Chapter 266 - Cat Business V
Claire stifled a yawn as she sat up in her bed and groggily rubbed her eyes. It was still early in the morning. The sun had only just poked her bare body above the horizon, but the local roosters were already crowing up a storm, cocking and doodling at the top of their lungs. Her first thought was to stomp over and shut the birds up, but she quickly suppressed the urge with a shake of the head. Such an act of violence would surely have earned her a lecture from the divine protector, and she wasn't in the mood to entertain her incessant squawking.
It had only been a week since they had stormed the city and placed Arciel on the throne, but the new queen’s policies had already been set in motion. That was not to say that a wave of change had suddenly swept across the country, or even the city for that matter. Her short-term changes took place on a much smaller scale, the prime example of which was the girls’ new place of residence. No longer were they holed up in Olga’s hotel, imposing on her hospitality as they had for months on end. At Arciel’s behest, they had moved into a brand new district that had practically sprung up overnight.
The trunk-faced mercenaries populated one half of the community—the desert people were still technically under the crown’s employ, but no longer were they allowed to treat the castle as their own property—while the other featured a cacophony of birds. Though not quite evicted like their long-nosed neighbours, they had ultimately lost their homes in the spire’s heroic sacrifice. Roughly a fifth of the arviad population had chosen to settle in Vel’khagan, while the rest had journeyed roughly two hours north, where a new, government-funded settlement would soon be tailor-made to suit their needs.
Though rushed along and tasked with a focus on quantity, the elven artisans responsible for the neighbourhood’s construction had clearly considered their demographics. The elephant-occupied northern half was built largely to the humanoid standard. It was really only the doorknobs that stood out at a glance—there were two sets installed on each entrance, one at waist level and the other much closer to the elephants’ faces. Looking inside the buildings revealed some additional customization. Namely, the toilet paper holders were placed above and behind the seats, and the ceilings were lined with shelves that a human would struggle to reach.
Perhaps because they were so close to the common standard, the erdbrechers’ homes were easy to distinguish from the thin, vertical houses built for the birds. The wood mages commissioned had upgraded the divine protectees from shacks made of mud and straw to large wooden houses with exaggerated roofs that featured external perches. While there were still some entrances placed on the ground for those unable to fly, most of the large, sliding doors were accessible only by air. As far as interiors went, the birds preferred the open-concept approach. The houses still contained distinct rooms, but a large open central area ensured that the residents could stretch their wings without having to venture outside. Perches and roosts filled the airspace, with additional racks provided so that more of them could be easily installed.
Claire's new home was at the intersection between the two sub-districts, its central location a function of Lia’s role as the community mediator. While its property was still a little small for the lyrkress’ tastes, it was certainly an upgrade from the tiny borrowed room. There were a total of six bedrooms on the building’s second floor, three of which had been claimed. The two furthest from the front door belonged to the cat and the snake respectively, while the third, which had only ever been used once, had Arciel's name written on its tag. Sylvia had been presented the option of claiming one of the spaces as well, but she had chosen to invade her mount's privacy instead.
Likewise, Boris had also turned down the idea of owning a man cave. He occupied the living room instead, often dozing off in the sun as it shone through the clear glass panes. Sometimes, he could be found sleeping in the weapon rack with all of Natalya’s new swords, or perhaps even framed on the wall. It depended on his mood, but in general, he preferred locations where he could feel the spring breeze on his cold, metal skin.
Despite the violent revolution, Vel'khagan was already back to normal. For the average citizen, little, if anything, had changed. There was hardly any damage inflicted to the city itself, with most of it focused on the taller buildings and the noble-owned areas that lay in the castle’s immediate vicinity. The battle's participants consisted primarily of the city's residents and professional mercenaries hired at a premium—even the criminals enlisted were people that worked within its walls. There had been no raiding. Most homes and businesses were still perfectly intact, save for those that had been looted prior to the passing of the crown. The streets were cleaner as well; fewer criminals were able to roam them openly with so many mercenaries and police forces on constant patrol. For those willing to turn a new leaf, it was a blessing, but the syndicates were unhappy. Aiding Arciel was supposed to have bolstered their grip on the nation, but her ruthless task forces diminished it instead. Their bases were not outright raided, but there were always guards stationed nearby, ready to catch and convict their members at a moment’s notice.
It was a problem that they suffered both on land and at sea; with the task of retaking the country finally relieved from the admiral’s shoulders, the navy was free to return to its usual work. They no longer had to feign weakness, and could fully bully the lowlives with the full extent of their powers.
