albic language)


    "I do sincerely hope this letter of mine finds you in good spirits and strong health, Cattleya.


    In response to your question, I have been personally reassured by his highness king Abraham himself that my position by prince Edward''s side remains unaffected. In fact, it was impressed upon me that now, more than ever, my service and vigilance are needed. I am not at the liberty to speak without restraint about the events that occurred at the Academy this autumn, but I am entirely at the liberty to confirm that in the end, we the Champagne nation and we the particular people have gained more than we lost.


    The attack you inquired about in your last missive did indeed occur, and yes, I was at the forefront of the counterattack that thwarted the scheme, but it would be presumptuous of me to claim I did more than aid the castle guard. The bulk of praise should be given to lady Alyssa Gillespie, as it was her who broke the assault on his highness the king and it was her who recovered princess Lily-Anne from captivity. Furthermore, yes, she did wrest the secret oijan magics from the defeated magus and learned their fabled Worldstride. And yes, she did improve on the magic in question somehow. The exact formulae are well beyond my understanding and require of caster to be very thoroughly defiled to tolerate the exposure to the Void, but there are high hopes among the Royal Mages that with due diligence and effort, our kingdom may eventually benefit from our own Worldstriders.


    The matters of kingdom aside, allow me to boast of my own gains. As I mentioned before, I did inquire with lady Gillespie on the topic of unusual weaponry, and although I did not expect anything beyond advice and maybe guidance, she delivered above and beyond expectations, as is her wont. To begin with, I must confess with some embarrassment that I have erred in my assumption that merely seeing the weapon would be sufficient for me to have it recreated. Upon impressing upon blacksmith what was that I wanted, this venerable craftsman pointed out that if he were to forge the hammer as I requested, it would be harshly unbalanced. At the time, I have rather arrogantly presumed him to be speaking in ignorance of this particular weapon''s peculiarities, but once the item was finished to my specification, I found out, much to my chagrin (and loss of two planters) that he was quite right and the hammer as it was possessed no balance to speak if. Faced with such a quandary, I approached lady Gillespie for some advice and found out that Bec de Corbin she wielded was actually hollow in the hammerhead, filled with quicksilver instead of steel.


    Through her contacts within the merchant guild, I was able to procure the necessary posson of quicksilver without delay and she deeply impressed me with her outstanding grasp of artisanal magic immediately after, hollowing out the failure that was produced to my specification to make it viable. She called the result ''dead blow hammer'', and that name is very well deserved, I have to admit. As you are well aware, the crushing weaponry stemming from cudgels tends to recoil with each strike and by the strength of this recoil one could gauge the strength of the delivered blow. This simple maxim is potently untrue where quicksilver-filled hammers are concerned. Due to how the force is transmitted through the liquid metal, most of the blow power comes forth, leaving but a scant tithe at best to return to the giver as opposed to the full half one would expect. As such, I am currently in possession of a fearsome weapon that appears to be dangerous to any sort of foe. Lady Gillespie had cautioned me against practicing with my fellows at first, and I am glad to say I heeded her warning fervently.


    At this point of time, I have attempted to strike the following...


    Pumpkin - pulverized into juice and shreds.


    Head of cabbage - pulverized into leaf shreds.


    A head-sized chunk of sandstone - shattered into fist-sized pieces with plenty of sand and gravel.


    Birch log - gouged a part of the log, reducing most of the gouged wood to splinters.


    City guard helm (discarded for smelting) - shattered and squished into a flower shape.


    The recoil of every strike was comparable to that of a small cudgel bouncing off the tree. In my humble opinion, if I were to strike any of my fellows on the limb, bones would be surely broken. If I were to strike someone in the chest, ribs would surely cave. If I were to strike someone in the head, they would surely perish on the spot. Dwarves of the Grand Forge may forge comparable weaponry on request, though I have yet to ascertain the likely costs of such a custom order.


    My apologies, Cattleya, but as you can well see, I am very enthused about my new acquisition. While I do remember about it, on the same day of me gaining this implement of blunt assertion, the whole of Academy had been treated by his excellency Edward and his presumptive fiancee, lady Selene, to a bit of music. Until recently, I kept it a secret that Edward knows his way around bagpipes, as it was one of the few private pleasures he never showed to the public. However, he seems to have shed his apprehensions about it - or mayhaps, lady Selene persuaded him to disregard them. She possesses a remarkable ability with all sorts of musical instruments, including some that I have never heard before. On this particular eve, she had bedazzled us with a selection of songs performed upon an instrument called "hurdy-gurdy". It is somewhat reminiscent of a lute in size and violin in principle but possesses a crank one must turn to rotate the rosined wheel taking place of the bow. The resulting sound is very reminiscent of bagpipe droning and compliments the aforementioned quite delightfully. You might want to know that lady Selene plans to sell magical records of her music at some point in the future. As this will doubtlessly become the object of immense interest among the nobility, I have taken the liberty of requesting a few devices for playing such records to be set aside for our closest friends. It may be presumptive of me, but I made my request in the assumption that one of those devices would become yours.


    Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    But I digress. Assistance with the hammer I described in much detail earlier had been a gift enough in my opinion. Lady Gillespie thought otherwise. Upon the conclusion of the end-of-year celebrations, I found a number of crates in my dorm room. Each of them contained an example of an exotic weapon. Along with this letter, you will find the sketches of each one along with the description and my personal opinion on it so far. The assortment is eclectic and arouses my interest much, but so far I found myself sadly lacking time to truly devote myself to mastering any of them... That being said, one of them required little in the way of training.


    I am referring to the crossbow, of course. Although the mechanical arrangement of it is eminently different from what one would expect out of a crossbow, the function is more or less the same. I have taken it along with me last Caturday, having been invited by my fellows from the Academy to attend a hunt. Truth to tell, we were going to run down a boar with hounds and spears, the only reason why I cared to bring the crossbow along was the fact it is small and slim enough to shoulder it without much care. Unfortunately for Jacques Kessler, instead of a boar we chanced upon a bear and he foolishly trampled over the lair. His horse was immediately mauled and threw him off. A lucky break for the fellow, not so lucky for his horse, but that''s the fortunes of the hunt. Kessler would have likely been mauled next, as none of us were close enough to spear the bear fast enough - but I had the crossbow on my shoulder. Furthermore, it was already prepared, for I scared up some foxes a few moments ago and made preparations in case there''s more of them.


    Thanks to the clever contrivance of mounting a light looking glass on top of the crossbow, taking aim from a distance was quite easy. My plan was to harrow the bear with a bolt to the head or neck, cause it enough pain to dismiss Kessler in favor of a more dangerous foe... However, upon taking a shot the bear toppled and ceased moving shortly after. As soon as we aided the luckless Kessler and sent him back towards the lodge on a sled with a few footmen, we investigated the bear and much to the incredulous bedazzlement of my fellows, we found out that my bolt had entered through the ear and punched clean through the bear skull to the other ear. As such, I am a proud owner of completely intact bearskin, a somewhat irksome nickname "Eagle Eye" and a whole stack of letters from my fellows to lady Gillespie all inquiring about the crossbow in question and the costs of obtaining one. Or dozen, coin permitting. I do believe your family is well-acquainted with house Gillespie and I do remember your vivid interest in all things archery-related, so maybe you should consider asking some advice from lady Gillespie yourself, should an opportune moment present itself. She is quite generous with her wisdom..."


    ___


    (written in Oijan language)


    "...as per your enlightened instruction, oh great vizier, this insignificant is elated to report that great vizier''s most cunning plan to subvert the cursed corpses into useful labor is eminently successful. May the thrice bedamned White Witch choke on the lowly fig and die upon hearing the tale of her horrid curse being subsumed by the sublime mental might of Sultanate''s oldest and most experienced servant of sultan Salaadin the Eminent, may his reign last until the end of times. This humble servant of a servant is proud to report the third firewood stockade had been completely filled as of this morning. Per the grand vizier''s prescient direction, the cursed corpses had been lured away from hauling firewood and redirected according to ordained proportion. Seventeen to collect dried manure off the streets, six to refill plaza basin from the far wells and two remaining remanded to the care of most learned hakims as ordained by great vizier for the betterment of our understanding on the ways of subversion to this most insidious curse..."


    ___


    (written in Albic language)


    "Sand jackals had failed once again. By the looks of it, their mettle is broken. We might find a few holdouts willing to sell their lives for a chance to be remembered, but I would not count on them doing any better. Our best and most likely option by now remains Balthazar Lamarchand. Baroness XXXXXX arrived at Lamarchand viscounty two days ago, according to her last missive. She should be welcomed by viscount this evening. According to my sources, viscount should not need much in the way of provocation, he seems to be simply looking for an excuse. Baroness is confident she can incite viscount into declaring a duel.


    Between us two, however, I have my doubts about viscount. Inciting him to hostilities should be remarkably easy, but I have no confidence he would be able to win. Lamarchands'' fame notwithstanding, he had no serious duel for over four years and there is only so much that can be attained and retained through training. Say what you will about the impertinent bint, slaying a batal one-on-one is no easy task. Perhaps those of us with a modicum of foresight should begin planning for damage control in case viscount loses."


    ___


    (written in Old Champaignan language)


    "Tremper, you have drawn the attention of a powerful noble, and they aren''t looking to buy your services. Rather, they seem to be rather miffed with you offering services to someone you really shouldn''t have. House Gillespie is looking for you. I strongly suggest you leave Verdun before they come here. In case you do not get it, strongly suggest means I expect you to get the fuck out of Verdun by the next sunrise before one of my more ambitious footpads decides to offer your head to Gillespies in hopes of a reward."

 Chapter 131. At the Gates of Nornburg

    The whole business with the price hike went better than I expected, to be honest. I did assume Alphonse would make more fuss about it. Oh well, no complaints about having it the easy way for once. With any luck, he''s going to step on Klaus a little, make him pull his head in. The business is done with, no one wants anything in Berlinger, except for me... So, while the airship continues the voyage east-south-east, my instance in Berlinger comes over to visit Munchausen. Much to my surprise, he is having a business lunch with Marceu.


    "Fancy meeting you here." - I comment on the situation, as I stop nearby.


    "A... er... lady Gillespie, good day to you." - he manages after a bit of surprised goggling - "I daresay I did not expect to meet you in this city today."


    Munchausen glances from me to Marceu, then back to me. "You two are acquainted?" - he then ventures in accented Albish.


    "I do business with his father." - I explain simply, as I pull up the chair and sit next to the table - "I''m here just to drop off the catalog for Gustav, but I do have an extra copy, so..."


    Gustav blinks as I hand him a rather thick booklet, dropping the copy of it next to Marceu''s elbow. He flips through the pages quickly, grinning as he glances over the rows and rows of data.


    "Ah, yes. Very convenient, that. Do forgive me, jungfrau, but I am going to crib this idea of yours for my own wares." - he mentions - "Herr van der Klaas here had informed me about tablets and copy machines, so..."


    I lean over the table and smirk - "I will throw in a teleportation service for big orders."


    "Tele-what?" - Marceu pipes in - "This is more extensive of a listing than one I''ve seen back in Parsee. How come?"


    "Updated version." - I tell him - "Your father already has the copy, I believe, I sent off a courier with it back before leaving Parsee. As for teleportation - for bulk orders of exclusive objects like tablets or copperphones, I''ll move the cargo by magic. Sultanate had no idea what kind of proverbial gold mine they were sitting on with this spell of theirs. Well, this is all I wanted, so I''m going to leave you to your discussion. Herr Munchausen, the prices in this catalog match the prices I offer to Kraut as the kingdom, so bear that in mind. The restoration of the Ashenvale tract is a go, there is a suitable place for a tunnel circumventing the caldera and you should make preparations in the expectation that the route will be available in the spring."


    ___


    Aaaand I''m DONE. Really, really, really DONE! No more "last-minute adjustments" or "just one small thing" or "five minutes more to finish this", I''m putting all my instances on sleep mode and focusing on the airship!.. Because Cy drew a mustache on me when I wasn''t paying attention. Embarrassing.


    "Just... what is this stuff! I just... hoW!?" - I think I''m justified in my befuddlement because it should not be THAT complicated for a shoggoth to get rid of some dried ink on the surface. I end up having to resort to detection formulae again to find out just what the hell happened. And I''m a little annoyed when I finally crack it.


    "Cy, while this is a very clever sleuth of conceptual magic, I''m going to ask you not to do that to ME anymore." - I finally venture, after somehow ending up with a mustache disconnected from me - "Because bugger me but that was annoying to disconnect. You are entirely welcome to use this on anyone who knowingly annoys us and does not go away when we ask politely."


    "How did you even... I don''t even..." - hm, Cy is having problems with my solution, I guess. It''s kinda freaky.


    "Well, let''s just say I did crib a thing or two observing that denial guy." - I explain, well, as much as I can explain without resorting to mathemagic and conceptual.


    "Well at least it''s not a smile." - she snorts - "...Let''s make Cheshire cats sometime?"


    "Are you sure you want to set off that kind of lunacy? Let''s save it up for when things are slow and boring." - I suggest.


    ___


    "...Go fish." - Bridgit offers apologetically, as she turns to Lily-Anne - "Do you have any fours?"


    "...Rassum-frassum..." - Lily-Anne surrenders two cards with a scowl - "Alyssa, this is not the kind of card game I had in mind."


    I shrug - "I''m afraid you are the only one who does know the, uh... grown-up games? Noble games? I mean, I never bothered to learn how to play Whist or Bouilotte. I think I vaguely remember how to play Noddy, but it''s been years since I did. How about you all, girls?"


    Moon Unit shrugs back - "I am somewhat familiar with gambling games like Pontoon or As-Nas, but actually participating always struck me as a quick way to part with my coin."


    Roxolane joins in on the shrugging - "Back in Kraina we sometimes played Fools, but that''s it for me. Children games, really."


    Bridgit smiles - "Same here. Honestly speaking, Alyssa probably played cards with me the most, until now, so whatever I know, she also knows."


    Cy smiles brightly - "I am a child! So it makes sense we are playing children games! Mom, invent Scrabble."


    I... am somewhat taken aback at the idea of inventing tabletop games. But then again, why not?


    "Scrabble, huh?" - I muse, as I pull on the array. It''s one of those things that I''m not going to just share willy-nilly, by the way. The array is my personal tool, and it is basically a record of coordinates for my teleportation trick mated to portals Roxy documented. A convenient way for me to pull basic materials out of large storehouses. Complete with reporting to my tablet what I took and how much. Convenient. I do have some practice with letter casting, so it is fairly easy to cast letter blocks out of brass and cool them down. The playing field is just a wooden board scored with the grid. I hollow out the cells that are supposed to be bonuses and replace the wood in them with slats of appropriately colored metals or minerals... Aaand I think everyone abandoned the cards and are gawking at my handicraft.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    "Here you go, Scrabble." - I tell Cy, spreading the letters on the table - "Wanna teach everyone how to play?"


    By the time it''s close to midnight, we have "invented" Scrabble, Othello, Snakes&Ladders, came back to cards a few more times and generally amused ourselves as much as we could. Good times.


    ___


    "Nornburg." - I mutter, as I look around for a decent place to actually park. And I do actually need to touch down this time, because there is some legwork that is to be done resupplying, and I do not want Bridgit to handle what can be adequately performed by any random footman. Besides, I''m pretty sure I will have to at least invite burgmeister into the ship once. No reason to teleport them or make them climb the ladder. This place next to city gates is promising, there seems to be a good deal of free area that does not seem to be used in any manner right now. Probably staging grounds for caravans or some such...


    ...Shit, why does everyone always raise the militia as the greeting? I''m getting kinda annoyed here about all the greetings at the end of pike I''m getting lately. Well, nothing for it. Let''s just jump down and talk to people before someone does something... apology-worthy.


    "Hello. Can I talk to someone in charge, please?" - I do believe I was rather polite and clear right now. I also left the airship hanging sedately well above the highest possible clearance they might need and jumped the rest of the way down. I''m being nice and reasonable here. Which is why I am entirely not enthused about them charging at me with the pikes screaming their heads off. What the fuck, people.


    Ok, so... Step, two, three, jump... Flip... Yes, now I grab these two pikes right past the blades as I flip over them and heave-ho! Yes, I have the pikes now! Oh, and I''m behind the charging group. I turn around and whip the liberated pikes horizontally, catching a good portion of their rear line across the backs, causing the whole line to collapse forward.


    "Seriously, can I TALK to someone in charge?" - I offer irritably to the groaning pile of bodies in front of me. Arrows! Just... FUCK you all, just... Argh! Dodging them would be elementary, but if I do, then they all go right into this pile I just smacked over with pikes and I was very much intent on not starting my visit with a fresh bodycount! So walling off it is, even though it would mess up the pavement here. Smoothing down the road later is less annoying than smoothing down public relationships after a dozen negligent deaths, after all. But this is annoying me something fierce. Maybe I should try talking in Kraut? I''m pretty sure SOMEONE here understands Albish, but I could be remarkably unlucky or simply be wrong about it. Well, let''s try Kraut. Also, let''s try it louder.


    "HALTN AUN HERN!" - I shout at them all, amplifying the volume by a combo of telekinesis to form an invisible megaphone and air magic to further shape the soundwave in the direction of "way more decibels than you ever heard before". The line is simple enough - "Stop and listen!". With any luck they... will... all collapse and roll around clutching their ears... Hrm. So... how much is "way more decibels" exactly? If I put this much power and my own voice is roughly at this... and with the cone shape like this and the amplification... that comes out roughly at hundred and eighty-three decibels?... Whoops. Considering pain threshold is somewhere like fifty decibels lower, double whoops. OK, so... basic heal should work for this, just pulse it in the area... Area... area... Oh fuckbisquits, fine! Let''s just heal the whole city on the sly, gg Alyssa. At least they stopped attacking... Now if they just stop rolling on the ground clutching their heads in pain, I''ll count this as a success.


    Let''s see... this guy''s armor looks ornate... Or... nope, this one for sure. I stroll over to the presumptive commander, lift him by the lapels, smack his face a couple times to cue him in to the fact that he is no longer suffering from sonic damage aftereffects and intone - "So... Where do I find burgmeister? I do have a pressing desire to lodge a complaint about atrocious behavior of city guard, if nothing else."


    ___


    Judging by the burgmeister''s face, he is experiencing a migraine and is sorely wishing he could say this is not his problem. Unfortunately for him, it is his problem.


    "Surely you can agree hauptmann Nervez had the reason to be cautious?" - he finally proffers.


    "Sure. But charging with pikes at someone for asking to see their superior is not cautious, no matter how you look at it." - I riposte. The captain in question is stuck somewhere half-way between fuming and terrified, and I do not think he intends to pipe in unless ordered to or severely provoked. If my take on the situation is correct, he is upset that he overreacted and scared there will be consequences for failing to correct the course in time, so to speak.


    "..." - they''re clearly not comfortable with the situation and don''t want to deal with it. Grr. Must I do everything?


    "I do NOT want to deal with overly jumpy pikemen during my entire stay here." - I put forth in my best "imperiously unreasonable" impression - "I expect of you to disseminate the description of me and my airship to every guard in the city that is to be on duty while I am present. I do NOT appreciate people pointing pikes at me, and I will not put up with it. So make sure your people know better than doing that without a rock-solid reason. Am I understood?"


    Burgmeister and captain exchange glances. "...and?" - Burgmeister then ventures cautiously. Fuck it, if I have to call up on my villainous origins, I''m gonna go full hog.


    "And I''m going to rent that carriage field for the duration of my stay here." - I tell them, upending a sack of coins on burgmeister''s table - "That''s forty crownmarks, I do believe it covers the rentals you''d collect from the forty carriages you can fit on the field for the next two weeks."


    The befuddlement continues unabated. Jeez, what more do you want? Oh, right. More money to drop on burgmeister, while I remember it.


    "I want to hire footmen for the same term." - I explain while I add more silver on the pile - "Four men, make sure they''re hale ones, I will be buying supplies."


    "...Alright?" - argh, why do you make it sound like a question. Burgmeister, seriously. I''m running out of ridiculous things to demand!


    "I expect both of you for a dinner tomorrow at my airship. Bring spouses and heirs, if they are interested." - there! Goodness, this sucks, I can''t think of any other petty things to demand! Retreat, retreat, retreat!


    "..Ah.. um... yes, milady, we understand." - burgmeister bleats, captain next to him nodding spastically. AAAAAWKWARD!


    ___


    As I retreat to the airship, the spider I left behind in burgmeister''s office starts picking up the conversation. It''s in Kraut, but ever since I got uplinked in Evergreens, I just subconsciously translate things into Albish before thinking them over. Weird, by the way. One would think that I''d naturally default to orkish, given that was my first language... Wait, no, my shoggoth self has ancestral memories, so my first language is technically conceptual... Meh.


    "What just happened?" - burgmeister asks faintly.


    "Uh, I, well... we got invited for dinner, I think?" - captain finally gives voice - "And it looks like you''ve rented out the reserve stockade for premium rates."


    "I probably felt faint after hearing her demands..." - burgmeister mutters - "What did we agree to give her for th... Ugh, I don''t even want to think about it."


    "Uh, well... ostensibly speaking, we promised to give all our guards a talking to so that they all know not to point pikes in her direction anymore?" - captain hems - "Other than that, I don''t think she asked for anything at all."


    "No, that can''t be it." - burgmeister objects - "What kind of noble does not demand someone to be whipped, at the very least?"


    "Perhaps she thinks shouting everyone near the gates off their feet was punishment enough?" - his compatriot ventures - "Gods and stars, Emil, I have never heard anything like this! Dragon''s roar was nowhere near as strong as her''s!"


    "Truly?... Perhaps it just seems so because you''re so much older now?" - burgmeister ventures - "...Haah, I don''t even know anymore. Did this really go way better than we hoped?"


    "..I think so? I mean, she didn''t ask anything we wouldn''t be doing anyways and dropped a pile of silver on your table to boot..." - the captain agrees uncertainly - "Look, I don''t know about you, but I''m going to go home now, grab some good wine out of my cellar and tell my wife to prepare our best outfits. The young lady may be terrifying, but that''s just more reason not to miss that dinner invitation."

 Chapter 132. Loud City

    "...Darling!..." - woman in a fancy dress was... quietly loud, if I were to sum things up. Apparently, the burgmeister''s wife is the fussy type. In contrast, the captain''s wife hasn''t said a word so far. Had not changed an expression either. Honestly, at one point I even used detection magic to verify she is not actually a statue under animation enchant. The greyish color of her dress really adds to the whole concrete look. Combine this with an uncannily inobtrusive way of moving... I mean, she moves alright, but it is kinda hard to actually pay attention to her doing so. It''s like being observed makes her still. Eugh, she sets off my weird-o-meter, and I am a literal eldritch abomination... Whatever, but I''m keeping a LOT of eyes on her at all times. I mean, I''m pretty sure she won''t twist someone''s head off while I''m blinking, but better to be overly cautious before than sorry after.


    Back to our muttons, neither of my guests had bothered bringing along any children, so either they''re uninterested or my guests are having very... mixed thoughts about my invitation. I''m honestly a little surprised. Spying on their post-meeting conversation was eye-opening. I thought I am being an unreasonable martinet, turns out by average noble conduct I''m practically Gandhi. Civilization style Gandhi, maybe? I mean, I can definitely back my words with nuclear fire, if I feel so inclined, heh...


    While I''m musing on this, there seems to be an interesting conversation going on among the guests. They are speaking in Kraut, obviously, but the gist of it is the discussion on just how safe it is to come out here, just how late they are to doubt safeties, just how likely it is I would do something... weird and... I think this is a good time to interrupt the conversation before they arrive at a conclusion I''d rather not think about.


    And so, I step outside to extend greetings and invitations.


    ___


    All in all, the dinner went better than I expected. In no small part thanks to my wives smoothing things out with their personal touches. Lily-Anne dominates attention off the get-go, as expected. One simply does NOT disregard the princess, after all. Moon Unit has a great deal of attention-grabbing by the virtue of being an elf. Roxolane and Bridgit aren''t quite as eye-catching to my guests at first, but Bridgit''s casual teleportation garners more than one doubletake. Roxolane rounds up the show by being the most mundane-appearing out of my wives, and therefore by default the safest to engage in conversation. She did not expect this. At all. Obviously, I''m not leaving her to fend for herself, which means actually keeping myself within the conversation flow, rather than making random aloof remarks or monologuing.


    Cy, on the other hand, does not help the countenance of my guests at all. I guess her voice is not something people would get used to quickly. Not to mention she is gleefully dropping topics that are just asking people to misunderstand. Thankfully, her apparent age in this case is a readily-existent excuse. Of course, since burgomeister''s wife had commented on her voice and how I don''t have the same reverb... Well, she learned that I can turn on the reverb. Which, in retrospect, probably added to the whole "defiled so badly there''s barely anything human left in her" opinion I seem to be giving people left and right. Whatever, so long as it''s this instead of "maybe she''s always been a monster to begin with", it''s fine with me. On the flip side, since the topic of unusual voices had been breached, I tool around a little with harmonics and collinear arrays, "explaining" it as various levels of suppression. Mainly so that there is something "worse" than the deal Cy has going on. Which leads to an absolutely "delightful" conversation on how exactly Cy came to be, because those people started under an impression I actually had her the natural way and then did something potently stupid to get her defiled along with myself. Nevermind I''d actually need to get knocked up at like eight to pull it off like this. Ugh.


