Despite his eagerness to tear Argonia's dogs a new one, Reivan had enough sense to hold back from just bum-rushing them like a maniac.

  Since returning from his short stop at Kreuzens, he had confined himself to a meeting room with Gwen and several people who could be considered his military officials. A lot of the familiar ones were knights, of course, such as Sir Gregory Mercer. But there was also Lady Iselle, who seemed lost about all matters of war but altogether glad she was invited at all.

  Not to forget that Samsara, unlike Aizen, had a ridiculously large pool of mages to pull from—a pool that spat out the heads of the four Great Magus Families to represent them. So a few old mages silently listened in as well, often suggesting how their magic can help.

  The long rectangular table in the middle of the room was riddled with countless maps that weren't of much use after the landscape changed so much. But they were better than nothing, so they kept using them. And they would keep using them until the day it was safe enough to get a skilled cartographer to do it. He was willing to bet that no other map of Arkhan in the past would have less green than the newest edition that had yet to be drafted. It was going to be mostly wasteland with a bit of snow on the Eastern reaches where Samsara now stood.

  "Since we've reached a good stopping point, let's take a break for ten minutes," Reivan announced, punctuating his statement by rolling his stiff shoulders to loosen them.

  Honestly, they weren't actually stiff since he was already so close to Ascension. But they certainly felt stiff. Mentally, that is.

  Nobody else complained, and some walked out of the room to get some fresh air or relieve themselves. Some, especially the sorcerers from the Mage Tower, didn't have robust constitutions, so their bodies actually were stiff, unlike every knight there. It was easy to forget that sometimes. Reivan really had to get used to working with people who weren't knights soon.

  Suddenly, an appetizing aroma wafted through the meeting room's double doors, which had been left slightly ajar.

  Reivan breathed in the fragrance and unconsciously rubbed his belly. Someone of his caliber could easily survive more than a week of no food or water, but that didn't mean he wanted to go on prolonged hunger strikes. It wasn't easy to give up the privileges that one had gotten used to, and the body agreed.

  He and the others had been there for so long that they skipped lunch. So he was understandably feeling famished.

  ‘Smells like garlic bread or something.’

  Which made sense, he supposed. Bringing a full-course meal to a meeting room didn’t really make sense. If the kitchen was going to bring up some food of any kind, it was going to be the type that was easy to eat.

  Reivan’s olfactory senses were ridiculously advanced, however, so he knew that whoever the food was still far away. It was one of the only times he cursed having such a good sense of smell. Because now he knew good food was coming, but he had to wait.

  And the wait was agonizing right now.

  He waited patiently as he listened to Gwen, who was sitting right beside him.

  “It seems Sir Zee will be the crux of our assault plans, Your Excellency,” she said in a light tone that could be heard by all but was quiet enough to imply that they were having a private discussion.

  “Indeed.”

  “I will admit that this situation is not ideal, however. After all, if he is a pillar in all of our plans, then everything falls apart if he dies."

  Reivan agreeably nodded, bouncing his right leg on the ball of his feet. Why was that bread taking so long to get here? “We’d have to wait weeks before he revives, yeah. And it would be in danger if it happened just before we left enemy territory.”

  Gwen pored over a few of the latest maps they had, drawn from memory by knights who were assigned to scout out the Arkhanian lands occupied by imperial scions. “Are you sure that Sir Zee will need to undergo additional training?”

  “I am sure. Zee's not ready.”

  “Is there a particular reason? It seems unnecessary.”

  Reivan nodded, carelessly flicking his wrist as he reclined on the criminally comfortable seat he now brought around with him wherever he went. “Zee is fine when I’m directing where we go, but we need it to work independently, right?”

  “That would be the most effective utilization of our most recent discoveries, yes. After all, Sir Zee can act separately from you—unlike other spirit beasts.”

  “I agree. But the risk of it getting lost or something is high.”

  “I believe Sir Zee has been running amok in that place from time to time. On his own. Should this not prove that he can handle something like this?”

  Reivan shook his head. “You said it yourself—it was running amok. There was no clear destination. At most, it remembered where the portal was and stayed in the general area. But I’ve never let it loose outside the royal palace.”

  Zouros, who had been lying on his lap in his miniature form, also agreed with a soft hiss. It was clearly daunted by the task ahead.

  To test out his favorite giant snake, Reivan had tried sending Zouros on an errand a few times, but it got lost every single time. Even when those errands were just in the city of Lageton.

  Of course, it wasn’t as if Zouros was dumb or had a particularly bad sense of direction.

