Devil and Candlemaker

"Everyone knows about heroes, adventurers, nobles; people that matter. No one remembers the name of those shunned, or their descendants. Especially when their crimes were severe enough to sell them to Melromarc's enemies. Don't worry, though. Master has only one directive for me: serve the Shield Hero, kill any that wish him harm." F/F romance, slavery, dark themes.

All warnings placed in chapter 1 are in place for the duration of the story. I won't bog this down by placing anything more than chapter-specific warnings here.

First Arc—Everything is political, you need only ascertain the angle

Chapter Eighteen—The Three Heroes

8-8

Raindrops pitter patter against my manor's stained glass window, rivulets streak down from every crevasse of the vibrant tale it tells. It seems a most fitting weather for so dour a meeting. Lady Seaette holds her daughters, each of them in tears.

With everything going on. With the Waves so clear a theat. With how inexhaustible the man has been, despite his considerable injuries from the 'oops' last time. Another 'accident' has claimed Lord Parfait Seaette's life, coinciding with a meeting he was to attend with the Three Heroes Church's pope. No witnesses as to what happened; only that he was found buried under books in his own library, with the pope completely clueless as to why he was taking so long.

Coincidence? Doubtful. No, if there's anything I've learned in this life, 'accidents' are successful assassinations.

So much going on. So much I, of course, cannot prove. Politics and religion—a blight on society, if ever there was one.

"Tayrend. Prepare the second guardhouse. The Seaettes will be staying there. Assign Lady Seaette two guards. Six for if she's to leave the grounds." My Inquisitive nods and turns towards a curtain—it shivers and suddenly the Shadow behind it is absent.

Me: "I want patrols tripled. Every sudden noise must be reported before investigating, including location and time. Guards will work in parties of no less than four, and have them report the all-clear every ten minutes, one second overdue requires an in depth explanation. If at any point you feel your assigned location is not safe enough for your children, you will report it to me immediately."

Lt. Castle: "Affirmative. Orders are being issued to all guards as we speak."

Lt. Pryce: "Understood. I'll redouble construction efforts and focus on the outer walls first. Your inn has already been opened. All citizens have been relocated there. Two teams will be posted there at all times." Good.

Lt. Espid: "Orders are confirmed. Lute Mine is under day and night surveillance until you say otherwise." I'm quite grateful I didn't send Espid back to Ventris just yet. Our mining operations, and our miners, need protecting.

Lt. Tryst: "Understood. I'll station an additional patrol within the mine itself to ensure there are no unexplained accidents, Mistress." Good, then Shade Village and Oaksage Region can rest easier, and therefore work harder.

Zaan: "You've a visitor. Father Trent, from the Three Heroes Church. He's most insistent he speak with you immediately."

Me: "I'm on my way."

8-8

I lead Father Trent into an empty guardhouse, where we might speak in confidence. The man himself is well-dressed, if you like priestly garb and a smile plastered on a weathered face.

There isn't much in the way of decoration here, of course. Just a circular room with stairs winding about. No windows to the outside, and only the door leading back out to my courtyard.

The tapping of wolf nails on the upper floor doesn't seem to bother the man as he regards me, but he's not spoken in my presence, nor I in his. When the patrol closes the door, obviously outside once again, I cross my arms.

"You wished to see me?" I ask.

"Of course, Duchess Lyght." His smile widens just a little more. I see. "How goes construction? Lute Village was a most ghastly sight, I hear."

"Why are you here?"

"To spread the word of god, of course. It is, after all, Tuesday, the holiest day of the week?"

"That's your excuse. Why are you here?"

"You are perceptive, Duchess." The priest smiles, warm and patient, and I dare say fatherly. "Very well. I have come to inquire what your intentions are."

The door on the upper level opens, and closes. Another patrol makes their way through. Four pairs of bipedal footsteps, and four wolves to accompany them, panting as they go. The door opens on the other side, and closes.

"You intend to build a new church in Lute, correct?" My lack of response speaks volumes, but this is bordering on insanity.

"I've a great many priorities. Where does building a church fall, do you think?"

"At the top. There is, after all, no higher service than doing god's work."

Wind blows through the room, slightly chilly but not bad. The door creaks—it needs oiling. The stonework in here is rougher than the outside. I'll have to inspect the other guardhouses, to ensure it's up to my guests' expectations, especially in these circumstances.

"Is that a no, Duchess Lyght?"

"You are perceptive, Father Trent." I look to Zaan, who sees the still smiling priest out of the guardhouse, and off my property.

