by Tamryn Tamer
“There’s more over there!” another child added as a pair of elves worked together to take down one of the monstrous plants that grew in the forest.
Frost noticed the group struggling a bit and verified with a quick scan that they could handle it before deciding to leave them be. Most of the monsters in the forest were between levels one and ten while those in the surrounding plains could reach levels as high as thirty with the occasional rare spawn reaching level forty.
Frost spent a fair amount of time researching all of the areas in his territory and created a detailed hunting map for everybody to reference. It contained the types of monsters, the levels, their strengths and weaknesses, level recommendations, party recommendations, ability recommendations, and finally the type of materials the monsters broke down into. It was time consuming but it allowed him to streamline hunting and gathering while simultaneously minimizing the danger to the villagers.
“What is that?” a violet-haired elf asked, pointing at a massive building being constructed in the distance. “It looks like a castle!”
“A castle?” another elf chimed in while standing up in the wagon. “Can I see?”
Several children followed suit, jumping and straining their necks to get a view of the four-story stone building in the distance.
“Is that where the herald lives?”
“It’s better than that,” Fayeth said playfully, smiling at the excited child.
“That’s the academy,” Frost answered. “All of the children are expected to go there and if you’re an adult that’s unable to read and write you’ll also need to put in some time.”
“What?” one of the elf mothers glanced at her daughters. “You mean my children will be allowed to learn?”
“Seriously?”
“You’re going to teach us to read?” one of the adults asked.
“Yes,” Frost answered to all of them as they approached Pluma Forest’s central clearing. The elves gasped as they entered the grassy clearing and everything came into view. “But as you can see it’s still under construction.”
The front of the massive four-story building had two large towers that rose above the tree line on each of the corners and a gigantic front entrance leading to a great hall inside. The design was similar to that of a monastery, simple yet elegant. The rear of the building was still under construction and it would be quite a while before it was fully completed. There was currently enough room for all of the students but things were a little cramped.
Eventually the academy would circle an area to create an enormous park within itself where a central keep was going to be built to offer students protection in case of an attack. The keep would be a few stories taller than the academy and also go much deeper, connecting to the Arachne’s tunnel system beneath the forest.
Finally, dormitories needed to be added and attached to the building for students that were traveling from villages on the outskirts of his territory. For the time being, visiting students roomed with the demihumans of the village during the week.
Several dozen acres of forest were already cleared for the current construction and he had potentially two thousand acres set aside for future growth.
“When will it be finished?” one of the elf mothers asked.
“Students are already going if that’s what you’re wondering,” Frost said while pointing at human and demihuman children in a large field beside the building practicing magic under the supervision of Queen Slakka, an Arachne spellweaver. The crimson-haired Arachne looked surprisingly energetic as she demonstrated simple elemental magic. “Don’t worry, Brynn and Des will get you all set and explain everything.”
Frost pointed toward the main village which over the last couple months had more than tripled in size. The temple which used to be on the northern edge of the village presently resided in the center and hadn’t changed much, although a good portion of land was reserved behind it for possible expansions.
The houses directly to the south of the temple were owned by the elves who lived in the village first and were considered the most valuable property due to their proximity to the temple. Past those structures, new homes had been built in circular communities with large central gardens for congregation. One circular community would be built and then right beneath it a new circle was added. Frost kind of preferred it to the traditional squares that his world followed. Those homes were largely occupied by elves and beast-like demihumans such as Florenne, Myrran, and Durra.
“What are those buildings?” one of the elves pointed at the three large structures built near the temple. Each structure was nearly as large as the temple itself and identical in style.
“Bathhouses,” Frost sighed while staring at them. “Men, women, and mine.”
“You have your own bathhouse?” an elf said timidly. “Is it because you don’t want to share water with…”
“Uh,” Frost scratched his neck while glancing back at the children. “So, it’s complicated. Any woman is free to use my bathhouse but no men are allowed.”
“That’s not that complicated,” Elion chuckled while stroking his daughter’s hair.
“You’re saying that I can use the herald’s bathhouse?” one of Ruvaen’s wives asked smugly while glaring at her azure haired husband.
“Absolutely not,” Ruvaen answered sternly.
“Which is why it’s complicated,” Frost sighed. “At first I figured a men’s and women’s bath would be fine but then some of the men got upset for obvious reasons so we ended up with three.”
“Herald Frost?” a timid elf raised her hand. “Am I allowed in your bathhouse?”
“Absolutely,” Frost said, smiling at the violet-haired elf. Her frame was similar to Renna’s, slender and short, but she had pale skin and long hair that reached halfway down her back. “It can get pretty crowded though.”
“What’s up there?” an elf asked, pointing north past the temple.
“Just more houses,” Fayeth answered. “Some people like different environments.”
The area north of the temple was much more chaotic in design due to the wide varieties of monsters. The slime women needed damp underground burrows as opposed to traditional wooden homes, the orcs preferred large stone homes that could double as workshops, and the centaurs required large wooden stables.
