Chapter 65: W-We, we weren't doing anything!

Middle Fire Month, 22nd Day, 600AGG

"Has Her Majesty given her approval yet?" Martin asked the administrator working alongside him.

"She has not, Lord Asturias," the harried spare, a third son from Fernde's barony, shook his head. "I'll go and put in a request for an audience—"

"You stay here," waiting for an audience meant delaying, and the Prime Minister had a feeling this wasn't an operation Queen Oriculus would want delayed: making it all the stranger that she hadn't got back to them on the military support intended for the Beastman Country. 'General Ergast absolutely sent it in today while she was holding court.'

"Understood," Gerin Embe Del Fernde nodded and returned to their bookkeeping. Martin felt his mood slightly improve; the spare lacked knowledge and experience, but they were leagues more agreeable than their sire. "Would you like me to neaten the reports those priests left a while ago, Lord Asturias?"

"Leave that alone for now," he threw on his jacket and made to head towards Her Majesty's apartment. "Since they came from Slane, you'll probably miss a few things if you go through their documents. I'll look through them with you when I return."

"Yes, Lord Asturias."

Martin gave a sound of acknowledgement and let the door close behind him. For some reason, he had been feeling… agitated for the last hour. Administrator Gerin too, though the youth had tried to hide it. Not well enough, given how he could still hear the heel of their shoes tapping against the floor.

'Something to do with Her Majesty then,' he decided as he recalled an offhand comment regarding her possible abilities she'd made to him after her and Lady Yuriko's stint in the Beastman Country, one that came off as more speculation than fact.

It explained how the Draconic Kingdom didn't collapse earlier under the brunt of the demihuman attacks, how citizens chose to stay in what was essentially a warzone just a few months prior, but the implications did bother him a little as it would any sane person.

To distill it into a single sentence: Queen Oriculus's skill inspired abnormal behavior in her subjects.

Ah, well. Complaining about one of the core reasons for the kingdom's survival would be silly. Nothing to be done anyways if this was simply how rulers developed. 'It all comes down to lack of knowledge, as always.'

A deficiency they could begin to overcome under the angel's watchful—okay, maybe not so watchful—eyes. Thank goodness that Her Majesty managed to hook them in before somebody else could.

He walked up to the Cherubim Gatekeeper standing vigil in front of Queen Oriculus's study, ignored the mute demigod, and knocked on the door.

Muffled sounds of clothing rubbing together and footsteps leaked out from the cracks in the entrance before the wooden door swung inwards, revealing an untidy queen.

"What do you want?" He directed an unimpressed stare at Her Majesty. Hair, clothes… all disheveled—combined with her flushed skin alongside the other person in the study, it wasn't too hard figuring out what she had been busy with. 'This explains a lot.'

Martin looked around Queen Oriculus and saw Lady Yuriko with a similarly flushed and mussed appearance hurriedly straightening out their clothes. "I see. So Her Majesty indulges in debauchery while her people are hard at work."

"That's… Forgive me," guilt flashed across her face. "It was a lapse in judgment on my part. Wait, Yuriko I meant—"

"N-No, I understand!" Lady Yuriko glanced at Queen Oriculus before quickly turning away, the pink hue dusting their cheeks only intensifying. "It's supposed to be work time anyway."

'Watching this feels somewhat tiresome,' Martin's eyes would have rolled out his skull if given half a chance. The angel and Her Majesty's relationship had evidently progressed rapidly; although, it wasn't too surprising considering how they spent every moment of free time in each other's presence. 'In the spirit of optimism, I'll say it's good that they're not brooding anymore.'

"Oi. You're thinking something incredibly rude, aren't you?" And there it was again: the signature scowl he was familiar with.

"I was thinking that Your Majesty and Lady Yuriko must have deepened their bonds if Her Majesty is so willing to display her affection during the day," Martin frowned and squinted at the marks on her neck. "Are those bruises—"

"That's enough out of you," she one-handedly seized him by the collar and pulled him into the office. Was she ever this strong? "Spit it out. What do you want?"

"General Ergast's proposal," Martin patiently iterated. "Your Majesty has reviewed it, yes?"

"What about it?" Lady Yuriko carefully kept their eyes directed away from him. Were they really leaving him out to dry? This was half their fault too, didn't they know? Their worshipers were lucky he had a habit of being discrete; the Goddess they praised was absolutely unreliable.