  It just wasn’t used to going off on its own. What it had been doing in the Outlands was like a child going off to play in the local playground and obediently staying within its confines. Suddenly being asked to take on the serious undertaking of ferrying hundreds of knights into enemy territory was too large a leap in responsibility.

  Besides, there were a whole bunch of considerations that a titanic serpent like Zee wouldn’t understand. Subtleties and all sorts of other things.

  For one thing, even if Zee safely made it to the target area, it would still have to find an appropriate spot to unload all of the knights in its belly.

  Said spot had to be spacious enough to fit the number of people that were going to be unloaded while also being obscure enough that they wouldn’t be immediately detected by Argonian sentries. It also couldn’t be too close to populated settlements because then the chances of being detected increased drastically.

  But on the other hand, the landing spot also couldn't be too far because otherwise, it would take too long for the knights to reach their targets. Speed was the name of the game as always. They would strike hard and fast, then vanish into proverbial thin air just as suddenly as they'd appeared.

  If the landing spot was too far, that would also increase the chance of being detected because lookouts would have a lot more time to spot them.

  And those weren’t even the only reasons. There were a whole bunch of other considerations that Zee was unlikely to make because it simply hadn’t ever needed to.

  Reivan gave Gwen a quick rundown of his thoughts as a blonde maid who looked to be around his age arrived, pushing a trolley of food in front of her. He sat up a little straighter even as he continued explaining, quickly licking his lip in anticipation.

  “Excuse me, Your Excellency,” the maid said carefully as she stopped just behind his seat. “I have brought some light fare to stave off your hunger. May I?”

  Naturally, he briefly nodded toward her and scooted to the left so she could more easily place a covered tray in front of him. Despite the lid, the smell seeping out of the edges was thick.

  When he finally unveiled it, he confirmed that he was right in expecting garlic bread.

  And for a moment, he paused to admire just how pleasing to the eye it looked. It was basically a culinary art. There was a whole loaf of it. The golden brown crust contrasted with the buttery yellow, with flecks of green sprinkled here and there. Steam rose from it, providing further proof that this loaf was fresh out of the oven.

  It wasn’t his first time seeing garlic bread, but this one seemed special somehow. Jokingly, he thought that maybe eating it would give him a permanent buff or something.

  “Thank you.” He nodded toward the maid. “It smells fantastic. Probably tastes fantastic too.”

  “I’ll make sure the baker hears of your praise, Your Excellency.” She smiled a little before withdrawing and going around the room to give a bit of something to the others as well.

  Though it seemed they were different pastries altogether and he was the only one with the garlic bread.

  ‘The special treatment is a bit blatant, but I won’t complain for now.’

  Gwendolyn, who had taken some breadsticks for herself, continued the conversation as if there had been no interruptions at all. “Your Excellency, from your disposition, I do not believe you would wait months or years before leading an assault.”

  “Of course. Waiting that long is crazy considering we have all the tools we need right now.”

  “Then what are your plans for Sir Zee?”

  “I’ll fly around with him and teach him myself,” Reivan said as he tore off a bit of the bread and popped it into his mouth before he resumed talking. A bit impolite, yes, but they were in an informal setting now anyway. “Zee’s a fast learner so it’ll probab—Oh god. I’m sorry, this tastes incredible.”

  What he just ate completely blew off all other thoughts in his mind.

  One thing that hadn’t been obvious before was that the garlic bread had cheese baked into it. In hindsight, he should have noticed it even with the strong garlicky smell. But then again, he wasn’t paying much attention to deciphering the ingredients before he even got a taste.

  The bread literally melted in his mouth. It was unreasonably fluffy and soft, the generously kneaded cheese enriching the distinct taste of garlic. Reivan quickly tore off another piece and deposited it into his mouth, closing his eyes to really enjoy the flavor.

  He was a picky little bastard, he knew. So he didn’t give out ten out of ten scores for food very often. But this one was definitely deserving of it.

  ‘Whoever made this needs a raise… I hope they made more so I can give Helen a taste. Elsa too, though she isn’t that enthusiastic about food.’

  Reivan tore off a piece for the snake on his lap and then pushed the plate closer to Gwen, gesturing for her to have some. “You should try some of this, Gwen. It’s great.”

  Her brows furrowed in clear reluctance for a brief moment. “I don’t think that’s…”

  “Oh, do you dislike garlic, perhaps?”

  “No, Your Excellency. I do not have allergies or particular dislikes.”

  “Then since we’re technically on recess, it should be fine to have a little snack, no?”

