Risou no Himo Seikatsu - Volume 11 - Chapter 1.1

Chapter 1 — Ambition, Trade, and Safety

Several days had passed since the induction of the prime minister, marshal, and new duke. Aura was currently receiving a checkup from both Doctor Michel and Princess Isabella. Her second pregnancy was currently progressing well. The doctor’s estimations placed her delivery date in approximately another two months.

Of course, with her pregnancy, her stomach was now visibly swollen. It was her second pregnancy, but the situation was not one that she could get used to. She was less wholly seated on the sofa than she usually would be to avoid even the slightest risk of harming the child growing inside her, with the aging doctor on one side and the middle-aged princess on the other.

“If I may take your hand, Your Majesty?” Michel said, doing so and then pausing in his speech. “That will do. Your pulse is normal and both you and your child seem to be in good health. What say you, Princess Isabella?”

The princess had a friendly smile on her face as she nodded in agreement.

“I feel the same way. You should both be fine even without any intervention. However, I shall cast a mental rejuvenation spell just in case.”

“Please do.” Aura nodded from her seated position.

Her pregnancy was, as both medical professionals had said, going almost anticlimactically well. She had barely had any morning sickness—quite unlike her first pregnancy—and while her stomach had swelled, it was not to the extent of the first time.

She had been concerned there was some problem with the child, but if the medical advice was to be believed, nothing was out of the ordinary. According to the doctor, such docile children were relatively common during pregnancies. It was slightly odd to assign a child a personality while they were still in the womb, though.

Regardless, the combination of this much easier second pregnancy with the first-class medical care from Isabella meant that outside of some difficulty moving, the queen was completely healthy. If anything, the daily worries from running the country were being eased by the spells Isabella was casting, so she was almost better than she’d ever been.

She adjusted herself on the sofa slightly and rolled her neck several times—almost as if she was making sure the position she was in was right.

“Thank you, Princess Isabella,” she said. “Your treatment is as superlative as ever.”

“It is an honor to hear, Your Majesty. I shall take my leave, but if there are any changes in your condition, please summon me without delay.”

“I will. My thanks again.”

“Of course. Excuse me.” The princess offered a bow before leaving.

Once she had departed, Aura stretched in her seated position and let out a grunt.

“The Gilbelles’ healing magic truly is something. Perhaps I need not have appointed the prime minister and marshal,” she mused.

“Your Majesty,” Michel said sharply at her slip.

The queen shrugged slightly with a rueful grin. “It was a joke, Doctor; you need not look so fearsome.”

“Please don’t say that I look fearsome. I will make no political statements, but in regard to the child currently growing within you, I am reluctant to endorse even your current level of work.”

With her medical practitioner not budging even when speaking to the queen, she raised her hands in surrender.

“I know, I know. I shall not push myself. I am well aware that my health is important.”

She was an accomplished stateswoman, but that wasn’t the same as being utterly irreplaceable in the field. On the other hand, there was no woman in Capua who could replace her when it came to passing on the country’s lineal magic to the next generation. If asked whether she was more important as the queen or as a woman, the answer would have to be the latter. Of course, that was taking things to an extreme, and her position as queen was still exceedingly important.

Besides, she had already appointed both a prime minister and marshal. She could not now take that back, so deciding how things would work in the future would be more constructive.

“I would hear how our new prime minister has been faring. Fabio?”

The secretary took a step forward at that, breaking his silence. “Of course. First, in regard to the man himself: the viscount has made no great strides as of yet. He is gathering court officials to be his aides in ensuring the country’s politics continue well, but that is best described as a legitimate right of the prime minister and so is allowable.”

“Indeed,” the queen agreed with the slender-faced man’s comment.

For better or worse, the nobility were a faction-based group. The faction leader might have gotten his hands on the juicy position of the prime minister, but the leftovers needed to be spread between the underlings or he risked worsening morale.

Of course, anyone installed to such positions would need to have at least a bare minimum level of skill and professional ethics. However, if a prime minister could not appoint those he wished within those constraints, there would be no point.

While Capua’s royal family was an oddly strong example of one, the fact remained that the country was feudalistic in nature. Trying to crack down on each and every usage of such a position to benefit its holder—and their faction—would be a Sisyphean endeavor. For a feudal country in its infancy, it was even considered a necessary evil.

