Chapter 1

“This is bad, boss.”

“I know.”

“Seriously, this is–”

“Shut up!”

The grey robe fell silent. Falagrim crossed his arms silently, glowering at the evening shadows. They were in the middle of a forest, yet not a bird could be heard. He glanced over his shoulder to the obvious cause: two plate-armoured Undead nearly twice his height. Between them stood a Human, of all things, dressed in one of the ridiculous outfits that their aristocrats were said to wear.

If you feel like being a fuckin’ flower, go and plant yourself in the mud.

Falagrim’s frown deepened as she smiled at him. He turned and walked away, hocking a glob of spittle onto the carpet of needles blanketing the forest floor. His escort formed in the area nearby and he returned to his camp a kilometre up the valley to the north.

As he approached the perimeter, two Deepwardens appeared with crossbows at the ready. Falagrim waved them away, walking by rows of cargo litters piled high with goods. Sentries and caravan workers alike wisely steered clear, sensing the storm brewing over their leader’s head.

After discovering that the Goblin Army they were supplying in the east had been destroyed, he turned his people around and headed straight for their next best prospect. Some ‘Demon Emperor’ had appeared in the Abelion Hills and was raising an army out of the Demihumans there. An army needed equipment, he figured.

He was right. Offering to equip Jaldabaoth’s forces was the best business decision of his life.

Through fall and winter, he delivered shipment after shipment month by month. Hundreds of thousands of Demihumans were outfitted for the Demon Emperor’s campaign against the Holy Kingdom of Roble. Under Jaldabaoth’s tyrannical rule, there was no shortage of slaves to trade for fine equipment forged in the deep mountain halls of the Dark Dwarves.

With his latest shipment of goods, however, came an unpleasant surprise. Jaldabaoth had been defeated and the war for the Holy Kingdom had been lost. There was a new power in the neighbourhood: the same power that the Human and her two Undead goons represented. The Sorcerous Kingdom.

Not that he cared who was in power. If he could deal with Demons, he could deal with the Undead. The problem was that there was no market for his goods and slavery was illegal in the Sorcerous Kingdom.

What sort of nut job outlaws slavery?

It didn’t make a lick of sense. Everyone had slavery in one form or the other. Outlawing slavery didn’t stop it. It only increased demand – demand that others were more than happy to fill.

Why did they even care? It was a kingdom of darkness that used Undead, for crying out loud.

“Don’t break the merchandise.”

“I may as well,” Falagrim growled through his beard.

Agni appeared from behind a stack of steel breastplates. She offered him a skewer of roast lizard. Falagrim took the food with a sigh, tearing off a chunk and chewing his frustrations out.

“What happened?” The Cleric asked.

“War’s over,” Falagrim answered. “On top of that, the new people in charge don’t trade in slaves.”

“That’s crazy,” Agni frowned.

“Ya don’t say?” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, “But crazy’s what we have to deal with. There’s a giant pile of scrap on our hands to get rid of.”

The Cleric opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of what she was going to say. He was pretty sure he knew what it was, so it was a wise decision on her part.

How can I turn this around?

Falagrim’s trade brought Dark Dwarven goods – almost exclusively metalwork – out to the tribes of the Abelion Hills. In exchange, the tribes offered prisoners taken through their constant raiding and warfare. He took the slaves that he thought would sell well. The Demihumans ate the rest. It was a time-honoured tradition that everyone respected.

The Merchants who supplied him with manufactured goods only dealt in slaves. They didn’t need anything else. Of course, that also meant no refunds for any crap that he couldn’t get rid of.

“Maybe we can take our stuff and sell it elsewhere,” he muttered.

“Some other part of the Abelion Hills?” Agni asked.

“According to the ‘representative’ that I spoke to,” Falagrim answered, “the Sorcerous Kingdom’s taken the whole area.”

“The Sorcerous Kingdom…that’s a new one. Some new magocracy that’s popped up? Name’s too generic for anything old.”

“A necropolis, more like. They had exactly one living person to talk to.”