  A moment of contemplation passed before she relented, conjuring two forks to tear off a small bite. Even if she wasn’t strong enough to throw an elephant across a football field, she still would have found it easy with how soft the loaf was.

  Without hesitation, she popped the bite-sized morsel in her mouth and her eyes immediately widened.

  If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

  Reivan chuckled. “Good, right?”

  Gwen nodded, covering her mouth as she chewed. “Indeed.”

  Happy to have shared the joy in finding good food, Reivan raised an arm to hail the maid who was just about to exit the room. “Excuse me, who made this? I need to know so I can have them promoted or something.”

  The blonde maid laughed sweetly. “That would be a bit difficult, Your Excellency. Because the one who made that bread was one of the ladies.”

  “The ladies…”

  Reivan scratched his chin as he thought back to how the palace’s servants had quickly adjusted to the newest influx of residents.

  For Helen herself, they often referred to her as “Lady Helen”. It was the same for Jiji and Mimi.

  But for his concubines, of which only a dozen had arrived from Aizen before everyone else, the maids simply referred to their collective as “the ladies” in plural. It was a subtle show of hierarchy within the women of the palace. Of course, if asked to specify, they would do so. But generally, the servants just treated all of his concubines as some kind of group within the palace rather than individuals.

  He had quickly caught on to it because he liked eavesdropping on servant gossip from time to time. It wasn’t always fun, however, because the most frequent topic of gossip was how the Hierarch’s bed sheets needed to be replaced again.

  ‘So one of them made this…’

  None of them was a baker, if his perfect memory was to be trusted.

  Though he supposed he didn’t know everything about every single one of his five hundred mistresses. So it made sense if they had a very niche hobby he didn’t know about.

  God damn was this bread good though.

  The youthful maid continued with a graceful smile. “She heard that His Excellency skipped a meal and volunteered to cook a light snack for you. Though she was too shy to present it to you herself. And even too shy to take credit. Apparently, this is a family recipe.”

  “I see. No wonder. This, uh… What was it called? Did she say?”

  “She simply called it a Cheesy Garlic Bread.”

  ‘A bit on the nose, that one.’

  It wasn’t as if this was the first cheesy garlic bread he’d ever had. Just that it was the best one. The fact that the makers didn’t even see fit to name it seemed oddly fitting for a family recipe.

  “Cheesy garlic bread, huh? Fantastic.” Reivan nodded, sharply slapping Zee’s snout without looking. The little shit almost swallowed the entire loaf while he was distracted. “I’m sorry to ask, but is there any more?”

  She shook her head. “I’m afraid not, Your Excellency. Quite a bit of effort went into just one, so she was only able to make this one.”

  Obviously. It probably wouldn’t taste so good otherwise.

  “Well, please tell her I said thanks.” Reivan tore off another piece and happily threw it into his mouth. “And even though it’s troublesome, I hope this won’t be the last time she makes this for me.”

  The maid beamed. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll be happy to hear that.”

  After bowing low, the maid pushed her trolley out of the meeting room and closed the double doors behind her.

  “Your Excellency,” Gwen leaned a little toward him and whispered. “That was one of your concubines. And I believe she arrived only this morning.”

  Reivan grinned. “I know. I was just playing along with her.”

  He knew every single servant in the palace by face because he personally interviewed every single one. So the mere fact that he didn’t recognize a maid meant that she wasn’t actually a maid.

  Of course, he had also memorized all of his concubines and met each of them personally last time in Aizen, so he should have recognized her as well. But the mischievous baker had obscured her real facial features with makeup.

  Reivan saw through it immediately, though. The moment he saw an unknown maid enter, he used [Supreme Insight] to confirm her identity.

  Also, because the prankster borrowed a maid uniform that wasn’t perfectly fitted for her. Some areas were…tight. And they stood out because the powers that be around here had made sure all of his maids wore looser garments so he didn’t feel inclined to lay his hands on them.

  As that bit of distraction passed, the ten-minute recess concluded. Everybody was already in their seats a minute before the deadline, so they were able to restart planning immediately.

  That night, who got to go and who got to stay were decided.

  It was also decided that they wouldn't go home until they had the heads of ten Argonian princes or princesses to parade around in the streets of Lageton.

  Reivan heaved a long sigh of pleasure as he let himself sink into the hot spring.

  The calamitous rise in volcanic activity a few months back didn’t only have negative repercussions, it seemed. Because a hot spring was somehow discovered while the Samsaran Palace was being built.