So they have their own intelligence network, do they? I'd bet my last copper Idol Rabier is in the highest of standings with them—and vice versa.

8-8

The painting, our first painting. It's about as good as I'd expect from Luna. The paints are unevenly mixed, creating a strange sort of run-off look. It's supposedly of one of the bards learning to dance—no one's skin is teal, though lavender hair isn't unheard of…I'm uncertain what the black dots on the face are meant to be, but I certainly don't have cross-eyed slaves. The composition reminds me of a voyeur that loved sneaking into the baths, given the 'dancing lady' this is purported to be, is half-hidden behind what I assume is meant to be a door. And don't get me started on the actual technique—it reminds me of a nightmare I had once, when Little Miss was practicing illusion spells.

Given he's been learning all of it on his own, with no help, and just as little training? I couldn't possibly be prouder of his efforts.

"It looks like hell." Gidra deflates, but doesn't deny it. "I want you to practice drawing before you try again."

"I will, Mistress!" Gidra's tail wags about, as excited as I've ever seen him. "I'll work hard, I promise."

Is it because I've gotten used to seeing the masterpieces from Master's collection? Or does he have no latent talent? Time will tell. "Try working with different materials as well. Ink and quill should be an easier starting point." If only parchment was cheaper. Sigh. No helping it, I suppose. "Or perhaps use only one colour and working with contrasts?"

Maybe he just needs a proper motivation?

"Henlu?" One of my handmaidens comes running, her bushy tail wagging. Also a wolfman, so there shouldn't be a problem, right? "Are you against having his babies?"

Gidra's jaw hits the floor, already protesting and assuring me that he couldn't possibly ask for so fine a mate.

"He is rather sweet, Mistress. I would not object." Henlu's confession, if one could regard it as such, silences the amateur artist.

"Good. Take him to your chambers. Bed him. Ensure he sees your every angle, your every secret." There's just something about making love that gets artist-types in a creative mood. Or perhaps it's having a lover that acts as a muse? I'm unsure, but it can't hurt—and more babes will never be a bad thing.

"I may marry him?" Henlu asks. I nod and tilt my head to one side—maybe it looks less a mess this way? No, just as ugly. She takes his hand into hers, leading him away. So stunned is he, whatever protests attempting to form fall mute. "Don't dawdle or I'll take you here and now."

A knock at the door before it opens. "Hey, Candy." Sigh.

"How many times have I told you not to call me that?" I turn from the painting—it won't look less ugly even if I stare at it all day. Naofumi walks in, eyeing the newly formed couple as she drags him along. Curious, his party is with him.

"Not nearly enough to dissuade me. We're a bit early, but I wanted to talk to you before the meeting."

"Fine. Won't listen?" Henlu pushes Gidra onto my desk and works the man's buckled. Keel, Raphtalia, and Rifina stare, eyes wide, faces slack and steadily reddening, as my handmaiden sucks her new lover's flaccid dagger into her mouth.

Gidra stares, shocked to his core. His body reacts all the same, steadily engorging his babymaker under Henlu's ministrations.

"Master? Is she eating him?"

"No, Filo," I answer before the equally dumbfounded Naofumi finds his tongue. "They're trying to make a baby. But you're way too young for that, so please wait until your master tells you it's okay. Alright?"

"Aww. But it looks like fun."

"Filooooo."

"Alriiiiight." The little girl pouts, crossing her arms.

Henlu kicks off her undergarments, pulls up the hem of her dress far enough to show off her secrets to her inadvertent audience, and climbs onto her still frozen lover, lowering onto him.

Naofumi's party just stare. That's all they do, stand and stare as my handmaiden offers her maidenhood, as her face registers the pain, as she tenses and holds—still showing where the two are joined, despite it all. When the pain subsides, Henlu lowers more onto him, going slow and steady, but Gidra only lasts three more strokes before he explodes inside her—made all the more obvious when she raises her hips to show his cream mixed with her virginal blood leaking out of her red and swollen cock's comb.

"Hmm. I'm glad you like it." Henlu lowers back onto him and drops the hem of her dress, hiding their indecency. "But we're far from done, husband of mine."

Not the way I expected Naofumi's girls to learn about this, but it both works and serves as a starting point for the questions that will undoubtedly come.

"You wanted to talk?" I elbow Naofumi, but he can't seem to tear his eyes away from what he sees.

"Ah. Uh. Yeah." Naofumi shakes himself out of his stupor, his face bright red as he physically turns away. "Is…this really okay?"

