"What the hell were you thinking?" Konrad asked, confronting the dragoness back in his office.
He wasn't even mad anymore; he was way too tired.
After a day of negotiating, arguing, and dueling—he must've aged at least a decade.
But, well, everything turned out in his favor, at the cost of his nerves.
"Bringing those deadly beasts into my city?! I'm keeping you a secret, and that means you can't flaunt your powers like that," he whispered. His voice was too weak after talking all day.
And Maple didn't seem sorry at all.
"That's why I shapeshifted way beyond Halaima's perimeter," she pouted. "I didn't know I'd lose control of them for a second there."
"These are wyverns," Konrad scoffed, pretending to be an expert on the species. "They're fast."
"Yeah, well, it was all fine, though?" The dragon shrugged, fluttering her long eyelashes.
If Lily had done that, it might've worked, but he was only huffing at it.
"Where did you find them anyway?" Konrad wasn't done scolding her. "I gave you an important mission, and you came back with vicious monsters instead, a day late."
"Oh, that," Maple said with a grin, pulling out a rolled-up parchment from her cleavage.
It was the map Konrad gave her before she left, doodled all over and torn in many places. A good thing he didn't give her the original—his illusion magic let him copy it ad infinitum.
"Gotta' say, you're good at this, boss," the girl complimented. "It was more or less accurate."
She marked a few new roads, altered a bend in a river, and scribbled some changes in the floodlines. Notable forests were somewhat redrawn, too, but he expected as much.
What he didn't expect was that she'd do such a thorough job in such a short time.
She didn't have the nicest handwriting, sure, but she fulfilled her mission to the letter.
"That's—great job," Konrad muttered, looking over everything. "Did you find the silver mine?"
"Of course," the dragon beamed, taking his praise like a puppy. "The wyverns' nest was about a mile from its entrance. So I couldn't exactly leave them there."
Damn it. So she was even responsible in her madness.
Now he felt bad for getting mad at her, especially since that little show of force helped him tip the scales. But he wasn't about to admit that—he didn't have to, either.
Of course, she could read his mind anyway.
Freaking overpowered haremettes.
"What are your plans with them?" he asked instead, still apprehensive. "Won't they cause panic?"
Since they had already done it, this wasn't even the right question.
"Imagine how your enemies would react to them, though," Maple offered with a smug smile. "I don't know how many nobles can say they have wyverns, and a dragon lover—"
"You're pushing it," Konrad warned, but she had a point.
And as much as he wanted to continue her interrogation, there was a loud knock on the door.
Eyna peeked in first, her silvery-violet hair shining in the waning sunlight.
"M-master, uh, it's—"
She couldn't finish.
Count Rolalt Del pushed past her, and they were lucky Maple wasn't doing something weird as usual. His arrival still pumped up Konrad's heart rate, and he jumped to greet his vassal.
"Count, what can I—"
He couldn't finish, either.
"So, kid, I owe you an apology," the noble claimed with a holler, ignoring both his girls. "You do fight like a man, and your magic is quite impressive, too. You still have much to learn, though."
Given he was Konrad's vassal, he barged in like he owned the place, taking a seat he didn't offer.
Were they friends now? He could use all the allies he could get, but—
"As an apology for the ruckus I caused, I brought valuable intel," Rolalt claimed, crossing his legs. "You said you're lacking in manpower and looking for even more warriors, right?"
He only gave him enough time to nod, still unable to say a single word.
"Then you're in luck, kid. My scouts found a small caravan heading east, traveling with twenty slaves. Peddlers are panicking. The king will soon enact a new law to forbid slavery and—"
"Hold your horses," Konrad finally found his voice, not liking where this was going.
The count paused, crossing his arms, too, and raised an eyebrow.
"I'm not sure what you're suggesting, but A, I'm not a fan of slavery either, B, I have good relations with the merchants, and C—"
That was as far as he got, the noble slamming his knees in laughter.
"I see, I see, a man of principles," he hollered. "But you didn't even let me finish."
He was talking as if they had been friends for ages. Despite the difference in standings and, well, in his visible age. The truth was, Konrad still had about twenty years over the count.
But Rolalt spoke to him as if he were talking to a son—an idiotic one, but a son nonetheless.
"So merchants are leaving with a huge haul, trying to sell slaves at a discount on their way out. This caravan we've spotted is the vanguard. One with five hundred slaves will follow soon."
He had no idea the king's law was already that far ahead. But—
"I still don't get what this has to do with me," Konrad noted. "You either suggest I'd raid them, which I refuse, or buy those slaves, which—as you said—goes against my principles."
The count shot him a glance that felt the same as him saying, 'you're one obnoxious child'.
"I said nothing about raiding, kid," he scoffed. "And buying or owning slaves is not the same."
Konrad had no answer for that; he could only raise an eyebrow.
"Go on, then," he waved, finally intrigued. Rolalt was happy to oblige, flashing a wide grin.
"They'll pass through here in a few days, but as you know, none of us could afford to buy any slaves, even if we wanted to. They'll haul them off east and sell them to the nomads instead."
According to what little he knew about the nomadic tribes beyond the Halaima Pass—
"That would be their death certificate," Konrad concluded. The count nodded.
"Or, you can buy them, free them, give them the work they need—and get the manpower you lack. Is that slavery, or is that charity, my lord?" he asked with a satisfied grin.
A fair question, but Konrad had one of his own.
"What makes you think I have the money to spare?"
He was broke in every sense of the word. He could tax that caravan and demand that they hand over a few slaves, but no more than a dozen. The rest would still suffer. Five hundred—
"What if you didn't raid them, but saved that convoy from a raid instead?" Maple spoke up.
He already forgot she was there, even though her stunning looks were hard to miss.
Konrad raised his eyebrow higher. He didn't need mind-reading powers to guess what she was suggesting. She'd use her wyverns, and he'd pretend to drive them off, which was—
Genius. They have already done it once, and it worked.
It sent the message to all his vassals that he was not someone to mess with. That he could actually protect them all. Repeating it for the peddlers might've been cheap, but also efficient.
"Saving caravans and freeing slaves, you say?" Konrad pondered, his face stretching into a grin.
The count hollered, too.
"I was right about you the second time, kid. You're the right man for this job."