Life in the castle appeared to be going rather swimmingly as well. Claire had yet to visit it for herself, but Arciel hadn’t seemed particularly tired when she stopped by the house. It was during said visit that she admitted to accepting Alfred’s terms, the precise details of which she refrained from speaking even when prodded. The only thing she did mention was that they were surprisingly non-predatory considering the number of victims.
Alfred’s new—and possibly only—temple was already in the midst of its preliminary construction. It was not placed upon the busy, overcrowded hill with no space remaining, but rather a quaint suburb not too far from the newly built neighbourhood. As promised, it was located right next to one of Flitzegarde’s and built to the specifications outlined in the god’s contract.
All that was left was for the old pervert to keep his end of the bargain, and that seemed to be at least somewhat underway. The tortured squid girls had been exported to his domain the day after the halfbreeds negotiated the deal. It was a brief delay caused in part by the time of day, and in part because Sylvia had spent all night catching up with her newly pregnant mother and her surprisingly upbeat father before she finally set out again in the morning. Claire had made herself scarce during the conversation and avoided Zelos’ eyes with utmost effort. Despite his kind and welcoming demeanor, the depths of the elf’s gaze still stung of bitterness and accountability. He had clearly not forgiven her and played along for his daughter’s sake. Even though Sylvia had clearly aided in the other paladins’ deaths. It was a clear-cut case of discrimination, but the lyrkress decided that she would forgive him just once.
Somehow, Claire found herself as busy as she had been during the coup’s preparation. She no longer had to go around the city guarding people, but the cat had dragged her to and fro all week, visiting the various locations where they could open their business.
Each candidate was labeled on the map spread across the dining room table. The detailed diagram was technically the government’s property; Claire had snuck it under her cloak when she spotted it in one of the underground conference rooms. Arciel had not exactly been pleased to see it when she visited and asked for it to be returned as soon as they settled on a location. Though she had heaved an exasperated sigh, the qiligon knew that it was anything but genuine. Case in point, she had even sent a mantis-shaped errand boy to deliver the accompanying marble pieces so that they could be used as markers.
Of the hundred-odd lots available throughout their city, the shopkeepers-to-be had already visited ninety and dismissed a similar number. It was in part because their agent was overzealous. The balding old man that had responded to the advertisement they placed on the job board was either deaf or an idiot. He had shown them properties of all shapes, sizes, and locations, even ones that matched exactly none of the requirements they had listed. To Claire’s dismay, Lia played along with his lunacy and soon began loosening her criteria and broadening her horizons.
Even with her mind opened, however, the cat was extremely picky. No matter how much she liked a location, she would refuse it unless it met the criteria that her godmother had forced upon her. According to the wildly successful businesswoman, the property had to be near the job board or on a major street, it had to have an enclosed backyard for the purposes of instruction, and most importantly of all, it had to be accessible by both land and sea. They were simple criteria, but surprisingly hard to meet with so few locations vacant and available. Even having seen so many, they had only identified a few good candidates.
One was in the northern wharf. It wasn’t anywhere near the job board, but it was located on a major route where its visitors were bound to pass. It didn’t have a yard either, but Lia had that weakness covered. She owned a large warehouse just down the street, thanks to her gambling habit, and a local craftsman had confirmed that it could easily be converted into something halfway between a classroom and a gym.
The second viable choice was a small shop on Main Street. It was close enough to the job board that it wasn’t entirely out of the way; anyone that grabbed a task from the board would barely have to walk or swim to seek guidance on their assignments. The central location meant it came with all the expected amenities as well. There was already a glass tank built into the side of the building, where customers of the underwater variety could still do business, as well as filters installed to keep the water clean and breathable. The only downsides were that it was expensive and that there wasn’t a backyard, but Arciel was footing the bill, and the guard station right behind it was also up for sale—the local police force was moving to a larger building on the opposite end of the street to accommodate the sudden inflation of its headcount.
If Claire’s veto was to be ignored, there was technically a third option. The dilapidated manor of House Ariti wasn’t quite a storefront as it stood, but with its owner under arrest and slated for execution, it was a vacant lot in a decent location. The mansion wasn’t directly connected to any waterways, but there was one down the street; anyone that struggled to move on land would only have to drag themselves a few dozen meters, and they could easily set up a bell for any customer that wanted to get their attention without climbing out of the water. The manor was a bit further away from the job board, but being located right beside the red light district, it was a place that many spelunkers would inadvertently pass. The only problem was that they preferred to hang around in the evening, and two of the three girls had unfortunately sharp ears.