"If they wanted privacy, they wouldn't engage here." As if to prove my point, Gidra takes Henlu into his arms and claps her onto the desk, now on top he ploughs into her with a fervour that has Naofumi's girls confused—they can't seem to figure out why Henlu is so clearly enjoying something that hurt her but a moment ago, or perhaps it's their own body's reaction to it?

"Could…" Naofumi doesn't even try to form more words. He just takes his girls' hands and leads them out—no doubt expecting me to follow.

"Bed her well, Gidra. That's an order."

He grunts, too busy enjoying himself to form an articulate response. Or is it how she pulls him in for a kiss? Yes, spring certainly is the season of love.

8-8

We sit in the dining hall. The servants are just busy setting the table for lunch, but they don't mind our presence just now. Naofumi and his girls are in utter shock, but Filo just keeps asking when lunch will be served.

"Shall I bring you a snack, Miss Filo?" The little blonde is quick to accept.

"Let's get the awkwardness out of the way." No one dares to meet my gaze, though Filo's mostly awaiting her snack so she just doesn't care to. "Yes. That's how a man puts a baby inside a woman. Yes, it's pleasurable for both. Yes, it's somewhat painful for women at first, if she's not ready. Yes, I can teach you some tricks to make it less painful, but my handmaiden was simply overeager and didn't bother with them. No, you should not pester your master to try it unless you are ready to have his baby. And yes, Naofumi, it's quite common in this world for a master to impregnate his slaves. Even in Melromarcan society."

I'm unsure what does them the most good. Is it my matter-of-fact tone? My willingness to talk openly and honestly? Or perhaps it's that I answer some of the easier answers to predict they'd have?

"Does…does having a baby hurt?" Rifana's the one to ask, but all three are clearly curious.

"Like hell. It's one of the most painful experiences you'll have in your life. But when you hold your baby that first time?" My eyes lose focus, thinking back. "It'll be worth it."

"What happened to yours?" Naofumi asks.

"I was a domestic." Sigh. Of course he wouldn't know. "Anyway. You wanted to talk?"

"Ah." Naofumi looks away, arms crosses as he takes in my servants' simple house dresses. It's not nearly as fancy as their evening gowns, but they're comfortable and easy to work in—and the white apron covers most of the front, to make washing them less of a chore. "I'm taking the girls on a road trip. The next Wave isn't for nearly a month, so I figure now's the best time."

That's partly true, but there isn't really a 'good time' to do much of anything just now. "Alright. How can I assist?"

"Well." Naofumi scratches his jawline, plucking at a hair he missed while shaving. "I have enough gold to last for a bit. So I'm mostly just wondering where's a good place to go?"

"The destination isn't what you should focus on." Years we travelled. Tearing down Masters tents, loading them into wagons, taking them to a new clearing and setting them back up. I never did understand his insistence to keep moving about. "If you bring your family, the journey is home."

"Ah…ahh." Someone seems unsure of that, but I cannot fathom why. "That's…it almost sounds like a Buddhist proverb?"

I tilt my head to one side. "Q'ten Loan. Master loved going there."

"Wait. So you can get me to Q'ten Lo?"

I nod. "Kyushi Town, Ashiga Village, the capital Shigetsu."

"Why didn't you…?" Tell you?

"You never asked."

Naofumi groans, rubbing his temples.

"They don't take well to outsiders. But it's friendly to Humans and Demi-Humans. As Cardinal Hero, you should be well-received."

"Should?" Naofumi doesn't like the sound of that, no doubt thinking back on his initial reception here.

"Mistress?" Lyraynna comes to me. "The other Heroes have arrived, without their parties. Show them in?" I nod. Instead of heading off to see to them, she takes her rightful place at my side.

8-8

"CDs?"

I shake my head, no.

"Computers?"

Another no.

"Telephone?"

All four Heroes are giddy, eating with the chopsticks I had one of my men make for them. Naofumi, however, decided that, since I don't offer what isn't requested of me unless I have something to gain, it's better to just throw random words and letters at me until he gets something he wants.

"Running water? Indoor plumbing?"

"Hmm?" Well, that town on the Scarred Coast did have water tanks atop their homes, with cranks to ebb and flow the downpour. "Not impossible, but not commonly found."

"Awesome! What about hot baths?"

"Don't you…?" Eyes widen, narrow, a breathy sigh escapes as I remember who I speak to. "My apologies, I sometimes forget you know nothing about this world. I'll have a grimoire of domestic spell recipes prepared for you." I look over my shoulder, Deela and Bry nod, taking their plates with them upstairs to see to it immediately—should Naofumi wish to leave soon.

"How long's a year?"