“Then we shall simply observe the minister’s actions for a while. The viscount’s ambitions are relatively benign for his level of ability. He may very well be satisfied if his position is rewarded appropriately. Of course, negligence can be fatal, so we must maintain that observation.”

With that, the queen shelved matters concerning the prime minister. Then, she took a breath and questioned the other appointment, the one far more likely to cause issues.

“The problem will be the new marshal.”

The new marshal, Pujol Guillén was infinitely ambitious and made no secret of it. The man was an amalgamation of fierce spirit and a desire to rise in the world. In terms of position, achievements, and standing, there was no better choice for the position. Still, Aura had fought shy of truly appointing him.

“How has Marshal Pujol spent his time?” she asked once she was ready to hear the answer.

The secretary’s face remained unreadable as he spoke plainly. “The marshal’s first act was to step up the recruitment of soldiers.”

There was a long pause. “Summon him,” Aura said eventually.

“The arrangements have already been made,” Fabio said. Her confidant’s tone was almost horribly level as he assured the queen that the preparations had been made in advance.

The marshal’s first action had been an increase in recruitment to the army. If one was to ask what was bad about that, they would find that there was in fact nothing wrong with it. If the recruitment was for knights, then it would impinge on noble society, and so the marshal should at least notify the queen—although legally, even that would be acceptable—but increasing their armed forces by recruiting commoners was completely permissible.

As a matter of fact, the country’s army was not big enough. It obviously wasn’t as big as it had been during the war—when they had the most active troops—but even compared to the period of peace preceding it, the army was twenty percent smaller.

As the person standing at the army’s head, it was completely natural for him to want to make up that deficit. Indeed, there was even scope in the budget to do so. Even if that full twenty percent difference was impossible, there was more than enough leeway to make up half the difference without going into the red.

That slack in the budget was from multiple sources: the recouped taxes Zenjirou’s spreadsheet had brought to light, the sturdier water wheels he had suggested along with the contract with the guild to create them, the sales of the new spirits he had spurred on, and so on. However, only Fabio and Aura should currently be aware of that.

Therefore, while thinking just in terms of the military, Pujol’s actions were completely natural. However, Aura had to see things from the perspective of the country as a whole, and increasing recruitment was not necessarily for the best, to say nothing of the fact that using that budgetary slack for the army was even worse.

After all, the military was not the only entity to still bear wounds from the war. A considerable number of Capua’s young men had faded into the fog of war. Working men were currently a valuable commodity for not only the army, but also farming villages and even urban areas.

The worst off were the relatively smaller and medium-sized regions. Since they were living hand-to-mouth on occasion, the recruitment would resonate strongly with them.

Additionally, the army currently had a relatively generous budget for its size. The extra wages for the new soldiers would not unduly strain it. Of course, the training would be tough and physical, but farming without machinery was similarly difficult for a soldier’s training.

Furthermore, there were no signs currently pointing to war being on the horizon. Therefore, even joining the army was unlikely to send you into actual combat. With all those benefits in view, it was plain to see what would happen.

Taking the foundation of those villages that were barely subsisting into the army would be a nightmare when one considered the drop in the country’s strength that the loss of those villages would cause. It was a problem that Aura could not overlook in her position as queen.

The young men having their chance for wealth crushed as they were sent back to their poor villages was a huge inconvenience for them. However, Aura was not so skilled in politics that she could maintain the country without someone drawing the short straw. With that said, overturning the marshal’s very first decree would lead to the army being less stably managed in the future.

Either the circumstances or the man himself needed to be curtailed.

While Aura was racking her brains for a solution, the notification of the marshal’s arrival came to the room.

“Show him through,” she replied.

“Very well.”

A few moments later, the door thudded open and a man appeared in its frame.

While his uniform’s finery had increased with his progression to marshal from general, the figure was almost tiresomely familiar.

“Thank you for coming. I know the sudden summons will have been an inconvenience. Sit, to begin with,” she greeted the man. Her voice was plainly displeased as she remained sitting on the sofa.

“Of course. Excuse me.” For his part, the marshal paid her displeasure no mind and kept his face calm as he seated his heavy frame on the sofa opposite her.

Aura and Pujol alike were not ones to beat around the bush. Additionally, the summons that had brought him there was technically unplanned and urgent. As a sign of her desire to waste as little time as possible, the queen placed the order in question on the table between them, almost tossing it into place, before speaking.

