“No, daddy, don’t!"
The little girl jumped out of the chair and rushed toward my lady. I stopped her by freezing her legs, and she stumbled down before her wails filled the room. The man was about to help his kid, but my lady’s glare stopped him.
“We aren’t doing charity here, boss,” Garlan said amicably. “You earn your living by larceny, and we do it by mugging thieves. How come we are the only bad ones here? You are stealing to fill the tummies of your villagers, but that isn’t enough justification for committing wrongdoings.”
The man got on his knees with much hesitance and genuflected before my lady, his head thrashing the ground multiple times as the little girl’s wails started getting louder. Blood draped the ragged brown carpet soon, the stain not too obvious against the dark backdrop. Hazy flames burned in the hearth close to the woman, the shadow of the woman arching toward the man on the floor.
The sick lady woke up at the commotion, and I smiled at her. “If your daughter doesn’t stop wailing, then she won’t be able to talk for the rest of her life.”
She glanced at the colorful ambiance of the room with confusion for a while before fear replaced her frail visage. The woman shuddered, coughing hoarsely, but somehow stumbled towards the little girl and shut her up by whispering some good edibles in her ears. Was it bread? I wondered, but I was too busy reveling in the strange sense of satisfaction at having people bow down before my lady.
When his forehead started bleeding, my lady turned to me and said, “Heal her, Rudolf. And you woman, spank your child. I don’t like that bitch’s glare and arrogance.”
The woman’s expression paled, and she nodded incoherently, holding her hand across the little brat’s mouth.
I sighed and cast [Heal] on the woman. Her complexion improved tremendously, and her shriveled tongue started making noises again.
“T-tha-tank y-you,” she said, tears streaming down her face, though they were of fright as much as happiness.
“Spank your daughter now,” My lady said, holding my arm. “You little bitch; when you glare at someone, make sure you are ready to face the consequences. There’s no free bread in the world.”
I couldn’t keep the grin off my face at the mention of bread. My influence was maturing the little lady into a terrifying woman. But Chantelle was trouble even after dying. That ingrained humanity had to be chipped away little by little. Then again, I often wonder if mortals could ever change their inherent nature. The uncertainty of the thought excited me, as proving a hypothesis could be a rewarding journey on its own. Maybe I should have tried learning science alongside the great minds of the modern world.
The woman didn’t hesitate anymore, and pitiful wails of the child filled the room, but not even the baldy dared to step up and stop his wife. He was elated at having his woman healed, but little did he know that he had just signed a pact with the devil. One that bound him for eternity.
Sadly, there was no bloodshed, but this was fine too. I grinned at the little girl, who shivered in fright as she glanced at my silhouette and averted her eyes.
“Two thousand shins every month, Forlon,” Garlan spoke up, ignoring the mother-daughter pair. He was happy as long as he got his money.
I cast [Quagmire] on all three of them once the cries of the little girl had receded. “If you divulge about the exchange or about us, you’ll die. So, do thank me for my kindness.”
The three, this time even the little girl, nodded perceptibly, not flouting my words like the guard at the mansion. They might have had experiences with curse spells before because the woman’s sickness was indeed a milder form of [Quagmire]. Though not as strong, there was at least one dark attribute Cognoscente mage in the kingdom. And I have no clue how strong the heroine and her harem members might become. Not that I am worried, but they might prove formidable for my lady.
There was hatred in the little girl’s face, concealed behind the tears. Let her come for my head when the time comes, and I’ll show her how powerless puny mortals are. If you are overpowered, then you got nothing to fear. Except for bread drought, which can make you numb from withdrawal.
We walked out of the residence, ignoring the couple’s elation at having been cured and the despondence of the little girl. Garlan looked back a couple of times, worried they would go back on their words, but my pat reassured him.
“We’ll kill them if we don’t get our money regularly. Two days is the maximum we will bear.”
“What’s the point of looting them, bas–Rudolf?!” Garlan asked, loud enough to earn repugnant stares from the commuters.
“Promises are more important than money, Garlan. Almost as important as bread,” I nodded, trying to compare the two. Undead maintain pride in the fact that they never went back on their words.
“I am sure they will pay us,” my lady said as we walked down the isolated aisle. The city had commuters, but they maintained a distance, covering their foreheads that somehow made them feel ashamed. I could heal them, but I’m not running a foundation to donate my magic to all and sundry. They’ll die soon, so there’s no point in wasting my energy over pointless deeds.
“Why, my lady? Because I healed them?”
“No,” she rejected immediately as if she expected my words. “Because they will ask for more favors from us. It’s how empires are born, or that’s what those crappy teachers at the Academy told us.”
“That’s how trade happens, my lady. Empires are born after slaughter, sleaze, backstabbing, and baking bread. They teach you pretty things in the Academy, but it’s hardly pertinent to the real world. Though, I admit that they will ask for more favors because they have decided to bow down to those in power. And they certainly need to justify why they did it, for their arrogance wouldn’t let them admit that they are just helpless.”