"Thirteen months. Each month is six weeks. Each week, eight days. But most everyone goes by the five seasons."

"What?"

Sigh. "Spring, the planting season. Summer, the growing season. Harvest, the season to reap your fields. Storm, is the stormy season. And winter is when it snows."

"Rice?" Why is Naofumi so flustered by that? Don't they have five seasons?

"Q'ten Lo and northern Shieldfreedonian towns grow that. Maybe some smaller kingdoms, but I've no knowledge of as much. I might be tempted to import it." Rice patties are difficult to arrange—at least with my limited know-how of their inner workings. I just know that rice needs to be in water to grow properly.

"Ah, mochi for the new year." Kawasumi has stars in his eyes just now. I'm not sure why. They're nice, but…

"Sugar?"

I nod. "Sugar cane. You can import it from the Scarred Coast and Cal Mira. Most specialty importers have it. Expensive. Almost as expensive as chocolate."

"You know what candies are, but I haven't seen them?"

"Candy and other confectionaries are made with sugar. Expensive. Don't bet on anyone but nobles having them lying around."

"Rum?"

"Made with sugar?"

"Grapes?" I tilt my head to one side. "To make wine?"

"Rukor fruit. Are you done? We have a meeting."

"Honey?"

"Only monsters produce it. Like those bees during the Wave?"

"Seriously?"

I nod. "Beastmasters tame them, but that makes it more expensive. Same for cream."

"Shampoo? Haircare products? Soaps?"

"Handled via spell. Hot baths are mostly for relaxation. And we use flower oils after."

"What's beer made of, then?"

"Wheat?"

"Ah, right. You guys do eat a lot of bread. Makes sense. I'm going to be sending you a list of things I want you try growing for me. If I'm right, we can make a killing if the right people get a taste of it."

Sigh. "You're not the first Heroes to be summoned. Check Faubrey before assuming."

"What, you've never been there?"

I shake my head, no. "Descendants of past Heroes have a habit of warring with one another, so Master avoided that place. And I've little interest in it."

"Alright. I know where I'm going next." Naofumi seems quite pleased with himself. Sigh.

"Then let's start with anyone that isn't tempted to flirt with me." I glare at Kitamura, who has the gall to look put out. Lyraynna draws my dagger, ready to assault him again—he pulls Kawasumi closer to act as a meat-shield.

"I'll start." Amaki bows his head, respectful if nothing else. "Candlemaker. I hope you'll consider taking me under your wing for the coming month, to help me train to grow stronger. I'm prepared to offer you both an alliance and knowledge that may prove useful to you."

I drum my finger on the table, wondering about that. An alliance with the Sword Hero could prove useful—not any more or less than with Naofumi, but useful. This knowledge he alludes to is honestly so vague as to be useless.

"What form of alliance do you propose?" I cock an eyebrow. If he even suggests marriage…?

"I understand you rebuild Lute, that you're both Lady and Governess there. I would purchase a home and offer you assistance in the form of political and martial protection, should that prove advantageous to your cause. Though, I would also ask that any wife I take be kept safe there, in my absence."

Hmm. A decent offer. Good even. "Why would you not simply ask Her Highness for as much? Surely she would be most welcoming?" What is your angle, Sword Hero?

"Too welcoming, and that's precisely the problem. She's a politician first and foremost. You are a warrior first and are, accordingly, easier to predict."

There's that.

"Additionally. Some of the knowledge I offer is steeped in military history from my world. Including architecture that is already within your technological reach."

"Very well. I will train you, but only you. Your party is your problem."

"Agreed." Amaki nods, almost seeming a mini bow. "May we begin come morning?"

I nod.

"You have my thanks, Lady Candlemaker."

"Ah." Kawasumi chimes in, no doubt hoping for the same. "I hope to offer much the same. However, my knowledge is more geared towards luxury items. Shampoos, candies, making paper. I've a vested interest in chemistry and material sciences, and would gladly share all I know. But…" He looks away, blushing. My eyebrow elevates. "I would ask that you arrange a marriage for me. I'm…no good with women. Though it need not be of your own House, I assure you."

"You could just buy a consort. From the slave traders, for example? Or ask any noble for an alliance, save myself. They tend to seal such alliances through marriage, just be careful you don't end up as the consort yourself."

"You…misunderstand, My Lady, I," Kawasumi turns beat red, "wouldn't even know what to look for. Mother always told me to focus on my studies, that she would arrange a wife for me in time. So I…"

"I'll arrange parchment, ink, and quills. Show me this knowledge you offer, and I'll tell you how many consorts it's worth."

All four Heroes look about ready to pass out.