Vel’khagan’s pleasure quarter was one of its most prosperous districts, with most of its value coming not from its salacious services, but rather the various industries built around them. Healers and doctors worked together, combining their powers to keep the region’s venereal diseases in tow. Their services were often considered the district’s entry fee. While some of its lower-class courtesans would take whatever customers came their way, most belonged to larger organisations that filtered their clientele; it was impossible to even get into their buildings without presenting a clean, up-to-date record of one’s sexual health.
But while they certainly drew in a great number of customers, the medical facilities were stuck playing second fiddle to the school. Gatts-Kermick University was located smack dab in the middle of all the blatant promiscuity. There were even brothels on its campus, the outward designs of which were crafted by the sculptors, painters, and architects gathered from afar to learn and better their trades. It was precisely the students that often worked at the most expensive and exclusive brothels and its headmaster that owned them. Their justification lay in the knowledge that courtesans often entered into the divine collective. Sex was but another art; sometimes a passionate duet, other times a choir where voices would come together to form a heated harmony. But the courtesans, much like the district, found that it was not necessarily the act itself from which the greatest value was derived.
Some went unsoiled for years on end, offering always their companionship but never quite their embrace. They would demonstrate their abilities in the arts instead, dancing, singing, painting, whatever their customers desired save for the most intimate of acts. It was precisely the rarity of their touch, and oftentimes even the rarity of their availability that drove the men and women that desired them to so frivolously loosen their purse strings.
It was a set of ideas that never would have flown on Cadrian soil. Any college that so openly flaunted its courses on matters so lewd would immediately be shut down and razed to the ground, let alone one built upon such a conflict of interest. The chairman would have been ordered by the crown to select one of the two businesses as his primary function and to task a corporation with managing the other.
Recalling one such nobleman, famous for manufacturing cutting boards, Claire slowly pushed herself out of bed, changed into something more casual, and walked into the kitchen. There was a long day ahead, and they would have to finalise their decision, after looking over the last few properties available.
To start such a busy, important day, she would make sure that every member of the expedition force, including the goddess watching over her from above, would start the morning with a burnt egg and a piece of charcoal toast.
Chapter 266 - Cat Business V
Claire stifled a yawn as she sat up in her bed and groggily rubbed her eyes. It was still early in the morning. The sun had only just poked her bare body above the horizon, but the local roosters were already crowing up a storm, cocking and doodling at the top of their lungs. Her first thought was to stomp over and shut the birds up, but she quickly suppressed the urge with a shake of the head. Such an act of violence would surely have earned her a lecture from the divine protector, and she wasn't in the mood to entertain her incessant squawking.
It had only been a week since they had stormed the city and placed Arciel on the throne, but the new queen’s policies had already been set in motion. That was not to say that a wave of change had suddenly swept across the country, or even the city for that matter. Her short-term changes took place on a much smaller scale, the prime example of which was the girls’ new place of residence. No longer were they holed up in Olga’s hotel, imposing on her hospitality as they had for months on end. At Arciel’s behest, they had moved into a brand new district that had practically sprung up overnight.
The trunk-faced mercenaries populated one half of the community—the desert people were still technically under the crown’s employ, but no longer were they allowed to treat the castle as their own property—while the other featured a cacophony of birds. Though not quite evicted like their long-nosed neighbours, they had ultimately lost their homes in the spire’s heroic sacrifice. Roughly a fifth of the arviad population had chosen to settle in Vel’khagan, while the rest had journeyed roughly two hours north, where a new, government-funded settlement would soon be tailor-made to suit their needs.
Though rushed along and tasked with a focus on quantity, the elven artisans responsible for the neighbourhood’s construction had clearly considered their demographics. The elephant-occupied northern half was built largely to the humanoid standard. It was really only the doorknobs that stood out at a glance—there were two sets installed on each entrance, one at waist level and the other much closer to the elephants’ faces. Looking inside the buildings revealed some additional customization. Namely, the toilet paper holders were placed above and behind the seats, and the ceilings were lined with shelves that a human would struggle to reach.
Perhaps because they were so close to the common standard, the erdbrechers’ homes were easy to distinguish from the thin, vertical houses built for the birds. The wood mages commissioned had upgraded the divine protectees from shacks made of mud and straw to large wooden houses with exaggerated roofs that featured external perches. While there were still some entrances placed on the ground for those unable to fly, most of the large, sliding doors were accessible only by air. As far as interiors went, the birds preferred the open-concept approach. The houses still contained distinct rooms, but a large open central area ensured that the residents could stretch their wings without having to venture outside. Perches and roosts filled the airspace, with additional racks provided so that more of them could be easily installed.