Then there was Yama’s house near the northern edge of the village. She was part giant, part Oni, and nearly three times Frost’s size. As a result, normal homes wouldn’t really fit her and they built her a barn-like building to live in. The sandy-blonde woman was thrilled with it. She was used to sleeping in large caves or on the forest floor so she thought having a roof over her head and a real mattress to sleep on was amazing.
“Whose house is that?” an elf pointed at the medium sized house built on top of a small cluster of trees. The structure was located nearly halfway between the temple and the academy. Web bridges connected to one of the towers of the academy as well as the second-floor balcony of the temple. The trees below were wrapped in webbing and planks creating a safe stairway for anybody who wished to visit the house.
“That’s where Lishri lives,” Frost answered as he glanced up. “She’s one of my wives. You’ll meet her at some point. She makes clothing.”
“You married a seamstress?” an elf said, the surprise in her voice made Frost smile.
“If you find that shocking just wait until you meet her,” Frost said while stifling a laugh. “Lishri is an Arachne Queen.”
“The rumors are true then,” an elf said as her face turned pink.
“I’d say depends on the rumor,” Frost smirked. He’d heard a few new ones recently which really made him laugh, although they were completely untrue. The centaurs were surprisingly disinterested in him and although the werewolf women were interested, he was not. “I’m sure you’ll figure out what’s an exaggeration and what’s not pretty quick. First thing’s first, we need to get you all checked in, interviewed, and find some accommodations.”
> They arrived in front of the temple to find Brynn and Lysandra arguing with the Sir Wildflower who’d been selected as Rilia’s ambassador to Pluma Territory. The level sixty-two cavalier immediately silenced himself as Frost approached with his procession of elves.
“Herald Frost,” Sir Wildflower bowed politely. The man’s eyes were nearly as dark as his sable hair and he wore a stern expression. “I was hoping to see…”
“My love!” Lysandra rushed toward Frost, her violet-eyes brimming with joy at the sight of him. The white-haired elf wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him as several of the new arrivals giggled excitedly. He wrapped his hands around Lysandra’s slender waist and slid them down her silky white priestess robe, cupping her round ass while lifting her playfully. “Goddess I’ve missed you. You’ve been away too long. We should head upstairs. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too,” Frost said as the elf buried her face in his neck, nuzzling and kissing him.
“Lysandra,” Brynn sighed as she stared at the excited priestess. “Can’t you wait…”
“Herald Frost,” Sir Wildflower cleared his throat. “As I was saying…”
“No,” Brynn interrupted. His petite wife was nearly a foot shorter than Sir Wildflower but her gravitas made her feel twice as tall. The athletic raven-haired bard was wearing a cobalt gown with a platinum filigree pattern along the edges and she’d never looked queenlier. “You were talking to me and as far as you’re concerned…”
“Brynn,” Frost released Lysandra, to the snowy-haired elf’s disappointment, and walked toward his petite wife, grabbing her slender waist and turning her toward him. He leaned down and kissed her deeply on the lips as warmth filled her face. “I’ve missed you.”
“Mmm,” Brynn tried not to smile as her cheeks turned red. “I’ve missed you two handsome but we agreed that I’m in charge of affairs of state and this…”
“This is also an affair of state,” Frost said while pointing at the procession of women behind him. “I’m sure I can have a chat with Sir Wildflower while you and Lysandra get them all sorted. Des can help as well if she’s not busy.”
“Hm,” Brynn glanced at the group and started counting. A wicked grin formed at the corner of her mouth as she got to the two male elves, she momentarily paused before continuing to count.
“What was that?” Frost asked with a hint of jealousy. “Why are you smiling?”
“No reason,” Brynn said impishly. “I’m just happy to see some people that might help take some of your workload. You haven’t…”
“Really?” Frost said, narrowing his eyes as he loomed over his tiny wife. “You don’t think I can handle my own workload?”
“I think you can handle it,” Lysandra said, tugging at his arm. “And I’d like you to handle it now…”
“She’s been like this on and off all week,” Brynn groaned. “It comes and goes but when it comes, it really comes.”
“Has it been that rough?” Frost asked, smirking at his petite wife.
“Well,” Brynn sighed while staring at the red-faced elf. “On a scale of one to ten, she’s at about a four right now. When she reaches a seven, she starts to get aggressive.”
“I’m sure you handled it fine,” Frost said, slightly jealous that he wasn’t around to see her at a seven. Lysandra’s sex-drive was all over the place ever since she became pregnant. Her new baseline was always ready to go but she’d occasionally go into overdrive.
“She’s not the only one that missed you though,” Brynn stepped forward and pressed her hands against his abdomen before sliding them up toward his shoulders. “I’m looking forward to you having some time for me as well.”
“Ahem,” Sir Wildflower cleared his throat, clearly irritated by the informality. “I would prefer if…”
“Hey!” Brynn snapped at Wildflower, shaking her head no. The raven-haired woman pulled Frost down toward her and kissed him deeply. Sliding her tongue in his mouth for several seconds before releasing him. “I haven’t seen my handsome husband in a week.”