“This document has reached my desk. It is indeed by your hand, is it not?”

The marshal met her glare from his own seated position, letting the queen’s presence—which would cow most people—flow past him as he offered a nod.

“Indeed. This is the written order containing my first command as marshal. However, I may have been too hasty in my elation and not properly worded it. This is the document containing the order which will be made public.”

As he spoke, he drew a sheet of drake parchment from his pocket. It was clearly not an official order yet, with multiple corrections and crossed out words on the sheet.

“Ah...I see.”

So that was how he was playing it. Even as she surveyed the document and appreciated the quick remediation, she scowled internally. The new offering was much the same in its general structure. However, it had additional information included in it. More specifically, a quota on how many people would be recruited and a deadline for said recruitment.

Both were conservative numbers. With such numbers, the area of influence would be limited to the capital and surrounding region. By the time rumors reached the borderlands, the quota would be filled and the time limit would be up. Aura’s concerns about its influence on the agricultural villages had been wiped away in one fell swoop.

“I intend for this order to make it clear to one and all—both domestic and foreign—that our power and will are alive and well on my appointment as marshal and that in due course we will regain our old strength.”

There was a question in the marshal’s comment, and it was a logical one. Essentially, the main aim of the order was not to build the army’s strength, but to show his intentions upon his appointment. That was why its influence had been curtailed significantly and kept to a minimum number of people.

Aura purposefully wiped all traces of expression from her face as she tapped the table with her index finger. “I understand what you wish to say. You could consider this increase in our forces something of a welcoming gift for your appointment, though how very like the nobility it is to give themselves a gift.”

She shrugged slightly. Seeming to intuit that she had understood his intentions, the hulking marshal gave a wide, almost animalistic grin as he nodded.

“You have my thanks. However, I do hope to see some practical results. With Viscount Regalado becoming prime minister, we should expect the capital’s security to grow somewhat lax, temporarily. Therefore, it is my humble opinion that the free-floating youths of the capital can be put to work to maintain that security.”

“I certainly see your logic,” she replied. She could say little else in that regard. The war had decreased their manpower on the whole, so larger cities—including the capital—had become a gathering ground for the bereaved.

If men in their prime died at war, the inevitable result was a profusion of widows and orphans. Orphans unable to live on their own would be almost magnetically drawn to larger towns and cities like the capital.

Those orphans were a problem, but an even bigger problem was those who managed to survive their childhood years. It was an unfortunate truth, but orphans who had lost their parents and then banded together for survival rarely became contributing members of society.

In many cases, they grew into organized criminals, which caused headaches for the guard by disturbing the peace. Several years had passed since the end of the war, so the orphans from it were likely to be making that transition soon. If they could instead bring them into the army, it would be quite the success in defense of the capital.

“The viscount’s eldest will be one to watch, but he lacks experience. He will need to be aided by those around him for a few years,” Aura mused, mostly to herself.

The capital guards who maintained public order in the city were traditionally commanded by the Regalado family, but the viscount could not continue in that position after becoming the prime minister. Therefore, the man’s eldest son had—as custom dictated—become the next to hold the position. However, he was still in his early twenties.

He had more than enough motivation and potential but was certainly not yet on the level of his father and had a damning lack of experience. With that in mind, the conditions would be perfect for the would-be gangsters trying to disturb the peace in the capital, so tempting them into the army was exceptionally to the point.

It was budgetarily acceptable as well, and the limits on recruitment amount and period defending against an influence on the country as a whole took any reason she had to object.

“Very well, this is your first order, after all. I shall say no more about it; you may do as you wish.”

Aura’s face took on a slightly meaningful smile.

“Thank you,” he said, straightening, showing no sign of noticing her expression before bowing his head, the wide grin still on his lips.

Just as Regalado had become prime minister and Pujol had become the marshal, Zenjirou was now Duke Bilbo.

However, there were distinct differences between Zenjirou’s new dukedom and the other two positions. The first was that it was not a position of duty, but rather of nobility.

The prime minister was the person in charge of general governance, and the marshal was in charge of military affairs. Naturally, both were afforded significant authority and a commensurate workload.

Zenjirou’s position as Duke Bilbo, on the other hand, was almost an honorary title. While greater status also conferred greater authority, there were very few obligations that went along with it.

In other words, this was something he should celebrate. He was a highly ranked, mostly unfettered man.