    Somehow, I predict the conversation of this sort is going to be cropping up for quite a few times in the next couple of years. With any luck, at least pointing out that I''m still "untouched by man" will lose its luster for my wives, at least. Maybe. Hopefully. Jeez. I mean, most of us are technical virgins as is... I mean, I''m pretty sure Bridgit is, and I''m very much sure Lily-Anne is. Moon Unit and Roxolane probably aren''t, given the whole "actually over fifty already" and "was forcibly dragged into harem a while ago" respectively. Of course, insofar as "had sex" kind of virginity goes, I made very sure it does not apply to any in my harem. Repeatedly... Aaaand I have no clue why am I even ruminating on the topic of "technical virginity" to begin with. Rassum-frassum, that''s what happens when people make weird assumptions - I end up thinking weirder things.


    ___


    "Oh dear. They''re at it again..." - burgmeister''s wife gripes quietly. I probably was not expected to overhear this, given the overall clamor in the area.


    "What''s going on?" - I ask much louder. The plaza right past the gate was lively in the morning, but right now it''s much more noisy - and it appears that a good part of the noise is of... putatively musical nature.


    "Thousand pardons, milady." - burgmeister bows hastily - "It is but a revelry of young noble men."


    "Revelry, huh? Correct me if I''m wrong, but they appear to be busking." - I comment back as I squint. The guys in question are dressed pretty well, come to think of it, so why are they doing something one would expect from a beggar?


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    Burgmeister winces - "They... are, milady. It is a new fad among young masters, to "sing for the people", as it were. They donate the accrued alms to the temple once they tire of it."


    "And the... increasing loudness of it all?" - I continue, raising my voice as the noise redoubles.


    "To my everlasting regret, this is how they decide who wins the place for the day!" - he shouts back - "The ones who are overtaken in their song are honor-bound to leave the plaza!"


    ...Hrm.


    I throw out a spell that forces a shell of air around us to not vibrate. Complicated and not something I can hold for long without causing other issues like asphyxiation, but for a few moments, it is fine to actually speak without interruptions.


    "So... is there any special way to enter that competition, or whoever comes may try?" - I inquire in a resulting quiet.


    Captain swallows reflexively. "Anyone may, if it so pleases milady, but it has to be a song." - he bleats tremulously - "Just shouting them down will make them redouble their efforts."


    "Oh? How about using... nevermind, I guess it''s allowed." - I cut myself off as I spy one of the guys in question brings out the flute.


    "...Milady, are you planning to..." - burgmeister begins with trepidation.


    "I am." - I confirm with an evil smile - "I very much am."


    ___


    A few moments are spent on putting together the speakers out of conjured materials. It attracts the attention of my wives, and a few more moments have to be spent on telling them that yes, I do plan to sing everyone out of the plaza. I mean, after learning that whole soul aria thing, it feels like a crying shame not to use it. And if I can lay some... avant-garde tunes on the populace, well... I am supposed to be weird, no? Now, what can I use that is both loud and impactful? H-oh, how about some Rage Against The Machine, then? I would guess that lads doing this kind of thing are doing it as a form of youthful rebellion, so rebellious music sounds just like... Hm. But let''s go with the cover. Brass I can explain, electric guitar would be harder.


    Ah, yes. This would work out a treat. Alter the lyrics a little bit to skip the inexplicable references... And there we go. Throw up some mud golems to be the "brass section" and presto. HAH! By the time I get to the "I''m deep inside your children, they''ll betray you in my name!" line, the rest of the would-be musicians all guttered out staring at me with wide eyes and open mouths.


    Since everyone is stuck at the "what the fuck just happened" stage... Have another one. This one a cover of Led Zeppelin. When you really think about it, I AM the descendant of this world''s vikings, so I''m not even culturally appropriating anything. ......And I just realized that Moon Unit set up her recorder as soon as she realized I actually intend to sing. Huh. Wonder what is her plan for this. Maybe I should hint her to run off a copy for Selene, she would get the kick out of it... But better warn her straight up that my "brass section" is straight-up mock-ups and I''m just piping the whole thing into the speakers straight from the internet with minimal touchup. Or she might decide I am a suitable orchestra replacement.


    Hah! I cleared out the plaza, alright! And without actually traumatizing any eardrums. Though I say nothing about sensibilities - some were probably scraped pretty badly. My harem is amused, at least, and I am happy enough with that. The burgmeister is... halfway between relieved and exasperated, the captain is mostly exasperated and their respective spouses are exuberant and stoic. Apparently, the burgmeister''s wife liked it well enough to ask for another. I''m... unsure if I want to. But then Moon Unit coyly suggests I should try something more serenade-like for all of them. Is that so, dear? Very well, challenge accepted.


    ... ... ...


    "LLLewd!" - Lily-Anne stammers, her cheeks red. Roxolane and Bridgit are not far behind, while Moon Unit and Cy are almost falling over each other laughing. I, in my infinite wisdom, had decided that "Absolute Territory" is a serenade-worthy tune. Granted, it IS all about appreciating a woman, but I somehow failed to remember that contemporary sensibilities expect of me to extoll the abstract aspects of beauty, rather than flat out go "take off your clothes". Burgmeister had abruptly excused himself and his spouse and departed in a great hurry in the middle of the song. Insofar as I can tell from the pheromone landscape and the IR imagery of his blood vessels? He and his wife have had taken the suggestion to "take off your clothes" as the directive for the rest of the day. Captain''s still around, though I suspect not for long, because I have managed to make his statue-like wife blush. In fact, he is saying his goodbyes right now, rather in a hurry.


    ...The fuck did I do? I... no, there are no mental components to the song at all, I''d catch up on that if I actually put a mind whammy into the thing. So... just the overwhelming lewdness of it, then? I glance around, and there is a... surprising amount of people moving away from the plaza. A whole lot of them are in the condition that implies they have lewd firm on their minds. Bwuh.


    ___


    After such a... PR debacle, I decide to take it easy for the rest of the day. We have a couple more days to explore Nornburg, and since I brought the lewd mood in, I might as well take advantage of it. Well that, and hanging out with Cy doing mother-daughter things as far as we can comprehend them. Which amounts to us playing assorted board games and discussing the most likely idiocy that would crop up next, because of course it will...


    "Milady, I have a letter for you from my master, baron Hanslich!" - aand I think the idiocy just arrived. Maybe? Something about Nornberg is... loud.


    Stepping out of the airship to talk to the footman, I shush him down before taking the letter. Hrm. Not sure I recognize the seal on the wax, but logged for further reference. Breaking it open, I scan through the missive. Yada-yada-yada, baron extending a heartfelt invitation to come stay at his manor just outside Nornburg, yada-yada-yada. In short, the usual "I am visited by ranking noble, so I''ll offer guest chambers at my house because it would be shameful to put up such guests at the inn." Nevermind I''m actually with a mobile residence here.


    I guess I''ll have to take him up on the invitation... but with precautions. If he was just jumping at fulfilling his obligations as a noble to host a higher noble, then the letter would have been sent yesterday as soon as I arrived, not a whole day after. It''s a reaction to something. Maybe to my impromptu concerto? The lads that were sent off second best were all assorted nobles, they might have said something. Huh. Oh well, we''ll see once we''re at his place.

 Chapter 133. Where Idiots Roam...

    Well, that explains why I got the invitation. Baron''s son was one of the ringleaders in the plaza. I wonder if it''s just him being impressed with yesterday''s performance, or... Or. Perfunctory rituals of politeness have to be observed before I find out anything new, though. Exchanging the greetings and introductions... Which is strange in itself, because on one hand, Lily-Anne should have precedence over me, insofar as social ranking goes, but since the invitation was to me "plus retinue"... Yeah, well, baron may have had basically stuck himself into committing a minor lese majeste. I don''t think Lily-Anne cares enough to make an issue out of it, but the baron himself certainly feels the "ooshit I done goofed up", though he does have a good poker face. His son, on the flip side, appears to lack any awareness of the situation they''re in. He is being "gallant" at me. Obnoxiously so. Unfortunately, not obnoxiously enough for me to actually beat him over it.


    The day drags on with servants being... less than ideally even about us all. Me and Lily-Anne, we do get the full deference and politeness, Moon Unit is not waited on hand and foot the way we do, but they obviously pay attention. Roxy, Bridgit and Cy, on the flip side, are treated like they''re my servants. Which, I guess, is how they see it. I am sorely tempted to leave right here and now, to be honest, but everyone else except Cy are all "plz don''t make a scene, it''s fine". It''s not. It''s really not. But if this is the vacation experience they... argh. I just... argh. I''m CERTAIN that the whole problem is simply because no one fully internalizes that Bridgit and Roxolane are actually higher than this baron and his whole family. Their whole "but we''re commoners" impulse tends to override the "we''re married to high nobles and therefore are high nobles ourselves" notion. And the only way I can overcome this properly is with time and patience.


    As I stew over my frustration with social inertia and the consequences of thereof in the room "graciously" provided by the baron (it fucking sucks, my own rooms at the airship are orders of magnitude better furnished), one of the manor servants knocks on the door to tell me I am expected at the dining hall. Arglbargl.


    ___


    Well, this is... just peachy. Apparently, only Lily-Anne and Moon Unit warrant an invitation to dinner. Neither of them wants to look in my direction. I am guessing they are feeling awkward about their earlier requests not to make a scene. Fine. Whatever. We will remain here just as long as it takes for social rituals to be fulfilled and not a second more! I am feeling offended, yes. And the entertainment is fucking bad, while we are at it. The "small talk" over dinner is very stilted. Probably in no small part because of me obviously being miffed. Baron himself has the "what do I do!?" airs about him and his attempts at entertaining conversation reek of desperation. Lily-Anne''s whole behavior right now can be summed up as "this guy is technically right, but I am feeling guilty for even suggesting he might be right anyways". And Moon Unit is simply darkly amused. If her zingers are of any indication, she already decided the scene would be thrown no matter what and she''s simply anticipating me getting vicious.


    The question is, where the hell is baron''s son? Since he was the guy who caused this whole invitation to begin with, he should be suffering with us at the dinner. So where is he?


    Huh.


    He is actually coming into Bridgit''s room right now. Without asking her permission. And ignoring her rather warranted request for explanations... AAAnd Bridgit warps herself out of the room and into the next one where Cy is stuck. While I stand up, turn around and march towards the doors out of the dining hall without any further explanations, furious beyond measure. Dumbass tried to get handsy with my wife. Given the clamor behind me, baron did take the breach in etiquette badly, not that I give a fuck anymore. He catches up soon after, his protestations being summarily ignored as I proceed down the corridor, meeting his son just as he comes out of Bridgit''s room, looking puzzled and spooked.


    "Hello there, little guy." - I murmur with a smile - "Now what could you possibly want with Bridgit, I wonder?"


    And this is the point where baron grabs my elbow from behind.


    "Enough! Lady Gillespie, I do try to be a gracious host, but this goes beyond any limits!" - he shouts - "I... HURK!"


    The last may be due to me lifting him in the air by the throat.


    "So." - I continue, as his son abruptly pales and jumps back, glancing around nervously - "Would you care to explain your behavior, jungherr Hanslich?"


    I see him glancing at his father. Probably too intimidated to talk. So I toss the baron down in his general direction and smile - "I''m waaaaiting for an answer."


    ___


    I did not get my answer. Instead, baron very huffily demands everyone would retreat back to the dining hall to "discuss this". I notice he and his son are quickly talking to each other on the way there. Probably hashing out the story. Not that I care. The transgression against Bridgit was VERY clear, and I will be taking my pound of flesh from them. Furthermore, this incident completely quashes any reservations my wives might have had about not causing a scene, so I have a united front once again. That being said, baron prepares to talk. Let''s see how far the rabbit hole of idiocy goes.


    "I do not care." - I enunciate, staring directly at the baron as I talk over whatever he tried to say - "I WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOUR SON WAS DOING IN BRIDGIT''S ROOM WITHOUT PERMISSION."


    I think it is finally dawning on them both that there is an issue that I am intent to push hard, if the glances they exchange are of any indication. Then the aforementioned son speaks up.


    "I am terribly sorry, milady, if I overstepped any bounds." - he begins, and I scoff. IF? Dumbass, there is NO if about it. The way he continues, however, makes me just blink at him in utter astonishment at the complete bullshit that comes out of his mouth - "But I beg of you to forgive me nonetheless for your maid is a most beguiling creature and one could hardly fail a true man such as myself for not heeding her call."


    "Are you insinuating that Bridgit invited you into her room?" - I smile at him thinly.


    "Milady, this is but my family house. I hardly need a commoner''s invitation to enter one of my rooms, after all." - he grins right back at me.


    "Bridgit is mine." - I retort forcefully - "And I gave you NO permission to approach her."


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    It is clear he is unsure how to respond to this if his perplexed glancing around is of any indication. Ooh, daddums to the rescue.


    "Ahem, hrm." - he interjects himself into the conversation - "Lady Gillespie, it may be such that my son caused a small offense with his infatuation, but surely borrowing your maid for a night is not the reason to spit on the customs of sacred hospitality? Please, I understand that this may be your favorite maid, but it''s still just a maid. I would gladly let you pick any three of my maids as replacements if this is truly such a problem. I''m confident we can find bedwarmers suitable for your taste."


    I sigh. Inhale. Exhale. Count back from ten in my mind.


    "Baron Hanslich, you seem to be laboring under a grave and deeply offensive misunderstanding." - I then offer - "I am not objecting to your son''s actions as Bridgit''s employer. I am objecting as her wife."


    Oh, wow. I have NEVER seen someone literally gape their mouth at me before.


    "Speaking of sacred hospitality." - I continue implacably - "I do NOT feel particularly hospitable right now, considering you failed to invite half of my harem and my daughter to the dinner. Insofar as I can tell, you have mistaken them for my servants. I believe you can see how this is offensive to me. Still, I was willing to overlook your ignorant insult, because all of my harem spoke to me on your behalf. But considering the fact that your son was intending to use your mistakes for a chance to gift me with a pair of horns? Yeah, I''m not inclined to enjoy your so-called hospitality any longer, baron. Rest assured, I will remember your boorish behavior and adjust my expectations of you accordingly."


    ___


    Back on the airship, I sigh, turn around and hug everyone at the same time.


    "That... was an excessively miserable experience." - I say after a few moments of companionable silence - "All in favor of not accepting any more invitations like these?"


    "Come on, Alyssa..." - Lily-Anne whines - "Sure, Hansliches were godsawful, but I''m sure there are good people to visit."


    "I... would quite prefer we do not, yes." - Roxolane weighs in cautiously - "For all I know, the next one might be infatuated with me, and my escape options are not quite as impressive as Bridgit''s."


    "I want to agree with Lily-Anne, but... the very fact that Hansliches did not bother finding out who is who in our relationship before making assumptions sits ill with me." - Moon Unit muses - "Perhaps we can compromise on vetting invitations before accepting them?"


    Cy snorts and tickles me in lieu of answering. Not sure what is that supposed to mean. Still, she does pass along clearly enough that this is all the answer I''m getting on the topic, so I turn to Bridgit.


    "I''m... incensed, mistress." - she murmurs, blushing - "The very idea that I am not yours entirely, ugh! That awful..."


    She is promptly hugged by everyone else, including me and shudders briefly, before continuing - "I... also would like to limit our visitations to people we have reasons to trust."


    "So... scrutiny before we accept any from now on?" - I sum up - "Not just verifying the invitation is really from the people it purports to be from, but also the general character and reputation of our would-be hosts before saying anything, and woe betide any uncouth sod who wants an immediate answer?"


    I''m getting my answers in form of hugs. This is entirely fine with me.


    ___


    Baron''s aide looks helplessly irate as I escort him out of the ship. I suppose it might have grinded his gears a little to hear me say baron does not possess anything I would consider valuable enough to accept as an apology gift. Strictly speaking, I should have probably demanded something to let him off the hook, but he literally has nothing that would look like a suitable apology gift to the general public AND be light and compact enough for me to take on the airship. Honestly, his best offer would be one of his horses, which are pretty good, but I have neither inclination nor gumption to build a stable into my zeppelin. There''s being eccentric, and then there''s just being weird, and having a horse with you mid-flight is way into just plain weird area. He does not possess any decent jewelry that would make a good gift to the duke''s firstborn daughter, which is the measuring stick that would be used, because if we go with "wife of the royal princess", things get really complicated. He does not possess any rare artifacts or valuable spices. And asking for a lump sum is doable, but insofar as I was able to find out, anything I would consider worth the effort of getting up for would pauper the guy. So all in all, I think the best solution here is just to leave things be as they are. Being known as a baron too poor to not give offense hosting duke''s offspring is not THAT bad of a rep, if you think about it. The worst that can be ascribed to Hansliches is that they tried their best to proffer the hospitality as the custom demands, and I am just way too high-maintenance for them to cope with. Well, at least as far as the public knows. If it became public knowledge that the offense was not being unable to give lavish enough welcome, but an attempt to cuckold me? Yeah, well, the big old reason why I kept this tidbit on the down-low is because if it became public, I''d pretty much have to eat their he... to blood feud them out of existence. Or my own reputation would take a hell of a hit. The fact they''re baron family works against me in that case - being willing to overlook a cucking attempt from someone this far below me on the social ladder?... myeah, just no good way to spin it without gaining a bad rep. Either they''ll assume I''m a rank coward or they''ll assume I have a fetish for getting cuckolded, and neither of the two is something tolerable as far as I care.


    I''m also pretty sure there will be some petty sabotage going my way from them, because of course they won''t take this "slight" laying down, but fuck them. I just can''t muster enough giving a damn, given what that horny bastard tried to pull. They''ll just have to live with the slightly bad rep. Unless they do something spectacularly stupid and I''ll actually start eating heads here as well. Whatever, at least now I can go back to my prepaid lot near the gates and not bother with the hour-long commute by carriage the baron was far too happy to foist on us. For fuck''s sake, how the hell "wait half-hour for stablehands to prepare carriage, wait another half-hour inside stinky shaky carriage without fucking shocks, repeat last experience to return" beats "fly over your whole home to a spot which is in five minutes of leisure walk away from the market"? For some absolutely inane reason, people seem to be readily assuming flying on a dirigible is hard, long and terrifying.


    Aaanyway, the negotiations are over, such as they are, and now I''m planning our market outing without having to bother with the baron and his useless attempts at hospitality. Since it''s late afternoon by now, I doubt there would be much left unsold on the marketsquare. Most actual trading occurs in the morning, by dinner most peddlers are sold out and the shops switch over to tourist mode. Which means there''s much less to buy all around, but much more to do. The gaming booths open up after midday too, so an afternoon at the market is more like visiting a fair than anything else.


    ...I jot down the idea and idly "mail" it over to Rory''s tablet. It''s not gonna happen overnight, but I just happened to think it would be hysterical if dwarves open the first ever shopping mall in their town. And it just might be a good investment overall, given that each dwarf is in some way an artisan, even if their daily job is shoveling manure. Seriously, nearly all of them have some kind of hobby that revolves around the production of bric-a-brac. I''ve seen figurines, ornamental daggers, woodcuts, ceramics and whathaveyou else. Creating some way for them to monetize this would contribute quite a lot to their social recovery. Creating a mall that could be a tourist attraction and centralized monetization venue would be an interesting mid-term project. They''re not gonna pull it off right now, which is why the plans I send his way detail the construction of an underground mall. The idea is that they would build one once they create their first subterranean settlement. So far, only a few outposts have been established, as they scout the mountains for appropriate caves and whatnot. Caves nothing, if I have to teach them how to bore tunnels with magical heat lances, I will. Because dwarves should have their underground kingdom, or what kind of isekai is this?


    Heh.


    Anyway, let''s prowl around for interesting stuff on the market. I''ve made sure everyone has plenty of crownmarks and a tablet. Time to have some fun.

 Chapter 134. That Escalated Quickly…

    Maybe I''m spoiled by the memories of a more advanced civilization. But the market in Nornburg just does not feel particularly interesting. Useful, sure, I do pick up a bunch of local delicacies, including the supposedly famous garlic. But interesting? Nope. Maybe I should have been quieter yesterday because people hush up whenever I show up. And not in the "ooh that''s important aristocrat over there" and not even in the "wow, look at her" way, but in downright "oh shit please don''t notice me" for the most part. Makes talking to merchants more than a little frustrating, because several people outright tried to give me their wares for free just so I''d take them and go away. Annoying.


    Anyway, I''m just... not feeling it. I should have tagged along with one of my wives. Then again, the plan was to split up so each of us could do our own thing. I am well cognizant of the fact that even best friends and most tender lovers can get sick of each other if cooped up together for too long. While there is sufficient space on my airship to afford each of us some solitude, if needed, taking some time to do what you want without regard for others is no less important. And so we went. Each of us takes some money and goes wherever we feel like. No real chores for anyone, I wrote out a list of things we actually need to load and handed it over to the footmen before going out. Burgmeister really came through with those guys, I have to say. Not just burly, but with some brains. The guy in charge of them is even literate. In Kraut, unfortunately, but while my conversation skills aren''t exactly hot, I am eminently capable of writing out a grocery list.


    Meh, I''m going back to the airship. May as well do something constructive, and I do have a couple of things I want to look into. Mostly utility spells I didn''t bother with before due to their highly situational utility. I suppose the spell to purify water without boiling it might be important for people with less robust digestion... Still, the reason why I would be looking into them is mostly to determine if they do something unusual enough that I''d want to repurpose it for some industrial process. I had high hopes for purity being a concept that can be easily applied targeted, but... yeah, well, no dice. The concept of purity seems to be driven by collective noocoactus, and most people do not consider lava-like substances to be "pure".


    That being said, maybe I am approaching this from the wrong direction. Roxolane''s portals can be pretty efficient filters, so long as... hrm. Actually, a simple logical conditional here would do the trick... Gotta test this. If I''m right, and mathemagic says I ought to be, then it is possible to simply dump a mix of stuff through the stack of portals and have each one portal away a specific substance and ignore the rest to fall through. That... would upend the whole smelting business HARD, because if this works as I intended, then simply crushing the ore into fine sand and putting it through the portals would provide nearly-pure iron sand. Nearly, because I can''t see portals being able to disassociate the molecular bonds, so the majority of our output would still be assorted oxides and salts, but simply the ability to filter out stuff like silicon or phosphorus is worth a lot. Having the salts split by acid types even moreso.


    I should... I... should, hrm. I should quiet down and start investigating because I can smell someone unfamiliar on board. The cluster of stale sweats and moderate body odors over here is doubtlessly the footmen. I have noted their... pungency in the morning and managed to extract a promise to go bathe this evening from everyone. Not much to it, simply paying them to go take a bath worked wonders. Apparently, there are public baths that are by their consideration a little bit pricy, but juuuuust right as an evening relaxation, if you can pay admission. Something cribbed straight up from roman terms, I gather. Rome did not exist in this world, but an analog of Turkey did, and they love hammams. No real religious reasons to attach here, but still a place to get clean, relax and socialize. So... basically I ended up telling footmen that they are to have fun in the evenings and gave them enough to cover the bill. Accidentally good bossing, get!


    Anyway, the smell. Someone is further inside the cabins. Not in one of the living spaces as I designated them, though they poked around. But in the dry larder next to the kitchen, which is essentially a walk-in closet. Which should be stuffed to the brim with dry goods and foods by footmen. Huh. Let''s see who''s my stowaway.


    As I carefully open the doors... I see a girl sleeping on top of the bags. Bags that contain, hrm... Legumes, apparently. And grains. Huh. The girl... hrm. Well, a young woman, maybe? A maiden. I tentatively peg her at fifteen, give or take a year. About the same age as Lily-Anne. And... of the comparable social class. Very tender skin, perfume... huh, good going, mom, if Kraut frauleins wear your perfumes, you''re clearly doing something right. Quality clothes. Curiouser and curiouser. Now, what the fuck is a highborn noble girl doing in my airship? This is not just a case of idle curiosity, she would have sent people with an invitation, much like baron earlier did. So long as she did show me good hospitality (much like baron didn''t), I''d be obliged to give her a tour of my airship as a return courtesy, at the very least. So. She is hiding? From whom? Why? Does she have reasons to believe I would be sympathetic to her enough to hide her? Or is she banking on me taking off before she''s found?


    Let''s wake her up. Poke. Poke-poke. Block. Oh, wow. She''s an ornery one. Poke-poke-poke-POKE! "Wakey-wakey, rise and BAKEY!" - I''m a little bit miffed, yes. And feeling mischievous. And maybe just fucked up real good. Conceptual does wake you up, that''s true. Now let''s hope it didn''t leave cleat marks all over her front lobes.


    "EEEEEEEEEEI!" - yep, lungs are alright at least.


