“Cassandre, two women are here to see you,” Cordius tells me while I’m taking notes off a book. I have been hard at work since we have come back to Leggiadra. And after my talk with Minurulex, I feel compelled to delve deeper, to discover signs of what this world is attempting to tell me.

“Who?”

“They just said they want to talk with you,” Cordius shrugs. “I think their children might have been among the few who actually died during the battle.”

Putain.

“Let them in, then,” I tell him, “but stay in the room. Restrain them if you need to. I don’t want to shoot anyone who’s mourning, but I will if they try to strangle me.”

As usual, I’m not the most empathic person.

“I wonder why I got the [General] class when I should have gotten the [Bodyguard] class,” Cordius mumbles.

“It’s about studying and making the right moves to be—”

“I was just saying!” Cordius says from the other room of my office in Leggiadra.

I wait for two tall ladies to come in my office. Only then I realize that if anything happens, my books could be damaged.

I should have gone outside.

But it’s also true that killing two civilians on the streets like that would mess my public image.

“Hello,” I say, rising from my seat. “What can I do for you?”

The tallest of the two slaps the arm of the other, who’s just looking straight in front of her.

“Ah… Nuvea! Right, right! We want to sign up as [Soldiers]. But we want to work for you.”

I look at what I think are two housewives with no idea of what they are saying and I slowly sink in my padded armchair.

“Explain this to me,” I tell them.

“Well, our children passed during the battle,” the shorter woman says, “and our husband are never home.”

“So you decided that you want to risk your life because you are bored at home?”

“We are not bored!” the taller one suddenly thunders, eliciting a twitch in Cordius, who’s already stepping forward. I motion for him to stand back.

“Ok, you are not bored,” I smile, “then, what are you?”

“Lady Cassandre,” the shorter woman, who is the more restrained among the two, says, “we lost our sons. We want to be useful. Our beautiful boys died to take Keveiz and we want to help keep it. Aren’t Humans going to attack or something? We could help the [Soldiers]. And there are not many women with military positions in Leggiadra. We thought that we would work for you.”

This is interesting.

Bored housewives – because that’s what the are – are one of the most lethal weapons in existence. They have no purpose, nothing worth living for. And when you work with slates as blank as those ones, you can fill them with one purpose. Fill them to the brim. People who don’t have much going on can be turned wholly to one purpose. It’s harder with men, since they are accustomed to much more, to more opportunities, more entertainment, more… anything. But women like these two? They are like fresh clay, ready to be molded into anything; perhaps, capable of becoming fierce warriors.

“Ok,” I say with a smile, already fishing for something in my bag of holding.

I take out two long daggers made of fine steel. This is Melior’s personal work. I toss the two daggers on the ground, careful not to throw them too close to them. They are wicked sharp and could probably slice their feet off just like that.

“Try and stab Cordius over there. You land one hit, I’ll take you. You have five minutes, starting now.”

“What? Oh, come on Cassandre, don’t joke with these two women” Cordius starts laughing, probably not even close to understanding who these women are.

Nuvea, the more reserved and the tallest, towering even on the hulking figure of Cordius, bends down and picks up the dagger. Right, you don’t know it, but heigh and gender are not strictly correlated among half-giants. It boils down to who has more giant blood in their veins, not their genitalia.

Cordius is still smiling at the women, who have now both picked a dagger.

“Ten seconds have passed,” I say out loud.

Not even that makes Cordius tense, still giggling while the two housewives exchange a pointed look. The only man in the room probably thinks that someone with his class and reputation can’t simply be stabbed to death in a room. And sure, he’s not going to die—unless he’s a bigger idiot than I thought. And if two men had been here, they would be arguing, asking for something different, maybe already storming out of the door. Few men would simply pick up the dagger and stare silently at Cordius, already thinking what their best shot is.

The two women are unaware that I have already decided to add them to my staff. This stabbing contest is meant to fulfill two purposes. First and foremost, teach Cordius a lesson. Second, empower two women who have presumably felt useless for the majority of their lives.

Nuvea shoots a glance at me before slightly bending her knees. I nod at the tall one, who quickly steps back with her dagger and lunges forward. The dagger goes in fast, deep, and without much of a warning. It doesn’t hit the organ or his spine, but goes in right in his gut, almost effortlessly.

Cordius looks with wide eyes at the dagger sticking out of his belly, and that’s his second mistake. Another dagger hits his leg. The shorter woman threw hers. They both used skills and didn’t hesitate one second. The big bad ex-[Guard], now [General], doesn’t have any protective enchantment on him, the idiot.

“Done,” Nuvea says with an unapologetic tone, stepping away. The other woman nods as well.

There’s a pool of blood forming below my friend and I get up while he falls to the ground, fumbling with his bag of holding for a potion.