  As with most castles and palaces, underground tunnels and chambers were paramount for all sorts of reasons. So with that in mind, the [Earth] elementalists who were in charge of helping with the construction established the foundation of the palace. And during the process of doing so, they detected the hot spring.

  Reivan, at the time, could have just as easily sealed it off and proceeded with the plans for his palace. But instead, he’d opted to have the plans adjusted to include the spring.

  The knowledge that soaking oneself in hot, but non-boiling, water felt good wasn’t something new. Especially in Aizen, where there were many artificial hot springs with large metal heating artifacts hidden in alcoves small enough that even a mouse could barely get in.

  Still, the kingdom didn’t have many natural hot springs like this one.

  ‘There are some in Northgard and the outskirts of Asuna, I believe. But that’s it.’

  Some would say that was a good thing, because artificial hot springs didn’t smell like sulfur, but Reivan liked the natural ones better. Maybe the smell of sulfur provided a better atmosphere? He wasn’t sure.

  “This is the best…” Reivan muttered as he relaxed after having finished all his official duties for the day. He even got to enjoy an unexpected treat. A treat that he hoped wasn’t the last.

  Literally, the only thing that would make this better is if Helen joined him. But she thought it was a waste of time to bathe in a hot spring when a quick shower would do the trick. Also, she didn’t want to have sex in such a hot place.

  Which was a valid concern. Reivan would have definitely tried to convince her to do it if she had come along. She was truly starting to learn how his brain ticked.

  “Hm?” Reivan frowned as he turned his ear toward the dressing room, where he heard someone changing clothes. He was sure that he’d put up a sign—the special one, made to inform people that the Hierarch himself was using the hot spring.

  Soon, the perpetrator was revealed to be the earlier blonde maid, except her hair had now turned a dark shade of brown. Also, she was no longer wearing her maid uniform because she was completely naked.

  “Miss Marcella,” Reivan greeted, failing very hard not to look at inappropriate places. “Did you see the sign?”

  “Yes, I did.” The brunette smiled and nodded, making no effort to shield herself from his gaze. Casually, she sat at the edge of the spring and slowly eased her way into it, resting right next to Reivan himself. “I must say, I appreciate the prior notice.”

  “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I wanted to talk more privately, Your Excellency. Forgive me if I’m too persistent.”

  “I’ve been meeting with the others quite frequently these days.” Reivan brazenly eyed her amazing body, not even the spring water’s blurriness could stop him.

  Having noticed, Marcella slightly rose, letting the two hanging fruits on her chest rise above the water to allow him a better look. “Judging by the long day of heated planning earlier today, you will presumably go off to some faraway battle again. Opportunities to see you directly after that will be scarce, if not outright impossible.”

  Reivan couldn’t deny that.

  ‘Also, this girl is being way too brazen!’

  He had openly let his gaze wander to tease her into some measure of shyness, but who would’ve thought she’d double down and make it easier for him?

  “Well, you have me now.” Reivan pulled his eyes away with great effort. “What did you want to talk about?”

  Marcella grinned as she scooched closer and hugged his right arm, sandwiching it between her bosom. “I’m sure you know.”

  Reivan regretted being completely naked because he could not hide the state of his lower body. The water was slightly murky, but it wasn’t nearly enough to even blur the silhouette. “Is there a need to rush? It’s not as if I’ll renege on the contract.”

  The contract in question was to provide her artificing materials and let her continue refining her craft as long as it did not hinder matters with their child.

  After all, Marcella was an artificer.

  She came from a long line of artificers, actually. All of which worked for the royal family.

  It was fairly common in stories to find a young craftsman of some kind who was extremely talented and could somehow make things that adults could never even conceive. But such things were impossible in the art of artificing.

  Ability was born of experience. And talent merely lets you accrue experience a little faster than hard work.

  There was no reality where someone as young as Marcella was some master artificer. She may have been talented, driven, and bursting with unique ideas, but actually making the artifacts themselves was a skill that only time well spent to perfect the craft would grant.

  And one of the things a young budding artificer needed was materials.

  Special materials. Those whose names don’t have an equivalent in his previous world's language.

  These special materials, however, were heavily regulated by the crown. Of course, a portion would be distributed to licensed artificers, and most of the yearly supply would be squirreled away by the government.

  It wasn’t to oppress the artificing community, of course. Those materials were used for top secret experimental crap like building an underwater city, laying down a nation-wide defense array, and all manner of other things. The crown would sometimes just hide it away in the treasury in case they ever needed it in the future.