“No wonder they outlawed slavery.”

“Uh-huh. Seen one bunch of Necromancers, seen ‘em all.”

“Where to then? East of the neck’s no good. What about Evasha?”

Falagrim’s sour expression soured even further.

“…I ain’t trading with no prissy-ass Elves.”

“There were a dozen Demihuman kingdoms in Evasha at last count.”

“Even the closest one’d take till winter to reach,” Falagrim said. “We don’t have the provisions for that.”

“Then trade some of our goods for provisions,” Agni said. “It’s better than nothing.”

He tossed his wooden skewer into a nearby bush with an exasperated sigh. What sort of losses would he be facing by the end of everything? It would be over a year away from home on top of that. Even if he managed to keep things afloat, his future prospects looked grim.

Agni was right, however. Before anything else, they had to unload their inventory and Evasha was the best place to do it now that the Abelion Hills weren’t an option.

“Gather the Merchants,” Falagrim said. “Tell them to put something together. Let’s get this over with.”

7th Day, Lower Wind Month, 1 CE

“Welcome home, Lady Gagnier.”

“I’m home.”

Florine offered a warm smile to the household of her family’s ancestral manor: an old, cosy complex on the outskirts of Gagnier Barony’s largest village. It was a place that some claimed had been around for centuries; the current buildings sitting where its predecessors were before being destroyed during the Demon Gods’ rampage two centuries previous.

She wasn’t sure whether that claim was true, but it wouldn’t be a surprise if it was. Villages, towns, and cities were where they were for a reason, so they naturally sprung up again even if something flattened them.

House Gagnier’s ancestral seat was where it was because it had been built atop a river that flowed some fifty metres underground. It wasn’t the only such locale: a long string of villages existed along the underground river’s course where wells were built to tap into the water source. The river could also be reached through a small network of caves accessible through the catacombs of her family’s mausoleum.

When they were younger, Tierre, who had grown curious about where it went, summoned a Water Elemental to find out. According to her, the river went underground somewhere north of Carne Village and emptied into the Katze River to the south.

After leaving her things in the foyer with her lady’s maid, Florine ascended the stairs to the second floor. Memories of her childhood followed her as she made her way down the familiar corridor and knocked on the entrance to the solar.

“Lady mother,” she said.

Seconds passed in silence.

“Lady mother? It’s Florine. I’m back from my business abroad.”

A minute went by without a response before Florine opened the door. She found her mother sitting on a couch in the solar’s lounge, not six metres from the entrance.

“Good afternoon, lady mother,” Florine lowered her head in a respectful curtsey.

Her mother didn’t even spare a glance in her direction. Instead, she seemed entirely focused on an unfolded set of pristine white papers in her hand.

“Did something happen?” Florine asked.

“Nothing yet has happened,” her mother muttered in response, then held up the papers in her hand. “A letter from my brother in Franklin. At least someone is worried about all of us caught in this hellhole.”

It’s not a hellhole, lady mother.

She knew that refuting her mother’s statement would lead nowhere, however. Florine could only smile sadly as her mother went on another of her tirades about how their home had been conquered by the forces of darkness.

In a word, her mother had become…unhinged.

Perhaps unhinged was too strong of a word. She was still very much the talented and capable Merchant’s daughter who had married into House Gagnier…and that was perhaps the most frightening part about it. Her mother wasn’t insane or suffering the ravages of old age. Winona Nel Dale Gagnier was merely thirty-two years of age and should have been at the peak of her life as a woman.

Born to a prosperous Merchant family in the City State Alliance, Florine’s mother was spared no expense in her upbringing. She had the finest education and wanted for nothing. Between her beauty, talent, and the investment her family had made in her, she outmatched even the scions of High Nobles, though the nobility would never admit it.

When she reached adulthood, her mother was used for the purpose she was born and bred for: to forge blood ties with prospective allies.