"Nobles take multiple consorts, heedless of country." Speaking of, I haven't rewarded my men lately. Hmm. Will have to remedy that.

"What of the sanctity of marriage?!" Kitamura's face reddens, scowling. Coming from him, I'd say that's more about paternity issues.

"Coming from the harem collector?" My dry monotone has the other three Heroes almost falling into the empty plates, laughing so hard.

"You have a deal, Lady Candlemaker." Kawasumi beams, nodding to boot. "Would you find it acceptable if I were to drop by now and then for extra training while I work on my part of the bargain?"

"That is—"

My nose snaps to the pressure on my side. Little pink eyes look up at me as little hands open and clasp in my direction. I cast the cleaning spell to make my adorable darling less of a mess—I'm not sure how she managed to get that much sauce in her hair—and I scoop my baby up, letting her snuggle up to me. My hand rubs her little back, gently patting her. I get a burp almost instantly.

I'll never understand why she won't burp for her minders.

"That is agreeable, Sir Kawasumi. But again, you alone. Your party is your problem."

"Nuna book." I laugh before I can help it. Luna pulls back, giving me her usual pleading look. "Peeeeeeeeez!"

"I'll read your book in a moment."

"Mama." She crosses her arms and looks away, pouting and vexed I'm not bringing her upstairs already. "Hmph."

It's sad. Truly a sad state of affairs that she thinks that look is anything but adorable. She keeps looking back my way, waiting for my smile to show she's already won. I shake my head and turn my attention back to Kawasumi.

"That's agreeable, Lady Candlemaker. But, are you…certain?" Kawasumi's eyes are on Luna, no doubt wondering how I would balance minding her with everything else going on.

Luna plops against my shoulder, snuggling up for her usual comforts—she isn't nearly upset enough to forgo that.

"Wife?" Auric comes, his golden eyes asking if he should take her just now.

"Thank you, no."

"Of course." Auric leans in, kisses Luna's green-fuzz crown, and offers me a lingering peck on the lips while he's at it. "Please let me know if I should have words with any of our guests?"

I smile, shaking my head with amusement. Especially when Auric fixes Kitamura with a sort of bragging glare. Men just aren't meant to be understood, not by me.

"So what? Even the prince is—"

The collective unsheathing of every blade, palming of every projectile, and nocking of every arrow within hearing distance warns Kitamura that silence would prove far more beneficial to his survival just now.

8-8

I exit Castle Town's by drawbridge. There isn't a refugee in sight. Not a tent, not a campfire, not even recent footprints. Hmm. Interesting.

"The first thing you'll learn," I walk ahead, passed the guards, onto the cobblestone road, "is how to disappear." I turn, looking at Naofumi's party, Kawasumi, and Amaki in turn, Marking them so I can track them. "Follow me. If you can." I dash for the treeline at top speed.

No Chandelier, no spellwork. Just my staff in hand, and blurring ahead into my natural environment.

At the first low branch, I jump up, and dash from branch to branch, casting the cleaning spell so that even Naofumi's girls can't track me.

Six changes in direction, and eighteen trees later, I simply scale as far up as I can go without breaking the canopy's ceiling to be tracked by air. And I get comfy against the trunk.

I mutter the words for Trace, letting the illusion blot out my vision. There's a plethora of twisty lines and blurry symbols that might possibly represent the trees—given there's no buildings nearby. But the dots darting about—green for Kawasumi, black for Amaki, and brown for Naofumi's team—go every which way other than directly for me. Some slower than others.

The browns follow my trajectory up until the third course change, and stop dead. Directly below me, mind.

"What the…? Her scent's gone."

"Cleaning spell?"

"How good do you have to be to remove your smell entirely?" Mastery level fifty or higher for the novice tracker. But Demi-Humans? Filolials? That's up in the air. I'm guessing one-fifty or higher.

They discuss things while the black and green dots take a completely different route—one following my initial direction, the other seemingly just going somewhere at random.

"Doesn't matter." Naofumi catches up, the slowest of his party—no, the slowest of them all. That needs to change. "Spread out. She can't be far."

I take one of my prepared throwing darts, and fling it in one of the browns' direction, nearly clipping her shoulder.

"Clue! She's got a clue!" The browns all converge on Rifana's location, reading the note there—the speed training regimen I follow.

Another prepared dart flings towards Kawasumi, landing between his feet. "What the…! A note?" He gets the tracking skill recipe he'll need. Little point in having good aim if you can't find what you need to put an arrow through.