“That’s quite deep, Rudolf,” Garlan said, and he appeared genuinely interested for a person who never received any formal education. “But I agree. Baking bread is a must for the rise of empires.”
I laughed, and my lady joined me soon, followed by Garlan. Menial conversations kept us occupied on our journey back to the capital, but we stopped by the inn for lunch, despite my lady’s ardent resistance. Maybe it was too late for lunch, but it was still our lunch.
“You need to get used to it, lady Letitia!” Garlan said, his mouth stuffed with bread, and I covered Letitia’s bowl before his slippery drool could taint her dishes. It was hard enough for me to convince her to have a bowl of soup, and I didn’t want to pacify another tantrum.
I dipped my bread in the soup and fed it to her occasionally, her lips blooming to a smile despite her urge to frown.
“I know it’s good, my lady,” I laughed, earning a smack on my head, but we ordered more bread and another bowl of soup. I got no idea what went into that liquid, but the soup was soup. It didn’t matter which world. Occasionally we stumbled on meat pieces, which resulted in a war between copper spoons. Though I won most of the time, I fed it to her because bread and meat really went hand in hand, and I wanted my lady to acknowledge the greatness of bread.
I prefer raw bread, despite all the delicacies across various realms. It’s just like how old people prefer the classic songs dating past a century or old cars. I’m not old in body, mind you, but that’s the gist of my preference.
Garlan dropped by to pay the bill after much reluctance, and we waited for him at the door. He was indulged in idle conversation with the owner, much to our displeasure but not surprising, because we had already anticipated it.
“We should cut his tongue one of these days,” my lady clicked her tongue, staring at his portly figure that was leaning across the counter.
“That won’t do, my lady. His shrewdness is something irreplaceable, and only his tongue can deliver that.”
“True,” my lady nodded before turning to me. “How did you find him anyway, mongrel?”
“It was around a couple of years ago, during the King’s birthday festival, ” I said and thought back to my first meeting with Garlan. “Many people were indulged in the annual search for the King’s treasure, so most of the stores were closed, including my favorite bakehouse. You had asked me not to keep you company as the crown–“
“Drop that,” she said with a glare, “and continue.”
“I was waiting outside the bakehouse. Eight shins in my hand when Garlan dropped by with a paper bag filled to the brim with a few loaves of bread. Not fresh ones, but still bread. Fresh enough. Not steaming, yet looked delicious with brown crust covering the soft innards. He asked me if I liked bread, and when I nodded, he handed me one loaf. Followed by second, until we finished all six with much regret. Then we decided to loot the King’s treasure because we had only eight shins and needed more than one loaf of bread.”
“That’s why no one could find the crown for the past two years,” she giggled, a faint blush appearing on her pale face. “I was hiding the thief in my room all along.”
“I mean, what’s the point if the King hands you a medallion that can’t be sold instead of cash? We melt the gold at Garlan’s regular smithy and sell it to the merchants for almost a hundred shins. That forms our bread money for almost a week following the King’s birthday, though Garlan keeps most of it.”
“But how do you win anyway? Aren’t all the people looking for it?”
“We were lucky the first year,” I smiled at the memory of Garlan punching the brats who had found it. “The following two years, Garlan kept tabs on the knight who hid the treasure, so we stole it with ease. Not much searching and not much trouble.”
My lady was amused. “I never knew you had this mischievous side, mongrel. You are always upright around me.”
“That’s because I am your butler, my lady,” I ruffled her hair, an action she had strangely come to enjoy.
Garlan returned soon, witnessing the bright ambiance with a confused look. His suspicious glance was directed at my lady, who shrugged and kicked his legs, ushering him to move on.
When the gates entered our sight, Garlan stopped us. His crafty smile was back on his face, and I had a bad feeling about this.
“You need to look like you actually failed the mission,” he said, rubbing his fist. “Both of you look unscathed, and our report would hardly look believable.”
My lady and I exchanged looks. Indeed, only Garlan looked beat up with his tattered clothes, but he had no visible injuries either. I had healed his blue eye and burn marks.
Without warning, my lady landed a hard punch on his right eye, which had had him scampering around the vicinity, howling in pain, albeit not loud enough for the guards to come rushing, mistaking it for a war cry.
I stared at my lady, and she just shrugged. “That bastard deserves it.”
I patted her head and dirtied her face with [Slop]. She stared at me, stupefied, too shocked to react. Well, she had teased me for the day, so it was fair for me to get back at her.
“Mongrel!” she yelled as I dashed toward the gate with Garlan following the suit, clutching his painful eye. “You bastard! I’ll kill you!”
I laughed and almost collided into swarming commuters, who ignored the antics of young blood, and a portly man.