  Reivan’s deal with Marcella involved allowing her to buy some of the materials that the royal family kept tucked away. Only the normal stuff, of course. But it was still valuable.

  ‘Not like money’s a problem to her, of course.’

  Marcella’s family was not the normal everyday kind of wealthy even by Aizen’s standards. They were crazy rich. The kingdom earned a shit load of tax revenue from their clan yearly. Also, succeeding every once in a while meant that an Artificer was never going to have a problem with money.

  So an artificer’s problem was rarely ever about how much the materials for artificing cost. Rather, it was whether there was any to be bought at all. One of the bottlenecks of being an artificer was securing a reliable supplier.

  And Marcella wanted him to be that supplier, in a way. Though really, he was just leeching stuff from the royal treasure—with his brother’s knowledge, of course.

  As long as she behaved and worked toward bearing a child with him, then she would get all the materials she needed and also be allowed to practice her passion. It was almost refreshing how transparent she was with her desires.

  “I didn’t want you placing doubt on my sincerity if I never showed initiative, Your Excellency,” Marcella giggled.

  Reivan raised a brow. “Do I seem like that kind of person to you?”

  “From the stories of my… peers here, I don’t think so anymore, no. You haven’t put a hand on any of them. Even though they’ve been here for almost a week. Can you please tell me why?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Marcella hugged his arm tighter, her body’s fragrance wafting into his nose. “Yes, it matters. You know, I came here thinking this would be more of a… transaction. I get what I want, meanwhile, I push out a baby for you and help you raise it. Which is a wonderful boon for me because I’ve never particularly liked anyone.”

  Reivan enjoyed the sensation. Because why wouldn’t he? His arm was literally enveloped in smooth softness and it was great. But he schooled his expression and cleared his throat. “That isn’t too far from the truth. I want babies. You girls want something I can give.”

  “You’re contradicting yourself,” she said. “If all you want are babies, then you should’ve just called everyone every night, lined them up, and—”

  “That’s preposterous.” Reivan scoffed, as if the answer was obvious. “How can I just line them up, as you say?”

  “Why not? It’s efficient.”

  “And if it was you, would you prefer that?”

  Marcella hummed in thought. “That certainly wouldn’t be my first pick, Your Excellency.”

  “Right.” Reivan nodded. “Even though this is a transaction, I am still, for many of you, your first man. I’d like to make sure your memories are positive.”

  “So, what? You’re going to continue slowly getting to know each and every one of us before actually taking us to bed?”

  “Of course.”

  “Wouldn’t that take too long? I’d have thought you’d be more in a rush, Your Excellency. Considering how there are many whispers of you being very close to Ascendance.”

  Reivan shrugged. “Who cares if it takes a long time. That’s the right way. You may all have your own reasons, but all of you deserve to smile whenever you remember this point in your life.”

  Marcella looked up, staring into the side of his face before chuckling quietly. “You’re not what I expected coming into this. Hearing all the rumors that I did.”

  “Is that a good thing?”

  “Yes,” Marcella smiled, rising up and then suddenly straddling him. “It sets my heart at ease to do these kinds of things.”

  Reivan’s eyes widened as two mountains suddenly appeared right before him, though the greater concern was the pillar below. “Hey, you shouldn’t—”

  His lips were sealed before he could finish. And though he could’ve dodged, he didn’t.

  When Marcella broke away, it was with a red face. “I feel lightheaded… This isn’t going as I expected it to.”

  Reivan sighed. “It’s not a good idea to do these kinds of things in hot springs… contrary to what novels say. At least, not if you don’t have a good grasp of how much you can endure.”

  “I… I see… Uhm, I don’t think I can walk… I didn’t know hot springs were so dangerous.”

  ‘You’re just particularly bad, I think.’

  Reivan nodded, easily carrying her out of the pool and into the dressing room, where there were some stools to sit on.

  Her face was still completely red from the heat as she cradled her head, but then her eyes widened when her gaze lowered to his groin. “Oh my…”

  Frowning, Reivan finally covered himself with a conjured towel. Then he took out the bottle of chilled milk he was supposed to drink later and placed it on the floor by her feet. “I’m going to keep soaking. Drink this, rest up here, and retire to your room when you can.”

  “Yes.” Marcella lightly nodded, probably too afraid to move her head too much. “And I’m glad it was you. I don’t think it’d be too bad if it was you...”

  His steps halted for a moment but he continued on his way.

  ‘Don’t just say that so suddenly…’

  These concubines were going to stress him out in all sorts of ways; he just knew it. They were bad for his heart.