Prin was standing in front of Micky with the only surviving enemy of her troop. She did not look distressed in the slightest even though they were all killed in front of her after they had surrendered. More, from Micky’s understanding they were all her personal troops and lovers… over a thousand in the troop… Yeah, Micky was kind of shocked himself at that one. He was also kind of impressed in a morbid way.

Micky put down the report. “Why is she here?” He asked.

Prin looked back at him with chagrin written all over her face. “Standing orders, sir.” She said.

Micky replied “But why is she here?”

Before Prin could reply the woman, a Notalia Miyakophski interrupted. “You must be the centurion, I presume? I am Notalia Von Miyakophski, it is a pleasure.”

Micky looked at the problem sitting in his office tent. He now had a small command outpost camouflaged in the forest away from prying eyes. With the gorilla tactics being employed by Maymay the pressure was off of the soldiers even though it was still on. The soldiers dumping their shiny armor and even covering their shiny tipped spears in mud so that they held no reflection. They could now take on a force ten times as large, 100 to 1 and still be able to maintain their position for a little while. This allowed them to set up an actual command outpost in this neck of the woods while the battle still raged on the main field.

Micky was still, barely, receiving messages from command, or the legate, to return to the field… now. However, the trifecta and command were both well aware that wasn’t going to happen before nightfall. As it is, the rankers of both sides are almost indefinitely pinned. The soldiers are playing a deadly game of gorilla tag and Micky is holding off a troop 10 times his size. It’s more than what any of the other divisions can say and still it isn’t enough for the legate. But it is enough that even the legate cannot argue or face the wrath of the entire rest of the army. A fine line as it is since he is currently so far down on merits that individuals under his command have already outpaced him. Micky for example should not have been on the wings the entire fight and should have been rotated out on a regular basis for his troops to refresh themselves and rearm in the less aggressive battlefields.

But those things were not his problem. His problem was what to do with a ranker that was sitting in front of him, drinking some hot water like fine tea. He wanted to execute her on the spot but Prin was right, he could not. Rankers of the 100s and up were treated with special care according to ancient tradition. A tradition which was ignored in most battlefields in lieu of realistic outcomes. But the legate was not having that. He was still focused on his grades and why his command was ‘not following his perfect strategy. It worked every time in school!’.

Micky would be sighing into his hands right now if the enemy wasn’t literally sitting in front of him. He had already had her searched, thoroughly, to make sure that she didn’t have any kind of tracking spells or abilities that could come back to bite them… She seemed to enjoy it.

Micky asked “So what do you want?”

“Why I am here to discuss my terms of surrender of me… and well just me, I suppose.” Said Notalia.

“I don’t think you have room to talk terms. It’s more of a dictation of what your terms are.” Micky said.

“Oh yes, that is agreeable. I thought there would be more games, however. I do enjoy being the mouse on occasion. Should I squeak for you?” She said.

Micky knew that she was just getting a rise out of him, however he did enjoy the surprised squeak she made as Prin put a blade to her throat. “Meow, you have no friends here. And considering you surrendered so readily I doubt you have friends in the other camp either. You will be a slave until you can be ransomed back to your home country. You shall work off your debt to us with your body.” Micky said.

Slowly pushing the blade away from her throat, and cutting her finger on said blade due to it being too sharp, Notalia replied. “Oh, can I be your sex slave? Will you punish me if I don’t do my job, mmmm, to your satisfaction?” She said with sickeningly sweet seduction.

“Oh no, you misunderstand. You will be Prin’s slave. As a member of my household you still belong to me. But you are Prin’s responsibility and personal property.” Micky said having to hold up his hand to prevent the growing discontent. Micky was only vaguely aware of the noble rights, but he was aware that all members of the house belonged to him as chattel, as the head of the household. That meant all vassals, servants, and slaves. He wasn’t about to let any rankers go to the legate after all.

“You can’t be serious!” and “Master!” were screeched the moment he let them.

“Now, now, my decision is final. She is your responsibility now Prin. I trust you won’t give us reason or cause, right Notalia?” Micky said. The two girls looked at Micky with a defeated look, but the moment they looked at each other they gained their spirit again. Hmm, that’ll teach Prin to drop a problem in his lap. He is aware that it was a trap set by the enemy but he could not find it. He also knew the legate was an idiot, however, know the enemy, know thy allies and so on. At this point working around the legate was a given. He had already earned some redemption by throwing out the sacrifice anyway.

Micky looked at the reports he was receiving from the forest. There were many interesting things. All of which were going to be buried from the legate. It was unfortunate that the legate would not find out about the alchemical goldmine that had been found or the dungeons of varying ages and states. Oh, and that one piece of sample that had been brought back? Seemed to have been lost, please ignore the fact that he was going to upgrade his staff with some alchemical gold later. No, these reports had unfortunately been lost and misplaced into the destruction pile of old reports that were no longer needed. They would be destroyed… well, were destroyed already. Please excuse these letters to my dear old uncle the count, family friend you see, need to give condolences about his… aunt? Yes, he will be inheriting an alchemical goldmine, several alchemical and mundane silver and copper mines, this patch of high mana soil that has several alchemical regents growing wild that Micky may or may not receive for himself in said inheritance, and a few others.

After dividing up the spoils based on who he thought could swallow them and who would give the best offers Micky made sure that he and his soldiers would be well set for after the war was over. He just had to make sure that none of his scouts got… ideas. But luckily Kux took care of that. It was good that he had a dedicated ranker for these kinds of situations. Most rankers had some odd job. He heard that the third highest ranker in the army was a combat weaver. He didn’t know how it was supposed to work, but from what he heard they were one of the most effective, if unconventional.

But Micky had what he had. He would keep the ranker on the lines and with a combination of oaths, a slave collar, which for some reason he doubted she would mind, and several other things she would be effectively put under his control. He doubted that she would be the only ranker he would receive either. There was something about this that nagged at him. It just wasn’t right. And while he had standing orders to simply cut down the rankers, capture was actually the more effective method. He just couldn’t hold onto too many prisoners right now.

Micky sighed and rubbed his face. Glad for the sensation of being able to satisfy his quarks and nervous ticks without watchers.