Chapter 51: Can we go to sleep now?
[System Alert: You have executed Great Knight Ray, your follower of many years. +2000 Villain Points.]
[System Goal: Continue on this path to become The Ultimate Villain.]
The sudden system notification nearly sent Alistair stumbling. The knight beside him quickly steadied him, his movements cautious.
Alistair was so exasperated he almost laughed. I earned Villain Points for ridding the world of a pest? System, can you explain why?
[System Alert: The ignorant masses are merely cowed by your ruthlessness, while your own knights are terrified by your lack of mercy.]
Alistair’s expression turned to ice. He scanned the face of the knight beside him, noting his fearful expression and shifting eyes. "Tell me what you think of this matter," Alistair said suddenly. "I want your true thoughts."
"My lord, I... well..." The knight’s face was a mask of panic, and he stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence.
"That was an order."
"Yes... It’s just... Great Knight Ray followed you for so many years. He was always loyal. For you to execute him over a few dead men, a few commoners... it’s..." The knight trailed off, his expression pained, not daring to say more.
The air grew thick with silence. The knight could feel his lord’s gaze on him, sharp as a blade.
Loyalty? A truly loyal man would not have disobeyed his orders. Loyalty wasn’t measured in years of service. Ray had been nothing more than a selfish, greedy opportunist. His so-called loyalty was merely a devotion to Alistair’s rank and power. If he was willing to extend his filthy hands out of greed today, what guarantee was there that he wouldn’t betray his lord for an even greater prize tomorrow?
"Do the others think as you do?"
"Y-yes, my lord. Most of them. A few of the knights said they didn’t care either way." As if to bolster his courage, the knight added in a shaky voice, "Even... even Lord Thorne sighed, and said..."
"Said what?"
"He said the crime did not warrant death..."
It didn’t warrant death?
Alistair fell silent at those words. He returned to Snowmantle Citadel, his mind in turmoil.
That night, Alistair sat at his desk, brooding. He stared at the various trivial reports concerning the domain, and everything felt wrong.
Just then, he heard cheerful footsteps outside, followed by a soft knock.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Master, I’m coming in~"
Dressed in a perfectly neat maid’s uniform, Abby tiptoed into the room, gently closing the door behind her. She seemed to float to Alistair’s side like a little angel. She was exceptionally perceptive and could immediately tell that the man before her was in a foul mood.
"Master, is something troubling you?" Abby blinked her large, rose-tinted eyes, looking with concern at Alistair’s tightly furrowed brow.
"It’s nothing, just didn’t sleep well." Alistair patted the little maid’s head and forced a smile, but it failed to conceal the vexation and exhaustion in his eyes.
Abby quietly moved behind him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him with just enough pressure to let him rest the back of his head against her chest. Enveloped in the little maid’s gentle, clean scent, Alistair felt an unexpected wave of relaxation wash over him. The needle-like pounding in his head began to subside.
Abby pressed her cheek softly against his ear. While she savored the scent of him, she murmured, "Master, if something is upsetting you, you have to tell Abby. Maybe Abby can help."
"It’s about the death stipends."
Feeling the little maid’s tenderness and concern, Alistair found he could no longer hide it. Seeing the girl’s confused expression, he recounted the day’s events, including the reactions of his knights.
"I don’t believe I was wrong," Alistair muttered, his expression lost. "The fallen must be honored, and a man like that cannot be allowed to remain."
It was the first time Abby had ever sensed such an emotion from this powerful man. She felt a pang of heartache for him. She comforted him by gently rubbing her cheek against the stubble on his chin.
"How could Master be wrong?"
"My father once told me that no one is born a hero. Although the soldiers who died were common men, he said that to wear the crown is to bear its weight. The moment they put on their armor, took up their swords, and marched onto the battlefield, every single one of them became a hero."
"When the honor of heroes is trampled instead of guarded, what man would ever again choose that path?"
As she spoke, Abby’s soft eyes gazed at Alistair’s profile. In her heart, the man before her was her hero, the giant who held up the sky for her. Even if no one else understood him, she would stand with him without a second thought.
Besides, Alistair wasn’t wrong. In the kingdoms of the beastkin, respect and care for the war dead was an innate tradition. It was why tens of thousands of beastkin soldiers had fought to the last man, with none surrendering. It was why, even as the human armies advanced to his very throne, their king had stubbornly raised his sword one last time.
After hearing Abby’s words, Alistair felt a sense of clarity and relief. He hadn’t been wrong, he had simply been isolated, and in that isolation, he had begun to doubt himself. Now, with Abby’s support, his conviction was firm once more.
Alistair turned and gathered the petite maid in his arms, kissing her on the cheek. "Having you," he said with a smile, "is the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to me."
Abby’s face flushed crimson. She melted into his embrace and hummed in a voice as soft as a whisper, "M-master, it’s late. Can we go to sleep now?"
...
After washing up, Alistair lay on the large, soft velvet bed. He recalled the day’s events, but his mind was now completely at peace.
The maid’s dress slid smoothly from Abby’s body. She slipped under the covers and into his arms, snuggling close and placing a soft hand on his chest, her eyes half-closed.
"Master... hold me..."
Her velvety, trembling whisper tickled his ear, her warm breath caressing his skin. She nuzzled against his sleep robe like a kitten, and Alistair could feel the warmth of her tender cheek against his chest. He wrapped an arm gently around her waist, affectionately rubbing his stubbled chin against her smooth forehead while his other hand stroked her back soothingly.
"What is it, my little treasure?"
Abby pressed herself against her master’s strong chest, her eyes hazy with emotion. Her hands clutched his waist tightly, like a drowning person clinging to a final piece of driftwood. Her face was bright red with shyness as she stammered, "It’s nothing, it’s just... just..."
"Hmm?"
The deep, magnetic timbre of his voice sent a shiver through her heart. Unable to hold back her thoughts any longer, she bit her red lip and said sweetly, "Oh, it’s... Master, can we... can we make a baby together now?"
"No. We’ll talk about it later. Be good."
"Ehh? Master, is it because you think Abby is still too small?" Abby squirmed in his arms, pouting as she protested. "But I’m already an adult! Beastkin are just built this way; our size doesn’t change much with age. It’s not something I can control... My breasts are just a little small, but they should grow bigger soon..."
"...Master... please...?"
"Ahem. Abby, look at the moon outside. It’s so big and round..." Alistair gently cupped her face and turned her head toward the window.
"Hmph..." Abby grumbled unhappily. She had been so forward, nearly dying of embarrassment, yet her master remained unmoved.
She inhaled his scent, the intoxicating aroma that made her feel weak, and wrapped a slender leg around his. As she snuggled against him, her mind raced. How did one make a baby? She couldn’t do it alone; her master had to want it first. She thought of the lessons Mrs. Agnes had been teaching her these past few days, and the encouragement from the other maids.
But... it’s still so embarrassing...
She covered her burning face with her hands, hesitating for another moment before finally making a decision.
But when she looked up, she found that her master had already fallen asleep.
"M-master?"
"Zzzzzzz..."
"Is Master really asleep? Is he tricking Abby?"
"Zzzzzzz..."
"W-well... you go to sleep then, Master," she whispered. "Abby is going to... practice her flute..."
Saying this, before Alistair could react, Abby slowly slid down into the blankets. Soon, only the tip of her beautiful tail remained visible above the velvet quilt, and for a long time, she did not re-emerge.