Merchants did not strategise the same way as Nobles. Instead of aiming for the ‘highest’ possible match by the measures of the aristocracy, they made the most commercially viable match. Her mother’s family needed a foothold in the valuable crossroads of E-Rantel, and House Gagnier – a Merchant House with a stable reputation and known for being well-grounded in the ways of commerce – happened to be looking for a match for their heir.

To Florine, it seemed a very cut-and-dry way to come into existence. She had even inherited her mother’s beauty and both of her parents’ aptitudes. Florine’s mother wasted no time and spared no raising her daughter in the same manner as she had been, though Florine’s father had objections over how ruthless his wife was about weaponising their daughter. He was by far the softer of Florine’s parents and would have preferred that she grow up in the more traditional manner that Noble scions did and find a nice match who would truly cherish her.

Neither her father’s nor her mother’s wishes would come to fruition, however, for the Battle of Katze Plains changed everything.

Her father and two brothers didn’t come back. By the laws of Re-Estize, which had been adopted by the Sorcerous Kingdom, ‘Mistress Florine’ was now Baroness Gagnier. Her lady mother became the old Lady Gagnier with no title to speak of and her life at the forefront of E-Rantel’s high society came to a calamitous end.

Florine’s mother didn’t take it well at all, and Florine thought she could empathise. Up until that point, her mother’s life had been perfect. She was born into a wealthy family, gifted with beauty, intellect and talent, and raised to rub shoulders with the elites of society. A vibrant flower in full bloom abruptly stomped on by a passing goat.

Or maybe that should be a passing Death Knight?

She didn’t take well to the Undead, either. No one did, at first, but she only spiralled ever further into a delusion crafted by a web of convenient rationalisations. Whenever an Undead patrol passed by the manor, her mother would scurry into the family chapel and pray for the Earth God to swallow them. Despite all evidence to the contrary, she believed that E-Rantel suffered under the heel of an evil overlord and everything that she saw outside of Gagnier Barony was simply an illusion or a facade. Only Gagnier Barony remained relatively untouched by the grace of the gods and the faith of its inhabitants.

Arguing with her mother didn’t work. Trying to convince her that what she believed was not true only made her believe it more. Florine was always lauded for her charisma and diplomatic acumen, but it felt like hollow praise when she couldn’t even help a member of her own family.

“So, have you found a consort yet?”

Her mother’s spiel over the atrocious state of affairs in the Sorcerous Kingdom gradually gave way to something that may have been even more unpleasant.

“Not yet, lady mother,” Florine replied. “I’ve been busy this entire time.”

“Busy, huh. Well, I can’t order you to do anything, but you should know that you can’t fool around forever.”

“Please don’t do this…”

“Who else will?” Her mother snapped, “Certainly not that gear-headed friend of yours. Remember that all those lovers you’ve collected are just for training. I’m sure you’re more than skilled enough to please any husband by now.”

In her mother’s mind, Florine had an entire parade of partners. She always had at least six twined around her pinky and they would each have a day of the week with her. On the seventh day, she would have them all at once.

Her mother actively encouraged this – though Florine always said that no such thing was happening – stating that being skilled at lovemaking was an invaluable tool. She had done the same thing when she was young, after all. When Florine spoke of how their faith valued chastity, her mother scoffed and said that it was a rule for ‘the poors’ so they wouldn’t breed like bunnia and overrun the countryside. An intelligent, well-bred woman decided with whom and when she would be bred.

The whole thing about Florine’s army of lovers was yet another symptom of her mother’s condition. Her perfect life had been derailed, yet pieces of it still played out in her head.

Florine eyed the half-folded papers still in her mother’s fingers.

“Lady mother,” she said. “It’s been a while since you’ve last seen your family in Franklin. Uncle Francis always sends you those letters – perhaps it would be a good idea to pay him a visit. While you’re there, you could also see how our preparations to expand further into the Great Steppe are coming along. All we’ve had are reports to go by, after all.”

“I doubt my brother is available for any ‘visit’,” Florine’s mother said. “Always on the move, that one. And rightly so. He has to drive the family companies to greater heights while he still has the energy.”