“Herald Frost?” one of the elves timidly raised her hand. “Would you like us to wait here or…”
“But you’re right handsome. I suppose this will have to wait,” Brynn sighed while releasing her grasp on Frost. She glanced at the malnourished elves waiting patiently for orders, most of them not even moving from their seats in the wagons. “Alright everybody. Unload and line up in front of the temple. Prior to your interview you will be asked to imbibe a potion that will force you to tell the truth. If you have issues with that, then you can be on your merry way.”
“It seems like you have things handled here,” Lysandra said while gently tugging Frost’s arm. “That means…”
“No,” Brynn said, grabbing Lysandra. “You’re helping.”
“Brynn,” Frost frowned at the bureaucratic beauty. “Be a little nicer. They’ve had a long trip and…”
“It’s fine,” one of the elves said. Several others nodded along in agreement. “We have nothing to hide.”
“These interviews are private, right?” Ruvaen asked nervously while glancing at his wives. “They’re not group interviews or anything?”
“Why would that matter?” one of the blue-haired elf’s wives asked as the others circled him like hyenas. “What are you hiding now? Has some new woman caught your fancy already?”
“We’ll have you know that we have options too,” his green-haired wife said while gesturing toward Frost as the blue-haired wives nodded along. “If you’re going to fool around on us then maybe we should all just visit the herald’s bathhouse!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ruvaen said, forcing a smile for his wives.
“The interviews are private,” Brynn said, staring judgmentally at the elf. “They are for security. Anyway, line up. Inside we have food and clothing while you each wait for your turns. Lysandra will take some and I’ll take some and we’ll find Desdemona and maybe some other helpers. It shouldn’t take too long.”
“How long does the potion last exactly?” Ruvaen asked, still clearly nervous. “And how long are the interviews?”
“Stop hiding things from your wives and it wouldn’t matter,” Brynn said unsympathetically. “Now let’s get moving,” Brynn gestured at the door where women and children were already lining up. She glanced at Frost and then at Wildflower, “With help this will only take about an hour or so.”
“You heard her,” Lysandra said as Brynn tugged on her arm, pulling the violet-eyed priestess away from Frost. “An hour.”
“Thank you,” Sir Wildflower said politely as Brynn walked toward the wagons and began unloading the elves as Lysandra led them into the temple. The cavalier glanced at Brynn and Lysandra, waiting patiently for them to be properly occupied. “I don’t suppose we can talk somewhere more private?”
“Brynn and Lysandra are going to be busy in the temple,” Frost answered while nodding toward the entertainment district to the west of the temple. It was still small since Pluma’s economy was mostly based on bartering, but Madam Gardenia still opened a small tavern and an inn. A theater was also under construction but that was a private venture funded by Jasmine. The orange-haired Myrran really loved putting on shows. “We’ll have a drink at the Happy Garden. You should feel at home there, Wildflower.”
“It’s a family name,” Sir Wildflower sighed as he followed Frost toward the small tavern next to the eight-bedroom inn.
The tavern was a single-story building with an undersized kitchen behind the bar, a few tables in the front, a small stage where maybe up to two people could sing, and an office in the back. Despite its cozy size, the place was frequently packed in the evenings thanks to the large assortment of wine and the music.
They walked in to see a crimson-haired elf hunched over the counter sleeping.
Both of Madam Gardenia’s establishments in Pluma were managed by Rose, an elegant redheaded elf courtesan that previously helped manage the gi
rls in Madam Gardenia’s Blackwater brothel. She was an ambitious woman that idolized the fox-eared madam and jumped at the chance to run her own establishments, even if they were in a small village full of penniless demihumans. She was doing a fantastic job but she was also running herself ragged trying to turn a profit.
“Herald Frost!” the elf jerked awake as the door slammed behind them, practically jumping up from the spot where she was resting on the counter. “I’m so sorry! How long were you here? I mean,” Rose centered herself and took a breath, regaining her composure. “Welcome to the Happy Garden, what can I get you this evening?”
“It’s the afternoon yet,” Frost laughed at the flustered elf while grabbing a seat at the table. “You can go back to sleep if you want.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Rose said with a smile as she brought over a bottle of wine and a pair of tall glasses. She slid it in front of Sir Wildflower. “Ambassador Wildflower, I’m sure your journey to Pluma was rather exhausting. Surely you’d enjoy some refreshments?”
“Sure,” Sir Wildflower nodded as Rose filled his glass.
“Herald Frost,” Rose pouted as she stared at his empty glass. “It would be rude to allow a diplomat to drink alone.”
“Fine,” Frost sighed. “How much is this going to cost me?”
“Cost?” Sir Wildflower paused as he placed his glass down, but it was too late. “You mean you weren’t just…”
“This is a business Ambassador Wildflower,” Rose said, feigning shock. “Did you intend to leverage your position as an Ambassador of Rilia to force me into giving you free goods?”
“No, absolutely not,” Sir Wildflower said while pulling out his coin pouch. “How much?”
“Well first I should tell you a little bit about this wine and how…”
“How much?” Frost interrupted. He had no doubt that Rose had an entire speech rehearsed involving only using the finest berries and some secret process of blending but it was largely nonsense. She purchased all of her berries from the villagers and made her own wine from it. Her prices were based entirely on whatever nonsense she came up with and how much her customers were buying it.