The last prepared dart I fling right for Amaki's leg. He parries a moment too late, losing thirty HP for his trouble. "A note?" He jerks the dart out, losing another five HP and bleeding for his trouble. "A healing spell?" Do none of these people know how to be quiet?

8-8

We sit around the campfire, listening to the cracking flames, to the birds bringing their burdens to eagerly chirping nests of younglings, to the stillness that is woodlands.

I raise a finger, not needing to open my eyes to know Kawasumi was about to move—the groaning of his tendons, the shifting of his weight, it all gives him away.

"It doesn't matter if you lose them. Because if you can't track without sight, you will never confirm if you've truly escaped." My words echo through the encroaching darkness. "So be silent. Completely still. And listen."

Footfalls come our way. The final Hero approaches with that same arrogance in his stride that makes me not wish to train him in the first place.

"I know that…" Kawasumi turns in the right direction. You've some skill, at least. "Yo, Motoyasu!"

"Jeez! Thanks for waiting, guys. Seriously."

"You've no one to blame but yourself," Amaki snipes. "Be silent or leave. We're training here." Not the friendliest of the Heroes, but dedicated. I can respect that.

"While you listen," I murmur, so soft they have to strain their hearing to make it out, "you can train your skills. Spells need words. Skills need only movements."

I take out a single throwing dart, flicking it upwards and catching it on its descent. Flicking it upwards, and catching it on its descent. Each action ticks my projectile mastery upwards, specifically under Puffer Fish God.

Green light flickers into being; Naofumi's Air Strike Shield. The shield itself hums slightly as it fades into being, but he makes no sound to cast it.

Kawasumi's eyes flicker from gold to green, as footsteps no doubt glow in his vision. Good, you catch on.

Amaki's sword slices through the air, leaving only a slight whistle as it goes. Could use some work, but it's not nothing.

"You're…you're actually—"

"Quiet." Kawasumi gets on Kitamura's case.

"Call up your status menus," I murmur just as soft. "If you do it right. You will see your mastery level filling a little each time."

Kawasumi tosses the skill recipe to Kitamura. "Huh. When'd you have time to write this?"

"Will you shut up." It doesn't matter which Hero says it, they all want the same thing just now.

Kitamura grumbles, but reads the recipe just the same. "Predation?"

I raise a finger. Kitamura's gaze snaps to me. Finger pulls back against my lips. "It helps if you close your eyes." I catch the dart on its descent, eyes still closed.

"Bah. I need to fight, not," Kitamura tosses the skill recipe, I grab the silk thread attached to my dart, flick it, and stop it just after it pierces the silk note, "hunt?" With a flick of my finger, the dart and note fly back to me. At the last second, I flick the string, flinging note, without dart, to Raphtalia.

"Strength is useless, if you don't know where to strike."

"Huh. I can't read this."

Right. My mistake. I fish into my pouch, taking out the skill recipes I used to transcribe the kanji recipes our summoned Heroes could read without too much issue, and toss them over for the girls.

"Oh, she can talk?"

I wrap the silk thread around the throwing dart's grip, shaking my head as I go.

8-8

"We'll try this again." It's the middle of the night. Moonlight seeps through the canopy, filling the world with dancing lights and weaving shadows. "Follow me."

I jump straight up, cast the cleaning spell, dash through the branches to lose them quickly. Only this time, I make a mad dash towards the drawbridge. At the edge of the treeline, I jump and continue my sprint towards my goal. Right over to the half-awake guards, to the one with the red feather. I focus for a moment and touch the man's shoulder.

Acquire Outfit.

New Outfit Acquired: Melromarcan Lieutenant Outfit.

Change Outfit: Melromarcan Lieutenant Outfit.

Air around me blurs, the illusionary helmet blotting my vision and hiding my face almost completely. The officer's eyes blink open; he snaps to attention.

"Ah. Uh. Evening, Lieutenant! I wasn't, uh," I walk passed him without a word, blending into the shadows behind him without making a single sound, "expecting…my relief? Yet?"

"Oye. Lieu? Who're you talking to?" another soldier asks, giving the now thoroughly confused man a look as if he's crazy.

"Uh. Nothin'. Just…uh. Back to your post, soldier!" Poorly trained for sniffing out assassins, that much is certain. "Don't drink coffee, she says. It never agrees with you, she says."

I just wait. And wait. The guards start to nod off, once again.

Clattering. Rattling armour. Harried breathing. Naofumi's party arrives first, but Kitamura is a close second. They're looking around, trying to spot me. Predation's tracking should have worn off by now. So they know only that I came this route. What will they do?