    "Eeee right back at you. Now, would you be so kind to introduce yourself and explain your presence here?" - I deadpan at her. This is gonna be... a headache. Because the emblem on the front of her dress? Royal emblem of Hohenzollerns. Meaning she''s Hiram''s little sister, Katherine. No one else who could possibly have this emblem on their clothes without getting in BIG trouble in Kraut fits the age and gender brackets.


    ___


    "So... to sum it up, you were touring the cities in southern Kraut, got bored of Zirich and decided to go up north to the Nornburg for a change of pace." - I repeat, letting Katherine nod at the appropriate moments - "You took a carriage and rode out here with just your attendant and a few guards, called upon graf Norn for lodgings, which you were provided with somewhat reluctantly, spent a couple of days getting the local flavor and news, then overheard graf plotting with some underlings to kidnap my daughter under the flimsy excuse and rushed out here to warn me? Found no one in the ship and decided to go take a nap in the larder?"


    I wait for her to finish nodding, and interject - "This is utter bullshit, you know that much, right? You''d commandeer one of the cabins for your nap, if so. And you''d come over with your attendant and guards, if so."


    She wilts. "...My attendant is... not trustworthy." - she then squeezes out - "I am entirely certain she already sent a letter by pigeon to my father and may demand of me to seclude myself and prepare for departure to Berlinger at any moment."


    "Even if so, writing a letter to me and sending it off with a footman would work just fine. Now what is that you really want?" - I press - "Because to my consideration, you look like you are trying to run away, and a runaway princess is a big problem, especially so if a foreign noble is accused of aiding in that."


    "But the part about your daughter is all true." - she throws back with surprising fire - "And if you want to put it this way, I have a strong suspicion my governess would insist I withhold this information from you entirely if she were aware of what I am planning to do. She strongly disapproves of, and I quote, "maidens shirking the natural order as the gods ordained it and messing with men''s concerns". It goes without saying you, lady Gillespie, are held as the most prominent example of what I should not be lately."


    "...Aaand? Are you here for a fit of teenage rebellion, then? Sticking it to the governess?" - I muse.


    "On the surface of it." - Katherine smirks viciously, and I abruptly recall that she is Princess with a capital P. Whenever she made appearances in-game, well. Even the schemer Marceu speaks softly and steps cautiously around her business. "Under the surface, however..." - she makes a vague gesture - "Cooperate with me, lady Gillespie. If my plans do not pan out, all that concerns you is that a silly princess wanted to see your famous airship oh so very much. And if they DO pan out, then you just might get enough leverage to make my father really step on Klaus on your behalf."


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    "...And you would set your own dad up like this?" - I blink.


    "Yes, well... What he does not know, he can not yell at me for. If this DOES pan out, then he would be obligated to heap praises on me instead. Judge ye not the winner. And if it does NOT pan out, the worst that can be pinned on me is being a headstrong and willful child, qualities that are not exactly undesired in the royal offspring. You, on other hand, get a warning before anything bad happens and can catch the local herrs before they pull their pants up, so to speak." - she rushes to explain - "I am unsure what exactly is the reason they intend to cite as a cause for detaining your daughter, but I do know they plan on doing it right now."


    Cy didn''t poke me... aaand probably finds this whole thing hilarious. If it were one of the wives, I''d know immediately, but I didn''t bother putting any of me on Cy, because, well... in some very tangible ways, Cy is me and we are never entirely out of contact. So I concentrate invardly and poke myself.


    "ACKNOLEDGEMENT-AGREEMENT-RECEPTION MOTHER/PROGENITOR/ORIGINATOR/BIGGER." - and Cy is there.


    "RESTRICTION/DETAINMENT/ARREST ATTEMPT-THIS-YOU-NOW-MADE AT/TOWARDS/NOW/CURRENTLY?" - I query.


    "UNBOUND/UNRESTRAINED/WILD/SADISTIC HILARITY/SHADENFREUDE/AMUSEMENT/ANTICIPATION." - is the response I get. Well, Cy believes the people who grabbed her are richly deserving to experience my reaction. Wonder why.


    "Out of curiosity, would you say graf Norn is an honorable man?" - I muse.


    Katherine scoffs - "Say, sure. I would also say you are a fine lumberjack. With an awe-inspiring bushy beard, too. Does that answer your question?"


    "Blistering sarcasm aside..." - I drawl.


    "Motherfucker, and I do mean that literally, is not to be trusted with a piece of pocket lint, much less anyone dear to you." - she growls - "Honestly, the only reason why I called upon his hospitality is the fact no one else may host me in the city without him sweeping in and carting me away immediately, all the while tutting at how important it is that kronprinzessin is not "sullied by those of lesser grace". Nevermind Hiram is the one getting the crown, no, he''ll call me kronprinzessin to my face and look like butter wouldn''t melt in his mouth." Oh. Wow. It is not being overly obsequious, it''s outright stating he supports the idea of Katherine taking the throne. With, obviously, a husband to his liking. And then there''s this motherfucker comment...


    "So no love lost between you two, I take it." - I grumble.


    "Please kill him if the reasonable opportunity presents itself. I will postdate you a blood feud permission if it happens, my word on it." - Katherine says seriously - "The things I have seen in those last few days... Let''s just say if you do not kill him, Klaus will be arranging some sort of unfortunate accident a little later. Graf had crossed the line, danced a fine jig on top of it and urinated on the remaining traces."


    I am about to question her more, but the talky time is done, given there is an officious-looking fellow about to knock on the door. "Right." - I murmur - "Stay in this cabin then, the spyglass is on the night table. We''ll figure out what to do with you once I have sorted out the local flavor of idiots."


    Opening the door just as the fellow raises his fist to knock, smacking him in the face hard enough to knock him over? Petty but satisfying. I grab the sheet of paper out of the air as he drops it on the way down the ramp. Ow-ow-ow-ouch, that oughta leave a mark. Let''s see... Hrm. Written in Kraut, by the authority of graf Norn, I am hereby ordered to remand myself to his custody and await the judgment of my daughter on charges of... aiding and abetting the kidnapping of the princess? Bwahahaha, oh idiots. Just for fun, I toss the letter into the airship, where Katherine would doubtlessly find it, lock the door and descend the ramp myself, right past the fellow being just picked up by his cronies slash guards.


    "Hrrrh.. Ahrh... Pwnr my, unfau Ieshpfe?" - he lisps out. Oh my, I think I knocked a bunch of teeth out of him. Fun.


    "Would you kindly go kill yourself?" - I ask as I pass him by - "I''m going to put your lord to the sword, then I''m going to doublecheck for any collaborators to exterminate. It would be ever so helpful if you ended yourself before I have to come back for you."


    Judging by eyes making a valiant effort to pop out of his skull, he did not expect such a request. No time. I kick off into a run, at the same time firing off the bevy of spells that bring me on a full war footing. 2-4-8-16-32-64... enough... Ooh, huh, I guess they''ll have something to talk about... Maybe. And gripe about. Passing by people at 64x time compression causes a slipstream to form in my wake, tossing people, crates, bundles and street stalls around ever so slo-mo. Well, slo-mo to me, to them it looks like they got hit by a hurricane.


    The castle is... surprisingly gothic. Reminds me of Quake for some reason... Ooh, that''s an idea. Now, let''s see. Some brass to make the tube, now slap conjuration on top of it like this, so it forms a canister full of ethylene oxide with a central spire of ANFO and a bit of shaped copper around a drop of mercury fulminate in the tip as the detonator. The launching mechanism is simply a bit of conjured propane being ignited. Potato cannon, yes. With air-fuel bombs as ammo. Oughta make breaching doors easy... And the gates too, or... Hrm. Well, it''s all for a show, really, I just leap over the gate, but the fact that I have Quake on my mind makes me fire off the first charge under my feet as I part from the pavement. Rocket Jump! Funny if someone takes it as a cue to action... Yeeeep, landing here... Oh, wow, dude. Such mustache. Very wow. Much impress. So impressive in fact that I''m gonna yeet you out of the castle and all the way into the river feeding the moat to make sure you survive the upcoming brawl.


    The castle yard is surprisingly deserted. Aside from the old man at arms I just yeeted out, all that we have here is a pair of servants in the corner, both looking like they''re just starting to realize shit is hitting the fan. Cy is... that-a-way, in the tower. Which I promptly blast the doors out of.


    ___


    "<dfn title="That girl gives me the creeps.">Dos meydl git mir krips.</dfn>" - one of the guards grumbled - "<dfn title="What does she even mean, don`t stand in front of the hinge?">Vas meynt zi afilu, shtey nisht far di hinge?</dfn>"


    He got his answer a moment later as the door disappeared in a cloud of fire, the top hinge ripping off the sill and striking sparks against the stone right next to his head, coming to a trembling stop like some sort of grotesque arrow. He and his friend exchanged glances, shuddered and started screaming in near-unison, crouching down and covering their heads. Fuck them, I don''t care if they live or die so long as they don''t try to be an obstacle. I rip the inner door out of the wall entirely and toss it aside, leaning in to give Cy a hug.


    "Hey mom." - she quips cheerfully as she slips out of the hug - "Can I get a piggyback ride?"


    I see no real reason to object, and before long, I am coming out of a half-ravaged tower with Cy on my back, my rocket launcher facsimile in my hands. Huh, there is a bunch of guards here now. About twenty of them, enough to form up a shield wall and pikes. Oh, even four crossbowmen. Nice. And a fat fellow that I presume is the count. Who''s that... oh. Hello there, baron Hanslich. So you have chosen death.


    "Halt thy destruction, will you?" - the fatass proceeds in a surprisingly high voice. I''d suspect he was castrated, if not for his title as motherfucker. I almost miss him continuing to talk in my ruminations.


    "T''is unfortunate that you would attack us so brazenly. And our princess, even. How cruel of you to give our much-suffering king such a horrifying backstab, and after he had shown you such grace, too." - oh. Wow. Grating.


    "Now surrender, for it..." - and at this moment I shoot. The mass of people in front of me is smacked away, for the lack of better term, by a localized explosion that blasts down the shieldbearers and sends them flying at their fellows forming the second line. The next shot lands at the feet of lardball who had the most hilarious expression the moment before a conjured explosive smeared most of his fat across the castle wall. Baron fares a LITTLE better, in the sense that the explosion merely rips off his arm and leg on the right side and sends him ass over teakettle. I walk up to him, idly switching up the launcher for the Bec de Corbin as I come near. "You couldn''t leave well enough alone, huh?" - I ask him - "And now you''re going to die for no good reason." I idly smack one of the crossbowmen in the head with a hammerhead, because he shook off the concussion enough to try and lift the crossbow my way. The rest wisely drop their arms and raise their hands above their head, though not before wiping their fellow''s brains off their faces. I... don''t get any answer from the baron, and as I peer closer, I realize that he is deeply concussed and likely will bleed out before being able to say anything coherent. And therefore, I sigh and smear his head with another hammer blow, continuing onwards to the gates which are now slightly ajar. I guess at least some of the fellows came from outside. OOh, and here is the Impressive Moustache guy. Dripping wet and disoriented, but still wise enough apparently to halt his helpers when they make hostile movements in my direction.


    "It was the feud, was it not?" - he then proffers in a deep voice. I can vividly imagine such a voice on a decorated war officer.


    "It was." - I agree mildly - "You might want to notify next of kin, if you know who is supposed to inherit."


    "And you will kill anyone obstructing your way effortlessly and with great brutality?" - he makes an observation. Astute.


    "Indeed." - I confirm, giving him a smile of the "zero warmth, all the teeth" variety. He shudders, then bows and gestures - "None shall, jungfrau. This is a matter between you and his highness the king, now."


    Huh. Explains how come the count did not end up dead by now. His castellan is all about business. Should make a note about the dude, he seems to be pretty clever on his feet in addition to awesome moustache.


    As I trudge away from the castle (which is starting to smoke by now, some shit was set on fire with all the blasting), someone rather casually slips out of the side street and walks alongside me. Well, isn''t that Falstaff? Now what the hell is he doing here?

 Chapter 135. What A Mess! Let`s Talk About It...

    "A fine day we''re having, fraulein, isn''t it so? A bit smoky, fair enough, but with a delectable tang of frying lard and rank stupidity wafting about." - Falstaff offers wryly.


    "A local flavor, you could say." - I offer agreeably - "Got a reason for being seen with me, Falstaff? I''m not exactly the most beloved person in Kraut."


    He gestures around expansively, indicating the empty street in front of us. "Seen is a little strong of a term, here." - he quips - "Spied on from behind the closed shutters, maybe. A noble bonvivant gallantly laying down his limb and life to distract a furious mother from a well-deserved vengeance spilling all over the town, mm? Not the worst thing to be remembered for, to be honest."


    Cy snickers on my back. I can''t help but echo. "Fair enough." - I have to agree.


    "Any man has right to go left, but maybe you should leave right today." - Cy comments from her perch cryptically, making Falstaff perk up for a moment. Well, she clearly is warning him about something. I wonder how Cy does that. My attempts at figuring out precognition didn''t go anywhere at all. Did she end up grabbing all the metaphysical bits that enable precog when we split or something? Huh. Or she can do that because she is in that weird "part but separate" metaphysical condition where she is technically me, but also a completely independent person.


    "Duly noted, lieb madchen." - he retorts easily. Huh, I thought all of Kraut spoke yiddish. Apparently, there also exists a straight-up German analog. The same situation as with French and English in Champagne? Old tongue and new tongue, respectively? Curiouser and curiouser.


    "So." - I prompt him.


    Falstaff sighs, smoothes his hair with his palm, clears his throat. "So..." - he begins - "If I may prevail on your hospitality, jungfrau Gillespie, I find myself in urgent need to confer with his excellency kronprinz Hiram and see her excellency prinzessin Katherine with my own eyes."


    As we proceed down the deserted street toward my airship, I mull things over. Falstaff, insofar as I can tell, is one of Hiram''s men. And not just a crony, either. So either he is so competent at what he does that Hiram is overlooking his rampant lechery, or, which is more likely, at least partially Falstaff''s lechery is just a pretense. Obfuscating idiocy is a remarkably efficient tactic, even now he can easily claim that he simply took this whole mess as yet another chance to talk himself into my bed and people will believe him because his reputation is thoroughly that of a sexual maniac. The fact that he knows about copperphones implies he is from Hiram''s inner circle. Maybe I should discreetly offer Hiram to kit out his people with some good gear. He is, after all, the safest horse to bet on in Kraut politics.


    With that in mind, I pull out the tablet and poke the contact for Hiram which I integrated from the copperphone I had paired to his. I really need to give him a tablet. Maybe a couple more of them as a diplomatic gift "for the betterment of relationships" or some such.


    "...Good day, yes? Alyssa? What is going on?" - Hiram is apparently ready to talk right now. Still...


    "Have a few moments for me, Hiram?" - I offer - "Falstaff is next to me, by the way, so don''t be surprised if he pitches in."


    "Ahem, good afternoon, your excellence." - Falstaff pitches in immediately - "You were quite right about needing me present in Nornburg. Prinzessin Katherine is in the city, graf Norn just ceased to be, and so did baron Hanslich, and I may need a tankard of ale to deal with the situation."


    That last bit... sounds a bit like a code phrase for something.


    "<dfn title="Shit.">Scheisse.</dfn>" - oh. Wow. Hiram is not happy - "...My apologies, lady Gillespie. Forgive me, for I will need to be curt right now. There is much to be done. This man, Falstaff, is my personal spymaster. Do not let his apparent lasciviousness fool you - he is a very competent fellow and has my full confidence to do what has to be done. May I prevail upon you to loan the copperphone to him for a while so that I may hear his report and give him the instructions? And while we are at it, could you possibly furnish some copperphones to him? Cost is no object."


    "I can..." - I drawl - "But I''m phasing copperphones out already. Might I interest you in some tablets? All the functionality of copperphones plus text sharing, image sharing, caller selection..."


    "Fglurgh!"


    Falstaff''s reaction is quieter but no less amusing. I never saw one''s brows go THAT high before.


    For optimal levels of WTF, I trace over the link I have to Hiram''s copperphone, teleport a very little drop of me under it after ascertaining that Hiram had dropped it on the floor and is currently staring at it in befuddlement, pulse out a very simple illusion that basically reflects light from the arbitrary surface between me and Hiram for a few moments, and while the phone is hidden, I cut out the quantum entanglement key bit, shred the rest and replace it with a brand new tablet, slotting the QEK into it so that Hiram still has a secure line to me, pull over the rest of surprise where I intend it to be via shoggoth bullshit, then pull the instance back, dismissing the illusion in the same time.


    "<dfn title="Gods and stars!">...Geter aun shtern!</dfn>" - Hiram is surprised, yes. Judging by the fumbling sounds, he is picking up the tablet. Video call time? Video call time. He blinks in surprise, Falstaff blinks back at him. They exchange a complicated series of facial expressions, finally settling on silently awed on both sides.


    "...How much." - Hiram then requests with quiet but intense urgency.


    "I sell them for fifteen gold per unit. Twelve if you buy twenty or more at once." - I explain - "I''ve put aside a dozen for you as a gift, check behind the couch. Well, eleven, I presume you want Falstaff here to have one. Entanglement encryption bits are one ecu per set of two, three or four and two ecu per set of five, six, seven or eight. Keep in mind that if you call someone using those, only people with the corresponding bits can join in the conversation. Regular calls can be tapped into by a capable mage, though I am unsure just how long will it take for someone sufficiently crafty to get their mitts on one of my tablets and pick it apart sufficiently enough to figure out how to tap in."


    Falstaff, to his credit, receives a tablet without fumbling. A few minutes are spent on showing both of them what can be done on a thing, all the while Hiram''s expression getting more and more haunted. What''s eating him?


    "...And you say Champagne Merchant Guild already has these tablets?" - he repeats faintly - "And that... Network Node?"


    "They were given the offer, yes. I can''t tell you what they decided to buy and how much, you surely understand." - I retort.


    "So they definitely have both, then." - Hiram scoffs - "At the prices you quoted, sheesh... And you will sell to me, right?"


    "Sure, so long as you buy them through Champagne Merchant Guild. If you want to buy them directly as the Kraut government, I''mma tack on an extra ecu to each unit. Consider it Klaus tax." - I smirk at him.


    He frowns and sighs. "Fair enough." - he mutters bitterly - "My thanks for leaving me a loophole to skip the stupidity fee. And while we are at it, please accept my heartfelt, if an unofficial, apology for that latest debacle. Rest assured, Klaus was properly remonstrated and will NOT attempt anything of the sort on his own cognizance again. Belatedly, while we are on the topic of buying, I have been getting requests for the purchase of your wares from my people. Would you be amenable to receiving a list of things we are interested in and giving me a quote on what you would permit us to buy?"


    "Hiram, see this icon? One that says "Buy now"?" - I counteroffer - "Check it out."


    "<dfn title="Kinov''s fortune!">...Kinovs eshirus!</dfn>" - yep, he saw it - "...Wait, but... oh... but... And... Oh. And huh. Tele-what?"


    "Teleportation." - I repeat for him - "If you are buying sufficient amounts of expensive and fragile wares, like tablets, I will transport them by magic for free. You need to have a tablet to receive this service, though."


    "Oh. Oh my yes." - he croons, scrolling through the list if his finger movements are of any indication. I give him a moment but then clear my throat. He jumps.


    "Oh! My." - he reiterates, making me think of a certain japanese man saying the same line - "Terribly sorry, but this is utterly fascinating. I do intend to buy... quite a lot."


    Falstaff wisely interrupts - "This might require some consultation with mume Magdalene and dokter Netsboym before we commit to any purchases, my prince. For now, there are more pressing matters in Nornburg, if you pardon the reminder."


    Hiram visibly stuffs his shopping enthusiasm into a metaphorical box and dons a serious expression.


    "Quite so, thank you Falstaff." - he agrees hastily - "Katherine. Where is she currently?"


    "On my airship." - I interject - "She overheard count Norn planning to kidnap my daughter and snuck out to warn me. She''s fine and safe, we can arrange for a face-to-face once we are back at the ship."


    Hiram heaves a sigh. "...Kathy." - he grumbles, squeezing the bridge of his nose - "...Do forgive me for saying this, but I had high hopes she never meets you, lady Gillespie. I shudder to think what might come out of you two colluding. Oh well, I''ll take her being safe as a consolation prize. What about count?"


    Falstaff shakes his head - "Very dead."


    "...Very?" - Hiram repeats with a puzzled expression.


    His spymaster grimaces before answering - "He ended up smeared over the wall of his castle."


    "...Smeared?" - Hiram repeats again, dumbfounded.


    "Like a warm butter stick over the bread." - Falstaff continues to wince - "With all due respect, your excellency, but I do dearly hope you won''t pick me as your messenger if you ever have an upsetting message for the jungfrau Gillespie."


    "...I see." - Hiram is clearly unsure about the matter, but elects not to press on. I think he''s just waiting on Falstaff to give him a proper report, without me hovering over his shoulder - "Was that truly necessary?"


    "If you were to ask me, I would say yes, your excellency." - Falstaff pipes up immediately, even though Hiram was clearly pointing that question to me - "Between what prinzessin Katherine found out and what I myself had learned since my arrival here last evening, even if lady Gillespie didn''t happen to the graf, Klaus would very soon. It''s astounding really, how much wrongdoing was actually going on in Nornburg recently. I am still collecting the information, my prince, but insofar my hunch is that graf and his ilk heartily disliked royal charter on the tar roads. And by extension, you, since you are known far and wide as the person who brokered the agreement. I shall give you the details and minutiae with my report later."


    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    "Even so? Fine then. I am writing you permission for a blood feud, Alyssa. If I backdate it to... Huh? What''s wrong?" - he proceeds to offer.


    "Katherine already wrote one out for me yesterday." - I explain. This is, strictly speaking, a lie, she wrote one dated by yesterday once she saw me blowing shit up in Nornpalatz.


    "...I see. I shall write my own for the same date then, two separate endorsements by the royal family should put any questions to rest." - he concludes - "What happened to baron Hanslich? As far as I remember him, he was a cautious sort. How did he end up mixed up in all of this?"


    "For reasons better known only to him, the baron invited me to stay over at his estate yesterday." - I begin explaining - "I found his hospitality to be... lacking. He elected to place half of my family into servant quarters and had the gall to offer me to pick whichever three maids out of his estate that I desired for the night in exchange for allowing his son to bed Bridgit. While I do strongly suspect he made such an offer under the misconception that Bridgit is my maid, rather than my wife, I was less than inclined to continue abiding by his hospitality after such an affront. I did explain that much to him in no uncertain terms while leaving. His people came by later asking what I would consider a sufficient gift to soothe the affront, but frankly, this barony of his just does not have anything I care enough to ask for, and what money he can contribute without pauperizing himself and his domain is a pittance to me. I think he took umbrage at me for stating this much. Hiram, out of curiosity, why would a provincial baron even think he has the oomph to entertain the duke''s firstborn? I''d understand him coming short if I insisted on visiting him, but the invitation was entirely his own initiative. What did he think would happen?"


    "Sooo... Baron screwed up and offended you while you were a guest in his house. You left and later on refused to let him make apologies on the grounds of him not being worth much to you, period. And his response was to go whine to his liege and take part in an ill-conceived scheme to detain your own firstborn?" - Hiram sums up, pinching the bridge of his nose again - "<dfn title="Gods damn them all.">Geter kllh zey ale.</dfn>"


    ___


    Katherine is staring open-mouthed at her brother''s face on the other side of the tablet link. Hiram has a severe frown going on.


    "You are certain of this." - he does not ask as much as makes a statement. Katherine nods, still looking very much awestruck. She was very impressed by the tablet. Hiram sighs explosively.


    "This is clearly not my day." - he mutters, looking very tired all of a sudden - "Kathy. If you proceed with your plan, frau Hershnbukh will suffer. Do you truly want this?"


    "My governess of six years. The person whose face comes up in my mind whenever I hear the word hypocrisy. The person I can without reservation claim to be the one I loathe the most in the whole world. The person who successfully stole mother''s earrings and gleefully persuaded everyone that I dropped them in the lake. That frau Hershnbukh." - Katherine bites out - "Why yes, my brother dearest, I truly want that harridan to suffer. Goodness gracious, you might even say that I was diligently scheming to bring about her utter demise for years, by now. Years listening to her utter tripe about what is "womanly" or not so much. Years spent watching her eat my sweets, wear my jewels, tear my books, cause me grief. Goodness, I do believe I DO want her to suffer ever so slightly, indeed! Why, I just might ask the eminently praised lady Gillespie to give me some much-appreciated guidance on how to disembowel a bitch in the slowest and most painful manner possible if you pardon the crudeness, brother dearest."


    Oh my. Oh my indeed. That''s... impressive spleen venting, Kathy. Industrial grade bile here.


    "...I... don''t know what to say, Kathy." - aaand Hiram is rather befuddled by someone else, for a change - "...I want to ask why you never said anything to me, but I have a hunch that I won''t like an answer to that. Let me guess, you tried, she came up with some kind of trivialization or even deflected the blame back on you in some manner and you made a decision that trying to involve me or father is pointless until you have something truly ironclad, am I right?"


    Katherine nods, her expression pinched - "Just so."