The hawk-eyed nobility would never let such a delectable opportunity pass. Therefore, Zenjirou had been pulled out to various social gatherings over the past several days.

“Truly, Sir Zenjirou, I offer you my congratulations. Ah, perhaps you would rather I address you as Duke Bilbo now?”

Zenjirou kept a polite smile fixed on his face as he replied to the fawning middle-aged baron who was hosting the event.

“Thank you, Baron Pantoja. I was invited here today as Duke Bilbo, so I do not mind you addressing me as such. You may feel free to call me by name, though. Her Majesty may have bestowed this title on me, but I am her husband before I am Duke Bilbo.”

Only a few days had passed since he had taken up the mantle, but Zenjirou had already lost count of the number of times he had needed to repeat that explanation. Apparently the Capuan nobility saw his new rank as more noteworthy than his position as the queen’s husband.

He could somewhat understand their perspective, but “his” rank had been gifted to him by his wife, and he felt that the title he could more proudly call himself was her husband. Still, he was well aware of the difference between his opinion and that of the country at large, which was why he was publicly announcing his view this way.

“I understand. At least here, I shall address you as Duke Bilbo, then. I believe there will be a place prepared for that rank, but I assume you’ll need people to run it?” the baron asked with a covetous glint in his eyes. This was another question Zenjirou had heard over and over for the last few days.

Of course, he already had an answer prepared, so he simply repeated it again. “Indeed. Her Majesty is making arrangements for the maids and administrators required. The knights are outside of my expertise, so I will be assigning their running to someone I can trust.”

His position was only meant to reduce the curtailment of Aura’s influence that the appointment of a prime minister and marshal represented. Taking things to an extreme, Zenjirou saw his duty as the duke to simply agree with Aura at the meetings he attended.

Therefore, the estate and knights that would protect both him and his position were merely putting on a show and could be kept to a minimal level.

Up until now, he had been strictly “the queen’s husband” and “a male royal,” and had made a point of presenting himself as a figurehead. That had worked well at first, but when Aura had fallen pregnant with their first child—Prince Carlos Zenkichi—his status had been brought into question. Zenjirou could no longer feign being a mere figurehead.

He had acted as the queen’s representative during her pregnancy during many events, comporting himself well on each occasion. He had also carried out the negotiations with Princess Freya from the Kingdom of Uppasala while in Valentia and even headed the force dealing with the swarm raptors. He had brought the dispute with Nabara in the Gaziel march to a completely beneficial conclusion, learned teleportation, and finally negotiated for—and received—access to a healer from the Twin Kingdoms of Sharou-Gilbelle.

Describing him as “incompetent” or “a figurehead” after all of that was impossible. He clearly had the ability to serve as a member of the Capuan royal family without any issues.

The public’s estimation of him changed from person to person, but that fundamentally summarized the situation, which meant that he had to put even more thought and care into his words and actions than ever before.

Prince Consort Zenjirou had the minimum abilities needed to act as royalty. With that thought in mind, it was hardly a surprise that some of the nobles wanted to see the sovereignty of the nation transferred to him—a much more pliable individual—than Aura—who was a force to be reckoned with despite her gender. And there was no guarantee that sympathizers of that line of thought weren’t present today.

Zenjirou kept his smile on his lips as he warily scanned his surroundings. As he did, his gaze came to rest on a crowd. The largest crowd, of course, was centered around him. But the crowd his eyes had fallen on was still a rather significant size.

Seeing the blonde beauty at its center, he also found a perfect excuse to get out of his current conversation.

“I have yet to greet our guest from the Twin Kingdoms. I shall have to excuse myself.”

His apology given, Zenjirou moved away and towards the woman at a slightly brisk gait. He followed what etiquette required, purposely placing himself in her eyeline and making a somewhat roundabout approach so as to avoid being threatening before raising a hand in greeting.

“Talajeh, it has been a while. Though perhaps not that long.”

The consort’s—now duke’s—approach prompted the crowd to part around the blonde woman. No longer obscured by the wall of people was a striking beauty, with golden hair that fell in waves around her shoulders and soft, amber eyes set against lightly tanned skin. Her heritage as a mix of the Northern Continent’s refugees and the desert tribes set her apart among both groups, yet strangely also offered a sense of familiarity and even more charm.

She wore a yellow dress with an open chest that almost made it seem rude not to look, and Zenjirou’s greeting prompted both a friendly smile and a slight curtsy.