"Where the hell'd she go?" Kitamura looks this way and that. He spots me each time, but sees only a lieutenant and looks passed.

"She's," Rifana doubles over, out of breath, "faster than she looks. Especially in that dress."

The last three come running, loudly asking if anyone found me. Naofumi carries his sleeping Filo, nestled in his arms.

"Excuse me, lieutenant?" Kitamura approaches the same man I just freaked out. "Candlemaker just come by? Woman. This tall. Green hair, kinda messy. Scar on her eye." His finger makes a vertical slash over his left eye.

"No, Sir Motoyasu. No one's been through in hours."

I look up at the overhang, to the queen's Shadow peering down at me. We share a special little chuckle, letting them struggle a little to figure out just what is going on.

"She has to be here. Look around." Amaki's the one taking charge. Though each of them spots me, none makes the connection that there shouldn't be two lieutenants on duty at all, let alone at this hour.

Hmm. Maybe it is time to start putting my people through this training. Tayrend and my Shadows, especially.

I walk out from behind the lieutenant, my footfalls audible. The soldiers turn to me.

"Ah, lieutenant. I didn't expect my—"

Change Outfit: Shieldfreedonian Merchant's Dress.

"I don't get paid enough for this," the on-duty lieutenant grumbles.

"You three are quick. But if you leave Naofumi behind, you lose your Shielder."

The girls groan, not having a comeback.

"You're quick. I doubt your party can keep up with you." Kitamura smirks at my observation. "That means you suck as a leader." He doubles over, as if physically struck by my words.

8-8

We approach Lute Village, and the outline of twigs demarking something—I'm as yet unsure what. First Consort suggested we not Quick Travel, said I'd enjoy it more this way; I have doubts. Just beyond the twig-line, twenty mages chant in unison. Bry is among them, as are quite a few faces I recognize from my people.

A building stands in the distance I don't recognize. Looks to be a tower?

As one, mages jerk their glowing staffs skywards, and a building juts up from the ground. Battlements, sturdy buttresses, even those little holes to pelt down things at attackers. It's a gatehouse. It looks to be at least five storeys tall, and equally wide and long. A proper gatehouse, looks to be double-gated—or intended to be, give it's all stone just now.

"Very good, students!"

I nudge Chandelier to walk around the impressive and frankly quite massive structure. One of the mages I don't recognize, a woman in her winter, praises my people, saying things about 'focus' and 'synergy'.

"Ah, Lady Candlemaker." The elderly mage turns to me, her smile etching the crow's feet even deeper into her face. "Welcome, welcome. I'm afraid we're still working here. Could I inconvenience your party and ask that you vacate this area?"

I nod to her. "Please train them well."

"Of course, of course. Nothing to worry about." She shoos me deeper into the clearing we'll one day call my capital.

There are but three buildings standing. My compound, still crawling with guards. Though the stonework looks completely different; smoother, and plastered maroon. The gates are no longer iron-studded wood, but Magic Iron studded with Light Metal pegs in the silhouette of my crest and painted cyan.

A mansion of an inn, easily five storeys tall; music floods out through the open door as miners return from their shift, under armed guard of course. The walls are all smooth stone, like my compound—same colour plaster. And the oversized doors match the craftsmanship of the gates?

Last is a spire that easily overshadows anything I've ever seen—cylindrical, no less than twenty storeys tall, and as wide as the inn. The upper five storeys each have balconeys wrapping around the whole building, with figures I can't make out save the crooked pointy hats. Same stonework, same maroon plastering. Same oversized Magic Iron doors, studded with cyan Light Metal to outline my crest, if not yet properly painted on.

Chanting starts up behind me. The mages conjure up a section of wall, connected to the gatehouse. Same stonework, if bare. On the other side of the village, another gatehouse stands, facing south. Another two, east and west. There are twigs outlining the entire village—easily triple the size Lute was before the Wave.

"Ah, Mistress. Welcome, welcome." Lt. Pryce bows low to me, his wolven tail wagging excitedly. "It's not much yet, but don't you worry. We've already enough room to house everyone. And once the walls are up, Headmistress Luthvia assures me she'll have the mages working on the residential district post-haste."

"It's," I shake my head, awed at the progress already being made, "more than I could have hoped for."

"The sewers are finished." Lt. Pryce taps the stonework underfoot. I look down, only now noticing it's all smooth stone. Streets, foundations. Not the cobbled together path from before, but the smoothest stone I've ever seen. The inn, the spire, my compound. They're already in their predetermined districts, with streets leading up to them.