Claire's new home was at the intersection between the two sub-districts, its central location a function of Lia’s role as the community mediator. While its property was still a little small for the lyrkress’ tastes, it was certainly an upgrade from the tiny borrowed room. There were a total of six bedrooms on the building’s second floor, three of which had been claimed. The two furthest from the front door belonged to the cat and the snake respectively, while the third, which had only ever been used once, had Arciel's name written on its tag. Sylvia had been presented the option of claiming one of the spaces as well, but she had chosen to invade her mount's privacy instead.
Likewise, Boris had also turned down the idea of owning a man cave. He occupied the living room instead, often dozing off in the sun as it shone through the clear glass panes. Sometimes, he could be found sleeping in the weapon rack with all of Natalya’s new swords, or perhaps even framed on the wall. It depended on his mood, but in general, he preferred locations where he could feel the spring breeze on his cold, metal skin.
Despite the violent revolution, Vel'khagan was already back to normal. For the average citizen, little, if anything, had changed. There was hardly any damage inflicted to the city itself, with most of it focused on the taller buildings and the noble-owned areas that lay in the castle’s immediate vicinity. The battle's participants consisted primarily of the city's residents and professional mercenaries hired at a premium—even the criminals enlisted were people that worked within its walls. There had been no raiding. Most homes and businesses were still perfectly intact, save for those that had been looted prior to the passing of the crown. The streets were cleaner as well; fewer criminals were able to roam them openly with so many mercenaries and police forces on constant patrol. For those willing to turn a new leaf, it was a blessing, but the syndicates were unhappy. Aiding Arciel was supposed to have bolstered their grip on the nation, but her ruthless task forces diminished it instead. Their bases were not outright raided, but there were always guards stationed nearby, ready to catch and convict their members at a moment’s notice.
It was a problem that they suffered both on land and at sea; with the task of retaking the country finally relieved from the admiral’s shoulders, the navy was free to return to its usual work. They no longer had to feign weakness, and could fully bully the lowlives with the full extent of their powers.
Life in the castle appeared to be going rather swimmingly as well. Claire had yet to visit it for herself, but Arciel hadn’t seemed particularly tired when she stopped by the house. It was during said visit that she admitted to accepting Alfred’s terms, the precise details of which she refrained from speaking even when prodded. The only thing she did mention was that they were surprisingly non-predatory considering the number of victims.
Alfred’s new—and possibly only—temple was already in the midst of its preliminary construction. It was not placed upon the busy, overcrowded hill with no space remaining, but rather a quaint suburb not too far from the newly built neighbourhood. As promised, it was located right next to one of Flitzegarde’s and built to the specifications outlined in the god’s contract.
All that was left was for the old pervert to keep his end of the bargain, and that seemed to be at least somewhat underway. The tortured squid girls had been exported to his domain the day after the halfbreeds negotiated the deal. It was a brief delay caused in part by the time of day, and in part because Sylvia had spent all night catching up with her newly pregnant mother and her surprisingly upbeat father before she finally set out again in the morning. Claire had made herself scarce during the conversation and avoided Zelos’ eyes with utmost effort. Despite his kind and welcoming demeanor, the depths of the elf’s gaze still stung of bitterness and accountability. He had clearly not forgiven her and played along for his daughter’s sake. Even though Sylvia had clearly aided in the other paladins’ deaths. It was a clear-cut case of discrimination, but the lyrkress decided that she would forgive him just once.
Somehow, Claire found herself as busy as she had been during the coup’s preparation. She no longer had to go around the city guarding people, but the cat had dragged her to and fro all week, visiting the various locations where they could open their business.
Each candidate was labeled on the map spread across the dining room table. The detailed diagram was technically the government’s property; Claire had snuck it under her cloak when she spotted it in one of the underground conference rooms. Arciel had not exactly been pleased to see it when she visited and asked for it to be returned as soon as they settled on a location. Though she had heaved an exasperated sigh, the qiligon knew that it was anything but genuine. Case in point, she had even sent a mantis-shaped errand boy to deliver the accompanying marble pieces so that they could be used as markers.