“No, daddy, don’t!"
The little girl jumped out of the chair and rushed toward my lady. I stopped her by freezing her legs, and she stumbled down before her wails filled the room. The man was about to help his kid, but my lady’s glare stopped him.
“We aren’t doing charity here, boss,” Garlan said amicably. “You earn your living by larceny, and we do it by mugging thieves. How come we are the only bad ones here? You are stealing to fill the tummies of your villagers, but that isn’t enough justification for committing wrongdoings.”
The man got on his knees with much hesitance and genuflected before my lady, his head thrashing the ground multiple times as the little girl’s wails started getting louder. Blood draped the ragged brown carpet soon, the stain not too obvious against the dark backdrop. Hazy flames burned in the hearth close to the woman, the shadow of the woman arching toward the man on the floor.
The sick lady woke up at the commotion, and I smiled at her. “If your daughter doesn’t stop wailing, then she won’t be able to talk for the rest of her life.”
She glanced at the colorful ambiance of the room with confusion for a while before fear replaced her frail visage. The woman shuddered, coughing hoarsely, but somehow stumbled towards the little girl and shut her up by whispering some good edibles in her ears. Was it bread? I wondered, but I was too busy reveling in the strange sense of satisfaction at having people bow down before my lady.
When his forehead started bleeding, my lady turned to me and said, “Heal her, Rudolf. And you woman, spank your child. I don’t like that bitch’s glare and arrogance.”
The woman’s expression paled, and she nodded incoherently, holding her hand across the little brat’s mouth.
I sighed and cast [Heal] on the woman. Her complexion improved tremendously, and her shriveled tongue started making noises again.
“T-tha-tank y-you,” she said, tears streaming down her face, though they were of fright as much as happiness.
“Spank your daughter now,” My lady said, holding my arm. “You little bitch; when you glare at someone, make sure you are ready to face the consequences. There’s no free bread in the world.”
I couldn’t keep the grin off my face at the mention of bread. My influence was maturing the little lady into a terrifying woman. But Chantelle was trouble even after dying. That ingrained humanity had to be chipped away little by little. Then again, I often wonder if mortals could ever change their inherent nature. The uncertainty of the thought excited me, as proving a hypothesis could be a rewarding journey on its own. Maybe I should have tried learning science alongside the great minds of the modern world.
The woman didn’t hesitate anymore, and pitiful wails of the child filled the room, but not even the baldy dared to step up and stop his wife. He was elated at having his woman healed, but little did he know that he had just signed a pact with the devil. One that bound him for eternity.
Sadly, there was no bloodshed, but this was fine too. I grinned at the little girl, who shivered in fright as she glanced at my silhouette and averted her eyes.
“Two thousand shins every month, Forlon,” Garlan spoke up, ignoring the mother-daughter pair. He was happy as long as he got his money.
I cast [Quagmire] on all three of them once the cries of the little girl had receded. “If you divulge about the exchange or about us, you’ll die. So, do thank me for my kindness.”
The three, this time even the little girl, nodded perceptibly, not flouting my words like the guard at the mansion. They might have had experiences with curse spells before because the woman’s sickness was indeed a milder form of [Quagmire]. Though not as strong, there was at least one dark attribute Cognoscente mage in the kingdom. And I have no clue how strong the heroine and her harem members might become. Not that I am worried, but they might prove formidable for my lady.
There was hatred in the little girl’s face, concealed behind the tears. Let her come for my head when the time comes, and I’ll show her how powerless puny mortals are. If you are overpowered, then you got nothing to fear. Except for bread drought, which can make you numb from withdrawal.
We walked out of the residence, ignoring the couple’s elation at having been cured and the despondence of the little girl. Garlan looked back a couple of times, worried they would go back on their words, but my pat reassured him.
“We’ll kill them if we don’t get our money regularly. Two days is the maximum we will bear.”
“What’s the point of looting them, bas–Rudolf?!” Garlan asked, loud enough to earn repugnant stares from the commuters.
“Promises are more important than money, Garlan. Almost as important as bread,” I nodded, trying to compare the two. Undead maintain pride in the fact that they never went back on their words.
“I am sure they will pay us,” my lady said as we walked down the isolated aisle. The city had commuters, but they maintained a distance, covering their foreheads that somehow made them feel ashamed. I could heal them, but I’m not running a foundation to donate my magic to all and sundry. They’ll die soon, so there’s no point in wasting my energy over pointless deeds.
“Why, my lady? Because I healed them?”
“No,” she rejected immediately as if she expected my words. “Because they will ask for more favors from us. It’s how empires are born, or that’s what those crappy teachers at the Academy told us.”
“That’s how trade happens, my lady. Empires are born after slaughter, sleaze, backstabbing, and baking bread. They teach you pretty things in the Academy, but it’s hardly pertinent to the real world. Though, I admit that they will ask for more favors because they have decided to bow down to those in power. And they certainly need to justify why they did it, for their arrogance wouldn’t let them admit that they are just helpless.”