The sidewalk, wide enough for a wagon to park, though unintended for it. Then a lane for a wagon, but only one direction. A middle section wide enough for two wagons, where street stalls can be set up on a raised platform, dotted with grates on both sides for letting rain flow into the sewers—just like in La Matrish. Then another lane for wagons, going the opposite direction. And another strip for the other sidewalk. And this between each row clearly demarked for buildings.

It's just like I drew it. Like a dream woven into reality.

"With accommodations like these, we'll be giving Castle Town competition. For quality of living if nothing else."

That's the plan.

"And don't you worry about the outskirts. We've parties of eight mounted guards patrolling. Every detail is reported back. Including anything the farmhands need."

A smile takes me over. Yes, this will be more than sufficient. Now, just one other thing to handle.

8-8

I enter the Guild Hall, alone. The notice board has quite a few Silver jobs up. Bandit king jobs are missing—either I've handled them already, or the other Silvers took them. Hmm. Nothing of interest just now. Will try tomorrow.

"Is the Guildmaster in?" I ask the clerks.

"He asked to speak…with you?" They share a look, unsure about the turn of events. "You know the way?" Why is that in the form of a question?

I walk off before these two give me a headache. Through the Guild Tavern, up the stairs to the back.

Jan Klokkenmaker sits in his usual spot, but the teapot and saucers are missing. Instead, I'm greeted with a guest—Lord Van Reichnott.

Uh huh. They know why I'm here.

I take my seat without being asked. Reichnott smiles, warm and welcoming.

"Well. No point in beating around the bush." Klokkenmaker is mostly trying not to groan at my usual lack of tact. "You want to graduate to Two Star Silver, and quickly work your way up to Three, then at least One Star Gold. You want to open your own Chapter in Lute. That about sum it up?"

I nod.

"Figured. Two problems. One. Starting out, you'd need at least three Silvers and twenty Coppers under your command. Two. You'd need to be on a first name basis with other Guildmasters. As I understand it, you've met La Matrish's once. Reichnott, now twice. And you get on my nerves more often than not. That won't fly for Golds. I'm willing to meet you halfway, provided we," Klokkenmaker swirls his finger around to indicate the three of us, "can work together for the sake of the kingdom. That means any jobs put in at your Chapter that doesn't meet your people's specialities, you outsource to either Reichnott or me."

"That's fair." If Klokkenmaker is surprised by the change in accent, he doesn't show it. "What would be the hierarchy between the three of us?"

"I'm Three." Klokkenmaker shows his pendant, indeed a Three Star Gold. Van Reichnott just shows his—Two Star Gold. That puts me at the bottom of the chain of command, logically. Not that I care, it means a solid income, and I can arrange that even my slaves can become adventurers.

"Does it make you nervous? That an unknown climbs the ranks?"

"Plenty nervous. But." Klokkenmaker sighs. "I watched you training the Four Heroes. Even the Spear, when you clearly can't stand his guts."

I snort, unable to refute and unwilling to lie.

"The way I figure it, your rise to power is to help them from the shadows. Am I right?"

My head tilts this way and that. "That's most of it, yes."

"Heh." Klokkenmaker smirks. "Then I can mostly say helping you helps them. That's good enough."

I lean back into my armchair, eyebrow cocked and lips quirked up into a patient smile.

"Look. Whatever. I got a job that could use your lack of finesse." Klokkenmaker slides a Two Star Silver Pendant across the coffee table, with a job notice. One is marked Candlemaker, the other, Rabier. "They've been petitioning us for years to slay a dragon emperor. They claim it terrorizes their region, yet no matter how often I visit, there's never any proof. My offer is this. Find the dragon. Slay it. And use the notoriety to justify fast-tracking you."

Hmm. A dragon won't be an easy kill. It would prove my skill beyond the shadow of a doubt, make Rabier and perhaps even the Three Heroes Church far more cautious about crossing me. And more importantly, it would prove my heritage to the world—Luna Lyght, the first Dragonslayer.

Sigh. Her Highness put him up to this. Didn't she.

I check my stats. Level sixty-nine. Eleven more levels before the next cap. Hmm. I haven't even planned for the next Class Up. What Elite Class should I be training for? Better check my options.

Reaching around, thumb unsheathes dagger halfway, index finger slides against the exposed blade to draw blood. I'll never understand why the magic requires it to be your pointer. It hurts each and every time, surely that can't be useful. Still, I press my bleeding digit against my new pendant, trading it for my old one.

8-8

End Chapter Eighteen

8-8

A/N: Right. I believe the stage is set properly for that which is to come.

Buckle up, darlings. It's about to get bumpy.