    "Alright. However, you came to Nornberg before Alyssa, so giving her permission to wreak havoc in the city was definitely not a part of your plan. So are you taking the opportunity now, or you are simply improvising an adaptation?" - her brother inquires.


    Katherine smirks as she pulls her hand out of her pocket. Two earrings dangle from her fingers, each a string of spherically cut gems stacked into a rainbow of colors. An impressive and likely unique set of earrings. The kind queen would have. According to what I could hear from their conversation, this governess is a commoner. An educated one, but a commoner nonetheless. She''s not stupid, given that Katherine needed literal years to work around her, so why the hell did she want something so blatantly unique? What is the point of an adornment you do not dare to show to anyone?..


    Oh. Oh, wow. That''s... elaborate. Impressive spells on them. "I... think I see why your governess wanted these in spite of never being able to show them to anyone ever." - I muse - "How did you even manage to pilfer them back? The amount of surveillance those things permit is insane."


    Aaand both of them are looking very chagrined right now. "<dfn title="...Shit.">...Scheisse.</dfn>" - Katherine reacts first - "My apologies, lady Gillespie, but I simply did not expect of you to discern the enchantments just from seeing the earrings. I beg of you to keep this a secret. Those earrings had saved countless Hohenzollerns ever since the foundation of our family."


    "...Myeah, fair enough. And she blamed YOU for losing that kind of relic? I can see why you want to see the color of her guts, indeed." - I agree. Yeah, I can see even my ever so awesome parents being long-term pissed off at me if I were to drown something THAT valuable by goofing up. No wonder Katherine is considered to be estranged from Alphonse, he must have been furious with her at the time.


    "Quite." - she agrees - "Anyway, the plan was simple. I came to Nornburg because the thieving bitch actually encouraged me to act on my whims, no doubt in order to keep me looking as airheaded and unreliable as possible. So when I made my whim, she only put up some token resistance and even made sure only a few guards came along, ones that she has a lot of say with. Falstaff warned me before that some of the nobles including Norn had commissioned anti-enchantment wards due to "White Witch" gaining notoriety. My plan was to use Norn''s new wards to force Ilza to stash the earrings when she invariably goes for a meeting with graf "on my behalf", as it were."


    She nods to Falstaff who continues sedately - "Prinzessin Katherine contacted me a month ago with some instructions regarding Nornburg. Her requested tools and materials were prepared and sequestered throughout Nornpalatz to create an appearance of having had always been where they were. I was unaware of the existence of the earrings, but I did surmise that prinzessin is suspecting her governess to possess some sort of spying artifact, hence the precautions."


    "Once she was gone, I tricked one of the guards into swallowing a cupful of a poppy tincture, let them faint then used the tools Falstaff placed before to break into the jewelry box and took the earrings back. Then I hightailed it out of there and on the way to the side door, accidentally picked on the conversation between Norn and Hanslich via the earrings. Initially, I simply planned to take a horse and ride off in a random direction, change horses and roads a couple of times then lay low in some village tavern and send a pigeon to Falstaff to come to pick me up and get me straight to Berlinger without letting Ilza intercept me. She would obviously know the earrings are gone, but she could not even explain how they look to anyone without essentially confessing to theft from the royal family in the process, so her only recourse would be to declare I am running away or being kidnapped. But, well... Norn is a horrifying blackguard in his own right. Just from a simple walk through his palace with the earrings, I have found no less than three female corpses being hidden around. And what he did to his own mother is... horrifying." - Katherine shudders as she thinks back - "So, anyway, once I learned lady Gillespie is present, I immediately settled upon her airship as the best possible way of egress."


    She turns to me and smiles apologetically - "No offense meant, but according to everything I heard, your assistance is simply a matter of the right price, so long as no one asks you to do something illegal or harmful to yourself and yours. And I did prepare a selection of possible valuables to entice you with. Learning of Norn''s plot against you was simply luck, but since I did find out about it, I would be rather foolish not to try and get in your good graces by warning you as quickly as possible."


    I quirk my brow. "But I am not even going in the direction of Berlinger." - I object - "In fact, after I''m done here, we''re going to fly further east, to the Transbalkan lands."


    "Maybe so, but I am well aware Hiram possesses a copperphone paired up to the one you have." - she proffers back reasonably - "And since you and Hiram are on amicable terms, I concluded that persuading you to let me have a conversation with my brother would not be problematic. And Hiram would realize there is no sane reason for me to say I have mother''s earrings unless I am confident I do indeed have them. That alone would be sufficient cause for him to make sure Ilsa is not allowed to take charge of me before I get to show my hand."


    I shrug. "Fair enough." - I agree - "Barring something really ridiculous happening, your conclusions are quite consistent and logical. However, the situation right now is... a little different."


    Falstaff raises his hand - "If ladies would permit... Some of my men are keeping an eye on the governess and her retinue. She is currently searching for the prinzessin throughout the estate, due to some of my people spreading rumors that prinzessin had panicked at the sound of explosions and run off to hide in the gardens behind the castle. It will take her the better part of today to give up. She is yet unaware the earrings are gone and she does not dare to go get them because she was among the people who saw graf Norn getting his comeuppance and it is a matter of public knowledge she immediately departed in search of prinzessin. I have some plans in motion to further muddy the waters for her and tie her up chasing false trails in Nornburg. Next... If my prince and my princess are both in agreement, I would like to ask if you would consider selling us a special service, lady Gillespie. In particular, how much would it cost to hire you to teleport a pair of priceless royal heirloom earrings from Nornburg to crownprince Hohenzollern''s private rooms at the Berlinger royal castle, where the aforementioned crownprince is currently residing?"


    Huh. Crafty. "One denier, Falstaff. Kindly write out the agreement while I am filling out the receipt." - I grin at him as I pull out the writing utensils and pass some of them to Falstaff to handle his half of the bureaucracy. Five minutes later, he passes a copper coin to me, a pair of earrings disappear, Hiram''s table is briefly obscured and then we see earrings sit there along with a receipt copy for him to sign and keep. Falstaff signs my copy of the recipe on our end, once Hiram confirms to him that the earrings are genuine.


    "Now... what am I going to do with you, Kathy..." - Hiram muses - "It would be best for everyone involved if you could disappear somewhere for a while. I''d rather keep your former governess completely off-balance. If she thinks she fouled up and someone kidnapped the princess in addition to robbing the thief, she is bound to make mistakes. Falstaff is working on certain matters in Nornburg to that effect, we should know what remains to be done by tomorrow. Ostensibly speaking, I can simply have Falstaff''s men arrest her and bring her to Berlinger in a sack for some, ahem... discussion. But I dislike this option because I do not believe your governess acted on her own in all this. She is no pawn in this conspiracy, true, but she''s no queen either. Someone else is aiding her behind the scene and I want her to panic and give out her benefactors."


    He sighs and looks at me. "Lady Gillespie, may I ask of you to look after my sister until such time you return to Parsee to attend the Academy, as a personal favor to me?" - he then says entirely seriously - "I shall endeavor to grant you any boon of your choosing in return if it is within my power to do so and does not betray my country."


    "Hiram, I intend to leisurely travel through Transbalkans with my harem. Are you entirely certain you want to send your little sister off with us? I make no guarantees she does not come back bent." - I warn him in the strongest terms possible.


    "Pffhahaha! Good grief, brother, you sure know how to give yourself a headache." - Katherine guffaws at my warning, and even Falstaff grins.


    Hiram snorts - "If there is one thing I care not about it would be whom my sister prefers to bed. Alyssa, I do know you well enough to know you are strongly against any coercion in matters of love so if Katherine does come back as a harem girl, that is entirely on her. Jokes aside, I will obviously cover her expenses in gold or wares as you prefer. Falstaff''s people are collecting some of her personal belongings right now, they will be delivered to Nornburg before you depart, or failing that I might prevail upon your teleportation services once again. I will settle the matter with father and break the truth about earrings to him gently."


    Katherine frowns but remains silent as Hiram raises his hand - "Kathy, I know you''re irked by this. You want to throw this in father''s face, and gods be witnesses, you would not be in the wrong for doing it. I know this, you know this... and once the truth comes out, our father will know this too. You might be dubious about it, but he did confess to me that he regrets his harsh words. He just... does not know how to put it right. He wants to apologize, just does not know how. When he learns about this, and I swear he will, this is too big to spare his feelings about, he will be feeling so much more guilty than he already is. I... If he decides to do something needlessly drastic, would you help me talk him down? Please?"


    "...I will object to anything irreparable that he might want to do as a result." - she finally offers, reluctantly - "However, do make sure he knows my forgiveness is going to cost more than a pony this time."

 Interlude 22. Selene Moments

    I''m excited! There''s a note from Alyssa! She says she has a surprise for me in the afternoon! I wonder what it is. She''s been away on her vacation, so things were kind of slow. Still, it''s a sweet kind of slow. I can finally go on proper dates with Edward! Well, uh... Kinda-sorta. I always wanted to go on a date to the mall, but malls aren''t a thing yet! Maybe Alyssa will invent one. Good gods, she''s awesome. She''s glorious. She''s the coffee-bringer. Seriously enough, coffee, pizza, affordable sweets... I guess I''m lucky she''s a kind person deep down. I was kind of a jerk to her at first. And at second, too, come to think of it. It took a while for me to pull my head out of my ass. We''re totes cool now, best friends even. Maybe even a little more than that. Edward''s a sweetie, but if I remember the hints from the game right, he''s kinda maybe... Well. The thing was mostly glossed over in the official western version, but I remember reading on the internet that in the original, Ed was kinda pervy and cool with swinger stuff. Not hurrying there, NTR is a trash fetish, but if Ed is cool with it, I totally wanna jump Alyssa''s bones. Or, heh, tentacles. Sheesh, I can''t believe she just... casually goes "yeah, I haz tentacles and know how to put them on schoolgirls".


    Aaanyway, I''m cool, I''m cool. This thing with her isn''t a certain bet yet, and won''t be on the table for a while anyways... And I still need to talk to her girls and ask them for permission too... I''ll get there, I guess. One day at a time, Selene, one day at a time. I wonder what kind of surprise Alyssa has for me... What''s that scraping sound?


    "...eee..." - I squeal as it rounds the corner. Angly harsh black iron thing, pointy and rusty, a pyramid atop the muscular torso dressed in a bloodstained apron, a huge knife making that scraping noise...


    "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEIII OH GODS HOLY FUCKING WHY?" - and I''m running down the corridor as the fucking Pyramidhead walks after me. Oh gods oh gods oh gods what the everloving fuck is going on, where is everyone, what is going on, where did THIS unholy bastard come from and WHYYYY! I slam the door shut, smack the deadbolt into place and continue running toward the window. This is beyond fucked up, oh gods, what the fuck. Aaand that''s where I run face-first into tits.


    "GBAH!... Oh gods what, Alyssa whatthefuckishappeningthereisfuckingpyramidheadafterme!" - I babble as I bounce off from her. Ow. Her tits are hard... And her eyes are just empty bloody holes AAAAAAAAAAAH!... No, wait, this...


    "Pffhahaha, got you!" - she chortles, slapping her knee with her palm, as her face suddenly reverts to her normal look. I look around in panic, squeak as Pyramidhead just casually steps out from the bathroom opposite to the door I just slammed shut... and morphs into another Alyssa, who comes up to high-five the first one. Two Alyssas turn to me, and with absolutely insufferable identical smirks, say "Surprise?!"


    I, uh... beat on both of them and called them every bad word I knew in every language. That was fucking rough prank. A really neat one, I admit, but holy shit why, I just about shat myself.


    "Come on. I was sitting on that joke ever since I''ve transmigrated." - she objects - "I mean, my name is Alyssa Gillespie, for crying out loud. How could I not do a Silent Hill gag? And you''re just about the only person who''d get it, too. I mean, maybe Jeannette-Thereze would too, but I barely know her yet. Oh, speaking of which, she''s like us and I told her about you, so she just might come up sometime to shoot air. Just keep in mind she''s been here for a while, first thing she asked me is who won, Obama or McCain, so, yeah. Fifteen years is my educated guess, give or take. Better start brushing up on the stuff you watched, she was really curious about animes for some reason. Also, heads up, she''s actually two people in one body. One''s Jeanette and the other''s Thereze. They''re sisters, and yes, they''re just like in the game, except not vampire."


    "Why there are two of you." - I ask dumbly. I know, I know, but... like.. just... how? I mean, I, uh, well... Alyssa sort of DOES that thing. That''s her schtick, even. Doing impo.. no. Not impossible. Inconceivable. Still, just.. AAAAAGH! Why does she have all the best ideas? Soooo jelly.


    "Oh, yeah, remember me mentioning extreme bioplasticity? Turns out I don''t actually need to be physically connected. Multitasking is a bitch, though, the more instances I try to run, the easier it is to screw something up." - she quips back happily. SOOO JELLY. And a little bit uncomfortably aroused, seeing her just...meld together into a single figure. Goodness golly gracious, a LOT little bit uncomfortably aroused. NNgh. Ditto ain''t got shit on her.


    "Anyway, I''m still on vacation, I just realized I should warn you about Jeannette-Thereze since I told her about you and all that... Oh, and here, have a tablet." - aand she gives me yet another thing I thought I''ve left behind in other life - "I''ve populated a contact list for you with some mutual acquaintances, but the rest is all on you. I''ve made sure there were enough tablets delivered to his majesty to be sure everyone in the royal family has their own, so, yeah. Might want to exchange contacts with Jeannette-Thereze if she comes around. Toodles, see you in the spring. Or sooner if you decide to videocall, I guess."


    ___


    Aaaa! Eeee! OOoh!


    ...Why yes, I have taken a leave of my senses, to borrow some sarcasm from Alyssa. I mean, I had good reason to! But... just... Agh. The tablet. Somehow. Has internet. Granted, it''s not obvious. The browser is stuck out of the way in the "experimental" menu. I only turned it on out of curiosity. And promptly lost my marbles when I saw Google prompt asking if I''m feeling lucky. Good gods, I can''t believe I can catch up on everything... And I do mean everything. My old accounts are all closed down, it looks like. And, morbidly enough, I actually read my own obituary. Apparently, I just fell asleep one evening and just... never woke up again. Man, it was crazy waking up here. Took me a couple days to really believe I transmigrated somewhere. A couple weeks to truly believe I am now ablebodied.


    I thought about posting, but... yeah, well, no. I''m dead and gone, trying to pull off communication from beyond the grave is just gonna make things awkward for everyone. Besides, I''m pretty sure my folks are low-key relieved I''ve finally croaked. No need to rain on their parade. Yeah, I know, kinda morbid to think of myself like this, but let''s be honest - I was always a burden in the last life. Being born with a degenerative neural disorder will do that. This, well, is why I am more or less permanently in a "drunk on life" mood, to be honest - because I kinda am. Being ablebodied will do that to a person. Last life, I only ever was truly mobile until I was like... nine. After that? Well, motor skills are one of the first things impacted by Batten disease. The last few years were nothing but bed rest. Still counting myself lucky I didn''t lose vision almost until the end. Internet was my isekai before I got isekai''d for real, heh.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    So yeah, I''mma lurk. Not sure if I even can post anything from here, or this thing is one way onl... wait, no, stupid idea. Internet is never one-way only. Still, gonna lurk. And read some stuff. Not sure what kind of bandwidth Alyssa can put on these, or how it even works, so I''mma be cautious about it. Don''t want to find out I used up all the internet I''ll ever have in this new life of mine in a one-night cat videos binge.


    ...Or not. That was an Academy footman right now. Apparently, I''m expected at the palace. Wonder why. Ed would just come over, I doubt the king would bother summoning me like this, no real reason for him to do that right now, so... Wait, I have an invitation, I don''t actually need to guess... Oh. Ooh. Good grief, Alyssa''s timing is... Actually, come to think of it, she always has this insane timing. Because I''m invited by Jeannette-Thereze. The official reason being that me being Ed''s putative fiancee means we might be in-laws in the future, hence some getting to know each other. And, for everyone else, she''s also "doublechecking if she''s suitable for his excellency Edward" behind the lines. So glad this is not the setting like one of those gritty medieval fantasies with a super-formal court. I''d never get through one of those safely.


    ___


    Jeannette is so much easier to talk to than Thereze. I mean, don''t get me wrong, Thereze is cool. But she''s just so... PRIM. Not "passively-aggressively in your face" prim, too. I could deal with that. No, her deal is "prim because she was born a lady" kinda prim. Still, now that Alyssa clued me in they''re actually different people sharing one body, it started making a lot of sense. I used to think Jeannette-Thereze is bipolar or something before. Not really much of a reason for me to hang out with crownprincess to begin with, to be honest, but... yeah, I had opinions. Impressions, even.


    "...Jeebus. No wonder you''re larking about. Your last life was balls to the wall awful." - Jeannette commiserates. Somehow, they wormed the whole story out of me. Man, their social-fu is on a whole different level. I never even told Alyssa that, and she''s my BFF in this life, I guess. Then again, Alyssa never asked, and I have this distinct feeling her own previous life wasn''t something she likes to think back to much, same as me.


    "Yeah well, I like this one way better." - I agree with a van smile, sipping my coffee. Jeannette copies me, wrinkles her nose and stirs yet another spoonful of sugar in.


    "Gah. Still not... quite it." - she grumbles - "Like, can you believe? No one knows what cocoa is. Like... not even in theory."


    "I had no idea coffee is called cava around here until Alyssa clued me in. Maybe there is cocoa, just called something different?" - I suggest.


    "If only." - Thereze replies, making me twitch. The way they shift back and forth is innerving. Not uncomfortably hot like what Alyssa does with her randomly being maybe liquid, but... Like, everything stays the same, but also changes. The expression, the pose, the tilt of brow, lip, cheek... Little things, but the overall effect is quite jarring. Aanyway, she is saying something... "...No cocoa equivalent. Then again, the maps I have seen strongly suggest there might be undiscovered lands across the ocean, so... Entirely possible there is a local analogue of New World. Weirdly, some things like potato are already known, though. Not sure how. Might be the divergence or there were people who did find the way across the ocean in the past."


    "Wait, idea!" - Jeanette suddenly comes to the surface forcefully - "Selene, your dad is like... a ship captain, right? Why can''t we hire him to discover us our own America?"


    "Maybe because discoveries like that are expensive and dangerous endeavours?" - Thereze comes up again - "Still, the idea DOES have a certain merit, and I do believe we could devote some funds towards financing geographic discovery, if opportunity exists. Selene, what do you think? Would your father be even interested in trying to sail across the ocean?"


    I have to chuckle. "Technically, yeah, but Alyssa already called dibs on him." - I reply cheerfully - "She is giving dad a whole lot of moolah to build up a trade fleet and new ship designs too, so, yeah. He''s probably gonna be working with her for a while."


    "New designs, really?" - Thereze muses - "Do you happen to remember any details about those, perchance? That is, if saying something to us is not betraying anyone''s confidences, of course."


    "Alyssa gave us like a presentation a while ago. So yeah, probably fine." - I wave the concern off - "Dad used to have a pair of cogs. Basically big boats, rather then ships. Since he stuck to jobs around Haver or just sailed out to fish most of the time, it was fine. He''d like to have something bigger, but karrack is just too expensive for him. Then Alyssa came along, and now my dad sold the cogs and instead had a pair of sloops built. I THINK they''re a bit bigger and have fancy triangular sails instead of dinky square ones."


    "Schooner rigging? Ok, but still small boats only?" - Thereze apparently is interested.


    "So far?" - I shrug - "They were the simplest to build. Right now, dad is using these two to do what he did with cogs, and waiting on brigantines. Alyssa gave him schematics and money to build two and hire them up. She also said once he gets the brigandines on the water and starts working them for good, she will give him cash to build a clipper. Dad''s kinda obsessed with ships going fast, there''s no way he would pass up on owning a clipper, you know? Oh and Alyssa said something about giving him two galleons for the trade fleet once he has the rest of ships built and tested. Something something rebuilding old karracks to better standards, I think."


    "Ohhh. So a diverse trading fleet, I see. Sloops for local jobs, brigantines for short distance trading, galleons for heavy loads and clippers for luxury wares. Alyssa thinks big, have to give her that." - she muses - "Goodness, I need to get in on that. That promises to be lucrative."


    "Windjammers were also mentioned as future option, along with steamboats." - I poke. It''s weird seeing Thereze so animated. Guess business talk really gets her going.


    "Wait, wait, timeout. Windjammers, as in like those humongous fuck-off big huge ships with like seven masts or something?" - Jeannette pipes up - "Wow, that sounds cool. Think she''ll invite us for the inaugural cruise?"


    "..Uh, probably? I mean, if she does the cruise thing at all, yeah, I think. Maybe? Better ask her, I think. Oh, speaking of Alyssa, did you see the latest crazy thing she pulled off?" - I retort.


    "Do tell." - Thereze answers for both of them, looking strangely intent.


    "Check this out. Past life internet!" - I gleefully inform them, poking the relevant icon on the tablet.


    "...Tusk and Horny?" - Jeannette muses - "Plundering dungeons for their tight sheaths and girthy swords? Oh, my. That sounds... raunchy."


    I... probably should have closed the last page viewed. So mortified!


    "Internet, and first thing you did was to look up some smut to read?" - Thereze muses incredulously - "Seriously, Selene? Seriously?"


    "Aw come off it." - Jeannette pipes up - "So she likes some futanari words, what of it? We don''t kinkshame in this reality, sis."


    "I mean, was it truly the most important thing to look up?" - Thereze defends her stance - "I do not know about you, but first thing I''d look up would be what happened to our past family."


    I sigh. "In my defence, I did find my own obituary." - I offer quietly - "Decided to just lurk and read raunchy stuff after seeing it. I''m pretty sure communicating from beyond the grave would give my folks nothing but grief."


    She puts her hand on my shoulder. "...I am sorry." - they say in a rare moment of complete unity.


    "Skipping that, lemme see that story!" - Jeanette suddenly snatches up the tablet - "OOh, oh my, sounds like the hero is about to get FUCKED."


    "Ee! Don''t spoil me, please! I still haven''t read that chapter!" - I object, chuckling.

 Chapter 136. Prelude To Calamity

    "EEEEEEEEE!" - owie. Stereo owie, even. Katherine and Lily-Anne, apparently, know each other decently well. And are friendly. Somehow, Katherine for all her savviness failed to realize that my having Lily-Anne in the harem does mean Lily-Anne is going to be here and now on the airship. Or maybe she knew and just finds this exciting anyways. Aaaaand now they''re talking. I''m somewhat envious of the baud rate. I mean, I''d need to grow like... four mouths, at the minimum, to produce THAT volume of words in the same time.


    Lily-Anne was the second to arrive. Bridgit made it over first, owing to her just blinking all around (and yes, people in the market square are already buzzing about "Everywhere Maid"), but obviously, she''s feeling too shy to do more than greet Katherine and abscond to the kitchen. The smells drifting from under the door suggest that Bridgit is stress-baking pizza. Well, I am also helping her in that noble task, of course. So it''s less stress-baking and more "started stress-baking and then got molested by frisky shoggoth".


    "...You''re unsatiable." - Bridgit pants from atop the table, her cheeks cherry red as she tries to smooth her skirt down.


    "And you are my favorite meal, dear. What''s your point?" - I smirk at her.


    "...gunununu..." - oh my. How excessively adorable. I still restrain myself to just hugging and kissing Bridgit''s forehead while she pulls her underwear back up. Giving her a roll of tentacle-crafted elastic bands really paid off there. We all appreciate the convenience of elastic waistbands. Particularly, when I''m in a mood to eat a maid.


    ___


    "Nnn... Aah... Alyssssaaaa...!" - Katherine is being... loud.


    My entire harem is observing her with barely concealed smirks, as she licks her lips and moans.


    "Seriously?" - I grumble - "It''s just pizza."


    "Give it up, dear." - Moon Unit chuckles - "First time with pizza is always, ah... special." She sticks a slice into her own mouth immediately after, taking her time with it before continuing - "Not that second times are any less, mind. Yum."


    I... sigh. At times I sort of wish I wasn''t just rolling natural twenties on everything I make. It would complicate things, sure, but it would also let me be a little less exasperated. Maybe. I think... Argh. Honestly, bitching about being too good is just... I need a distraction. Wonder what Falstaff is gonna come up with. He skedaddled a while ago to talk to his people and figure out the official response to what I did. I don''t really have to worry about it much, not with Hiram and Katherine both vouching for me, but I wouldn''t put it past Hiram to politely but firmly ask I move the fuck on and preferably stay out of country for a while. Speaking of the devil...


    "Yes?" - I quip, lifting the tablet. Hiram calling, go figure. Everyone quietens down and stares at the tablet, which I stick on one end of table, so that everyone is within the eyesight.


    "...Pizza."


    "Uh?" - I don''t have anything more coherent to say to this. Hiram, what the fuck.


    "...Pardon me, ladies. Just... feeling peckish." - he proffers after a moment - "Anyway! Kathy, I see you''ve been enjoying yourself."


    "...Out of curiosity, brother dearest, when were you going to mention this wonderous pizza to me?" - Katherine proffers in a "calm" voice that suggests fury roiling just below the surface.


