NOVEL NEXT Chapter 52: Strategy meeting
After a good while, Abby re-emerged from under the covers.
She wore a sweet, satisfied smile, as if she had just accomplished something of great importance.
Alistair, however, was staring blankly at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling. A single thought echoed in his mind. That's it?
Abby licked her lips and covered her mouth with a hand to hide a giggle, assuming her master was simply tired. She gave his warm chest a little nuzzle, then hopped out of bed. Her slender, delicate feet made a happy pitter-patter sound on the floor as she ran to wash her face and rinse her mouth. Then, on her tiptoes, she pitter-pattered back to the bed.
As he felt the little maid settle back into his arms, Alistair's eyes remained wide open, his mind a complete fog.
"Master, hold me~"
Abby snuggled into her master's embrace, her face, flushed with a rosy glow, was breathtakingly beautiful. A shy smile played on her lips as she took Alistair's hand and placed it on her own smooth, soft back. She rubbed against his broad chest like a puppy, her supple feet restlessly tracing patterns on his calves. She looked up at him.
"Hehe, Master, weren't you asleep just now?"
Alistair hesitated. He hadn't planned on saying anything, but the matter was too perplexing to ignore. He had to ask.
"Abby," he whispered, "what… what were you just doing?"
"I…" Abby's face instantly turned scarlet. The question seemed difficult to answer. She buried her head in his chest, leaving only two small, twitching ears visible. After a moment of deliberation, she finally managed to answer, her voice muffled with embarrassment. "Abby… Abby was practicing… Master, did you not like it?"
"…"
Alistair was silent for a moment. Finally, meeting the little maid's anxious gaze, he rubbed his nose and said with a sigh, "I liked it, it's just… the person who taught you how to play the flute probably didn't teach you the essentials."
"Eh? Why…? But Thea demonstrated it for me carefully…" Abby looked up from his embrace, her face a mask of pure confusion. She stared at him blankly, tilting her head as she thought. A moment later, a spark of understanding lit her eyes.
"Master," she asked tentatively, "Abby kissed it two hundred and ninety-eight times. Did you not like that?"
"…"
Alistair closed his eyes in mental agony. "Never mind," he said, his voice laced with resignation. "It was nothing… I liked it very much. Go to sleep. I'll help you with your meditation when we wake up tomorrow."
Abby pressed her face into the crook of Alistair's arm, inhaling his scent, her expression still full of bewilderment.
I must not have done it right!
"But Thea said if I did that, Master would want to make a baby with me…"
Abby's brow furrowed slightly as she made a silent, firm resolution. Tomorrow, I'll ask Thea again… No, I'll ask Mrs. Agnes, too. I have to master the secret technique for making a baby with Master!
In that moment, a flame of fierce determination burned in the little maid's eyes.
...
He slept until dawn.
For the first time, when Alistair awoke, the little maid was still nestled in his arms. She was, however, already meditating, her hands clasped together at her chest as she focused on the Breath of the Wild.
Alistair could feel that the energy emanating from her was even more potent this time. He was confident that after one or two more sessions like this, Abby would awaken her power.
The previous night's… interruption had prevented him from testing his theory about her abilities. He would have to try again tonight. With nothing else pressing to do, he stroked the girl's soft waist while he browsed the system shop, curious to see what his two thousand villain points could buy.
Ballistae, mana stones… huh? When did they add a 'Daily Life' section? Let's have a look…
Soap, perfume… these are good. I can use them to make a fortune in the Capital… Sheer lace lingerie? I'll take a set. Why not, it's only fifty points…
Dynamite? Too expensive… Siege engines, six hundred points?
Siege ladders?!
Alistair's eyes lit up as a strange and brilliant idea flashed through his mind.
*****
"Move it! Run!"
"Emergency assembly!"
In a small town near Frostcrest, a knight was shouting orders at a group of able-bodied militiamen.
"Form ranks! Attention!"
"Sir Knight! The Ironwood Town militia has assembled! Totaling one hundred and three men."
In Ironwood Town, a settlement under Frostcrest's rule, a throng of militiamen gathered in the square. They were armed with whatever they could find: wooden pikes, household butcher knives, even hunting bows.
Their attire was even more varied than their weapons. Some wore thick winter coats with crude armor woven from ironwood vines. Others were draped in simple animal hides and leather caps. A few had simply tied sheets of scrap iron to the front and back of their linen shirts.
Though they looked pathetic, their ranks were surprisingly orderly. Unlike the militias of other domains, whose eyes were typically dull and lifeless, these men were filled with high morale.
The moment these farmers heard their lord was going to war, they had dropped their tools and volunteered. This was unheard of. In the past, knights would have had to go door-to-door, forcibly conscripting men. Their eagerness stemmed from a single, profound reason: their lord had abolished the tithe.
These men were serfs, living at the very bottom of society, not even considered proper civilians. They had never imagined a lord could be so merciful. And so, at the first opportunity, they were desperate to contribute.
In their simple minds, their lord was going to war to defend the domain. And for them, a domain where their lives were visibly improving was not just land—it was their land, their families, and the benevolent lord who made it all possible.
The knight watching them felt a sense of awe, but lacking the words to express it, he simply focused on his duty.
"Maintain formation! Don't break ranks! Our destination is Ravenwood. Forward, at a run!"
Led by the knight, the militia marched, filled with reverence for their lord and a bittersweet reluctance to leave their homes. They left behind a crowd of women, children, and the elderly, who watched their dwindling figures disappear into the distance.
This same scene was playing out in dozens of towns and villages around Frostcrest.
Because Alistair's order to form patrol units had already been delivered the day before, the mobilization was incredibly swift. By that afternoon, all the militias from the surrounding regions had assembled at Frostcrest.
It was obvious that the local Frostcrest militia was much better equipped, with proper weapons and matching sets of armor. Even those who hadn't been issued armor had strapped pots and iron plates to their bodies, clearly having brought their life savings to the battlefield.
As Alistair stood on the reviewing dais, he was deeply moved. He could see the profound, subtle impact his actions had on the common people.
Though he had never paid them special attention, they had remembered every deed in their hearts.
The regular Sword-and-Shield guards, in particular, looked at him with an almost fanatical devotion, as if they were beholding a god. Alistair had no doubt that if he ordered them to charge to their certain deaths, they would do so without fear.
After reviewing the troops, Alistair paid another visit to Aubrey's home. The boy's mother was stable, but there was still no easy cure for her lung disease. According to Old Evander, all they could do for now was manage it with medicine.
Alistair then visited the other families who had been robbed, reissuing their death stipends before returning to Snowmantle Citadel amidst their tearful gratitude.
And now, in the great hall of Snowmantle Citadel, a strategy meeting was about to begin—a meeting to plan the conquest of Ravenwood and the border iron mine.