Lord Remont Manticore, governor of Letun, sneered at the paperwork laid out before him. Each record detailed the stabilization of commerce.

Lady Elin's and Sir Walter's efforts to clear the derelict farm increased the Adventurer Guild's stocks. Though their monstraculture harvesting slowed, as a result of decimating the above-ground spawn around their property, they did not begin to clear dungeons for a steady influx of goods. Farmers expected a bonus regarding spring and summer crops, because of the sale of bonemeal, and experts already applied slime jellies towards specialty goods.

Increased security encouraged new landholders to peruse the neighboring locations, and calculate bids. Without a reason to deny them, Remont would relent and officially reopen the area. If they took on guild quests, then additional areas would enjoy increased availability.

He hated it.

The Cult of the Circle believed in one thing: the cycle of the ages. Time must alternate between good and evil periods, else it stagnates into a cesspool. The Bloody Crusade proved this. Seizing the progression of change and forcing it to stop resulted in feedback, the Qualms of Heroism, like the backfiring damage of magic. Their mission dictated releasing those bonds and letting history flow into its next age. They adopted Ouroboros as their patron deity, a dragon consuming its own tail, because she symbolized this pattern, and brought the chaos required.

Remont, as a child, dominated the mind of his maid and developed a taste for sadism. He invaded the inner palace of her thoughts and rearranged her focus to obeying him. If asked, "Who is your king?" she would answer, "King Wilhelm II," because her real king, Lord Remont, told her to.

A metaphorical hurricane formed in Letun, with Lady Elin Folcey standing in the eye of the storm. All conversations, personal and political, revolved around her existence in the last few weeks. Today's meeting proved to be no exception.

"The military will be staging in Letun, with Lady Elin Folcey as the spearhead. Lord Remont, I expect full support in the matter." Prince Wilhelm's commands left no interpretive wiggle-room. His behavior stemmed from a lifetime of being obeyed, and Lord Remont envied him for it. "I wish to meet Lady Elin. Arrange a meeting. No, better yet, throw a party in her honor, and I will get to know her personally then. Will it be difficult to persuade her to fight?"

Manticore Keep, the defensive structure at the heart of Letun, converted into the de facto base of operations for the royal princes and princess. The number of bondservants and soldiers in the halls increased, so much so passing shoulder-to-shoulder became a chore.

Inside the meeting room, the official heads-of-state lined up at a long table, with Prince Wilhelm at the head. On his right seated Princess Roselynde and Prince Peterby. At the far end of the table, Lord Remont took his place. The Archmage of Letun, Head Priest Dalewyn, and the Adventurer Master-in-Chief attended. Others filled out other seats, members from affluent families, and various merchants.

Lord Remont answered Prince Wilhelm's question, double-checking his notes as he did so, "There are legalities. It seems, while a devout member of the Order of the Witness, Lady Elin never officially signed the Temple of Gaia's charter. Furthermore, her actions in the military were purely voluntary. After the fall of the Folcey household, her status has been a free woman. Only recently did she join a guild, the Adventurer's Guild, and, regarding the anti-conscription laws, their members cannot be--"

Prince Wilhelm snorted, "Has no one attempted to sway her? Don't tell me she was left to her own devices over the entire course of the winter!"

The princess covered her mouth with a white-gloved hand, cleared her throat, and said, "Brother, we have made contact with her. Lady Elin is amicable to the kingdom, and she will rise to its defense, as a landowner. However," her eyes drifted over the officials in the room, "It seems she suffered difficulties. Her reluctance for publicity originated from it."

"Out with it," Prince Wilhelm sighed.

Head Priest Dalewyn stared like a man resolutely facing a firing line, "Priestess Evelyn tended to Lady Elin in her youth. While their relationship is tumultuous, they have something akin to mother and daughter. As per the royal decree, the priestess's daughter, an oracle named Laira, was secured by the Union of Temples. Later, the oracle was removed by clandestine means and is currently in Lady Elin's care. Acolytes from the capital initiated an investigation into the priestess and greatly insulted her, which Lady Elin also took personally."

"So, who do I execute to fix this?" The prince uttered a quiet tone. Some forced a chuckle, but his brother and sister did not laugh. When they realized his seriousness, they gawked. Politics at the capital played for keeps, and the members of Letun procrastinated. Most were prey at this table.

Head Priest Dalewyn, either through age or experience, kept a brave front, "We punished the acolyte, and returned him to the capital, to the satisfaction of Priestess Evelyn. The skin on his back will not be healing any time soon."

"It will have to do. Master-in-Chief of the Adventurer's Guild, have you met with Lady Elin?"

A bearded man with red hair leaned forward and blustered, "Well, no, not exactly. Considering--"

Prince Wilhelm read from parchment and pointed with a wrapped hand, "She's signed on as an adventurer, has she not? Is it the case the guild only meets with her to collect monstraculture? The records state she collected two bounties, which, for whatever reason, one we had to reward personally. Disgraceful. Why not hire her to remove the greater threats? The guild must have quests outstanding, and she must need the gold for her land."

"That's true, but--"

"But what?" The prince's lip curled at the man's floundering.

"I sent Lucy, their handler, to offer deals, but she failed to--"

"You dumped the responsibility on a subordinate? Who is Lucy?"

"She's... she's a receptionist. There are procedures--"

"Do not let another drop of gong fall out of that mouth. Are you afraid to go yourself?" Prince Wilhelm rested his forehead against his hand and rubbed it. "Master-in-Chief of the Adventurer's Guild, you are under official royal orders to get off your lazy fucking ass and offer Lady Elin, personally, an entire collection quests to pick from. Today. Beg her if you have to. If I hear a rumor you mismanaged it, you'll be the next one flogged. Rangville is preparing to attack after the winter, and the last thing we need is to fight roaming monsters at the same time." The prince shuffled his paperwork around before he looked back up. "This meeting is over for you, Master-in-Chief."