"If Your Majesty hasn't done so already, I would ask that you send missives to gather the forces the good general asked for. Unless of course, Her Majesty wishes to delegate that job to me."

"Oh," Queen Oriculus lamely responded, rubbing her brow with a long sigh. "That. I'll get to it shortly. Anything else you want to bring to my attention while you're here?"

"Your Majesty needs to get fitted for a ball gown," Martin relished in her grimace. "After the matter of reinforcements is dealt with, please confer with the tailor I will be dispatching to the castle within the week."

"I can do this myself, you know?"

Martin raised an eyebrow. Queen Oriculus's shoulders slumped in a silent concession. "E-Either way, I don't see the need."

His eyebrow rose higher.

"I have enchanted clothing," Her Majesty weakly rebutted.

"None are suitable for the occasion," wearing those outfits in a place where numerous foreign delegates would be watchfully observing… Mm, definitely not. "And I doubt Your Majesty's old dresses match her current frame."

"Can't we get one enchanted instead?" She pleaded. "It'll be easier for everyone involved, no?"

"The type of people present would take notice of shortcuts like what you're suggesting," a tinge of weariness crept into his tone. "Your Majesty, surely there are better occasions to insist on a compromise?"

"I'm busy."

"Very much so," he bobbed his head up and down. "I took notice of that earlier."

"Gods, you cad—"

"Drau, I think you'd look super good in one," Martin took back all the faults he found in Lady Yuriko. A few words from the angel and Her Majesty folded like wet tissue. And did he hear that correctly? "Getting fitted sounds fun too!"

"Puhaa…" Queen Oriculus squeezed her eyes shut and massaged the bridge of her nose, angel's encouragement and personal disdain warring inside her mind. "Tch. Just make sure it's not on the twenty-seventh."

"The twenty-seventh?" Martin's eyes narrowed in confusion.

Her Majesty's eyes flicked to the angel curiously watching them from the sofa before snapping back to him. Oh, was that what it was? "Perhaps next week then."

"Is everything okay, Drau?" Lady Yuriko worriedly rose to their feet. "Sorry, I didn't know it could be a problem. You don't have to if you don't wanna."

'Drau?' He suppressed a smirk Her Majesty caught in spite of his best efforts. Drat.

"Not a word," she warned, pointing a sharp glare that sent a cold shiver through the length of his spine. Queen Oriculus then turned around towards Lady Yuriko, warmly smiling as if the frosty warning moments prior was but a mere trick of light. "It's not a problem. I only wanted to make Lord Asturias here aware of a few details."

"Details—" An Archangel Flame entered the office, interrupting its master's question as it handed them a written message. "Eh? 'Disperse this damn crowd…' " Their shoulders rounded further and further with each line they read. "Awawawa… I gotta go."

Lady Yuriko walked up to Queen Oriculus, face leaning in before seemingly changing their mind and settling for an embrace instead. "See you soon, Drau. You too, Martin."

"Safe travels, Lady Yuriko," he bowed to the departing angel while Her Majesty waved and released a yearnful suspire. " 'Drau,' Your Majesty? Let it not be said you lack decisiveness."

"We've been courting for nearly a month now," she half-heartedly slapped his arm. "It's only—natural."

"Yet I cannot imagine it was Her Majesty who took the initiative," it was certainly not natural. "Even Dragon Lords have their soft side, yes?"

"… if you have nothing else to say, then leave."

"Wouldn't it be more effective to spread our forces out rather than concentrating them into a single brigade?" Contrary to what Queen Oriculus might believe, he did have remaining matters of import to discuss.

"Even with『Gate』, our army is still subjected to the tyrannies of distance," she shook her head and reverted to a more serious demeanor. "Neither are there Fourth-Tier spellcasters among their ranks, so『Message』can't be relied on."

"No adventurers?"

"None willing," Her Majesty clarified. "The arcanists you're searching for have gone elsewhere or joined the Magician's Guild for a cushy position. None of high enough level have chosen to tie themselves to the Crown."

"Hm… It seems the Draconic Kingdom can't start its own Imperial Magic Academy just yet."

The way Martin phrased the lament wasn't completely accurate. There were institutions that taught magic in the kingdom, but those were all affiliated with the Guild.

