Unsolicited Makeover
Even among the veterans of Marsheim, Kevin was a skilled adventurer. Not only did his hyenid nose give him an advantage in tracking, but he was a solidly built gnoll: he was well regarded by his compatriots for being a scout who could hold his own on the front lines.
And, as one of the most tenured members of Clan Laurentius, he was one of the few remaining souls who knew how beautiful the woman in charge had looked before she’d grown too jaded to care. He thought he’d seen all there was to see in his years working for her, but...
“Uh... Boss?”
“Hey. Why’re you looking at me like that? I may have thick skin, but you’re about to stare a hole straight through it.”
In her usual spot at the Inky Squid was Laurentius of the Gargantuan Tribe—but it had taken Kevin double-digit seconds to process whom he was looking at.
“Don’t laugh.”
“N-No, I mean, I wouldn’t laugh, but...what happened?”
Laurentius simply looked that different. She’d basically transformed.
Usually, she just lopped off hair whenever it bothered her; now, her head had been neatly trimmed. The stray strands that liked to poke out at every angle were nowhere to be found, having been swept into a graceful flow kept together with a touch of oil. While it still didn’t have the length to make a full ponytail, the back side of her hair had been tied up and even had a little flower sticking out of the knot.
What was more, her ordinarily unadorned face had makeup on it.
Stuck in a permanent squint, her sharp gaze was accentuated by eyeshadow that led into the tails of her eyes; the added touch of beauty only served to heighten her commanding presence. The bags that had begun to settle in below had been concealed with powder—blue powder, of course—so as to let the black of her lips take center stage.
That’s right: she was wearing lipstick. It was a pitch black that popped against her blue skin; paired with the tremendous canines peering out from beneath, the choice of color solidified an impression of deadly allure.
Laurentius had always been more handsome than cute, and the alcohol-induced huskiness of her voice made for a final package that would draw out all manner of squealing from ladies so inclined.
Speaking of liquor, the stains that pocked her everyday clothes were gone. Her outfit had been freshly laundered and, unbelievably, even ironed out.
“It was Erich’s doing,” the ogre explained. “After a bout, I asked him if he wanted anything in exchange for landing a clean hit today, and suddenly...this.”
“What? S-So he asked to doll you up as his reward?”
Though he himself recognized how blatantly expository his statement was, Kevin had to restate what he’d been told, if only to explain it to himself. Funnily enough, voicing his thoughts aloud did not actually help him internalize what he’d heard.
Kevin knew Erich: he was the new adventurer who’d come to Marsheim this past summer. The kid was a walking font of swordsmanship—a “newbie” in name only—and while he claimed to be of age, he looked so young that that might also have been a front.
Everyone within Clan Laurentius knew him. Not only was he their boss’s favorite sparring partner, but Kevin (and his partner Ebbo) had been the very ones to bring him back to their usual haunt in the first place.
But no matter how hard he racked his brain, the gnoll couldn’t figure out why he’d suddenly decided to give the boss-lady a makeover.
“Would you shut it, you moron? Argh, I can’t relax looking like this.”
“But Boss, you’re seriously—”
“Shut. It.”
“...Yes, ma’am.”
As much as Kevin wanted to tell her she was drop-dead gorgeous, the look seemed to have put Laurentius in a foul mood. He hung his head and shut up, but his inner voice was loud and clear: Good going, Goldilocks.
Although Laurentius wasn’t particularly good-looking on an average day, that had more to do with her long-standing apathetic stupor depriving her of the will to keep herself tidy. That was to say nothing of her natural charms, which were unequivocally great. In fact, quite a few of her clan members had joined in no small part because of her blasé beauty.
“I can’t believe this... I haven’t worn makeup since my last war...”
Ogre warriors always wore makeup into proper battles, but never to polish themselves as an object of beauty. Rather, they did so for the incomprehensible reason that an unkempt head would be an offensive prize should they be bested in combat.
As such, the ogre could not wrap her mind around it. Why had she been dolled up on a peaceful day? And not to a degree simply inoffensive as a trophy of war, but to the point of chasing the heights of beauty?
For the rest of the day, the ogre’s grumpiness—and the embarrassment it hid—left the Inky Squid in a state of constant tension. But they say that many of her people, silent though they remained, shared the same sentiment: Good going, Goldilocks.
[Tips] While some ogres wear makeup every day owing to a philosophy that battle can approach at any time, hardly any are skilled with cosmetics, and even fewer care. For them, beauty is in the fight itself.
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