Len stared skeptically at the magically (she assumed) resealed letter. She had no particular reason to be nervous about the contents, but it was still a very strange development even by the liberally applied standards of ‘strange’ that her life had adjusted to of late.

Shrugging to herself, she cracked the seal again to see what happened. Much like the last time, inky words flowed out from the point where she’d broken it, and crept inside the letter. She pulled the note out from inside and was only mildly surprised to see that the message had changed.

So, Lenore, how’s life in the boondocks treating you? Enjoying the climate?

That was the whole of the message. Len stared at it, baffled. A few moments later, new text appeared.

What? Haven’t you ever seen a Scrivening enchantment before? I know you opened the letter, answer back.

Len very seriously considered lighting the letter on fire at that moment. She had no idea what Astrid’s deal was, but every time she interacted with the woman, she found herself annoyed as hell. Still, Demon Lord, technical boss, and also someone who could probably have her killed on a whim. Best not be too direct in her defiance. Grumbling to herself, Len plucked up a pen and ink and sat down at her desk. Apparently she was about to engage in the most literal texting experience of her life.

It’s fine, Astrid. What do you want?

Okay, so maybe she was still going to be a little direct in her defiance. Something about the Demon Lord drew out some of her worst traits.

I’m bored.

Len stared at the text, blinked, then offered an entirely calm response.

Are you fucking kidding me? You send me out into the middle of nowhere with a bunch of idiots who might as well have a fucking suicide pact and your response to me while I’m desperately trying to salvage something meaningful out of this disaster is “I’m bored”? What the hell is your deal, lady?

That… had been a bit more direct than she might have intended. There was a long pause before Astrid responded again.

Pfft. You really have no idea how you’re supposed to speak to me, do you? I’m your Lord, after all. Don’t you think you should be a touch more respectful?

You know what? No, I don’t. So far, all I’ve seen of your ‘leadership’ is a bunch of half-assed tournaments and bullshit punishments for ‘only’ managing to win a draw against a bunch of necromancy-enhanced Orcs. Other than that, I’ve seen a brat who was upset that her nonsense charms had no effect on me and who seems to delight in rubbing salt on the wound… Oh mighty Demon Lord.

You really are something, you know that, Lenore? I thought I made it perfectly clear to you that this was for your own safety. Do you have ANY idea how valuable you are? Any number of people would jump at the chance to get their hands on you and use you to their own ends. You can’t be so stupid as to think that you could stand up to the sorts of magics that a guy who can raise zombies like the ones you ran into at the Proving. Best case, you’d have been dead by the end of your next fight. Worst case, you’d have been enslaved. How ‘bout you pull your head out of your ass and thank me for a change?

How ‘bout you go to hell, Astrid. How ‘bout that? I can handle myself just fine, I don’t need some half-assed ‘protection’ from you, and I don’t need to be in the goddamn middle of nowhere struggling just to get glass. I need to be closer to the action so I can figure some shit out on my own and this is wasting my time.

You need… glass?

Yeah, side-project. Not entirely relevant to things just yet but hopefully it’ll be able to show some results in a little bit.

You really think you’re going to be able to do something with that batch of idiots? The whole reason they’re there is because no one else COULD use them.

I thought that was your whole reason for sending me here. Great expectations and all that. It’s early days, yes, but they’re not completely hopeless. Just needed a bit of a fire lit under them. That fire happened to be a goblin named Larry. Don’t ask.

Having vented her anger a little bit, Len was actually pleased to have the chance to brag about her subordinates. It was a bit of a mess still, but she was starting to see genuine progress with the Hovel, and it did feel a bit good to know that the Demon Lord herself knew what was happening here (even if said Demon Lord was a bitch).

I see… Look, Lenore. I get that this isn’t an ideal situation. Trust me, I’d love to have more options at the moment, but I don’t. This was all I could come up with on short notice. Seriously, do you think you can do it?

Do what? Whip a demoralized camp of craftsmen into something resembling basic military discipline, or use that same group of craftsmen to force a much larger population of humans who actually leave their camp into submission? The first? Maybe. The second? I’m gonna need some serious leeway on the definition of ‘submission’ here.

The council is pretty firm on their concepts of dominance. Unless you have the lot of them acknowledge you as leader, you’re gonna have to wipe them out. You might try poison.

I’m not gonna poison 500 people! And definitely not for the crime of ‘not bending the knee to a token force that was obviously not meant to have a chance of defeating them’.

I don’t know what to tell you, then. It’s gonna be damn hard finding an excuse to bring you back from that post without something definitive to show for your efforts. The whole point of that posting is that it’s one step short of proper banishment. Frankly, most who get sent there prefer execution.

And yet you sent me here. How generous of you.

Hey, are you trying to tell me that you’re no better than the rest of the fools that get sent there? Weren’t you the one constantly bragging about how you were gonna show me something? I mean, if you’re that useless, I suppose I could have you summoned back as a member of my harem.

Len choked at that and felt her cheeks redden. She wasn’t quite sure if it was from anger or something else.

No, thank you. I think I’ll stick with the nigh-impossible task in the icy wilderness over being a glorified sex toy, if it’s all the same to you.

Suit yourself, but you’d better pick up the pace. Winters are harsh up there. We usually have to send a new batch of undesirables after the first thaw because the rest dies out. Try not to be one of them.

YOU MEAN IT’S NOT WINTER YET?!?

Len stared at the page for several minutes, but no response came. Sighing, she folded up the letter and stowed it in her desk. No way to be sure if Astrid had been serious about that, but her gut told her that it was more than just twisting the knife. Sighing again, she flopped onto her bed.

What was WITH that woman? Any interaction with her was exponentially more exhausting than anything else she’d done in either of her lives. Hell, overpowering Vrek had been a breeze compared to a five minute conversation with the Demon Lord.

More than that, how did she lose her cool every damn time she talked to her? Len generally prided herself on her ability to keep her composure in situations that other people would be freaking out in. It was what made her so dangerous on the mat, and had saved her ass time and again during her stay in this new world. And yet, any time she dealt with Astrid, she was not only saying objectively unwise things, she was doing it immediately after she’d told herself she wouldn’t. Maybe it had something to do with whatever ability over the demon races Astrid held, and it was just working differently on her, but whatever it was, it was damned frustrating and Len wished she didn’t have to deal with it.

And yet… she’d be lying to herself if she said that that conversation hadn’t been a bit of fun. Granted, her definition of ‘fun’ had been seriously corrupted over the past… good lord, barely a month and a half? But it was nice just to be engaged in banter that wasn’t particularly life or death (she hoped). For some reason, the Demon Lord had taken a personal interest in her and it wasn’t an immediately hostile one. There was plenty of snapping at each other, but it was almost… nice?

Len imagined that the job of Demon Lord didn’t offer a lot of opportunities for regular conversation. Maybe it was as simple a thing as Astrid was amused to have someone who was willing and able to talk back to her. If that was the case, she needed to prepare herself for when that novelty wore off, but if it wasn’t? Who knew, maybe there was the slimmest possibility of friendship there. Lord knows she’d had bitchier friends over the years.

Of course, all that was rather contingent on her NOT dying of frostbite at Grenus’ Hovel.