"This sort of development was always going to take some time," Her Majesty shrugged, a smidgen of worry breaking past her facade. So even the Lady of Wings wasn't sufficient to put her concerns to rest.

"Not too surprising, I suppose. I'm surprised Your Majesty didn't include Cerabrate in the list. Our coffers aren't as empty as they were before."

"It's not worth it," Queen Oriculus tensed her jaw. "Spending so much money just so they won't be present for the festival would be ridiculous. There's no guarantee he'd accept such an offer anyway."

"…"

"I am not doing that again. Ever."

"Lady Yuriko might—"

"I told her."

"Really," he hadn't expected her to put his advice into action this soon. Truly, the Dragon Queen could not be underestimated. "Well, I'm relieved to hear that. How did she take it?"

He already knew, of course. It would be unseemly for the Prime Minister of a nation to be unable to deduce simple cause and effect.

"She was angry at first, for a bit," Queen Oriculus's eyes unfocused, his sovereign recalling the events of an hour or so ago. "And then we—You… You know exactly what you're doing."

"Her Majesty thinks too highly of my intellect," Martin slowly backed away from the incensed queen. "If Your Majesty finds it agreeable, do find somebody to teach Lady Yuriko proper ballroom and diplomatic etiquette before the festival."

"Noted," it appeared he was reaching her limits. The timing couldn't be better either since he'd managed to dump all the issues bothering him onto Queen Oriculus. "You're overstaying your welcome, Lord Asturias."

"One last thing, Your Majesty," the Prime Minister stopped with one foot out the door.

"Yes?"

"Those marks," he gestured at his own neck. "Please have somebody conceal or heal them before going outside—"

Martin smoothly slipped to the other side of the door and clicked it shut, the dull thump of a heavy tome hitting thick wood following a split second later. He tutted in disapproval; no appreciation at all for his advice, honestly.

"Today has been productive," he strode down the hall with a renewed pep in his step. They could proceed to actually deploying the reinforcements to the beastmen and begin collecting tribute, have Queen Oriculus's personal effects for the festival out of the way, prepare Lady Yuriko for said festival so it wouldn't end in some diplomatic catastrophe, and… and…

'Isn't this only resulting in more tasks for me to keep abreast of?'

He repressed a deep groan struggling to burst forth from the depths of his soul, forcing it to fester there instead. In the end, it seemed Her Majesty got the last laugh yet again.

The reward for work well done was more work.

Oh, joy.


'Can't believe I'm actually leaving,' Rila Giln stared at the haversack containing all her earthly possessions. 'What do I even…?'

There was nothing she would miss: no special sights, no fond memories, no friends except for maybe that one Gom Sudapra.

For fourteen years, she had obediently served Clan Kroh'or as one of several slaves trained for administrative responsibilities. Handling their paperwork, keeping track of their expenditures and revenue, updating inventory—consigning humans like herself to heinous fates under the watchful eyes of a supervisor.

It was that or becoming one of them: livestock. She didn't have the skills to become a specialist.

A human woman in the Republic could, on average, bear around twenty children throughout the course of their life. With suitable concoctions and magic, the beastmen managed to push their fertility rate to over fifty.

Therefore, it was only natural to have the females begin giving birth as soon as nature allowed for it, and even younger if the market price of certain reagents happened to drop. Seeing a middle-aged man among a 'harem' of barely pubescent girls was a common sight in the livestock pens of Clan Kroh'or—until a few days ago at least.

Because of this, the ratio of offspring set aside for consumption was heavily skewed towards males; although, many were still kept alive to be trained in various specialist roles while a small minority were designated as studs to be worked into a constant state of exhaustion: juiced up with unholy amounts of alchemical solutions to boost their stamina and libido. Most people weren't attracted to gods-damned children after all.

Women on the other hand… since a greater number of women were required to birth more slaves or livestock, most were forced to produce children for the rest of their lives. Despite the humiliating nature of their role, the living quarters they stayed in were surprisingly comfortable.

'Reduces negative energy build up, and I guess it's easier to reduce defects with a pleasant environment than having to constantly cast spells. Still sounds like hell though.'

No matter how cushy one's living conditions were, constantly giving birth knowing that your children would either be butchered or enslaved had to take a toll on the spirit. Perhaps other clans allowed more conventional family structures to develop, but Clan Kroh'or was no such place.