“Your Majesty. Ah, Duke Bilbo would be more appropriate here, perhaps. Your assistance has borne much fruit.”

The openly stated thanks caused the nobles gathered around her to focus more on their conversation. While there were naturally many men who had been lured in by her sex appeal, there were also a surprising number of young women around her.

The reason for that was the selection of accessories she was wearing. She had rings, bangles, earrings, necklaces, hairpieces and brooches—all formed from solid gold. The daily rotation of jewelry she wore made their quality all the more apparent the longer you looked if you had even the most basic amount of knowledge.

Talajeh had thrown herself headlong into the Capuan social life since her arrival, but the rumors went that no person had seen her wear the same accessories twice.

“I see. I am glad to hear it. Her Majesty and I have regretfully been unable to make much time for you, but that certainly lightens my heart,” he replied with a slight smile.

Talajeh had spent a significant sum to have him teleport her to Capua in hopes of acquiring a magic tool to create a space isolation barrier. The spell required for that barrier fell under the Capuan royal family’s lineal gift of space-time magic. The only two who could use it were Aura and Zenjirou.

Talajeh had therefore sought to negotiate directly with Aura, but the other woman’s pregnancy and preparations for the installment of the prime minister, marshal, and duke had led to a complete lack of negotiations.

From what Zenjirou had heard within the inner palace, it seemed Aura would be willing to accept depending on the price. However, he couldn’t let that out here. Instead, he searched around for another topic. As he did, Talajeh’s already soft eyes softened even further in a smile.

“You need not let it concern you. After all, Capua reigns supreme over the west. There is more than enough business to find, so I have not had the time to feel bored.”

Despite it not being entirely appropriate for a noblewoman to say that, she did so clearly and without hesitation. Talajeh’s family—the Elementaccato duchy—had veins of gold within their lands that were very productive. Her massive jewelry collection and the fact that she wore it to her social engagements were likely both part of her marketing.

His understanding that her goal was—for better or worse—purely trade-oriented made her a fairly easy person for him to speak with this way. If he thought of her sex appeal and almost too friendly smile as her tools of the trade, he could even almost feel a sense of kinship with her.

“My, that certainly is something to hear from someone of your stature in the Twin Kingdoms. It is decidedly pleasant to hear as a citizen of Capua as well. Would you be willing to tell me what in particular has caught your interest?”

The blonde’s smile deepened even further at his question.

“But of course. Our lands are separated enough that there are many things we have wildly differing views on. Carpentry would perhaps be a perfect example. The Twin Kingdoms is far behind in that respect.”

“I see. It does sound rather obvious now that you mention it.”

Zenjirou couldn’t help being impressed by her mentioning something he’d never thought of. It was, with some thought, completely obvious, though. The Twin Kingdoms of Sharou-Gilbelle was a large country, but over eighty percent of it was covered in desert. The widespread utility of magic tools meant that ordinarily barren land could support them, but they would not permit the land to be developed in the same way as Capua’s rain forests.

Wood was therefore a scarce resource in the Twin Kingdoms and both the number and skill of carpenters were far lesser than Capua could boast. The decoratively carved wooden stools and tables local craftsmen sold to Capuan nobility would easily go for ten times the price in the Twin Kingdoms. Even combs carved from fragrant woods would fetch a good sum.

“So, taking an excess supply somewhere that lacks the same...” Zenjirou mused.

“Such is the fundamental thrust of business,” she replied with a broad grin.

The Twin Kingdoms had a lack of wood. That thought prompted Zenjirou to consider another use of the resource.

“If wood is so valuable, what do the Twin Kingdoms use for fuel? Magic tools, perhaps?”

The country was mostly desert. However warm the days were, nights were cold and even cooking required fire. The smithing industry would require vast amounts of fuel as well.

Talajeh gave a somewhat ambiguous smile. “Indeed. The palace and noble estates—along with blacksmiths—usually use fire magic tools. But even simple magic tools are valuable, so the masses use techniques passed down from the desert dwellers that preceded us.”

The “passed down techniques” here referred to burning dried feces and unusable offal from the rearing of livestock. Large beasts like dash drakes and pompo drakes produced vast quantities of feces. Their primarily plant-based diet meant that if it was dried and burnt, it didn’t smell particularly bad, so it was fairly effective if considered objectively. However, they were at the palace for a social event, so it was not the most suitable topic for conversation—thus her vague reply.