    "As soon as there was some of it available for you to sample, why?" - he retorts blithely - "I would think bragging of something you may not have just yet would be a rotten move."


    "Sooo how many times did YOU have it?" - she continues, somewhat less "calm" and more calm than before.


    "Once. When I was invited to the inaugural flight of the airship you''re currently in." - he retorts wryly - "Mayhaps lady Gillespie will instruct you on how pizza is made, if you manage to avoid stirring more trouble for her on the way."


    "You can hardly blame me for graf Norn being so utterly abominable. Or for Hansliches being moronic enough to pick a fight with Alyssa." - she objects indignantly.


    "Oh, I don''t blame you for that, sister dearest." - he ripostes - "The earrings, however? That''s on you."


    Katherine''s face hardens, then abruptly goes slack as Hiram continues smoothly - "I''ve informed father of your findings and shown him the proof. As a result, he no longer believes he can actually apologize. Not as a king, at the very least."


    "What!? What do you mean, no longer believes he can apologize?" - aaand Katherine is not happy with the situation. At all.


    Hiram sighs. It''s a long, protracted sigh.


    "He does intend to do everything in his power to apologize as a father and as a man who was deeply wrong and hurt you because of it." - he then says gravely - "However, he is adamant that as a king, what he did is completely inexcusable. Therefore, Kathy, he intends to abdicate. I have until summer to finish my education in Parsee and get my affairs in order, and then it''s off to the coronation ceremony as soon as summer starts. As soon as the crown is on my head, father intends to retire and leave Berlinger altogether. As far as I know, he plans to move to Munchen and spend the rest of his days trying his hand at beer brewing."


    "Isn''t that exactly the sort of irreparable thing I was supposed to talk him out of?" - she inquires thoughtfully.


    Hiram sighs again.


    "Technically, yes." - he admits - "However, he had a number of other arguments as to why this is actually the best for us and our country. As much as I want to object, his reasoning on the matter is sound. Father, to put it quite simply, is old, and feels his age. Lately, he feels that far too many decisions he makes turn out to be ineffective at best, if not actually harmful in some manner. Finding out he alienated his only daughter because he fell for the grifter scheme was just the last drop in the pot full of troubles."


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    He sighs heavily, glares at me, then smirks - "And although I am sorely tempted to name lady Gillespie as the root of those troubles, that would defeat the point. You did bring up a number of problems to the surface, but the causes... those predate you, Alyssa. By centuries, in some cases. Gods only know how will we resolve them all, yet try we must, nonetheless."


    I''m pretty sure he is hinting at something. Curse my good nature and feeling inclined to promote Hiram as much as possible because he is firmly entrenched in my mind as the "goodest guy" from the game. Then again, he did stick with that reputation pretty damn well, so far. Whatever, no point in dawdling.


    "Let me guess. You and Falstaff had hatched some plan that involves me happening to more of the locals that don''t seem to know where the political winds are blowing yet, isn''t it so?" - I drawl sardonically.


    "...Honestly, I''d pay quite a lot to be able to say NO." - Hiram offers after a pregnant pause - "But today, it seems like there is little other recourse but to pay quite a lot for saying yes."


    He puts his hand over his eyes for a moment, and when he pulls it back, I''m surprised by the change in facial expression. This new Hiram looks twenty years older and definitely saw some choice shit over those decades. "This is not an official request." - he begins, his voice dull and forced - "This is not even an unofficial request. This is me venting my bile after I forgot to turn off the communication artifact. Because, apparently, there exists a conspiracy of old maids that had been hindering and harming our land for years upon years. Because, apparently, Katherine is hardly the first Hohenzollern those spinsters had hurt grievously in their mad chase after our family heirlooms. Because, until a certain someone ever so helpfully extirpated a high lord in charge of an important city and in doing so exposed documents that were never supposed to be seen by us, crimes that were never supposed to be known to us and victims that were never supposed to be found by us, we had nary an idea this conspiracy existed, nor that their goals were so asinine that our very own spymaster had to be told what they were after three times before he could comprehend the findings. Because Klaus had left Berlinger already and will be in Nornburg by the next evening to find and end everyone who still remains. Because it would be most politically convenient to me if he were to arrive to naught but carnage and dead bodies. Because Falstaff has all the relevant details and has been granted my authority to disburse whatever compensation that can be made available from my personal funds, collections and holdings that it takes to make it so. And because I am going to demand wine now and keep drinking until this unbelievable nightmarish mess eats itself."


    I shake my head and chuckle. "Ranting aside, check the side table, Hiram. I think you have a lot to do, so I''ll leave you be." - I tell him and cut the connection. Nothing particularly important over there on the table, just a couple slices of pizza. I have a hunch Hiram needs a bit of a pick-me-up.


    ___


    Falstaff is nowhere to be found, but have left a bunch of notes somehow nonetheless. Apparently, our primary objectives are, ahem... INTERESTING in their mode of thinking enough to be inviting me to a face-to-face meeting. To be entirely fair, they are likely unaware of more poignant tidbits, such as current Katherine''s whereabouts, or me being essentially taken into confidence by their up-and-coming sovereign who by all accounts seems to be of a mind they need not survive long enough to see him crowned. Which, frankly speaking, is saying something if even Hiram, mister common sense himself, believes you need to shuffle your mortal coil.


    Anyways, I need to... nevermind, here''s yet another footman. Huh, I guess my adventures yesterday had been spreading around, this one is visibly trembling as he kneels in front of me and wordlessly extends a sealed letter in my direction.


    "Rise." - I mutter as I break the seal and check the insides. Yadda-yadda, cordially invited to afternoon tea with freiin Kleineschatz, schwagerlin von Norn. Huh. As far as I know, the count Norn that I smushed was not yet married, so... sister of his mother, then? One would think that one does not casually invite the murderer of your nephew for a palaver over tea and crumpets. Curiouser and curiouser. According to what Falstaff collected so far, may be connected to Kathy''s treacherous governess, though how exactly is kinda nebulous. There seems to be some kind of loose coalition of old maids they''re both part of and until recently, it was by and large considered to be a benign association of old women with an excess of free time and money on their hands. Guess I''ll go see what she wants. I''d be more cautious if the invitation were not specifically for me alone, obviously. One''d think this is a red flag, but honestly, it''s not like they actually have any means of harming me personally. I''d worry more if they singled out my wives as "expected guests".


    ___


    Huh. So they really ARE that foolhardy. Wonder why. I was pretty blatant at Nornpalatz, throwing magic left and right. Do they presume I was there with a fresh bouquet or something? The mansion is pretty nice, I have to admit. Decor, however... To my perception, it looks like a bachelor built the house to live in, but then it was redecorated by a horde of rabid grannies. And then populated it with... excessively unduly amounts of people. Granted, there are some that are normally not around, like that gaggle of obvious guards all being cloistered away in the rooms in small groups. An ambush? How amusing. Or just... Insurance in case I''m feeling rowdy? Again, amusing they think they would matter, but... Anyway, the amount of SERVANTS, good googly moogly. So many people with so little to do. Why, oh WHY would one old woman need over two dozen of personal maids? Because she has twenty seven women present just currently. No idea what she does with them all. I''d understand having, I dunno, six maybe. If she is in poor health and needs to be carried around. Maybe a dozen so there''s good redundancy just in case, at most. More than twice that much, just... why. It''s like they are here solely so they could be lined up to welcome visitors through a neat row.


    My first impression of schwagerlin von Norn is "prissy old spinster". She is yet to say anything, but her facial expression already makes it clear her opinion of me is "impertinent youth in need of mannerly instruction". Not impressed, to be honest. Unless she has a very good bribe for me to change my mind, I am going to kill her on my way out. Directly related to Norn, likely aiding and abetting his actions (Including what he did to her own sister... or is it sister-in-law? I wonder.), yeah, no. And that is not even counting Falstaff''s pretty well-reasoned suspicions she is in on the conspiracy that sought to marginalize Katherine in her own fatherland.


    It is rather amusing to see her lips narrow out further into a "polite" frown when I walk past the maids without a second glance. I wonder what''s up. Did she expect me to be intimidated by sheer numbers? Or maybe by the opulence of having over two dozen people idle enough to be lined up like this as decorations? Or was there some kind of social convention about this? It is pretty clear she is trying some kind of social posturing dominance play, considering that the end of the hallway features stairs with a balcony, and she elected to await for me there, giving her a vantage point to quite literally look down on me. Whatever. It is even more amusing to see her "hidden" disapproval transition to alarm when I proceed to go up the stairs without pausing. I think the expectation was that I would remain downstairs until she invites me to come up - a convenient way to show your disfavor being simply "forgetting" to give an invitation so that you could keep talking down to them from a literal height. I might have given some consideration to those rules if not for the fact I do have signed and verified papers for blood feud from two royals and therefore... Yeah. I will do horrible things to the crone before leaving.


    "Let us hope you have something worth my time to say." - I muse halfway up the stairs - "I am on a schedule." Considering the crone giving up on decorum and outright gaping in affront... Nailed it!

 Chapter 137. All Your Base Will Belong To Us

    As any con artist worth their salt will tell you - if you started strong and made a first impression, keeping the pressure is how you work it. Give them no time to think, and they will keep nodding their heads and rolling along with your confidence. Hence my strategy here is going to be simple - I will constantly badger and talk over the old crone, behave as if she''s the one trying to be uppity in my house and smack down hard any attempts by third parties to interrupt on her behalf. Unbalanced like this, she is more likely than not to blab something worth my attention, and if she knows nothing of the sort to blab, at the very least I will be amused. I rarely indulge that side of my character, because even I don''t like myself when I''m behaving like this, the less said about other people and their impressions the better. But, that being said, I do derive a certain amount of black humor out of the reactions.


    "Well?" - I interrupt, ascending the stairs at the same time - "I''m listening." Reactions speak louder than words, at times. For example, the white-knuckled grip on the balustrade tells me loud and clear that I continue to nail it. She is discombobulated and furious at the same time. Wants to say a LOT, but can''t figure out what to begin with. What comes out, in the end, is just a strangled hiss, the like you''d expect from a weathered kettle getting to the boiling point.


    "Good grief, speak up already. It''s like it was not you who wanted to talk." - I continue to push at her, as I reach her balcony and stop at a distance that is definitely impolite - "Do you Norns have some sort of mental deficiency, maybe? The late count was definitely soft in the head to do what he did."


    And that finally, FINALLY, unhinges some gears in her head sufficiently enough to say something. That something being "HOW DARE YOU!", not so much spoken as outright hocked out. For a moment, I am profoundly grateful that I am dealing with an old woman. If she were my apparent age, this would be the point where I''d be literally sprayed with saliva. As it is, she just gets some of that on her own chin. Ew.


    "Who dares, wins. Not that you''d know much about winning." - I riposte - "One foot in the grave, and schwagerin is the best title you managed to accrue in all those years? Pathetic."


    "HOW DARE YOUUU!" - she repeats, abruptly transitioning from a furious whisper to an enraged shriek, stamping her foot to underline the point - "You misbegotten wretch, you foul murderer, you shameless bespoiler, hrrrrh!"


    The last bit is her running out of breath, I have no doubt she had lots more unkind words for me. Fun fun fun fun fun.


    "I think we already established that daring is what I do. Not so quick on the uptake, are you? Having troubles with Albish, maybe? I''d switch languages, but you frankly aren''t worth that much effort to me." - I continue needling her. I want her in a blind towering frenzy, spitting mad so to speak. With that in mind, I continue, raising my voice to speak over whatever it is she tries to say - "Get on with it, will you? I''d just shoot you from the doors, but I am morbidly curious about what kind of delusion you might be laboring under to invite someone in a blood feud with your family for a palaver. Are you tired of living, perhaps? Don''t worry, I will rectify that soon enough."


    "....YOUU DARE!" - and now she sounds like a broken record. Was I on the point with my accusations, perhaps? Mentally quick she is not.


    "Enough! You shall not speak to mistress HBLUF!" - aaand we have someone maidly looking trying to stick up for old crone. Two mistakes - one, even if you are old enough to be my mother, you are still a commoner and should not speak without permission, two, getting within arms reach was unwise. I''m pretty sure mistress is not actually called "HBLUF", but that''s the sound maid made when I backhanded her across the face. The force is sufficient enough to make her recoil, flip around and stumble down the stairs - and over the railing, culminating in the loss of balance and haphazard attempts to grab a hold with a brief flight, startled scream and a dull thud from downstairs. Not a lethal fall, but she will be feeling that one in the morning for a while.


    "Let''s make one thing clear." - I smile tightly - "I am disrespectful, violent and utterly unrepentant. Now... what was it that you wanted to tell me? Do not tell me that you just wanted to know how dare I. Easily, obviously enough."


    Oh, finally the guards are about to do something. About time, they should have tried to block me from coming up the stairs, to begin with, if we''re gonna be brutally honest. If I were a hashishin, that''s where I would''ve underlined their mistake with a poisoned knife to the throat of their principal charge. Since we are doing dominance games, I let them take a couple of steps before hitting them with lightning. High voltage, low amperage. Not lethal, but makes them dance in place and fall over twitching. I take the final step while doing this, finally within grasping distance from the crone. I''m pretty sure this is the point where she bolts, so I preempt this by grabbing her lapels and proceeding onward, into the room beyond the balcony. Which, if I gauged it right, should be some sort of salon to receive more important guests in. Less important ones would have to put up with being downstairs the whole time.


    Hrm. She''s surprisingly light. Even taking into account that she is an old woman. Some kind of nutritional deficiency? Or, as I suggested before, a mental one? I wouldn''t be surprised if she intentionally starved herself on some misbegotten notion. Bones should be pretty frail, then. No overly rough handling, I guess. I sort of half-drop, half-push her on the chair, pull up another one and sit down on it firmly.


    "Just so you know - I do have signed endorsements for blood feud with Norns and their associates, signed by princess Katherine and crownprince Hiram personally. Yes, two different endorsements from two different royals." - I proffer in the ensuing silence - "Makes one wonder, does it not? That you lot would be so repugnant in their eyes that they''d offer the endorsements before I could even ask. Could it be the association with the governess Hershnbukh, I wonder?"


    And now she has a very surprised expression. Did not expect me to know this much, huh? I absentmindedly lob a lightning ball toward the doors just before they swing open. The assortment of armored guards who opened it all stiffen up and fall over spasming. Ah, voltage. The gift that keeps on giving in this technology-deficient reality.


    "Picking your servants to match your own wits, I see?" - I needle her again - "Did you honestly think I''d come here if I was not confident in my ability to extirpate any resistance you could possibly offer? There is a REASON why they announce me as "White Witch" at the court, you know."


    What she does not need to know is that I already infiltrated the whole of the mansion and have an eye on everyone within. For example, those four men all clustered around a vase with highly illegal chrysanthemums. They normally don''t smell like almonds, though. That''s my doing. Prussic acid is very convenient for preemptively dealing with an undesired magical ambush. I guess they were the reason old crone felt so confident to just invite me in - she expected I''d be mind-controlled from the gates, most likely.


    "So. Were you perhaps counting on your mages to do something nefarious?" - I guess with a smile - "My, my. Even if I had no permission for a blood feud already, I''d get one simply for pointing out you have fresh chrysanthemums. They''re gone, by the way. Mages, not chrysanthemums. I just visited Evergreens a little while ago, you know. Learned about the magics in question from the experts. Trying to ambush me with mind magics now is more than a little foolhardy."


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    That, finally, loosens some mental barricade and I am subjected to a shrill diatribe about how I am but an unruly child in dire need of correction and guidance. And... Oh, jeez. Just, what the fuck. No, ew, just... ew. Falstaff warned me, but hearing it in person is... something else. All the anger, the thrill of, well... bullying someone? Gone. Washed away by a wave of sheer unadulterated DISGUST. Imagine taking an apple... and feeling your fingers sink right into it just as you realize it was rotten through. Now multiply that disgust by an order of magnitude or two, and that''s the feeling I have right now. I wouldn''t have such a problem with the old woman vividly describing her dearest hopes for me to be brutally raped if she was not blatantly nigh-euphoric thinking about it. Somehow, in a perversion of the reason I do not want to think about, she wholeheartedly believes that this is how "womanly happiness" comes about.


    Fuck this. Fuck the information gathering, fuck everything. I have her documents, that should be enough. If not, Falstaff can just go suck a lemon. I''m NOT... EW. Ew. Ewewewewewew! I don''t want to even TOUCH her now. EWWWWW. In a fit of ironic echo, I blast the hand I used to throw the crone around with fire, erasing everything on the surface of me with prejudice. The last time I did that intentionally was after dealing with Konistan. Ok, this is IT. I have something very special for her now. Very, very special. And, if I am not grossly mistaken, she would probably blab whatever I want to. In a fashion.


    "Bored now." - I interject during a brief pause that occurred due to schwagerin von Norn needing some air to continue shrieking - "My turn to scream. And remember - right now, my name is Simurgh."


    ___


    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WenCYI_Bn7I


    ___


    So. Plus - I pulled it off just fine. Minus - I''ve been overheard by some of the domestics. Plus - unlike old crone, they will survive. Minus - good luck to them living on with eternal compulsion to confess any and all crimes they may have ever committed. Plus - I believe the crone would stroke out by the evening, she is still confessing everything at the top of her lungs, over and over and over again. Minus - I had to hear all that.


    "A drink?" - Falstaff is in fine form today. Very on point. I take the bottle of rectified alcohol out of his hand and guzzle it.


    "I wish I could get drunk..." - I mutter, returning the empty bottle to him after double-checking it is indeed empty. Falstaff takes it back, his eyebrows trying to climb into his scalp.


    "I was under impression that much would be enough to render an adult man insensate." - he comments cautiously - "Some sort of poison protection, I imagine? Efficient, if so. Spirits are among the hardest liquids to philter out."


    I sigh. "Sure, let''s go with that." - I agree - "Falstaff, have you ever felt like the atrocity you''ve planned is just... not sufficiently malicious? Because I did not plan on doing what I actually did to schwagerin von Norn. In fact, I didn''t quite know I actually COULD do this. At least, not without actually opening up the skulls in question. Finding out that I can do it just by screaming loud enough is a little... disconcerting."


    "For the sake of clarity, can I get an explanation for what is that you actually did?" - he hedges - "I mean, I do have some ideas on what it looked like, but..."


    "Imagine having a statue of a woman." - I proffer after a second of contemplation - "Then imagine taking a chisel and cutting the words "This is a cow" all over it. That''s essentially what I did to her brain. It''s not really survivable, she will stroke out by the evening at the very latest. But until she does, the only thing that concerns her anymore is confessing her actions. Her personality, beliefs, urges? All irrelevant now, the new commandment had been cut into her. As you can guess, it''s not reversible. Not the "not easily reversible", but outright "not possible to revert"."


    "Brutal but... deserved." - he agrees with a grimace - "We had to offer final mercy to dowager von Norn. She is... was no longer capable of comprehending herself as a person. Can I have whatever documents you have managed to locate in the estate?"


    "How do you know I have gotten anything?" - I quip. Falstaff is unnervingly observant sometimes.


    "Spider golems... Do forgive me, but I am definitely borrowing that idea." - he proffers with a smile that is excited and disturbed in almost equal measure - "Bird-shaped golems were known for occasional use in spying before, but the flight is a complicated skill to master. A swarm of artificial insects, however? You truly are the font of ideas both beautiful and horrifying."


    He shudders, rubs his shoulders and continues - "I will also be putting a fire under our scholars to devise some countermeasures to that. There''s no gathering that spilled milk back into the bowl. While we are on the topic... his excellency crownprince has given me dispensation to offer you compensation for your efforts at my own cognizance. Upon reflection, I would like to offer an assortment of obscure books and manuscripts and documents detailing on the unusual and odd occurrences, objects and people. Obviously, we will also recompense whatever monetary expenditures you might make in pursuit of our common goal here, but to my understanding it is the obscure and odd that has the best chances of gaining your interest."


    "Oookay? And what do you want from me in that case?" - I riposte - "Out with it, man."


    "Nornburg is home to seven noble families ranking above a baron. ALL of them are complicit to Norns and their crimes." - he says bluntly - "All of them aged above thirteen are condemned as of this morning. Nobles may be forgiven for many transgressions, but that only makes the punishments for what they can not be forgiven of that much harsher. Knowingly promulgating and furthering the studies of mind magics in defiance of royal edict banning the practice is one of such sins. Most of them by now are aware that Norn perished due to conflict with you. We offer you the first dibs. Anyone you elect to spare, be it by mercy or apathy, will be dealt with by my men or Klaus himself and his aides. Really, the chief reason why I am talking to you about all this is simply in recognition of your, frankly speaking, outrageous ability to end lives in a briskly plentiful manner."


    "OOkay? What do you know about their locations, disposition, available resources?" - I don''t see a problem, frankly. If Hiram wants to give me a bunch of rare data in exchange for being his hitwoman for the day, why not? I already know the people connected to this fiasco should be returned to the great carbon cycle of nature as expeditiously as possible for the great justice. So I may as well take off all zig.


    He passes over a couple of paper sheets. Hand-drawn maps, really? Huh. "Unless there is something in the documents you took just now, we''re looking at two locations." - he proffers - "This here is the manor keep just outside the city limits. According to what I know, all of the children of the people in question are there. The manor is protected by the city guard, but the inner halls are all staffed with their personal servants. The ideal resolution to this place would be if the children could be smuggled outside without the city guard becoming involved in any hostilities. I don''t care about losses among the manor staff, if they elect to be hostile, they deserve everything that happens to them. There may be some of the less important family members as well, but with them going on the defensive and grouping up, the exact distribution of blood relatives is a bit... uncertain. And this here is another keep. It is situated about two hours by horse away from the city, next to the Schvartsebrik bogs. It''s where we believe the bulk of conspirators had grouped up. It is a convenient location when you are calling out the levees out of surrounding areas, but a bad place to dwell otherwise. Bogs nearby are the never-ending source of insects and damp stink. Brikhiters own the keep and, if the old books are right, there is a smaller keep located directly within the bog as a fallback option. I know nothing about that second one, by all accounts it was abandoned and forgotten decades ago. No one even knows the way to it through the bogs anymore. Supposedly. I would not be surprised if Brikhiters actually kept the knowledge and the keep itself as their safe haven."


    I blink. "Wouldn''t some of the commoners know if the keep is in use or not?" - I suggest - "Peat diggers, for example?"


    He shakes his head - "The bog was mined clean of peat by the city of Nornburg before the Kraut kingdom even became a kingdom. I made sure to inquire with the people, but the consensus is that no one goes into the bogs, for there is nothing worth the risk of drowning to be had. Even the berry pickers avoid the area, saying that all that grows there is poisonous. If it is of any use to you, the only truly unusual fact that I was able to glean is that bog borders are defined by scent. If you can smell rotten almonds, then you need to turn back."


    ...Almonds. Just like what I did to mind mages a little bit ago, mayhaps? Would explain why no one wants to go into the bog. Cyanides are no joke.

 Chapter 138. Infiltration With Extra Gooze

    (or failing that, loudly, but extract children I will) and then just leave it alone... Unless there are some members of the families in question that are on the kill list. Falstaff''s info on the families and the relationship between them is... interesting. There''s Norns, of whom currently there are none present. There''s Kleineschatzes, who are nominally headed by Adonis Kleineschatz but in practice answered to the old crone I drove insane a little earlier. Aside from Adonis, who is apparently a half-brother of late Norn (Dowager Norn initially married a rich ritter who ended up mysteriously dying from stomach illness soon after signing a will that all of his sizeable warchest is to go to his dear wife if he crooks first), there is also Gertrude (that''s the name of the old crone, I have some interesting luck with that name for some reason) and Hilda, the youngest of Kleineschatz (not sure what is her deal, but according to Falstaff she is a big homebody and maybe fills in as wife for Adonis, which would explain why Kleineschatzes are so bugfuck insane if aunt-nephew incest is norm for them). There''s Hansliches, who are currently headed and consist of Hanslich Junior, who is yet unmarried. I did gank his daddums along with Norn. There''s, much to my surprise, Ambercrombes, who appear to be a splinter branch of Champagne Ambercrombes. That family currently consists of a geriatric baron, his wife and three sons ranging from mid-thirties to early twenties. None of them married, though Falstaff just shook his head when I asked why. Those are ones situated in Norn county. Aside from county-ruling Norns, the rest are all barons.


    (Nornburg is straight on the border of Norn and Fonz counties, and for some reason, Fonzes elected to keep their main presence in Nornburg instead of developing some other town in their county as their seat of power), each having a selection of children ranging from five to twenty. Fourteen people in total, counting them, their wives, their children and a couple of more distant relatives. There''s Brikhiters who own the keep in the bogs. They consist of the patriarch, his wife, his two sisters and between them all, seven children. Out of which only ONE is technically legitimate, and the rest six are incest-borne bastards. Baron Hanz Brikhiter definitely prefers bedding his sisters to bedding his wife, because Falstaff indicates baroness is treated barely better than unwanted guest. There are Dachaufreissers, who are arguably the most unremarkable out of them all. Bog-standard noble family with two children. Though there are rumors that Dachaufreisser bloodline is prone to bouts of unstoppable rage... Finally, there are Hexenjaegers, whom... are interesting. According to Falstaff, this house is basically this world''s version of Belmonts, only kinda evil. Or, well, VERY evil. Apparently, at their height of power, they "unofficially" decided who was allowed to "have" magic and who was not in Kraut. They are nowhere near that much power now, and the house is represented by a sole baron who survived three wives without having a single child between them all to survive their first year. Which may or may not be due to the unconfirmed but prevalent rumor that "true Hexenjaeger" heirs are nursed on blood instead of milk.