Of the hundred-odd lots available throughout their city, the shopkeepers-to-be had already visited ninety and dismissed a similar number. It was in part because their agent was overzealous. The balding old man that had responded to the advertisement they placed on the job board was either deaf or an idiot. He had shown them properties of all shapes, sizes, and locations, even ones that matched exactly none of the requirements they had listed. To Claire’s dismay, Lia played along with his lunacy and soon began loosening her criteria and broadening her horizons.
Even with her mind opened, however, the cat was extremely picky. No matter how much she liked a location, she would refuse it unless it met the criteria that her godmother had forced upon her. According to the wildly successful businesswoman, the property had to be near the job board or on a major street, it had to have an enclosed backyard for the purposes of instruction, and most importantly of all, it had to be accessible by both land and sea. They were simple criteria, but surprisingly hard to meet with so few locations vacant and available. Even having seen so many, they had only identified a few good candidates.
One was in the northern wharf. It wasn’t anywhere near the job board, but it was located on a major route where its visitors were bound to pass. It didn’t have a yard either, but Lia had that weakness covered. She owned a large warehouse just down the street, thanks to her gambling habit, and a local craftsman had confirmed that it could easily be converted into something halfway between a classroom and a gym.
The second viable choice was a small shop on Main Street. It was close enough to the job board that it wasn’t entirely out of the way; anyone that grabbed a task from the board would barely have to walk or swim to seek guidance on their assignments. The central location meant it came with all the expected amenities as well. There was already a glass tank built into the side of the building, where customers of the underwater variety could still do business, as well as filters installed to keep the water clean and breathable. The only downsides were that it was expensive and that there wasn’t a backyard, but Arciel was footing the bill, and the guard station right behind it was also up for sale—the local police force was moving to a larger building on the opposite end of the street to accommodate the sudden inflation of its headcount.
If Claire’s veto was to be ignored, there was technically a third option. The dilapidated manor of House Ariti wasn’t quite a storefront as it stood, but with its owner under arrest and slated for execution, it was a vacant lot in a decent location. The mansion wasn’t directly connected to any waterways, but there was one down the street; anyone that struggled to move on land would only have to drag themselves a few dozen meters, and they could easily set up a bell for any customer that wanted to get their attention without climbing out of the water. The manor was a bit further away from the job board, but being located right beside the red light district, it was a place that many spelunkers would inadvertently pass. The only problem was that they preferred to hang around in the evening, and two of the three girls had unfortunately sharp ears.
Vel’khagan’s pleasure quarter was one of its most prosperous districts, with most of its value coming not from its salacious services, but rather the various industries built around them. Healers and doctors worked together, combining their powers to keep the region’s venereal diseases in tow. Their services were often considered the district’s entry fee. While some of its lower-class courtesans would take whatever customers came their way, most belonged to larger organisations that filtered their clientele; it was impossible to even get into their buildings without presenting a clean, up-to-date record of one’s sexual health.
But while they certainly drew in a great number of customers, the medical facilities were stuck playing second fiddle to the school. Gatts-Kermick University was located smack dab in the middle of all the blatant promiscuity. There were even brothels on its campus, the outward designs of which were crafted by the sculptors, painters, and architects gathered from afar to learn and better their trades. It was precisely the students that often worked at the most expensive and exclusive brothels and its headmaster that owned them. Their justification lay in the knowledge that courtesans often entered into the divine collective. Sex was but another art; sometimes a passionate duet, other times a choir where voices would come together to form a heated harmony. But the courtesans, much like the district, found that it was not necessarily the act itself from which the greatest value was derived.
Some went unsoiled for years on end, offering always their companionship but never quite their embrace. They would demonstrate their abilities in the arts instead, dancing, singing, painting, whatever their customers desired save for the most intimate of acts. It was precisely the rarity of their touch, and oftentimes even the rarity of their availability that drove the men and women that desired them to so frivolously loosen their purse strings.
It was a set of ideas that never would have flown on Cadrian soil. Any college that so openly flaunted its courses on matters so lewd would immediately be shut down and razed to the ground, let alone one built upon such a conflict of interest. The chairman would have been ordered by the crown to select one of the two businesses as his primary function and to task a corporation with managing the other.
Recalling one such nobleman, famous for manufacturing cutting boards, Claire slowly pushed herself out of bed, changed into something more casual, and walked into the kitchen. There was a long day ahead, and they would have to finalise their decision, after looking over the last few properties available.
To start such a busy, important day, she would make sure that every member of the expedition force, including the goddess watching over her from above, would start the morning with a burnt egg and a piece of charcoal toast.
