Chapter 26: New Servants III

"And?" "Ten females," Fenric said, his voice crisp and efficient. "A variety of races, strictly for domestic work—maids. Cleaning, kitchen duty, estate protocol." He paused for a moment, then added, "If any among them are combat-capable and still know proper household duties, that’s also acceptable. I wouldn’t mind some extra security." The elf gave a slight, respectful smile, impressed by the foresight. "Understood, Your Highness. Multi-role personnel, should they meet your standards." "Any further specifications?" Fenric shook his head. "That’ll be all." The elf gave a final nod and stood smoothly. "Then please wait here. I’ll have them brought in shortly, according to your specifications." With a graceful turn, she exited the room, the soft swish of her robe the only sound that lingered behind. Fenric remained seated, fingers tapping slowly on the polished blackwood table. Behind him, the butler—who had been standing in perfect silence—finally spoke, his voice composed but tinged with caution. "Your Highness... may I ask why you’re suddenly looking for more servants?" Fenric didn’t even look back. "Nothing serious. I just need the Dark Empress’s dogs out of my house," he said casually, as if commenting on the weather. The butler stiffened. "...I’m not sure I understand, Your Highness," he said, trying to keep his tone even. "We’ve served you loyally for years. How could we possibly be—" "I can kill you all," Fenric interrupted coldly, "and then I can naturally replace you all." The words hit like a hammer. The air in the room dropped several degrees. The butler stood frozen, his mouth slightly open, hands trembling by his sides. He took a step back instinctively, but his mind was racing. Damn it. If he kicks us out, the Dark Empress will kill us. If we stay, he’ll kill us. Either way... we’re dead. He bowed stiffly, lips pressed tight to keep from cursing aloud. "Understood... Your Highness," he said with effort. Fenric didn’t respond. His eyes never left the table. While the two knights looked at each other and then shrugged and remained silently standing. The doors opened with a soft click, and the elf returned—her expression calm, but there was the faintest trace of pride in her eyes. "Your Highness," she said with a bow, "the selections have arrived. I believe they meet your expectations." Behind her, the procession entered in an orderly line. First came the ten females—each one distinct, yet equally striking in beauty. It was evident that they’d been carefully curated not just for competence but for presentation. Some had long elven ears and ethereal grace; others bore the soft features of beastkin with twitching ears or patterned tails. A few were human, but no less refined—each with a poise and elegance that spoke of noble training. Their uniforms were simple but crisp, clearly tailored to highlight their forms without being vulgar. Most notable of all, however, was their presence. Even though they stood demurely, heads lowered, Fenric could feel it—these weren’t mere slaves. These were trained individuals, molded to serve but capable of so much more. Behind them followed two males—tall, broad-shouldered, and undeniably powerful. One had dusky bronze skin and short silver hair, the other bore deep violet eyes and carried himself with the air of a commander. Both wore reinforced butler attire over their slave garb, a subtle nod to their dual-purpose roles. Fenric’s eyes narrowed slightly. He could sense it. High Master level, no question. Their mana pressure was carefully suppressed, but to someone like him—now tuned to the rhythm of the Dragon Tongue Magic—it was as clear as day. The elf gestured gracefully. "These two, Varn and Izel, have passed all combat trials and are trained in elite estate protocol. Bodyguard and housekeeper in one, Your Highness." Then she motioned to the maids. "The ten females vary in origin and skills, but all have domestic mastery—cleaning, etiquette, cooking, and a few with basic healing spells and first aid. Three are combat-capable at High Master level or above." Fenric stood slowly, stepping forward to inspect them one by one. None dared to raise their heads, but he could see the awareness in their eyes: discipline, readiness, and quiet fear. Good.free\NovelFire.c o(m) "Acceptable," he said at last. The elf bowed again. "Shall I proceed with the transfer and binding rites?" "Yes," Fenric replied. "And make sure to file it under my name only. No proxies." "As you wish." The elf gave a gentle nod, then clapped her hands softly. A second attendant entered the room—this one robed in ceremonial garb, holding a silver tray upon which rested a small, rune-inscribed grimoire, a glowing quill, and a thin knife made of enchanted starlight ore. "The rites shall now commence," the elf said calmly. She began with the two male slaves—Varn and Izel. Each stepped forward silently, kneeling before Fenric without protest. The elf opened the grimoire and began reciting an incantation in the binding tongue—an ancient language reserved solely for contractual rites of servitude and soul-bound pacts. A faint golden magic circle appeared beneath Varn first, pulsing gently. The elf took the quill, pricked the tip of Varn’s finger with the blade, and let a single drop of blood fall onto the sigil. It was absorbed instantly. Then she turned to Fenric, offering him the same blade. Fenric took it without flinching, sliced a small cut across his palm, and pressed it over the same rune. With a brief fwoom, the contract flared, then vanished into both of their skin—leaving a faint silver crest etched on the back of Varn’s neck, and a mirror symbol on Fenric’s palm. "Bound," the elf said with satisfaction. The same process was repeated for Izel, then each of the ten female slaves. They approached one at a time, gracefully and without hesitation. Some closed their eyes tightly during the binding. Others simply stared ahead, already accustomed to this ritual. By the end of it, Fenric’s left hand glowed faintly with a lattice of overlapping contract marks—each one tied to a new servant, each one now under his complete control. The elf closed the grimoire with a soft snap. "All contracts sealed," she said. "Each of them is now tied to Your Highness alone. You may issue orders, recall them at will, or even enforce loyalty through the geas marks, should it ever come to that."