The Master-in-Chief of the Adventurer's Guild stood, presented an awkward bow, and power-walked out of the meeting room.

"Lord Remont."

"My prince?"

"I'm leaving the party planning for you. Show me Letun hasn't grown completely soft."

The maid was named once. Remont used his Geas to strip her of it long ago. Now, she would profess to no longer deserve it, or remember it, and being nameless made her a better person. She tolerated no distractions from her role as her master's property.

While at Manticore Keep, she bites her fingers and holds her breath to refrain from screaming. Her responsibility is Remont's pleasure, and he can't enjoy himself when others do. The other woman, the special one, managed to, so the maid believed herself a failure, but even failures can be used.

Thoughts of betrayal, even for self-preservation, failed to coalesce. How could they? Any childhood memory she summoned brought up his face. The love for all others was only for him. No one came after. Sometimes, at times over the years, she believed he was angry enough to kill her. His face was the face of a god, and she relinquished the privilege to him.

She didn't die today, so her uselessness was forgivable, perhaps.

After he pulled away, she waited until he was sure not to be watching her, and then she moved to clean herself up. Cleaning was her duty, but performing the responsibility too quickly contradicted his actions. Letting him soak in his art provided a saving grace. Sometimes.

"Prepare a party for Lady Elin, you'll have a special job."

"Lady Elin. My name is Jorvan, Master-in-Chief of the Adventurer's Guild. It has been a severe oversight on my part not meeting you before. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Lady Elin raised her eyebrows at the portly red-bearded man at her doorway. His voice was strained, and the lines on Jordan's forehead creased under nervous tension.

She answered the door barefoot, dressed in a threadbare tunic and a new apron. Jorvan's mouth flopped like a dying fish on dry land. The newly discovered Rose of the Rapier dressed like a poverty-stricken bondservant and answered her own door.

"Likewise." Elin's eyes dropped to the rolled bundle of scrolls under his arm, which looked about to scatter at any moment, "We're somewhat busy at the moment, so forgive my abruptness. To what do I owe the pleasure, Master-in-Chief Jorvan?"

"May I come in?"

Lady Elin opened her mouth to say, "No," then stopped. For a brief moment, he thought he could escape this tiresome duty. Jorvan wished to return to his office, finish off his bottle of spirits, and lounge on his comfortable couch to nap. One lifetime of crawling underground and slaying monsters was enough. After wiping her hands, she moved aside, "Please do. Walter, we have an esteemed guest."

A man, with scruff covering his face and the minimum effort applied to his unkempt hair, counted stacks of gold and silver coins at a table. Between the numbers, he said, "Welcome, excuse me a moment, I don't want to lose count. Hrm. I think the furniture vendor is trying to rip me off."

A rude knave handled the household's finances, and for a brief moment, Jorvan panicked. Could this oversight be blamed on me, somehow? He calmed himself by repeating, several times, she picked her own steward, and Prince Wilhelm couldn't rightfully pin the issue on him. When the prince met this man, he feared for his neck.

"Walter? It's the guild master."

"Oh!" Walter cleared his throat and stood to greet him. Surely he's not going to simply leave the money out on the table! "My apologies, but as you can imagine, I feel obligated to put Lady Elin's duties before all others."

"Well," Jorvan said, "That's completely understandable, but I came here to speak with Lady Elin--"

Lady Elin "Oh, then you're speaking with my squire as well. We work as a team."

Walter packed the coins in a box and locked them up in the pantry. He keeps the key, too? What is going on here? Seated at the table, Jorvan outlined the issue at hand.

"So, they want to increase security before the war. Makes sense."

Lady Elin agreed with Walter's statement.

That is what I just explained.

The knave, dressed like a footsoldier in quilted canvas armor, flipped through the pages and pages of rolled scrolls, scanning the quests. Under normal circumstances, the paperwork would be off-limits to lower-ranking guild members, but Lady Elin insisted. Jorvan deflated to silent waiting. Any dissent on Walter's involvement resulted in Lady Elin's face flickering with dissatisfaction.

"However, I don't think we can accomplish them all, nor should we try. Knocking out every single quest at once might destabilize the market."

Lady Elin nodded.

That... makes sense, actually.

The knave named Walter returned the scrolls to Jorvan after rolling them up. "Master-in-Chief, could you sort this by priority? Quests related to food production first, sorted by distance from the city, and then those in proximity to military assets. If we knock out three or four, then we can probably alleviate a great chunk of the pressure, and not lose sight of our own goals."

That also makes sense. This knave is smarter than I thought. Moreover, I don't have to worry about my neck swinging from the gallows. Why didn't I come here sooner?

A raven-haired woman, dressed in a grey cloak, spied on Jorvan as he exited the Folcey household. Or, should I call it the Alvis household? She didn't care for the lazy excuse for the Master-in-Chief of the Adventurer's Guild. He was a bloating joke of a man, and, in terms of politics, suffered under personally-inflicted irrelevance.

There he is. I waited long enough for a glimpse.

Faux stared at Walter when he waved at the doorway, ensuring she was hidden by the snow-covered bush. He looked different. No, his face seemed the same to the twisted healer's eyes, but it carried differently. The confusion was gone. She subconsciously fumbled with the buckle of her belt, before yanking her hand away.

A beartrap of anxiousness clamped down on her stomach when Walter put his arm around that bitch-paladin. Faux restrained herself from leaping forward and pummeling that perfect face into a swollen pulp.

I know the truth about Walter now. He'll return to me when it's time, and when he does, he'll let me punish you for plundering him.

First, though, I need to coerce Remont.