She was right in that Uncle Francis being around to visit was highly improbable, but it was an excuse that she had used since her husband was still alive.

Maybe I could convince Uncle Francis to come here, instead…

A part of Florine believed that her mother wouldn’t listen to her because she would always see Florine as her child. Similarly, it wasn’t the place of the household staff to oppose her in anything. Maybe she would listen to the elder brother whom she respected.

『Florine?』

Lady Shalltear’s voice sounded in her head. Florine raised a hand to her ear.

『Yes, my lady?』

『I saw Ludmila beating up Adventurers in the central district. Does that mean you’re back from the Draconic Kingdom, as well?』

『I just arrived in my demesne. Is there something I might help you with?』

『There are a few things I can think of, but there’s no time for any of them. Albedo told me to send you her way once you arrived in E-Rantel.』

The Prime Minister wanted to see her? Clara had already gone to deliver her reports, but maybe there was something that needed clarification.

Florine eyed her mother, who had returned her attention to Uncle Francis’ letter. A dark portal appearing in her solar would probably feed her delusions even more.

『May I have five minutes to sort out my things, my lady?』

『Of course.』

The Message spell ended. Florine lowered her head.

“It seems that I have business in the capital, lady mother. I’m sorry I couldn’t visit for long. I’ll come by again when I have the time.”

Her mother absently waved her away. Florine didn’t linger, letting out a quiet sigh once she was back in the corridor. She looked down at her shadow as she made her way to her room.

“What do you think I should do?”

A pair of glowing amber eyes appeared in the darkness, but the Shadow Demon didn’t seem to have anything to say. Given that she spent every hour of every day with it, she supposed that it was the closest thing to a lover that she had.

At first, Florine feared for her mother’s life whenever she went on about the ‘state’ of the Sorcerous Kingdom, but the Shadow Demon didn’t seem to care. If it reported anything to Lady Shalltear, nothing had come out of it.

“Tierre, are you ready to go?”

“Yes, my lady.”

Her lady’s maid came out of Florine’s old bedroom.

“Lady Shalltear will be gating us to E-Rantel,” Florine said. “Could you inform our carriage?”

Once, they hadn’t, which was more than a bit awkward. Fortunately, Soul Eaters got around quickly.

Lady Shalltear’s Gate appeared in the manor foyer exactly five minutes from the end of her Message. Florine stepped through with Tierre, and they appeared in the ‘teleportation gazebo’ in E-Rantel’s central district. A light breeze delivered cool air from the Frost Dragon Aviary to the north, driving away the heat of the sun-baked city streets. Lady Shalltear stood on the lane before them, shaded by her parasol. Two Vampire Brides in their regular garb attended her to either side.

“Good afternoon, Lady Shalltear,” Florine lowered her head in a curtsey.

“Good afternoon,” Lady Shalltear replied. “Before you ask, I have no idea what this is about.”

“I see.”

In other words, Lady Albedo wanted to see Florine about something that wasn’t explicitly related to Lady Shalltear’s duties. The most likely reason was some matter related to Florine’s work with the various member tribes of the Sorcerous Kingdom. Lady Albedo also did socialise once in a while, but, for Nobles, ‘socialising’ was mostly a venue for private business and Lady Albedo seemed no different in that regard.

“Tierre,” Florine said, “go ahead and drop our things off. I’ll let you know how long I’ll be once I find out.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Her lady’s maid lowered her head to Florine and Lady Shalltear before going on her way. Another Gate opened in the gazebo.

“Are we going elsewhere, my lady?” Florine asked.

“Hm? No. Albedo’s in the Royal Villa.”

“…you’re not coming with me?”

“No…you’re not planning on running away or something, are you?”

“Of course not, my lady.”

“In that case, have fun with whatever boring thing that gorilla has come up with.”

With that, Lady Shalltear and her Vampire Brides left Florine all alone by the gazebo. On the way to the Royal Villa, Florine mused over how different Lady Shalltear was once she considered someone an ‘insider’. While her haughty, aristocratic demeanour was still present, she also became just as casual as Liane was around her friends.