Rila knew she was fortunate. Captured in the aftermath of a beastman raid, she'd been lucky enough to be groomed into the role of an administrator instead of being fattened up for slaughter.

It didn't make it any easier to behold the state of her less blessed peers. In fact, it only made her all the more guilty that she didn't have to do what they did.

"And they were going to do this shit to an entire country…" Rila flipped through the documents she had filched while everybody had been busy. The idea of such a large-scale occupation was horrifying and nauseating to contemplate. "Three cities? Hah…"

Rila had heard about a number of other clans being more selective with breeding their slaves to improve their potential. If the beastmen had an entire human kingdom to play with, what sort of society would they have created? What heights of 'strength' would they have eventually cultivated in their slaves?

How many people would have been butchered to satisfy the palates of the Rajans and their honored Kshatras? Sure, she knew some clans treated slaves and livestock better than others, but they were still slaves. Still food.

'Eaten, sold off, or fucked into an early grave,' Rila hatefully thought. 'I hope the damn spiders mindrape every single one of them. See how they like it.'

She'd forgotten how many times she'd prayed for someone, anyone, to save her. All she knew was that somewhere along the line, she had stopped praying.

But then why did a deity descend to save them only when she lost her faith? W-Why couldn't it have been earlier? It didn't make sense.

"—the rest are with the High Vizier," the newly instated Rajan Kroh'or and his close aide entered the clan's archives where she was wrapping up the last of her tasks. "Just this one and a few others, Rajan."

"Another three days on those damn golem-carriages… Why didn't we take all of them to begin with?" Falgun asked Ilsath, only sparing a fleeting glance for her. "There's nobody here supervising her."

"She has a record of good behavior," Ilsath tilted his head. "You fret too much, Rajan."

"Mmm, if you say so. The malcontents don't last long, I guess," the tigerman lord absentmindedly flipped through a bundle of parchment. "Slave. You've organized these, correct?"

"Yes, Rajan," Rila bowed from the waist. Her final duty as an administrator for Clan Kroh'or was completed.

With a few exceptions, she thought while avoiding drawing any attention to her bag where a few sensitive documents were stashed.

"We should double-check," Ilsath idly remarked. "Remember that time one of them tried to slip some poison into Rograk's food? I still wish you would accept my suggestion, Rajan."

"Feeding slaves concoctions to decrease their cognition?" Her 'Master' snorted. "Defeats the purpose of having them in the first place."

"The livestock then, at the very least."

"Would you want to eat some sorry sack of flesh pumped with those kinds of toxins?" The Kshatra turned their head from side to side. "Maybe later. It's unimportant at this point anyway."

Rila's face paled. 'What the hell?'

Thank the Goddess she was leaving before the demihumans could discover more ways to visit their depravity upon their properties.

"Hmph. We'll have to find a replacement for her and her fellows," Falgun grumbled. "If humanoids aren't allowed, we'll task people to find demihumans in Karnassus. Damn shame, being forced to return slaves this well trained."

"After the Mac'tal," Ilsath chuffed.

"Yes, after that," Falgun dismissively waved. "Regrowing our stock is going to be troublesome. Nuks and boars are tolerable, but nothing tastes quite the same."

"It's as you say, Rajan."

Her fists trembled with how tightly she was clenching them.

Despite her hatred, what could she even do? Who was she to question what Queen Oriculus and the Goddess had decided? She, who had to be saved by others because of her own lacking abilities, had no right to complain about anything.

It was unfair. Shouldn't the beastmen's sins condemn them to death—no, worse? Hadn't the Queen and Goddess both seen the humiliation brought upon the oppressed? Even if she had to be saved by others, was justice really to be denied to her and her peers?

'What options do I have?' The hushed murmuring in the convention hall thudded in he. 'If Queen Oriculus wants to cooperate with them, and if the Goddess refuses to object, do I just give up? Forget everything that happened and try to move on with my life?'

Rila would not forget. Couldn't forget. Couldn't forgive either.

'Bide your time,' her fingers tightened around the straps of the haversack. 'Don't ever forget what they've done. Soon, you'll find your opportunity to repay them in full.'

"Well? What are you standing there for?" Falgun glanced at her curiously, unaware of the vicious fantasies swirling inside his once-slave's skull. "Let's go."

Guess she wasn't so well trained after all.


A/N: No, they have not done stuff (yet).