“That’s what happens when you remove your armor just because you feel safe, Cordius,” I say, reaching out a hand to grasp the dagger protruding from his belly. When I pull back, blood splatters across my dress. I open a healing potion and pour it on the wound, which begins to close quickly.

The half-giant is looking with wide eyes at me, speechless.

“Take care of your legs and report back to me after you find a protective ring or something with an enchantment good enough to save your life from an assassination attempt. Also, ask Melior for a custom made armor. Tell him I sent you. No complaining, please.”

…

“Your names, your classes, and the skills you just used.”

“Petronia,” the shorter one says, “I have the [Housewife] class, consolidate from [Cook] and [Caretaker]. I used to throw my slippers at my son and that earned me the [Perfect Throw] skill.”

“Nuvea,” the other, more hesitantly, says, “I have a couple of classes but the main one is [Farmer]. I have many chickens and they are very nasty at times; I earned the [Stealthy Lunge] skill like that. It masks my intention to the animals and lets me lunge much faster to catch the chickens.”

This world is truly full of wonders.

I look at both of them and summon some paper with a skill from my [Warlord of Fire, Steel, and Glass] class.

[A Contract in Blood]

“I need your blood for this contracts. Once you sign, you will be part of my personal staff. You will answer directly to me, and to me only. I won’t have you do anything that will damage half-giants. That’s already in writing. But you will have to listen to my orders and, in no way, you will be able to harm me. You either sign now or go on your merry way home. This is not a joke, and this is nothing like tending to children.”

Do you know what I love about women like those two? They just ask how to sign, and then they slice their palms, leaving a bloody handprint on the documents that magically disappear right after. I can only summon three contracts for now, and those two are the first ones I have created.

“Well, let’s start your physical training,” I say while getting up from my comfy armchair.

…

They go up and down doing burpees when Cordius reaches me at one of the training camps for military recruits. He is limping.

“Any permanent damage?”

“Fuck you,” he says, angered. He gets by my side and stands there, sulking.

I shrug and look back at the two slightly pudgy women trying to do the seventh set of ten burpees. Their faces are redder than a tomato and they are clearly out of breath. This is one of several spaces where people go train, one usually used for runs or drills. The two women look at the ground while they take a breather between repetitions; not too far from them, a bunch of half-giant men are laughing their ass of because of my two new recruits.

“Any permanent damage?” I ask Cordius with a deadpan tone. For good measure, I add further meaning to my question with a raise of my eyebrows.

I woke up in a terrible mood, I just realized. There are days that I spend mostly with books and by myself. The rest of the time, I usually put up a front, a mask to interact with others. But when I’m not using a mask, my real emotions show. In this case, I realize I’m in a terrible mood.

“No. It’s going to be okay in a couple of days.”

“Can you round up every single person laughing and—” I bite my tongue. “Nevermind. This shall serve as a lesson.”

For a second, I felt like having them all whipped. A couple of good lashes over their back would have made them better. But that would also make Nuvea and Petronia smug. Instead, breeding resentment for the other sex will bring them closer to me.

I look again at the other recruits laughing.

Putain.

“Cordius,” I gesture with my hands for him to come closer.

He sighs and bends toward me to bridge the height difference.

“I want all of those idiots who are laughing punished. Have them whipped for their lack of discipline behind closed doors tonight. I’d prefer if Nuvea and Petronia didn’t know about this.”

Cordius sighs again, loudly, and nods.

He might be a [General], but he’s my general. And when it comes down to it, Keveiz fell because of me.

“Good enough! Give me three laps of the entire ground,” I shout toward the two women.

As they pick up a tired pace, Cordius looks at me with a frown before going back to the sight of two sweaty housewives on the military training ground.

“You are pushing them too much for their first day,” he says. “They will be dead tomorrow.”

The thing about Cordius is that he’s better than me at the little things of the military life. I wouldn’t be good at actually managing the day-by-day of a military campaign. From latrines to supply lines and the whole chain of command, I’m not great at the details. I’m learning, sure, but still behind a proper military man. And as far as training goes, Cordius knows more than me without the slightest doubt. At least, when physical training is involved.

“I’m breaking them down and empowering them when their bodies fail,” I point at a couple of lieutenants at the edges of the training ground. They are talking with other [Soldiers] at first sight. But what they are actually doing is following my arms and the two women training with their eyes, waiting for the right moment to use their skills.

“You are helping them with skills,” Cordius says with a laugh. “What’s the point of that?”

I feel my hand prickle for a second, missing the feeling of a gun in it. A gun I would use to shoot Cordius right in the head. I bite my tongue another time to avoid giving the man a quippy response—I have abused him enough for the day.

“They must trust that, even at beginning, they may have greater potential than they previously thought. I'll boost their self-esteem so they'll be prepared for whatever I throw at them. Instead, certain tasks will be excessively difficult, teaching them that they are not omnipotent.”

“Fuck,” the man curses again while massaging his leg and looking at me with some fear in his eyes.

Good.