Back when I was a naive little girl, I too dreamed of marrying an Imperial Prince, or some future Duke. In those innocent fantasies, the nobleman of my dreams would be my ideal partner in life- kind, thoughtful, and bold. Those fantasies didn’t last past my first bleed. I must've met hundreds of noblemen since then, and I had been disappointed by every single one of them. Every single one of them was lacking in some way- arrogant, abusive, indolent, dim-witted, weak, or some dreadful combination of vices. Perhaps the princelings and the dukelings would prove to be less disappointing, but I doubt any of them would travel to the edge of civilization just for an upstart daughter of a Count.
When the topic of arranged marriage came up right around my 14th moon, I was naturally distraught. Given the odds, I would be matched with yet another disappointment. And Father’s lack of wi
Well shit. I was gonna torch the red light district on fire tonight in order to thin out the guards (I was a sucker for the classics), but that plan went to hell the moment Tali discovered her inner mass-shooter. The decimation of that no-name Baron Household this afternoon really riled up the metaphorical hornet’s nest. Guards at key installations, like the forge-smithies, had doubled or even tripled. Tension in the city turned up to 11, and the only saving grace was that the Rangers refused to step into this dumpster fire. Either way, subtlety was no longer a viable option. Which leaves dumb brute force or clever misdirection. Unlike last time, I couldn’t play the long game and hide my handiwork in the shadows of suspicions between rival factions. So clever misdirection wouldn’t have the time to develop. So I guess I had to go with brute force. According to Mike, none of the competing noble bottom-feeders had the brains to engineer a grand alliance. So all I could work with wer
I stood on the roof of an abandoned store (one of many abandoned buildings in the dying city) about roughly 300-400 meters away from the South Gate. As one would expect, a free-for-all battle broke out right in front of the gate as minor nobles hoped to take advantage of the sudden extermination of House Essex. Like vultures to a rotting carrion, the pitiful fools fought with ferocity and determination, each thinking that it was their destiny to rise above their stations. I had a feeling if we gave them a few more days, they’d do us all a favor and kill themselves. But we hadn’t the luxury of time. Aside from the troubles in the city, we simply didn’t have the supplies. Hell, I planned for 2 dozen children on this trip; not 70 kids crammed into 7 wagons with 6 adolescents and grannies walking besides the convoy. This was a rough trip back home. The convoy crawled to the gate, some 50 meters from the melee. I watched as Sapphy unleashed her Expert-level spell > on the rab
Authors’ note: This chapter is taken from the journal of Prince Avalon of House Artorius. Well, this Rummy character sure had made a proper mess in his wake. The city of Carnwennan was in shambles, dozens of noble Houses extinguished or ruined, and Gods know how many lives- highborn or otherwise- were reaped as a result of this madness. I would wager that it would take a generation or two for Carnwennan to recover, if it ever recovers.I am still piecing together what had happened based on what the scouts and knights had found, but this much is clear- he is no common commoner. It takes a certain arrogance and competence to plan and execute destruction of this scale.The decisive (and irreversible) nature of his action implies that he was never content living his lot and will never be content living his lot as the Gods intended. This man was prepared from the very beginning to defy the Pantheon and the natural order of this world, collateral damage be damned.In a way, both factions w
“Kneel, peasant! For you stand in the presence of Prince Avalon of House Artorius!” My shifty Scoutmaster announced.The prisoner, who is in chains and manacles, slowly and hesitantly kneels in front of me. He seems to be a portly fellow of 40 or so winters.His hair is disheveled, and the state of his dress suggests that he was in the middle of an afternoon nap when the intrepid Turt apprehended him. “You may stand.” I cordially invited my new prisoner. The man looks wary of my invitation until Turt nudges him from behind. He tentatively rises up and stands before me. His face is understandably tense, as if he’s deciding between betraying his longtime friend and saving his family from certain imprisonment. A difficult choice, I must admit and sympathize. But unfortunately for him, I intend on making this a really easy decision.“I am going to be honest with you, peasant. I will sentence you to hang as a spy no matter what you say to me today. The only difference you can make today is
In an austere meeting room of the City Hall with ornate furnishing, I begin my speech in front of all the relevant factions- my Legion’s general staff, the nobles of Carnwennan, and the general staff of the 626th Legion. Every one of them are in full military or noble dress, sparing no expenses. “Gentlemen, it has been a challenging moon and a half, but we have finally saved Carnwennan from the brink.” After waiting for the polite applause to die down, I continue. “Now, I will announce the reason why I came to Carnwennan. I was called here to accomplish the Quest that the Pantheon had bestowed upon me- the capture of Adept Rummy and his associates.” A wave of confused murmurs and “who?” erupts at my announcement. Fully understandable, I admit. But it is not the duty of mortals to publicly question the will of the Gods. Nor is it the duty of subjects to publicly question the will of their prince. That is the natural order of the world we live in. In response to this chatter, my Palad
*BOOM* The last Ranger fell upon his knees and slumped down, clutching his chest under the mid-day sun. Soon he would join his comrades (and my former comrades) and depart the mortal plane. After I slinged the Garand over my shoulder, I cautiously approached the 4 fallen Rangers. As messed up as it is to loot them, my growing militia has equipment needs and military-grade body armor doesn’t grow on trees.As I turned one of the bodies over to strip it of the leather armor, the not-dead-yet Ranger grabbed my hand with what little strength he had left. Unlike the movies and books, people usually don’t immediately die after getting shot. The blood loss takes time. “It’ll be your day soon, traitor!” He croaked with all the malice and bitterness he could still muster. “Until then, mind if I borrow your stuff?.” I nonchalantly brushed aside his arm and continued looting. My former comrade gradually lost his consciousness as he bled out. By the time I was done looting him, he had expired.
“Here is a new draft of the report on the iron shortage, Forge-master Rummy.” Nairi helpfully handed me the finalized draft of the report cobbled together from a series of disorganized notes and illegible calculations from yours truly. “Shall we go over the report together now so I could finalize it?” She asked in her typical angel-sweet voice. “Correction: I will go over and finalize the draft. You still need your rest.” I pointedly replied. Apparently, my overworked apprentice had a fainting episode while I was out in the Elven territory. She was teaching some of the newbies how to press the ammo cartridges at the forge-smithy around noon-time when she fainted for a moment. It was probably heat exhaustion or heat stroke from the ever-burning forge fires, but this is unacceptable. Considering his stance on work-life balance, Ronnie Lee would be rolling in his grave if he saw this. Nairi’s sunny enthusiasm for forge-smithy sometimes distracted from the fact that she was still a matur
The day started out like any other in these past few months- me waking up buck naked with two beautiful women by my side (equally naked, I may add!). Sure, I was usually exhausted from a jam-packed 10+ hour workday by the time I got back home, but the sight of 2 alluringly half-naked women bent over on my bed invigorated me in ways that even a potent cocaine and methamphetamine cocktail could not. The women of my harem had decided that 2 of them would “service” me at any given night while the other one would rest up and watch the kids. Of course, some part of me wanted to take all 3 of them at once every night. But I think I would drive myself into an early grave if I overworked my poor heart like that, especially if I had to work 10+ hours the day after…Tali had fortunately integrated into the harem with no drama. Of course, since my 1st wife Emma was the one that encouraged her to jump into the degeneracy, she had no problem with handing over the nominal role of the “head wife” to