Realizing that, Zenjirou hurriedly steered the conversation back on track. “I see. It is similar to how agriculture here treats plants that grow fast yet have no use as pests, even calling them ‘the green invaders.’”

In fact, such plants could be considered the biggest enemy to farming within the country, as they could easily overrun a field if you weren’t paying attention. The only ways to deal with them were man—or tamed drake—power, which meant that poorer villages lacking both of those things could be pushed out by the encroaching vegetation and inevitably have their arable land curtailed.

“Since there is no use for the plants, they are simply gathered and burned,” he continued.

Talajeh let out a deep sigh that made her generous chest sway. “We could only dream of such luxury,” she said emotionally.

The earlier comments about taking a surplus towards a dearth made Zenjirou consider having those useless plants exported to use as fuel. However, he soon realized it wouldn’t work.

He had found himself thinking based on the standards of a modern world, but the cheap transport of commodities between distant countries was only possible with a modern, efficient transportation network.

Zenjirou held the trump card of teleportation, so he had managed to forget that movement within this world was fundamentally limited to foot or carriage. While the drakes were far more suited for transporting goods than Earth horses, they would never measure up to trains, trucks, and especially ocean freighters.

Heavy and bulky goods like burnable wood—which additionally would need to be transported in huge quantities and couldn’t be too expensive—would see the shipper in the red within a month. Zenjirou wasn’t well versed in distribution, but even he knew that.

“Considering the distance, I assume you are after small luxuries. Accessories and indulgences, perhaps. The wood itself aside, charcoal would be a product the second it was completed.”

Talajeh’s amber eyes shone at Zenjirou’s murmurings. “That is certainly intriguing. If Capuan charcoal was cheaper than importing wood from our neighboring countries, it could become a significant source of trade.”

“Ah, true.”

Even as he agreed, he blushed internally at her pointing something out he hadn’t considered. His blunder could also be put down to the influence of teleportation. Zenjirou had traveled between the two countries using it, so it made the distance between them feel much shorter than it actually was.

While the majority of their lands were indeed desert, the Twin Kingdoms didn’t have to go out of its way to trade with Capua rather than closer countries with different climates.

As common as wood was in Capua, the transportation charges meant that they probably couldn’t compete with their neighbors.

“Distance is a hard hill to climb,” he commented with a resigned sigh.

Still, Talajeh’s eagerness showed no sign of abating. “Then perhaps you would be willing to part with some seeds of the plants that grow particularly quickly? If we could have them take root, it would be a blessing beyond words.”

Zenjirou allowed a rueful smile onto his face as she pressed him. “That would not work. While they may grow abnormally quickly, that is only the case in Capua. With the Twin Kingdoms being completely different from the climate to the soil, I can only see it being fruitless.”

Capua was blessed with plentiful water and arable land. Plants that thrived in this environment would be unlikely to take root in the dry sandy ground of the Twin Kingdoms. If he could be sure they would not, he would have been more than happy to allow it. The problem was that if, by some quirk of fate, things went according to Talajeh’s hopes and they proliferated quickly even in the Twin Kingdoms. Talajeh had only just commented about the price of importing wood from their neighbors. In other words, they were not self-sufficient on that front. So if Capua were to allow them to become more so—even if only in terms of burnable fuel—then the country would be strengthened.

“I simply wish to make the attempt. Please, Duke Bilbo?”

“Even so. Introducing prolific, neophytic species into an environment can easily destroy the existing ecosystem. Besides, such an agreement is beyond my abilities to allow.”

“Nee-oh-fi-tic? Ee-co-sis-tem?”

The soul of language hadn’t worked, which meant that they were concepts that did not yet exist on the Southern Continent. While Talajeh looked confused by the terms, she at least understood his refusal.

Incidentally, the region her family ruled didn’t have living things big enough to be seen by the naked eye; it was a true desert in every sense, so such plants wouldn’t have much of an impact regardless. The fact that any kind of capital could be established on such land was proof positive of the vast strength of magic tools.

Either way, Zenjirou could not spend his entire evening on this conversation.

“I shall take my leave, then. Do enjoy yourself, Talajeh.”

“Of course, Duke Bilbo. Thank you once again.”

The two parted with smiles and the waiting nobles descended upon both of them immediately.