    ...Gotter im himmel!..</dfn>" - yelps the girl, amply forgotten by morons and sensibly taking advantage of that time to cover up her breasts again. She backs away, crawling across the bed as I stalk past her, bend and lift Hanslich by the throat.


    Farvas bistu vakh azoy shfet?</dfn>" - I repeat my question in Kraut, think for a moment and add - "<dfn title="Keep your voice quiet if you like to live.">Haltn deyn kul shtil aoyb ir vi tsu lebn.</dfn>"


    Der maner farvalter hot mikh bafoyln tsu baleytn iunge harn...</dfn>" - she whispers haltingly, clearly struggling not to break down into tears of terror. Huh. She was ordered by majordomo? I guess I have a bonus target tonight then. No way I can let someone ordering children into beds to live.


    Gey mir tsu der maner farvalter.</dfn>" - I order her, following the order by snagging her collar and lifting her on her feet. Carefully, obviously, this one is gonna be one of the survivors.


    Geyn aroys durkh di tir arop az koridor, aun nokhgeyn di manshan vant biz ir dergreykhn di steybalz. Zag vart "kudsh" aun mentshn dart veln dir helfn. Gey.</dfn>" - I tell the shaking girl and she turns around and runs towards the exit haphazardly, trembling like a falling leaf on the go. Really nailing the whole "inscrutable monster" vibe tonight, I feel.


    (mostly, I''m reasonably sure Hanslich and his nameless fellow were not the only two of them who took liberties with domestics), I try not to draw it out too much and mostly just crack their skulls with handy benches or ram their own swords through them. Wonder why here of all places. Putting up an ambush in the corridor would be more advantageous for them. ..Wait. IS that?...


    Antshuldikn!</dfn> Frau Gillespee.... am you man?!"

 Chapter 139. Warm Lamp Mayhem

    <div>


    Much to my surprise, the whole "walk out with children" part works flawlessly... And then I stop being surprised when I notice a pair of boots sticking out of the horse trough. I guess someone did come by to check the stable, but Falstaff''s men are clearly on the ball. I peer into the trough out of curiosity. Oh, blackjacked. Nice. Well, not for the fellow, he''s gonna have a hell of a headache tomorrow, but on the other hand, he''d be alive to experience it. When I enter the stables, most of the kids are already outside, having been stuffed into carriages and trotted out. The stablehands are very "busy" putting up a fiction of having a big old cleaning session for all the horses and carriages, while we''re at it. Nice, gives them a plausible reason why would a whole bunch of carriages leave one after another, if the pretense is that they are going to the river one by one to be washed up there. For all I know, they just might actually carry out exactly what it looks like, just with a "drop off kids on the way" detour.


    <div>


    <div>


    "Welp, I got all I wanted out of the mansion." - I remark, causing everyone to stop what they are doing to peer at me.


    <div>


    <div>


    "Jungfrau Gillespie." - one of them ventures. They all have facewraps, hats and big coats on, but the sound of the voice is unmistakeably a woman. A big one, while we are on the topic. On a whim, I sniff discreetly... Huh. Anne-Marie, now what are you doing here, I wonder? Back in Berlinger I had her pegged as a subordinate of Klaus, but looks like she''s not quite so simple. Wonder who is she ultimately loyal to. Come to think of it, I can do a little probing right now.


    <div>


    <div>


    "Hello again." - I retort - "That''s quite impressive, getting here only a few days after me. It''s, what... two hundred leagues to Berlinger, give or take?"


    <div>


    <div>


    She doubletakes but then chuckles - "About right, yes. What gave me away? I thought the mask and the coat would keep me obscure."


    <div>


    <div>


    Huh. Probably she is loyal to Falstaff and Hiram, then. I have a distinct hunch that she''d try to fob me off if she truly worked for Klaus. Or maybe she''s the actual liaison between Klaus and Falstaff, come to think of it.


    <div>


    <div>


    "Well..." - I muse - "Your height coupled with your voice was the big first hint. It is not that common for me to see a woman taller than myself, you know? But the cincher was the smell. Consider this a free tip for Falstaff on what other spells he might want to crib from me. Giving yourself a dog''s nose sensitivity can be a chore to adjust to at first, but the utility is well worth it for those of us who need to ferret out secrets."


    <div>


    <div>


    ALL of them doubletake at once and turn towards me, the naked interest clear even through their disguises. "...Pardon me, are you implying that you have... been using sniffer spells on a routine basis?" - she ventures - "And it does not destroy your will to eat anything at all?"


    <div>


    <div>


    I sigh. "No." - I then deny firmly - "I am implying that I have altered my nose to always keep my olfaction sense keen. Your food problems likely come from the fact that most sniffer formulae I have come across are abrupt increases in sensitivity. Of course, it would mess with you. The trick is that you need to ramp it up little by little and take your time for a couple months raising the sensitivity of the spell used little by little each day until you are no longer suffering from synesthesia. Give your brain some time to develop the channel for receiving smells."


    <div>


    <div>


    "<dfn title="...write this down right now!">...shreyb dos arop rekht itst!</dfn>" - Anne-Marie hisses to one of them, making the man curse quietly and whip out the notepad. One of the things I had given dwarves a hint about, yes. I am guessing that I do have some enthusiastic customers here already. She turns back to me, smiling so widely I can clearly see her mask distorting. "Pardon my ignorance, but what is... synthesia?"


    <div>


    <div>


    "Sy-ne-sthe-si-a." - I correct her - "Everything we perceive, be it visual, audial, tactile, olfactory, gustatory, proprioceptory, arcane or telepathic, all of it goes through our brains. If the input is beyond the capacity of the brain for that specific sense, the overflow will be interpreted as something from the other sense. Ever smelled something so bad your vision dimmed, for example? Well, that is it."


    <div>


    <div>


    She blinks at me, mouthing several of the words I used to delineate senses. Did I use the words that don''t exist yet?


    <div>


    <div>


    "Senses. Visual is what you see, audial is what you hear, tactile is what you touch, olfactory is what you smell, gustatory is what you taste, proprioceptory is the sense of how your own body is positioned and where, arcane is all sorts of magical sight and scrying and telepathic is mind reading." - I explain - "You can enhance all of those senses, but if you ramp any of them too much, it will overwhelm your capacity and cause synesthesia. Hell, most people do not even perceive arcane at all without synesthesing it into the physical five."


    <div>


    <div>


    The sound of furious scribbling makes me notice that there are three notepads out now.


    <div>


    <div>


    "...And we are still in the stables." - I deadpan - "Let''s wrap things up here, we can talk about senses and how they overlap and the proper ways of enhancing them on the way to the next objective, alright?"


    <div>


    <div>


    ___


    <div>


    <div>


    "...Really?" - Falstaff deadpans - "It has not even been a day, jungfrau, why are my people weird already?"


    <div>


    <div>


    I scratch the back of my head. "I had no idea you people thought synesthesia was an insurmountable obstacle." - I explain - "Your brains can be trained for better throughput if you take your time to inure you to the volume of detail the enhanced senses grant you gradually."


    <div>


    <div>


    He purses his lips thoughtfully. "On one hand, I am definitely enthusiastic about the idea. Coupling the capability of the hound with the cleverness of a person is definitely something highly valuable in our craft. On the other hand, I am now full of dread thinking who else might have gotten insights from you and what will they put those knowledges towards..."


    <div>


    <div>


    I shrug. "Well, I might mention all of that to sir Malachi once I get back to Parsee, but honestly, I don''t really have all that many people I actually talk to, to begin with, you know?" - I dismiss his implication - "You lot warrant less caution simply because you answer to Hiram and I consider him to be one of the closest allies. So no real problems giving HIS people a little leg-up on the possible competition."


    <div>


    <div>


    "Fair enough. Back to the problem at hand, though." - Falstaff knows when to let go of the topic, it looks like - "The keep in question is protected by gargoyles and therefore, using your airship to go there is not a good idea. I do not know if they can actually cause enough damage to bring you down or not, but the damage they will cause nonetheless. I''d rather not risk neither our princess nor your harem in that manner. That leaves traveling by horseback. I''d offer a carriage, but the roads in the vicinity of the keep, or rather the lack of them is a problem."


    <div>


    <div>


    Not really keen on getting on a horse, to be honest. The horses are even less keen on the idea, it looks like, because all of them nervously prance away from me as soon I get closer than a touse. Apparently, I am unsettling to them. Come to think of it, out of all domesticated animals, only cats and geese do not shun me. The rest, well... yeah. Nervous in my presence.


    <div>


    <div>


    "You know, I don''t think this is going to work." - I muse - "I''m no equestrian and your horses are quite insistent they''d rather I don''t try to become one. How about something alternative?"


    <div>


    <div>


    "I''m open to suggestions, because the only other option I can think of is simply keeping up with horses by using body reinforcement magic." - he agrees.


    <div>


    <div>


    Now, he did mention gargoyles before and I am in a peculiar mood. Falstaff is low-key warning me off from showing off too much new stuff, and that makes me want to show off even more. But he is also right and I''d rather not cause everyone problems by cluing one of the bad guys into something worthwhile. So let''s just show off something a couple dozen steps away from contemporary know-hows.


    <div>


    <div>


    "ZSU, I choose you." - I muse, as I start piecing together the conjuration. Lots of fiddly details, takes some concentration.


    <div>


    <div>


    "Zee Sou?..." - someone repeats behind me. Wonder what they are assuming. Zee is sea in Kraut, so... Heh. Probably something outlandish. The reality is going to be... even more so, anyhow, so...


    <div>


    <div>


    "<dfn title="Gods in heaven!">Gotter im himmel!</dfn>" - yep, Falstaff is impressed. Twenty tons of metal suddenly settling down right next to you might give you a bit of a... start.


    <div>


    <div>


    "Well, I think we''re good to go." - I suggest as I pull the lid of the driver compartment open.


    <div>


    <div>


    "<dfn title="What is this?">Vas iz das?</dfn>" - I think he is VERY startled. Whatever.


    <div>


    <div>


    "This, Falstaff, is ZSU-23-4. Also known as Shilka. I''m pretty sure I can keep up with your horses on this." - I suggest as I hop up and start wiggling into the driver seat. Soviet engineering with all that it entails, yeah. Including kinda fucking cramped crew spaces. Whatever, I can be liquid when I want to be, so not the problem.


    <div>


    <div>


    He visibly wants to object, but then just shakes his head and walks over to his fellows. There''s about a dozen of them, including Falstaff and Anne-Marie. I am not introduced to the rest, and probably shouldn''t be expecting it to happen later. No real reason to. I give them a moment to get on the horses, then I run my fingers over the tumblers and levers. I never drove this before, obviously, but I do have some minimal experience driving tracked tractor from a previous life - and I have internet-enabled brains. Given the relative age of the system, the official manuals for it are quite literally available for download on the net, provided one has some idea how to word the search query.


    <div>


    <div>


    With a series of solenoid clacks, the starter whines to life. A nice sound. A nostalgic sound. Now, I just... BAAAM! Hah, backfire! No matter, it caught up. Now let''s idle a little bit, big diesels need a bit of time to get the heat up before putting the gear on. For now, I... am gonna facepalm. Of course, the horses will NOT care one whit about something like this. Thankfully, no panic galloping happens, but now the squad that''s supposed to follow me is at arpent of distance and I doubt they are going to get closer for a while. Fine, then. I conjure some copper and quickly shape a bunch of earpieces, which I then go to hand to Falstaff.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    <div>


    <div>


    "We''re going to need to talk to each other, so here." - I show them how to put it on and explain that it''s basically a differently shaped copperphone that''s always on, so that we can have convenient discussions regardless of me driving an extremely anachronistic vehicle and scaring the shit out of horses. Literally.


    <div>


    <div>


    ___


    <div>


    <div>


    "But why does it make so much noise?" - Falstaff is curious about diesel engine.


    <div>


    <div>


    "Well, basically? It is fueled by an alchemical concoction that explodes if squeezed. So we put a little bit of it into the plunger, push on it, it explodes and pushes the plunger back. The force of the explosion is much more than the force needed to squeeze the fuel to an explosion, so... have a bunch of plungers all attached to the same lever in a way that whenever one of them explodes, the other gets squeezed, and there you go." - I explain, peering through the night vision periscope. Trying to drive with the normal lights was a no-go - horses could somehow deal with "roaring monster" following them at arpent''s distance, but they definitely aren''t fine if the "monster" illuminates them as well. The one time I turned the lights on, they galloped and it took us almost half an hour to get everyone back on track. So now I''m having IR spotlight blasting ahead and picking my way through it. Technically speaking, I could probably just open the lid because I can see IR with my own eyes, but damn it, if I bothered to make a complex toy, I''mma play with it to my heart''s content!


    <div>


    <div>


    ...Why are they increasing the distance? Whatever. I can see them on night vision just fine, so not the problem. The lack of road, as Falstaff put it, is not really a problem either. No heavy machinery to really make a mess out of it yet, so... yeah, everything is fine. It does help that it hasn''t rained for a while. The grounds here are prone to swamping, after all.


    <div>


    <div>


    Speaking of swamps, I think we are getting close. In fact, I can see the keep already somewhat. Just as I notice it, Falstaff pipes up.


    <div>


    <div>


    "Almost there. Maybe we should not get too close, they will hear your, uh... vehicle." - he suggests.


    <div>


    <div>


    "Pretty sure they already did, to be honest. It''s a quiet night, engine sounds tend to carry. Besides, it''s not like I am planning on stealth in this. Actually, wait a moment..." - I have already put some of me into the turret, obviously. Normally, it''s three men in there, pretty cramped together, too. Now, with just me, it''s pretty spacious and I have more than enough tentacles to account for six arms. Now, let''s see... I need to turn this on, and then this, and then I ramp this up slowly while the tubes heat up... I have a weird feeling using triode lamp tech. It feels obsolete and exceedingly new at the same time, weird.


    <div>


    <div>


    ---TWAO....TWAO....TWAO....---


    <div>


    <div>


    ...I think I am "hearing" radar in passive mode. To be frank, I turned it on only due to a combo of "if I''m playing, I''mma do everything" and the fact that I am learning to operate this as I go from the scanned manuals, and those say to turn on and heat up the radar before going cannons hot. Speaking of radar, it DOES seem to pick up something. Weird, why is there some kind of... Are those rising up?... Fuck it, active mode now, I need all the info I can get!


    <div>


    <div>


    ---BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRM!---


    <div>


    <div>


    Ow. Owity ow ow ow. That is a lot of oomph... What is this, even? I pop open the driver compartment and stare at the winged statue plouging into the ground in front of me. Several others fall down inbetween me and the keep, a bunch of crashing sounds from inside the keep suggesting a lot of falling stones in there somewhere. I turn down the radar back into the passive scan, and in the ringing silence, I can "hear" something reminiscent of chicken peeping from inside the keep. So. Somehow, gargoyles are doing something on the radar frequencies. Maybe that''s how they coordinate? I heard stories from Falstaff about how gargoyles can act in unison, maybe... Oh. Shit. The ones close to me are probably done for, they are silent, but the keep suddenly roils with them. At least a hundred of those all come up, and I have no doubt they are definitely looking in my direction with blood in their eye. But... I do have a radar.


    <div>


    <div>


    ---BARARARARARARARARARARARARRARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARARRRRM!!!---


    <div>


    <div>


    Before, I just manually aimed the radar in the direction of keep and hit the search. Now, I have selected sector searching mode, wobulation active and moving target selection. Which means that I am hitting the gargoyles with radar warbling through the selection of frequencies and while at the same time using the system autotuning modulation and amplitude to highlight the moving targets the best. Thankfully, the makeup of gargoyles is sufficiently radar-dense to make this partially viable. Now, I''mma... nevermind. I was about to start firing, but apparently, gargoyles are weak to radar trauma.


    <div>


    <div>


    "What is happening?" - not sure who it is exactly but one of the Falstaff''s men definitely. And then another of them rides right in front of me! Shit. I turn the radar off immediately, but even so, the overly gallant guy falls off his horse, keening and clawing at his helmet. He had the... dubious luck of catching the edge of the microwave ray with his head only.


    <div>


    <div>


    "...Falstaff, what the hell was that guy trying to pull?" - I ask in the silence that follows - "Get him out of there, it''s safe if you keep your heads low. I''ll heal him after we finish with the keep. He should be fine, but will probably have temporary blindness and a lot of headache."


    <div>


    <div>


    "What was THAT!" - is his exasperated response as a couple of men get off the horses and run over to the guy writhing on the ground, their heads low just as I suggested. Nice to see they can follow instructions, at least.


    <div>


    <div>


    "That was me scrambling what passes for minds in those gargoyles." - I retort with certain asperity - "Your guy is lucky minds of stone and minds of meat are less alike than one might think. What was he trying to pull, anyway?"


    <div>


    <div>


    "Probably, shield you and your vehicle from gargoyles. Not that you really needed the shielding, I suppose." - he quips - "That takes care of gargoyles, I believe. Now we just need to slaughter some traitors and call it a day."


    <div>


    <div>


    "Look alive, I think they''re about to join the party!" - I snap at him. The gates of the keep are opening. Pretty quickly, too. Since there is no moat, there is no drawbridge either. I''m guessing they lifted up the portcullis grate beforehand and... yep, looks like they''re about to attempt a horseback sally. Not a bad idea if we were a contemporary force, they can clearly see there''s only maybe a dozen of us, and counting their retainers and guards, I''m tentatively guessing they can offer about fifty horsemen. More than enough to scatter us and run everyone down in detail. If we were just a squad of horsemen, that is.


    <div>


    <div>


    By the time the gates are open, I already have the turret facing them and peering through the optic scope. Little known fact - while Shilka was envisioned as a purpose-built anti-aircraft vehicle, it is terrifyingly effective against infantry and lightly armored targets. Cavalry too, though in my previous reality, that kind of match didn''t really happen much. No one fielded cavalry as actual field forces since the second world war, after all. Cannons uncapped, manual mode selected, let her rip.


    <div>


    <div>


    The actual noise of autocannons going off right above my head is unbelievable. The actual carnage that happens inside the gates is even more so. Armored horsemen meet 23 mm fragmentary burst rounds arriving in hundreds and spectacularly transform into assorted meat and blood spray. The length of burst I let them have is merely five seconds, but that is enough to send out nearly three hundred shells. The first two seconds are spent getting through the column of horsemen, who were spectacularly unlucky to have had been mostly stuck inside the portcullis and right behind it and got all shredded. The rest of the ammo wrecks the hell out of the ground floor facing the gates. Nice.


    <div>


    <div>


    Capitalizing on the shell shock, I take my time to shoot the hell out of gate towers next. Not really keen on some jackass deciding that pouring some hot oil on my associates is a good last-stand option. Still enough ammo. Shoot the windows then. And the walls between. Hell, a good part of the keep is just wood, shells wreck it right up. Considering every fourth round is incendiary, well... By the time I reach half the ammo, the keep is burning in many places and Falstaff is frantically signaling to me to stop firing.


    <div>


    <div>


    "Sup?" - I ask him, massaging my ears at the same time. I really should have put on a helmet, or at least closed the driver''s lid, it was way loud.


    <div>


    <div>


    "Enough, the keep is clearly broken. If you wreck it anymore, checking for survivors is going to become dangerous to ourselves." - he suggests, his lips pressed in thin line - "Honestly, you could have stopped right after breaking the sally."


    <div>


    <div>


    "Didn''t want someone trying to pour hot oil on you people out of spite." - I retort, eyeing the utterly wrecked gate towers - "Reasonably sure that''s not possible now."


    <div>


    <div>


    The overhead in portcullis suddenly collapses on top of the assorted gore, opening up the gate to the sky, the gates themselves ponderously tipping over and slamming flat on the ground as if to underscore my point.


    <div>


    <div>


    "Right. Let''s take a look at your hothead and then go see what survived inside." - I suggest as I climb out of the driving compartment. No real reason to let Falstaff know there is more of me in the tower, let him think the whole thing is controlled from down there.


    <div>


    <div>


    The guy in question is fine. Well, as fine as one can be after essentially sticking his head into a microwave. His helmet took the most of impact, thankfully for him, and the clawing he did was to try and pull it off because taking all that energy at once made the helmet uncomfortably hot. As it is, he is already tended to by a couple of his fellows who seem to have some light magic proficiency and even stands up on his own. Still, Falstaff leaves him and one another fellow to guard the horses and my artillery, while the rest of us go explore the keep.


    <div>


    <div>


    ___


    <div>


    <div>


    "...What were they doing here?" - I ask in befuddlement. The entirety of men participating in the salle was expected. The presence of wives/aunts/daughters/elders/whatever on the ground floor, however, was not.


    <div>


    <div>


    "Probably setting up the place to treat the wounded and preparing to defend the gates if their main force ended up being distracted by a feint." - Falstaff muses, as he examines the collected remains. Using a combination of magic and good old hard labor we had managed to collect most of the heads and other such body parts that could help identify the people. Morbid but necessary.


    <div>


    <div>


    "To sum it up..." - he muses, as he checks people off on his list - "Hansliches were ended by you back in the town mansion. Kleineschatzes are accounted for." He points out a pair of heads that according to him belongs to Adonis and Hilda. Very contrastful. Adonis looks like he''s barely twenty, and Hilda is an old crone despite being the youngest. Wonder if they really were a couple.


    <div>


    <div>


    "Norns were ended even earlier, so from that county we are missing only Ambercrombes. None of whom is present here." - he continues - "Fonzes are all accounted for, and so is baron Hexenjaeger. He was in the head of the salle, by the way. Apparently, they counted on his expertise to turn away your spells, if the numbers of amulets on his person are of any indication. I am guessing he was not expecting an alchemical attack, of all things."


    <div>


    <div>


    Falstaff pauses and briefly shudders, before continuing - "Speaking of which, I am so increasing the budget for our alchemists going forward. Those weapons of yours are beyond destructive, jungfrau... Oh well, back to our muttons. From the Fonz county, we are missing Dachaufreissers and Brikhiters. It is somewhat surprising none of the Brikhiters were present, as this keep belongs to their family, but then again, I suppose they are using their fallback in the bogs. Any ideas on that front?"


    <div>


    <div>


    "Don''t worry about them." - I riposte smoothly - "I already know where the keep is and will lead you all there in the morning. It will have to be in the morning and on foot, the way through the bogs is not horse-friendly at all."


    <div>


    <div>


    He blinks. "How did you manage that, if it is not a secret?" - he inquires - "I had problems finding out anything about the hideout in question."


    <div>


    <div>


    "Dachaufreissers were using something similar to the far-seeing spheres Sultanate uses for diplomacy to observe their children at the mansion." - I explain - "I used that to backtrack the signal to the keep and from there it was simple."


    <div>


    <div>


    And this is where we are interrupted.


    <div>


    <div>


    "Sir!" - one of his guys pops up - "There are people in the basement. They have barricaded themselves in one of the rooms down there. We avoided letting them know of our presence so far, but we can not find out who is there and why without being seen."


    <div>


    <div>


    I am guessing he reports in Albish for my benefit. Sure enough, Falstaff tilts his head in my direction - "Let''s go see who''s there? My money is on Ambercrombes."


    <div>


    <div>


    ___


    <div>


    <div>


    They were indeed Ambercrombes. All five of them. And now I can finally see why Falstaff just shook his head before when I asked about brothers being unmarried. They are unmarried because they all wear slave collars. And wielding swords. And are advancing towards us while shouting that they have no choice but to fight to the death if they are not given safe passage for their entire family. Hm. Their mother... over there. Father right next to her. And apparently, he is the slave master for his sons, I can see the magical connections from the collars to the bracelet on his arm. So he is forcing his sons to be cannon fodder? Looks like the collars were not placed recently, they probably grew up with them, given how tight they are...


    <div>


    <div>


    Fine, I have an easy cure for THAT. Their father is hiding behind that screen over there. Sturdy enough to keep arrows off him, that''s true... and the way his connection is warped, I am assuming he is wearing dragonscale amulet. Connections to Sultanate, I''m guessing. Both things are their cultural artifacts and if anyone ever bothered working out how to make dragonscale dispel effect avoid slavery collars, it would be Sultanate indeed.


    <div>


    <div>


    Alrighty then. I pull out one of the flintlocks, aim at the screen and pull the trigger. BAM. Blood spray from behind. Nice, right in the noggin. Blasted his brains all over the walls.