“That’s quite deep, Rudolf,” Garlan said, and he appeared genuinely interested for a person who never received any formal education. “But I agree. Baking bread is a must for the rise of empires.”
I laughed, and my lady joined me soon, followed by Garlan. Menial conversations kept us occupied on our journey back to the capital, but we stopped by the inn for lunch, despite my lady’s ardent resistance. Maybe it was too late for lunch, but it was still our lunch.
“You need to get used to it, lady Letitia!” Garlan said, his mouth stuffed with bread, and I covered Letitia’s bowl before his slippery drool could taint her dishes. It was hard enough for me to convince her to have a bowl of soup, and I didn’t want to pacify another tantrum.
I dipped my bread in the soup and fed it to her occasionally, her lips blooming to a smile despite her urge to frown.
“I know it’s good, my lady,” I laughed, earning a smack on my head, but we ordered more bread and another bowl of soup. I got no idea what went into that liquid, but the soup was soup. It didn’t matter which world. Occasionally we stumbled on meat pieces, which resulted in a war between copper spoons. Though I won most of the time, I fed it to her because bread and meat really went hand in hand, and I wanted my lady to acknowledge the greatness of bread.
I prefer raw bread, despite all the delicacies across various realms. It’s just like how old people prefer the classic songs dating past a century or old cars. I’m not old in body, mind you, but that’s the gist of my preference.
Garlan dropped by to pay the bill after much reluctance, and we waited for him at the door. He was indulged in idle conversation with the owner, much to our displeasure but not surprising, because we had already anticipated it.
“We should cut his tongue one of these days,” my lady clicked her tongue, staring at his portly figure that was leaning across the counter.
“That won’t do, my lady. His shrewdness is something irreplaceable, and only his tongue can deliver that.”
“True,” my lady nodded before turning to me. “How did you find him anyway, mongrel?”
“It was around a couple of years ago, during the King’s birthday festival, ” I said and thought back to my first meeting with Garlan. “Many people were indulged in the annual search for the King’s treasure, so most of the stores were closed, including my favorite bakehouse. You had asked me not to keep you company as the crown–“
“Drop that,” she said with a glare, “and continue.”
“I was waiting outside the bakehouse. Eight shins in my hand when Garlan dropped by with a paper bag filled to the brim with a few loaves of bread. Not fresh ones, but still bread. Fresh enough. Not steaming, yet looked delicious with brown crust covering the soft innards. He asked me if I liked bread, and when I nodded, he handed me one loaf. Followed by second, until we finished all six with much regret. Then we decided to loot the King’s treasure because we had only eight shins and needed more than one loaf of bread.”
“That’s why no one could find the crown for the past two years,” she giggled, a faint blush appearing on her pale face. “I was hiding the thief in my room all along.”
“I mean, what’s the point if the King hands you a medallion that can’t be sold instead of cash? We melt the gold at Garlan’s regular smithy and sell it to the merchants for almost a hundred shins. That forms our bread money for almost a week following the King’s birthday, though Garlan keeps most of it.”
“But how do you win anyway? Aren’t all the people looking for it?”
“We were lucky the first year,” I smiled at the memory of Garlan punching the brats who had found it. “The following two years, Garlan kept tabs on the knight who hid the treasure, so we stole it with ease. Not much searching and not much trouble.”
My lady was amused. “I never knew you had this mischievous side, mongrel. You are always upright around me.”
“That’s because I am your butler, my lady,” I ruffled her hair, an action she had strangely come to enjoy.
Garlan returned soon, witnessing the bright ambiance with a confused look. His suspicious glance was directed at my lady, who shrugged and kicked his legs, ushering him to move on.
When the gates entered our sight, Garlan stopped us. His crafty smile was back on his face, and I had a bad feeling about this.
“You need to look like you actually failed the mission,” he said, rubbing his fist. “Both of you look unscathed, and our report would hardly look believable.”
My lady and I exchanged looks. Indeed, only Garlan looked beat up with his tattered clothes, but he had no visible injuries either. I had healed his blue eye and burn marks.
Without warning, my lady landed a hard punch on his right eye, which had had him scampering around the vicinity, howling in pain, albeit not loud enough for the guards to come rushing, mistaking it for a war cry.
I stared at my lady, and she just shrugged. “That bastard deserves it.”
I patted her head and dirtied her face with [Slop]. She stared at me, stupefied, too shocked to react. Well, she had teased me for the day, so it was fair for me to get back at her.
“Mongrel!” she yelled as I dashed toward the gate with Garlan following the suit, clutching his painful eye. “You bastard! I’ll kill you!”
I laughed and almost collided into swarming commuters, who ignored the antics of young blood, and a portly man.