She asked a Death Knight at the villa entrance to guide her to the Prime Minister. It led her down the familiar route to the great hall. Within the softly-lit chambers of the Royal Court, Florine found Lady Albedo working at her desk at the right side of the Sorcerer King’s vacant throne. The Prime Minister did not look up from her work as Florine approached.

“Your Excellency,” Florine lowered her head.

“I have a new duty for you,” Lady Albedo said.

“Are there any materials to study?” Florine asked.

A stack of three brown binders was placed between them. Florine picked one up and opened the cover.

The Abelion Special Administrative Area…

She flipped past the front page, finding an eleven-page index behind it. The contents appeared to be slightly modified versions of the reports Florine had put together when she was working with the tribes in the forests around the Azerlisia Mountains. In addition, Lady Albedo had slipped in various notes, objectives and questions between the pages.

“This will take me a while to read through,” Florine said. “I’ve never even heard of two-thirds of the races listed in this index.”

“Time should be the least of your concerns,” the Prime Minister told her. “Ensure that your work in the Abelion Wilderness is at least at the standard of your work with the tribal territories in the north.”

Florine nodded, flipping through to some of the races that she was familiar with. While the project seemed ambitious as a whole, each component was relatively simple. Much like the tribes she had already worked with, the people in the Abelion Wilderness didn’t have much in the way of industry and most weren’t even sedentary.

No, it looks like they’re even less sedentary than the Demihumans I’m familiar with…

She flipped through the pages until she reached one of the maps of the area, frowning at what she saw.

“Are these boundaries recent?” Florine asked.

“The area was conquered by Demon Emperor Jaldabaoth,” Lady Albedo told her, “and the most warlike races were assembled to invade the Holy Kingdom of Roble. The map only depicts the surviving populations liberated by His Majesty, but what we know of the missing races and tribes has been included just in case you find them necessary.”

Florine continued examining the map as Lady Albedo offered the non-answer. Many would have accepted it as an explanation, but it didn’t actually answer her real question, which was why there were lines on the map at all.

One of the first things Florine learned when she went to help out in the Great Forest of Tob was that lines such as the ones drawn on the map in the binder didn’t exist. Every tribe, Magical Beast, solitary Heteromorph, and monster had a territory that was better defined as a ‘range’, and the extent of that range was flexible. Furthermore, one did not necessarily start where another stopped.

The lines on the map were probably drawn by the Sorcerous Kingdom’s administration – perhaps by a freshly-assigned Elder Lich who didn’t know any better. Florine looked up from the map.

“Are these boundaries set in stone, Your Excellency?”

Lady Albedo’s amber gaze seemed to glow at her question.

“You may redefine the map as you see fit,” the Prime Minister said, “but be sure to provide the same level of documentation as your work with the tribes in the north. The servitors assigned to the area may need those references in the future.”

“In that case,” Florine said, “is there anything that needs to stay as it is?”

“Literally, no. The highway between the upper reaches of the Katze Basin and the Holy Kingdom of Roble is currently under construction and must be accounted for. The buffer zone between the Abelion Wilderness and the surrounding countries must also be respected.”

“Does this apply to Roble’s citizens, as well?”

“Yes. While their country may be on good terms with the Sorcerous Kingdom diplomatically, any challenge to His Majesty’s order will be answered to the full extent of the law.”

That was to be expected. Lady Albedo was just as austere as Ludmila was, and far more ruthless when it came to doling out justice.

“And how have the laws of the Sorcerous Kingdom been applied to this new Area?” Florine asked.

“For now,” Lady Albedo answered, “the bare minimum to stay in line with our foreign policy. Domestically speaking, you know as well as I how things are.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

The Sorcerous Kingdom had adopted the laws of Re-Estize as a starting point for its government, and it still required extensive amendment. Lady Albedo had spent the past year eliminating loopholes, addressing blind spots, and adding clauses to legislation to account for its many different citizens, but the laws of the Sorcerous Kingdom were still fundamentally laws for Human governance.