    <div>


    <div>


    "...Dear, no... NOOO!" - annd his wife is apparently deeply distraugh... nevermind, went right for the bracelet. Have a bullet too. Blowing the smoke off the barrels, I peer at the sons who are standing still and stiff. Huh, the collars were supposed to pop... Or not. Actually, they are locked into a sort of tetanus right now, until someone else takes the control bracelet. Who the fuck would treat his own sons like this?


    <div>


    <div>


    I stroll past them, plucking the swords out of their hands as I go, then pick up the bracelet, pull it off the cadaver''s arm and snap it in halves. Three synchronous clatters echo through the room.


    <div>


    <div>


    "...Thank you!" - one of the brothers manages suddenly - "Thank you for letting us die free."


    <div>


    <div>


    I look at Falstaff. He looks back at me.


    <div>


    <div>


    "...Myeah, no." - I then offer - "You people are not getting off so easily. Since you were enslaved before you became adults, you fall under the children clause."


    <div>


    <div>


    "...Jungfrau, they are still adults..." - Falstaff hems - "It will cause complications."


    <div>


    <div>


    "They are Ambercrombes." - I riposte - "Their relative is the dean of Parsee Academy. I''m pretty sure his family would take them in."


    <div>


    <div>


    He shrugs - "Yeah, if you can manage to get them out of Kraut for good, his excellency will be satisfied with this much."

 Chapter 140. Demon In The Bog

    (I think Brikhiters are all defiled enough to take the limited exposure) and grab the dude by the horns. ...Huh, that has better potential. Nudge things around like this... And this... Yep, now just let them spiral up naturally, graft the pattern in, it should be self-reproducing if.. .yep, that''s better.

 Interlude 23. Videochat Log

    BestBoyHiram - Alright, everyone. This is new for all of us. Let us begin by stating who we are, as ordered by the list you see on the right. I am the initiator of this meeting, Hiram Hohenzollern. I am here in my capacity as crownprince of Kraut.


    TallAndCurvyAnneMarie - Yes! Um... I am Anne-Marie, I am a freidame in service of his excellency crownprince. I am here in my capacity as a primary witness.


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - As you say, your excellency. I am Falstaff, and I am here in my capacity as crownprince''s aide and primary witness.


    MalachiTheWise - Indeed. My name is Malachi and I am here in my capacity as head of the Champagne Inquisition... Though I would like to know who decided my presence was appropriate after the introductions are over. To the best of my understanding, this is internal Kraut matters, is it not?


    OrochiKlaus - It is, but the one at the heart of the situation is one of yours. To round out the introductions, I am Klaus and I am here in my capacity as the spymaster of the Kraut kingdom. The reasons we are having this quite novel meeting are manifold, but they all come back to one singular person. The delectable jungfrau Alyssa Gillespie. While we are at it, I would like to express my genuine condolences and commiseration to sir Malachi. Wrangling defiled geniuses is hard work.


    MalachiTheWise - Ah. That young lady. I should have known. She is the kind of person to inspire the bards, is she not? Suddenly, the missive I found this morning makes so much more sense.


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - Ah. She already sent off her notes, I surmise?


    MalachiTheWise - That she did. I understand I have you to thank for the sudden cornucopia of spells small and large for an enterprising sneak, boyo?


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - Yes. I do apologize for the sudden hardship, but jungfrau is...


    BestBoyHiram - I believe all of us are well aware of just how much upheaval follows in her wake, Falstaff. Which brings us to the main reason why sir Malachi is here with us. Since you are already aware of some of the recent events, I have decided that it would behoove us to include you in the discussion. Just to make sure you do not make the wrong call going off incomplete information if nothing else.


    OrochiKlaus - *rubs neck awkwardly* Incomplete information can be deadly, especially as far as the lady in question is concerned. Speaking of the lady, does anyone know the logic beyond the assignment of monikers? I can understand how his excellency got his, and I have pretty good ideas about the rest of you, but would anyone have any clue what mine is supposed to refer to?


    MalachiTheWise - Not the foggiest. You''d have to ask the lady herself, I imagine. Probably something otherworldly, she tends to peer at different dimensions so much she forgets at times which words exist here and which are yet to be invented. Speaking of which, everyone... take a look at this.


    MalachiTheWise - *locomotive.pic* *locomotive2.pic* *railway.pic*


    TallAndCurvyAnneMarie - ...That looks a little like the alchemical carriage she made last night! A little. That one was flatter and... much deadlier looking, though damn me if I have any good explanation why.


    BestBoyHiram - We will discuss that particular carriage somewhat later, Anne-Marie. For now, what is this and why is it brought to our attention?


    MalachiTheWise - Locomotive she calls it. The reason I am showing you this is because yesterday evening, our respective sovereigns had a copperphone discussion and jointly agreed to accept lady Gillespie''s latest proposition regarding Ashenvale. In addition to the road that is already being laid through the valley, an additional road will be made, a metal construction she calls a railway, intended specifically for the locomotive you are currently seeing. According to her notes and trial information from dwarves, the locomotive in question requires several dozen barrels of water and about a quintal of charcoal for operation, but in return will pull a collection of carriages along the railroad. According to numbers, the train would consist of twenty to thirty carriages capable of carrying anywhere from fifty to two hundred quintals of cargo per carriage depending on what is being transported. Or alternatively up to a hundred people per carriage. They are quite big, I have to note. The line will connect Parsee and Berlinger through the Ashenvale. The sheer volume of goods that can be transported this way is staggering and according to the lady in question, the more trade our kingdoms engage in, the stronger our friendship will be.


    OrochiKlaus - Gods in heaven. Does she ever stop? This... Just... Everyone does understand that throwing SO much freight capacity around will upend the whole merchant circle in both kingdoms, right?


    MalachiTheWise - Yeah, about that. Our sovereigns had worked out some kind of deal regarding all that capacity. A little something-something to mitigate the impact, if you will. The exact details are still in the works, but we shall all get our marching orders soonish regarding that.


    BestBoyHiram - Indeed. I shouldn''t say much on the topic for now, we''re still working out the exact details, but rest assured - it will not be unchecked. We''re all cognizant of possible implications and there are many things being prepared to mitigate the problem. Indeed, one of the ways I feel comfortable speaking of right now is the introduction of new wares - things that were previously considered simply too complicated to transport to really trade them far. For example, good marble for architectural needs.


    OrochiKlaus - Ah. Well, so long as we are in control of the situation... Does anyone else feel that ever since the lady in question made her public debut, we''ve all been riding a maelstrom of change?


    BestBoyHiram - Only all the time, Klaus, only all the time ever. That being said, she did not steer the maelstrom wrong yet, and as we put time into it, more handholds become available to us to clamber atop. Oh well, bellyaching aside, let us begin. Falstaff, report. Anne-Marie, you will clarify and add to his report as necessary. Gentlemen, try and keep interjections to a minimum until the report is done, would you kindly? We would be better served if we discuss everything once we know the details.


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - As you command, your excellency. First of all, allow me to note that lady Gillespie had managed to solve the problem of crossed senses. According to what she told Anne-Marie, the problem is called synesthesia and it occurs when one''s mind does not have enough adroitness with a specific sense. The overflow, if you will, ends up being interpreted as different senses. For the sense of smell, the overflow goes mostly into the sense of taste, hence the problems with the traditional sniffing spells. Anne-Marie?


    TallAndCurvyAnneMarie - Yes! The uh, method? It is much like getting used to bathing in cold water. Jumping into the winter river at once will make you sick, using cool water to wipe off every morning until you can do that with snow melt works. The same principle seems to apply to sensory spells. Putting oneself under a weak one and renewing it constantly, raising the potency little by little is remarkably effective. I have begun last evening and I already feel a better grasp of smells without making me incapable of eating.


    OrochiKlaus - ...Intriguing. Would you say undergoing sufficient training would permit one to simply wear an amulet enchanted with classic sniffer formula on a constant basis?


    TallAndCurvyAnneMarie - I believe so, yes. It seems that all that is simply a matter of training oneself up to it, not an insurmountable barrier.


    MalachiTheWise - Seems dead useful. I''m instituting this training for my squads, obviously. A hound that can explain what is that they smell? Priceless for inquisition, no question about it.


    OrochiKlaus - Indeed. This alone would make all that debacle worthwhile, in my opinion.


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - The second replicable feat is minor ghost touch. And as a corollary to the other two, I believe there is ample merit in tasking scholars with researching the potential uses of scaled down spells. Scaled down sniffer allows one to train up the nose. Scaled down ghost touch allows one to pick locks and accurately collect, ahem.... filthy objects.


    OrochiKlaus - Body parts, you mean?


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - *shudders* Yes. That too. Though not anytime again soon, I hope. Gods above, jungfrau Gillespie is terrifying when she decides to get violent.


    BestBoyHiram - Speaking of which. Consider this recreation, gentlemen. One of Falstaff''s men had the foresight to set the tablet and make a record. Be wary, however. It is... not for the faint of heart.


    BestBoyHiram - *blutbod.vid*


    MalachiTheWise - Good grief. I see she was not sitting idle with them alchemical throwers.


    OrochiKlaus - ...Supremely destructive. I surmise she had showcased the prototypes in Champagne before?


    MalachiTheWise - Indeed. This appears to be a much more advanced version of what she showed off during Year Unending. I''m not at liberty to discuss the details further, however.


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - According to the lady herself, the whole contraption she used to wreak such destruction is a product of iterational advancement on the aforementioned alchemical thrower and locomotive. As she explained to me, the carriage is propelled by an alchemy concoction that explodes from being squeezed.


    BestBoyHiram - This, above all else, makes me invested in furthering peace in any way possible. Because I have no doubt that Alyssa will make any war she is involved in a terrifyingly bloody devastation for opponents. A mere dozen of those carriages could easily answer and overwhelm the entire kingdom''s levee if met in the open field. And that is not even mentioning the logically simple yet chilling idea of simply taking the alchemical thrower part of it and attaching it to her airship. Which will make any castle walls useless if she can simply float above the castle and shred anyone foolhardy enough to step out. The whole fortification will become an underground affair and ceding control of the very ground above your head means loss as it is.


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - Insofar my best advice if you ever are unfortunate enough to be facing off against such? Do not be where it is about to fire, that seems to be the only effective defense. Not being struck. It seems that we finally have the answer as to what will come on top in the end - sword or shield. And it seems to be the sword.


    BestBoyHiram - Seems so. But we have strayed from the topic. Minor ghost touch. If I recall my lessons right, ghost touch is that odd spell that allows to grasp objects at a distance? I believe it is intermittently used by some of the more magically-inclined knights to hurl boulders and assorted debris at enemies?


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - Indeed, your excellency. Common sense says a spell for hurling boulders should be useless for delicate matters, does it not? And yet... Lady Gillespie had demonstrated lockpicking with the weak version of the spell. She calls it telekinesis or TK for short. Now, gentlemen here might recall that there is a spell Lock Burst which is also related to ghost touch and exists to get rid of inconvenient locks. This is a spell most commonly known and used by spies and inquisition for obvious reasons, and it works by wrenching the lock out of the door by application of arcane force burst. What lady Gillespie did was NOT it. She picked the locks. She picked them cleanly. They could be relocked and reunlocked with a key afterward and she could relock the lock with magic too. The formulae are straightforward and all that it takes is some practice and patience to learn it. It is entirely possible that this application is actually known to certain criminals ingenious enough to come up with it, but there exists no known record for it. At least as far as I could find out in a limited time. I dare not hazard a guess where and why lady Gillespie had obtained enough practical knowledge on locks to pass schlosser mastery, but between knowing what is inside the lock and practiced touch for delicate magical nudging... Basically, no conventional lock will stop her for longer than a few seconds at most.


    OrochiKlaus - A skill that is eminently learnable, once the connection between obscure tidbits of piddling value is made... Too bad she''s not my daughter, that would make the pride I feel right now less awkward.


    MalachiTheWise - That may as well be called her specialty, mind you. Connecting some oddments into something real useful.


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - Moving on. The carriage she made to traverse the bog... Forgive me, but I have nary an idea where to begin with it. Presumably, it was something distantly derived from her airship, because it floated over the bog. Noisy but very fast mean of crossing all sorts of treacherous ground. According to my observations and her remarks, this, uh... Anne-Marie?


    TallAndCurvyAnneMarie - *checks the notes* Hovercraft. A craft that hovers, whatever the hovering does truly mean. Maybe the act of floating a pied above the surface.


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - Yes, thank you. Hovercraft appears to be equally capable of passing over bog, sands, snow, brackish or open water. I tentatively guess it would not cope with seawaves if the wind picks up, but any river it will likely traverse effortlessly, no matter how shallow or fast. The one she conjured was not armed, but I would guess she could arm one with great ease, if she so chooses. A hovercraft with alch... you know what, no, she called them something different.


    TallAndCurvyAnneMarie - *continues checking the notes* Autocannons I believe.


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - Yes. Hoverboat with autocannons, well... It would rule the rivers if hostilities break out. And that is not even mentioning my suspicion it would probably be able to traverse any reasonably smooth meadow or field with equal ease.


    OrochiKlaus - And we looped back to fearing jungfrau Gillespie putting her considerable smarts towards warfare.


    TallAndCurvyAnneMarie - Well sorry, but she IS terrifying even now. The thought of her on a full war footing, ugh...


    OrochiKlaus - Indeed. Good of you to acknowledge this. She is also beyond many conventional means of control, which makes the situation even more precarious. I acknowledge I''m probably the last person to give such advice, but try and keep her friendly to you by any means possible. All of my experience tells me - she is the realmmaker the likes of which we have not seen since Agrippa the Prophet.


    MalachiTheWise - Well, at least this one knows what realm she wants. Thousand Isles are an interesting choice, and in many ways the most convenient for all of us. By the looks of it, she will take control of the isles within the next year. Might as well prepare for trading to go beyond the wildest expectations.


    BestBoyHiram - We are getting sidetracked. What else can you add about the results and observations from this, ahem, misadventure?


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - Well... The matter of schwagerlin von Norn is somewhat memorable. I was worried we would need to somehow sort the... less than convenient issue of lady Gillespie using mind magics, but...


    OrochiKlaus - Do continue. What was that she actually did to the crone? ...Oh, let me guess. Mind-affecting alchemical poison, maybe?


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - If only. No, what she actually did, well... Sir Malachi, are you aware that lady Gillespie is a practicing biomancer?


    MalachiTheWise - Considering she is the person behind the invention of a cure for consumption, what do you think, boyo? Sir Pasteur is keeping an eye on her and so far we had no reason to raise an issue.


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - Fair enough. Well, what she did to schwagerlin von Norn is a biomancy attack. Which, well, are the words I''d never expect to utter together. To borrow her own expression, the spell is the equivalent of taking a hammer and chisel and cutting a commandment into someone''s skull. Schwagerlin was completely incapable of comprehending the world - for all intents and purposes she was turned into a living object carrying out the commandment and oblivious of anything else, even her own impending stroke.


    BestBoyHiram - I should be horrified, but given what I know of the activities of the conspiracy she belonged to now, all I can say is "good riddance, she deserved every second of it".


    MalachiTheWise - That bad, huh?


    BestBoyHiram - Those hags sought to, to... TO BREED MY HOUSE LIKE HORSES... Apologies, when I think what was the end goal of their conspiracy, I just...


    OrochiKlaus - I still have problems believing it myself, to be honest. To think this kind of unadulterated madness had brewed in this backwater. To clarify, their end goal was, if I am gathering that right, to usher in a marriage reform that would forcibly match anyone of age with the "most appropriate" match as selected by the crones in question or their disciples. Starting from the queen and ending with peasants. They sought to control every marriage ever granted in Kraut, to make it mandatory and to pick the partners in every single one. There are no words to express just how impossibly and pointlessly evil this is, especially considering that the way they evaluated marriage was directly tied to how much beatings were handed from one spouse to another. More was considered better, to be clear. Lunacy, pure gibbering lunacy no matter how I look at it.


    MalachiTheWise - Good gods. Yeah, I''d take a literal hammer and chisel to a head that rotten.


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - One good thing I can report about that is that we are unlikely to face anyone else using this. The spell relies on having... considerably altered physiology. The medium is sound and barring certain songbirds, no other being can make all the range of sound required to effect this. I would tentatively describe the sound as a droning shriek, but this is third-hand knowledge from the witnesses and I will not be permitting any of my people to hear it if at all possible.


    OrochiKlaus - Altered physiology, huh?


    TallAndCurvyAnneMarie - Lady Gillespie did mention having done body alterations on herself in several different situations. For example, she does not use sniffer spells at all, she altered her nose to be naturally as perceptive as that of a hound. My own observations of her moving in the dark suggest her eyes are similarly enhanced, as well as her sense of balance. Darkness, smoke, fog - none of that seems to be particularly impeding to her and she can walk over the unstable rubble as graciously as over the paved road. She also dips into haste spells with ease that beggars belief. In my educated opinion, when it comes to physical violence, Alyssa Gillespie''s capability is equal to that of an elder vampire, possibly even above one. Should you find yourself in a spar with her, my best advice is to sit down, put your hands behind your head and loudly concede immediately.


    OrochiKlaus - All that and she still retains all the appearances of a young maiden? Beyond impressive. A perfect predator, that one.


    MalachiTheWise - *chuckles* She has been known to parley with her fists in the academy, occasionally. Once is enough for everyone so far.


    BestBoyHiram - *facepalms* I have witnessed a few of these interactions myself, yes. Suffice to say, she does not suffer fools and does not hold back on beating the sense into people if they give her a cause to. While we are at it, is this true that she had taken up tutoring squire McGregor in her spare time? I have seen him with a hammer akin to hers just before the winter break.


    MalachiTheWise - Not really. More like, squire McGregor happens to be one of the men she counts as friends, and his yen for martial implements is no secret in the academy, so lady Gillespie decided to give him a present of assorted exotic weaponry as a Years Unending present. I am more interested in the crossbow he received, myself. According to his fellows, one shot brought down a bear. Granted, it was a good shot and the bolt entered through the ear, but still... felling a bear with one strike, no matter how well aimed, is remarkable. Now couple this with the size sufficiently compact to be carried and reloaded on horseback... Aw, don''t look at me like this. It is on sale, after all. Look in the hunting implements section. A little pricy, but some of my men believe the cost is well worth it.


    OrochiKlaus - And that is another groundbreaking thing. This... ability to just place an order for anything she sells through the tablet? Merchants will be all over this, no question about it.


    BestBoyHiram - Merchants, nothing. I am all over this. And... other things. Sir Malachi, since we are on the topic, can I ask of you to convey to his highness Abraham that I desire to have a discussion about the newspaper? Specifically, what would it take to obtain the machinery and instruction to run our own? The sheer utility of having a broadsheet accessible to the general populace is hard to overstate.


    MalachiTheWise - *sucks on a molar* That''s a pretty big ask, your excellency. Probably not until spring, we are still in the process of training up our own people on all of that. Just as well, machinery is quite hefty and it would be easier once the train runs through Ashenvale. On the other hand, that gives you enough time to find people glib with quill and apt with collecting stories.


    BestBoyHiram - I understand. Very well. Does anyone else have any observations or factoids they deem fit to share?


    OrochiKlaus - I have something. Lady Gillespie has a debilitating effect on seers. Any events that involve her become increasingly obscured from any form of seer ability. The closer she is involved, the worse the effect is. No one can predict her, obviously. Seers I have talked to describe her as "radiance of the void", "sol niger" and most alarmingly "the thing that should not be". I am hesitant to speculate in the absence of better facts, but there is a possibility that whatever lady Gillespie had done to herself had partially or fully invalidated her as a mortal being henceforth.


    LewdAndCannyFalstaff - All hail the eternal queen of Thousand Isles, then?


    BestBoyHiram - Be that as it may, I choose to view it as an assurance that her plans do revolve around long-time prosperity. If we are smart about this, everyone will get a slice of this pie. And so will their children and grandchildren. A future to rely on.

 Chapter 141. On The Bloody Morning After...

    (wow, that''s a backhanded insult with a zing) - "Gods and stars, you Gillespies must be forged from ripple steel to witness this much atrocity. To tender so much last mercy and remain standing unbowed... I would have been drowning my terror in the bottle, jungfrau, I admit that without reservation. If I had to do that in your stead, I would drain every tavern in this city to forget what I have seen."

 Chapter 142. One Tin Soldier Flew Away

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

 Chapter 147. Fission Mailed!

THEY OFFEND ME SIMPLY BY EXISTING AND I WILL NOT TOLERATE IT ANY LONGER. AM I UNDERSTOOD!?"


    (which I don''t have, but Stefan has no clue about this).


    (I`m a sheep.) I said beeeeep, beep... BOOOM!"

 Chapter 148. Links Zwo Drei Vier!

    (that I pretend to not hear) among the krainians is that I''m batshit crazy. Mostly because of my sheep comment. I mean, I could possibly show them ASDF... But I''m pretty sure that they would consider it a half-hour of unadulterated madness to begin with.


    (from being gassed right next to Stefan) he was able to inform the people still on their feet that Stefan was poisoned. So for the lack of anyone with actual intel (I''m still unsure why they didn''t just ask scouts to repeat what they saw) or brains, the collective decision between decanii (petty commanders, responsible for ten men apiece) was to just march over there and demand the antidote at the pike point.

 Chapter 147. Fission Mailed!

THEY OFFEND ME SIMPLY BY EXISTING AND I WILL NOT TOLERATE IT ANY LONGER. AM I UNDERSTOOD!?"


    (which I don''t have, but Stefan has no clue about this).


    (I`m a sheep.) I said beeeeep, beep... BOOOM!"

 Chapter 148. Links Zwo Drei Vier!

    (that I pretend to not hear) among the krainians is that I''m batshit crazy. Mostly because of my sheep comment. I mean, I could possibly show them ASDF... But I''m pretty sure that they would consider it a half-hour of unadulterated madness to begin with.


    (from being gassed right next to Stefan) he was able to inform the people still on their feet that Stefan was poisoned. So for the lack of anyone with actual intel (I''m still unsure why they didn''t just ask scouts to repeat what they saw) or brains, the collective decision between decanii (petty commanders, responsible for ten men apiece) was to just march over there and demand the antidote at the pike point.

 Chapter 150. Victory Party Time

    The aftermath of the fight is much more complicated then the fight itself, it would seem. First, I had to urgently construct a barrack to actually hold all the people that surrendered. Considering the fact most of them were wounded to some degree, leaving them out in the open wasn''t exactly an option during winter. Especially when it started snowing. Thankfully, there is no shortage of lumber to be had, both as the construction material and as a fuel. I may have overdone it a little, as usual, the triple-layer walls of the barrack are better then most villagers have. Triple layers being good wood inside, a layer of concrete-clay panels that technically should be called bricks, but I made them as big as they could practically be to cut down on the number of seams, and an external layer of big old logs.


    Then I spend even more time on producing more concrete-clay panels and shingles for everyone else, because they''re apparently looking really good to people around here and it seemed illogical to me at the moment to provide prisoners with better materials then my actual allies. Which accidentally a clay quarry because when I pulled enough out of that place, I stuck in the scaffolding and ramps because that''s what is "supposed" to be in the clay mining spot and I didn''t think about it deeply enough to remember I don''t actually need all that stuff, given the telekinetic mining.


    By the time I''m done, it''s late evening. Well, not late-late evening, but well into twilight hours. Taras stopped by to say something about more people coming tomorrow, for reasons I didn''t really pay attention to. Something about entertainment? Weird, to be honest, I expected winter months in Kraina to be very much inactive. Hell, it''s snowing right now. Rural areas grind to halt in this kind of weather, usually. How in the name of all that is sane Stefan thought his demarche would be anything but disaster... Well, perhaps he was PLANNING on making it a disaster for Kraina. His people would have stripped every village bare for food and left behind a trail of starving people. Shitty, but I can sort of see why he would do this kind of thing "unofficially" and then sweep in to roll over the areas bled dry by this.


    I briefly toy with the idea of doing some debriefing for the captives, but... yeah, they''re not going anywhere and nothing they can possibly say can not wait until tomorrow. Not to mention that people most likely to say something worthwhile are also the ones who got hit the hardest. Time to retire. For the night, that is.


    ___


    "Ork troubadours?" - I repeat.


    "They actually maintain a winter camp nearby. If it were summer, they''d be scattered to all four winds plying their trade, but..." - Taras explains - "They will be asking around, making songs about a battle like this is their bread and butter."


    "So... Why is that noteworthy?" - I hum.


    Taras hesitates - "Pardon me, pani, but to the best of my understandings, orks are rare visitors in Champagne. I thought it better to mention them before one of them surprises you and all the possible consequences of thereof. They''re also being told about your and your companions exactly for the same reason. After all, royalty and elves are equally rare visitors in Kraina."


    "Ah. Huh, well, fair enough." - I admit - "I have no problem with orks in general, so unless those particular ones do something foolhardy, I think everything will be good. Have you decided what you want to do with the captives?"


    "Well, you have the first refusals on them, of course." - he offers - "Past that, me, Bogdan and Ivan all agree that the seven year penance is the way to go. They can either spend seven years here as laborers or they can buy themselves out if their families send them enough coin. Will probably have to send most of them out to neighboring villages piecemeal, penance or no penance, there is only so much work here that can be handed out to cripples."