Blindly applying Human laws to non-Human populations was foolish to the extreme, but creating viable laws for the Sorcerous Kingdom grew more complex with every new member race. As such, there were a number of ‘provisional laws’ – essentially a list of dos and don’ts put in place while lawmakers tried to puzzle out legislation that would work universally. That the Abelion Wilderness was designated as a ‘Special Administrative Area’ suggested that it may very well be impossible.

“Your Excellency, who is overseeing the Special Administrative Area at the moment?”

“A few Elder Liches have been placed on standby at the Department of Transportation’s staging area.”

“Staging area?”

“The provisional laws have been implemented and we’ve been provisioning the population since His Majesty liberated the area.”

“…how many people are we feeding?”

“The latest estimates place the number of obligate carnivores at eight hundred thousand.”

Florine’s lips immediately turned downward.

“That’s not going to work,” she said, “trade and domestic production weren’t even keeping up with the existing population before this.”

It was a problem that they were running into everywhere. The tribes of carnivorous Demihumans that found themselves under the Sorcerer King’s rule usually fed on one another when their regular food sources grew scarce. Crown laws, however, prohibited the Sorcerous Kingdom’s subjects from eating one another without local administrators with the right to create bylaws making an exception.

Additionally, His Majesty the Sorcerer King promised security and prosperity to all who submitted to his reign and his government was obliged to make it happen. But, with nothing to keep their population in check, it was inevitable that their dietary demands would eventually exceed the region’s capability to meet them.

“The issue has been alleviated for the time being,” Lady Albedo told her. “The population of the Abelion Hills will be redistributed to the rest of the wilderness.”

“But what about the people who already live in that wilderness?” Florine asked.

“The impact of Jaldabaoth’s activities wasn’t limited to Roble. Many tribes fled from the Abelion Hills, creating a wave of conflict that depopulated the lands in every direction.”

“That's terrible…”

Lady Albedo snorted at Florine’s distress.

“For them, perhaps,” she said. “For us, it is a convenience that we will take full advantage of before others do. Your task is to set them on the path to achieving the bare minimum per capita production required of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s carnivorous population.”

She still had no idea how Lady Albedo had arrived at that number or how she could guarantee that the Sorcerous Kingdom could provide for its citizens at that rate. It was treated as reliable enough to somehow work on credit, but the burdens that it put on the Sorcerous Kingdom’s logistics made it an undesirable measure.

This was especially the case in the Abelion Hills where there was little in the way of infrastructure. It was no small wonder that Lady Shalltear rarely showed her face after the conflict in the Holy Kingdom came to an end. She was probably stuck transporting food via Gate every day.

“In that case,” Florine said, “I should familiarise myself with everything and see if there are any viable avenues to pursue. I will maintain regular correspondence via Elder Lich, Your Excellency.”

She closed the binder and placed it in her Infinite Haversack, then reached out for the next. To her surprise, Lady Albedo didn’t return her attention to her paperwork.

“By the way,” Lady Albedo said. “Have you made any progress with that item?”

“No, Your Excellency,” Florine replied. “I’ve activated it and kept it with me at all times, but there’s no visible sign of change. Oh, speaking of which, I’m not sure whether you were angry about what I said that day, but I would like to apologise once again if so.”

“I would have been angry if you hadn’t spoken as you did,” the Prime Minister replied. “You were granted that item because your capabilities merit us keeping you – not because you excel at exaggerating your worth, currying favour, grovelling, or cowering in fear.”

The Prime Minister’s lip curled in a disdainful sneer at some unknown memory.

“I’ve had more than my fill of that sort recently,” Lady Albedo said, “and I would like for nothing more than to be rid of them. You would do well to remember that you are no longer a part of some ludicrous Human nation, Baroness Gagnier. The servants of the Sorcerer King serve His Majesty with absolute loyalty; the Royal Court will never censure you for your words or actions so long as it is understood that you are doing so in genuine service to the Supreme One.”