    "Ah. Well... I''ll see what I can do about getting more of them labor-capable in the next few days." - I hedge.


    "That would be well appreciated by everyone." - Taras nods - "While things are not so dire that we can not afford to feed them, the more useful they can make themselves, the better are their chances of leaving our lands at some point."


    ___


    That actually sounded urgent enough, so I come back to the barrack and dispense a considerable amount of magic healing people up. Moon Unit is pitching in too, but I''m rather loathe to explain to her just WHAT phosphine actually does to people. Now that I''m not amped up for actual war crimes, it suddenly strikes me that perhaps tender and loving women I happen to call wives might not quite appreciate their presumptive significant other subjecting people to toxic flammables no one had ever heard of before I happened to all those people. So I start by treating those survivors who were gassed in the camp and explain it away to Moon Unit as simply "having a better idea what needs to be fixed". I''m not entirely sure she bought the explanation, but there was no objection, so... Either I got away with it, or Moon Unit is a gloriously forgiving person. At least as far as I''m concerned, anyway.


    Taking a good look around, I verify that they''re about as healed up as they can be practically be with just magic. The rest will have to be done by food, rest and reasonable amounts of labor. Speaking of which... I clear my throat, standing in front of the door where everyone currently laid out on the cots can hear and see me.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "So..." - I begin and at least half of the people present flinches.


    "Me and Krainian people have had decided on your fates." - I tell them straight - "The chief culprits are dead. You lot are the survivors who did not make the big decisions, but nonetheless participated in this undeclared invasion. It would be entirely within our rights to treat you all as brigands."


    I pause for a moment to let that sink in, then continue - "If this appeals to any of you, please inform me of that now and I will end your lives in quick and mostly painless manner. For any of you who does not wish to be executed immediately, you are to complete a seven year penance or buy yourself out of captivity, according to Krainian customs. Per my agreement with hetman, I get the first refusals on you lot. If any of you desires to emigate to Champagne, raise your hands now. You will be required to learn Albish, if so. The work will be within my trading company or one of the manufactories, depending on what you are good at. You will be fed and equipped within reason, and if your indentured service passes without incidents, you will be offered to continue the job on a salaried basis. If you elect to go to Champagne and then purposefully fail to show aptitude at anything at all, I will send you to my father''s estate in Northern Champagne to shovel manure."


    After a bit of a pause, someone in the middle scoffs quietly - "What kind of moron would volunteer to be killed?"


    It may have been a rhetoric question, but... "Some of you may be nobles under the oaths that require they lay down their lives in defense of their liege." - I explain patiently - "In that case, volunteering to be executed ensures whoever succeeded Stefan will not oust their families from their domains for oathbreaking and cowardice."


    People exchange weirded out glances. The guy in the middle, now sitting up more properly, looks around, sees all the bewildered looks and apparently accepts his accidental role as a spokesperson. "Prince cares not to ask for strange oaths." - he finally manages with a disbelieving shake of his head - "And if such oaths are commonplace in Champagne, then I daresay we''re better off with krainians. Better the beast you know..."


    I shrug. "They are not." - I retort mildly - "But I wouldn''t put any idiocy past a man who thought winter attack was a good idea. I mean, if he thought he could hold the lands in winter, he is a fool and if he thought that winter attack will bleed out any summer resistance, then he is a cruel bastard, and neither would shy away from binding people to himself until death. I assume there are no people interested in quick execution, so I leave you be to think it over. Anyone who fails to inform me that they want to go to Champagne by tomorrow evening will be left here with krainians by default."


    As I leave, I overhear the muttered - "Who''d want to go with her?" Welp, their loss, I guess.


    ___


    The evening is... a square dance. Yeah, well, I guess I get it. Victory celebrations and all that. So I grab some spirits and sweets from warehouses to pitch in. The regular food is well in abundance by the village people, I don''t need to do anything there. The music, well, that''s where orkish troubadours come in. Like... twenty of them or so. I''m honestly kind of impressed, those guys are not the solo performances I expected. Twelve are musicians - and they work together as a band. At a glance, I see two drummers, one with a pair of big old cowskin drums and another with something that looks like a hang drum. Four fiddlers, though the instruments they have are different. Two have something very much like a classic violin, though one is notably bigger then other. Other two have things I hesitate to name. One looks like Japanese analog of fiddle... kokyo, I think. The other is something I don''t really have a good reference for. It looks like cello-sized balalaika but with a bow. The rest, hm... There''s two guys holding something like lutes? Maybe one of them is a mandolin. Maybe. A sole woman in their midst comes with a Pan flute, and another flutist has something straight and quite longer. I THINK it''s also a flute, but I might be mistaken. The last two guys have something I have no idea about. One seems like it would work by clacking them together, I want to say that''s castanets, but they''re hinged. Other has something like a pair of hefty tongs with a thin strip of metal between. I have no idea what it would sound like, or how do you even play it. Something like musical saw maybe? Metal strip vibration thing? Hell knows. Overall, it looks like the visitors are here for the dance. The eight of them who are not carrying any musical instruments are dressed in clothes that would be considered garishly colorful even by contemporary color sensibilities. Cy approves. Dancers? Those eight also have two women in their midst, so, yeah. Probably dancers and maybe also singers.


    "Why are you so interested in musicians?" - Lily-Anne inquires, suddenly popping up next to me - "They''re not spies, I hope?"


    I shrug - "They appear to be more put together then I expected. When Taras said they''re troubadours, I assumed they''re all solo performers, but this looks like a well-meshing troupe. I wouldn''t be surprised if they can set up a traveling carnival all by themselves."


    "They can." - Lily-Anne confirms with a titter - "Or at least I was assured that they can and often do that much during summer."


    I shrug again - "So they can. Care for a dance?"


    "...I''d love to, but I have never learned any krainian dances." - she admits. I snicker and gesture out where another instance of me is languidly whirling around with pink-faced Bridgit - "I have a distinct notion that krainian dances are more freestyle then you are used to. Go where the music tells you, and if it ever stops being clear enough, grab a glass of vodka to rinse your mind off." I pause as I think about what I just said, and quickly amend - "But about the glass, please not really. You''re a teetotaler, a glass of vodka will make you hurl then pass out. Go for the red glasses, they''re cut with juice for us discerning womenfolk, as Taras put it."


    It goes without saying that by the end of the night, the only one of my wives still stable on her feet is Moon Unit. And that is in no small part because after a second glass, she pivoted from alcohol to very blatant flirting. In fact, Tekeli-Li was just uttered and so she is being swiftly carried off towards the airship among the wolf-whistles and catcalls from the people partying it up. I exchange glances with other three wives, and their respective instances of me grab them up in princess carry and hurry along. The catcalls intensify... and take on somewhat awed "daum you playa" vibe.

 Chapter 147. Fission Mailed!

THEY OFFEND ME SIMPLY BY EXISTING AND I WILL NOT TOLERATE IT ANY LONGER. AM I UNDERSTOOD!?"


    (which I don''t have, but Stefan has no clue about this).


    (I`m a sheep.) I said beeeeep, beep... BOOOM!"

 Chapter 148. Links Zwo Drei Vier!

    (that I pretend to not hear) among the krainians is that I''m batshit crazy. Mostly because of my sheep comment. I mean, I could possibly show them ASDF... But I''m pretty sure that they would consider it a half-hour of unadulterated madness to begin with.


    (from being gassed right next to Stefan) he was able to inform the people still on their feet that Stefan was poisoned. So for the lack of anyone with actual intel (I''m still unsure why they didn''t just ask scouts to repeat what they saw) or brains, the collective decision between decanii (petty commanders, responsible for ten men apiece) was to just march over there and demand the antidote at the pike point.

 Chapter 150. Victory Party Time

    The aftermath of the fight is much more complicated then the fight itself, it would seem. First, I had to urgently construct a barrack to actually hold all the people that surrendered. Considering the fact most of them were wounded to some degree, leaving them out in the open wasn''t exactly an option during winter. Especially when it started snowing. Thankfully, there is no shortage of lumber to be had, both as the construction material and as a fuel. I may have overdone it a little, as usual, the triple-layer walls of the barrack are better then most villagers have. Triple layers being good wood inside, a layer of concrete-clay panels that technically should be called bricks, but I made them as big as they could practically be to cut down on the number of seams, and an external layer of big old logs.


    Then I spend even more time on producing more concrete-clay panels and shingles for everyone else, because they''re apparently looking really good to people around here and it seemed illogical to me at the moment to provide prisoners with better materials then my actual allies. Which accidentally a clay quarry because when I pulled enough out of that place, I stuck in the scaffolding and ramps because that''s what is "supposed" to be in the clay mining spot and I didn''t think about it deeply enough to remember I don''t actually need all that stuff, given the telekinetic mining.


    By the time I''m done, it''s late evening. Well, not late-late evening, but well into twilight hours. Taras stopped by to say something about more people coming tomorrow, for reasons I didn''t really pay attention to. Something about entertainment? Weird, to be honest, I expected winter months in Kraina to be very much inactive. Hell, it''s snowing right now. Rural areas grind to halt in this kind of weather, usually. How in the name of all that is sane Stefan thought his demarche would be anything but disaster... Well, perhaps he was PLANNING on making it a disaster for Kraina. His people would have stripped every village bare for food and left behind a trail of starving people. Shitty, but I can sort of see why he would do this kind of thing "unofficially" and then sweep in to roll over the areas bled dry by this.


    I briefly toy with the idea of doing some debriefing for the captives, but... yeah, they''re not going anywhere and nothing they can possibly say can not wait until tomorrow. Not to mention that people most likely to say something worthwhile are also the ones who got hit the hardest. Time to retire. For the night, that is.


    ___


    "Ork troubadours?" - I repeat.


    "They actually maintain a winter camp nearby. If it were summer, they''d be scattered to all four winds plying their trade, but..." - Taras explains - "They will be asking around, making songs about a battle like this is their bread and butter."


    "So... Why is that noteworthy?" - I hum.


    Taras hesitates - "Pardon me, pani, but to the best of my understandings, orks are rare visitors in Champagne. I thought it better to mention them before one of them surprises you and all the possible consequences of thereof. They''re also being told about your and your companions exactly for the same reason. After all, royalty and elves are equally rare visitors in Kraina."


    "Ah. Huh, well, fair enough." - I admit - "I have no problem with orks in general, so unless those particular ones do something foolhardy, I think everything will be good. Have you decided what you want to do with the captives?"


    "Well, you have the first refusals on them, of course." - he offers - "Past that, me, Bogdan and Ivan all agree that the seven year penance is the way to go. They can either spend seven years here as laborers or they can buy themselves out if their families send them enough coin. Will probably have to send most of them out to neighboring villages piecemeal, penance or no penance, there is only so much work here that can be handed out to cripples."


    "Ah. Well... I''ll see what I can do about getting more of them labor-capable in the next few days." - I hedge.


    "That would be well appreciated by everyone." - Taras nods - "While things are not so dire that we can not afford to feed them, the more useful they can make themselves, the better are their chances of leaving our lands at some point."


    ___


    That actually sounded urgent enough, so I come back to the barrack and dispense a considerable amount of magic healing people up. Moon Unit is pitching in too, but I''m rather loathe to explain to her just WHAT phosphine actually does to people. Now that I''m not amped up for actual war crimes, it suddenly strikes me that perhaps tender and loving women I happen to call wives might not quite appreciate their presumptive significant other subjecting people to toxic flammables no one had ever heard of before I happened to all those people. So I start by treating those survivors who were gassed in the camp and explain it away to Moon Unit as simply "having a better idea what needs to be fixed". I''m not entirely sure she bought the explanation, but there was no objection, so... Either I got away with it, or Moon Unit is a gloriously forgiving person. At least as far as I''m concerned, anyway.


    Taking a good look around, I verify that they''re about as healed up as they can be practically be with just magic. The rest will have to be done by food, rest and reasonable amounts of labor. Speaking of which... I clear my throat, standing in front of the door where everyone currently laid out on the cots can hear and see me.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    "So..." - I begin and at least half of the people present flinches.


    "Me and Krainian people have had decided on your fates." - I tell them straight - "The chief culprits are dead. You lot are the survivors who did not make the big decisions, but nonetheless participated in this undeclared invasion. It would be entirely within our rights to treat you all as brigands."


    I pause for a moment to let that sink in, then continue - "If this appeals to any of you, please inform me of that now and I will end your lives in quick and mostly painless manner. For any of you who does not wish to be executed immediately, you are to complete a seven year penance or buy yourself out of captivity, according to Krainian customs. Per my agreement with hetman, I get the first refusals on you lot. If any of you desires to emigate to Champagne, raise your hands now. You will be required to learn Albish, if so. The work will be within my trading company or one of the manufactories, depending on what you are good at. You will be fed and equipped within reason, and if your indentured service passes without incidents, you will be offered to continue the job on a salaried basis. If you elect to go to Champagne and then purposefully fail to show aptitude at anything at all, I will send you to my father''s estate in Northern Champagne to shovel manure."


    After a bit of a pause, someone in the middle scoffs quietly - "What kind of moron would volunteer to be killed?"


    It may have been a rhetoric question, but... "Some of you may be nobles under the oaths that require they lay down their lives in defense of their liege." - I explain patiently - "In that case, volunteering to be executed ensures whoever succeeded Stefan will not oust their families from their domains for oathbreaking and cowardice."


    People exchange weirded out glances. The guy in the middle, now sitting up more properly, looks around, sees all the bewildered looks and apparently accepts his accidental role as a spokesperson. "Prince cares not to ask for strange oaths." - he finally manages with a disbelieving shake of his head - "And if such oaths are commonplace in Champagne, then I daresay we''re better off with krainians. Better the beast you know..."


    I shrug. "They are not." - I retort mildly - "But I wouldn''t put any idiocy past a man who thought winter attack was a good idea. I mean, if he thought he could hold the lands in winter, he is a fool and if he thought that winter attack will bleed out any summer resistance, then he is a cruel bastard, and neither would shy away from binding people to himself until death. I assume there are no people interested in quick execution, so I leave you be to think it over. Anyone who fails to inform me that they want to go to Champagne by tomorrow evening will be left here with krainians by default."


    As I leave, I overhear the muttered - "Who''d want to go with her?" Welp, their loss, I guess.


    ___


    The evening is... a square dance. Yeah, well, I guess I get it. Victory celebrations and all that. So I grab some spirits and sweets from warehouses to pitch in. The regular food is well in abundance by the village people, I don''t need to do anything there. The music, well, that''s where orkish troubadours come in. Like... twenty of them or so. I''m honestly kind of impressed, those guys are not the solo performances I expected. Twelve are musicians - and they work together as a band. At a glance, I see two drummers, one with a pair of big old cowskin drums and another with something that looks like a hang drum. Four fiddlers, though the instruments they have are different. Two have something very much like a classic violin, though one is notably bigger then other. Other two have things I hesitate to name. One looks like Japanese analog of fiddle... kokyo, I think. The other is something I don''t really have a good reference for. It looks like cello-sized balalaika but with a bow. The rest, hm... There''s two guys holding something like lutes? Maybe one of them is a mandolin. Maybe. A sole woman in their midst comes with a Pan flute, and another flutist has something straight and quite longer. I THINK it''s also a flute, but I might be mistaken. The last two guys have something I have no idea about. One seems like it would work by clacking them together, I want to say that''s castanets, but they''re hinged. Other has something like a pair of hefty tongs with a thin strip of metal between. I have no idea what it would sound like, or how do you even play it. Something like musical saw maybe? Metal strip vibration thing? Hell knows. Overall, it looks like the visitors are here for the dance. The eight of them who are not carrying any musical instruments are dressed in clothes that would be considered garishly colorful even by contemporary color sensibilities. Cy approves. Dancers? Those eight also have two women in their midst, so, yeah. Probably dancers and maybe also singers.


    "Why are you so interested in musicians?" - Lily-Anne inquires, suddenly popping up next to me - "They''re not spies, I hope?"


    I shrug - "They appear to be more put together then I expected. When Taras said they''re troubadours, I assumed they''re all solo performers, but this looks like a well-meshing troupe. I wouldn''t be surprised if they can set up a traveling carnival all by themselves."


    "They can." - Lily-Anne confirms with a titter - "Or at least I was assured that they can and often do that much during summer."


    I shrug again - "So they can. Care for a dance?"


    "...I''d love to, but I have never learned any krainian dances." - she admits. I snicker and gesture out where another instance of me is languidly whirling around with pink-faced Bridgit - "I have a distinct notion that krainian dances are more freestyle then you are used to. Go where the music tells you, and if it ever stops being clear enough, grab a glass of vodka to rinse your mind off." I pause as I think about what I just said, and quickly amend - "But about the glass, please not really. You''re a teetotaler, a glass of vodka will make you hurl then pass out. Go for the red glasses, they''re cut with juice for us discerning womenfolk, as Taras put it."


    It goes without saying that by the end of the night, the only one of my wives still stable on her feet is Moon Unit. And that is in no small part because after a second glass, she pivoted from alcohol to very blatant flirting. In fact, Tekeli-Li was just uttered and so she is being swiftly carried off towards the airship among the wolf-whistles and catcalls from the people partying it up. I exchange glances with other three wives, and their respective instances of me grab them up in princess carry and hurry along. The catcalls intensify... and take on somewhat awed "daum you playa" vibe.

 Interlude 25. Star Power

    Meurig could not believe his luck. He thought being one of the "first messengers" was his moment of glory. And yet. Somehow. His youth and his understanding of rock cutting and his lessons in tunneling under his uncle Gruffudd all combined into him being given command over the detachment of youngsters braving Ashenvale. First weeks were hot, uncomfortable and dusty as they tested the assorted dust suits and reported on their shortcomings and leaks. Their words going back straight to the Enlightened One herself, as far as he knew. The returns were quick and many. Within the span of twenty days, the suits advanced from "maybe helpful" all the way to "don''t leave the camp without it". And in this, he and his fellow dust-delvers were all deeply impressed. Maiden Gillespie spared no expense on figuring out the best protection for them. Even if the end enchantments required golden thread to be made permanent. Their suits now kept them safe from dust, cooled and shielded from the heat and their air deeply cleansed from every last bit of impurity. They could (and did, during the testing) dive into the pool of ashes and come out unscathed.


    The protection was supreme. Beyond expected, beyond what they even thought possible. And so, they strove to go beyond as well. The entirety of tract was investigated, marked out and mapped in mere days, the best sources of ash marked, the limestone quarries scouted, the vats for mixing and casting concrete assembled with all possible care and haste. Their road would take what the Red Mountain spat at them and use it to regain their hold on the valley. But that would be the job of caster squads that were following. Meurig and his fellows? Their job was to scout, and scout they did. And now, Meurig was standing on the other side of the mountains. Their trek ended at the spot maiden Gillespie selected for the beginning of the tunnel, a small clearing and encampment erected there. A very respectful distance from the actual tunnel mouth, as required by Enlightened One. Meurig was one of the three dwarves who, with the aid of poles and ropes, felt their way along the edge of the ash pit and descended from the outer shell of it, down to the lands of Kraut, where the other end of tunnel was to be. Theirs was to mark out what was there, ensure everyone kept the distance and call in the maiden once all preparations are complete.


    There were men on the Kraut side. This was expected, this was the workforce promised by the king of Kraut for the sake of the road. They paved almost to the mouth of tunnel, stopping at the distance mandated by the plan. And now, Meurig was talking with the oberhaupt Hans, discussing the last minute needs. "All clear and good, lad." - Meurig offered after casting a critical glance over the scene in front of him.


    "Ja, we gut." - Hans agreed. His albish was less then ideal, but entirely sufficient to cover all their needs. Better then the paltry smattering of words Meurig knew in Kraut, at least. The man paused for a moment, then leaned over to the shorter dwarf - "Freynt, tell mir. The dame, ja, she need, uh... heflekh?"


    Meurig laughed. Did lady Gillespie require courtesy? "Yer good is yer work, lad." - he proffered back - "Ye did yer part, she find no fault with ya."


    He lifted the tablet, dismissing the maybe not quite reassured oberhaupt in favor of reporting his status.


    "Ah''m good and done here, uncle Gryff." - he proffered into the tablet, holding it up to make sure the vista of marks was clearly seen.


    "Getcha, hold one." - his uncle''s terse reply came out - ".....Oh boyo. Switchin'' now."


    "Switchin?" - Meurig blinked, lowering the tablet to see what his uncle was up to. And immediately straightened up, blinking - "...Yer ladyship?"


    "I''ve been told you are ready for the tunnel boring... Maurice." - the voice was clearly not his uncle''s. This was, in fact, the very first time Meurig was expected to actually talk to Enlightened One instead of just standing in the crowd and listening to her words with bated breath.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    "R-righty''o, yer ladyship!" - he hurried to confirm, stumbling over his words slightly - "Allus ready, yup."


    "Good, good." - that did NOT come from the tablet!? Meurig and Hans both whirled around, staring at the woman who just appeared behind them, from thin air in all likelihood, because Meurig could have sworn there was not a single thing behind them a minute ago.


    "Scout Maurice, oberhaupt Hans." - she continued, passing by them languidly - "...You all did good. We''re boring the tunnel now. Don''t look directly while I start, you will hurt your eyes."


    Hurt eyes?... In five seconds, Meurig had his answer, as even looking downwards, he could vividly see the unreally intense shining drowning out even the sunlight itself. The sound was incredible - the deep bass droning caused by something he had no idea about, joined in a little while with the liquid sounds of LAVA rolling down slowly. Behind him, Hans swore in Kraut.


    "Das?! Shteyn loyfn!?!" - his fellow managed, taking a few more steps back, the heat of liquid stone reaching them as the flow intensified. The space they marked out, the space that had to be cut clear of grass and covered in gravel? The reason for this space suddenly made sense to Meurig. It was the runoff stretch for the lava. Meurig just had to look. Lady Gillespie was standing directly in the lava stream, molten rock flowing around her legs, her hands cupped in front of herself, holding a... Meurig squinted. It was like a little sun, opened from one end. The end facing the mountain. The ray of light so bright it looked solid to him piercing through the mountain, more and more lava coming out as the hole grew. He swore and looked aside, eyes tearing up. Next to him, Hans grabbed him by the sleeve and led him away slightly.


    "Geter im himl..." - he offered quietly - "Feuer fun feuers..."


    "Got that right, lad." - Meurig chuckled - "The fire of fires, huh? Ah looked inta smelter, no flinchin. But she... dat''s beyond fire."


    And suddenly, everything quieted down. Except for tablet on Meurig''s waist. "Maurice, damn yer guts." - his uncle''s voice cut through reverie - "Respond, dammit!"


    "Heah, unc." - Meurig rasped, his eyes still teary - "Whatcha need?!"


    "It be done!?" - Gruffudd demanded - "We keep clear of tha mouth here, lest we get bored with the damn rock!"


    Maurice looked over. Lady Gillespie was wading out of the lava stream, looking somewhat bored. He swallowed. "Yeah, her ladyship be done. Keep yer eyes peeled, tho, tha thing be hotter than goshdarn smelter goin'' all out!" - he reassured his uncle.


    "We figgered, on account o''lava comin'' out." - his uncle snarked back - "Argyl''s glories, thass what, five arpents o''rock?"


    "Pret''near, unc." - Meurig agreed - "Had ta make it slope enough fer wagons."


    The initial tunnel was supposed to only be two arpents, but measuring heights quickly forced a change in plans. If they made the original one, it would have to be a stair to be climbable. No good for wagons. Meurig worried when they made the measurements that this would anger maiden Gillespie, but she simply nodded and told them to mark the areas out for new plan. Speaking of whom....


    "Haltn distanse. Tunel zeyer heys. Vet zeyn kil arop far tsvey vokhn. Nitsn tseyt tsu farbreytern dem veg. Ker avek fun lava." - lady addressed Hans, who was a little taken aback from being spoken to in his own language. Meurig received the translation a moment later - "Keep distance. Tunnel very hot. Will be cooling down for two weeks. Use time to extend the road. Steer clear of lava."


    "Will do!" - he blurted out before even realizing what he is saying.


    "Farshtanen, meyn firn!" - Hans shared his sentiments, apparently.


    "Good." - she continued, pulling out chair out of nowhere and sitting down, her fingers ripping off the crust of cooled lava off her leg - "Any questions?"


    Hans did not seem to have any, instead opting to gawk in awe. Meurig, however, had one. "Tha name of that thar spell, yer ladyship?" - he half-asked, half-wondered.


    "Oh. That''s stellaration." - she offered, still preoccupied with cleaning cooled lava off her feet - "If you want formulae, ask Rory for high energy magic almanac, I''ve described it there."


    Stellaration.... Stella, huh. The stars? Mighty interesting, that.


    "Yer ladyship..." - he began uncertainly - "Tha stars... might we be?"


    Meurig was not sure what he was even trying to ask. Yet he wanted to ask nonetheless.


    "The stars, yes." - she offered with a smirk - "Sooner or later, we will reach out for them, grab them and make them ours. Maybe even in your lifetime, who knows."


    And that, Meurig decided, was a promise he could get behind.