Chapter 69
Written by Bayzo Albion
Morning broke over the forest like molten gold, spilling between the leaves and washing the camp in warm, honeyed light. The prisoners were already waiting, formed into a tight semicircle around me. Their eyes held a bright, almost feverish energy, edged with just enough fear to keep them honest. Perfect. The contract was doing its job.
"Good morning," I said, letting my gaze drift across every face.
"Good morning, my lord!" The reply came sharp and nearly in unison, like soldiers on parade.
"Sleep well?"
"Yes, my lord!" This time there was something real beneath the chorus, a thin thread of genuine gratitude.
"Good. Then let's work."
They lunged at the trees as though trying to outrun the devil himself. Axes flashed wildly, branches exploded in every direction, one man nearly took his own foot off with a badly aimed swing.
"Stop!" I barked, raising a hand. "Stop, stop, stop! Are you trying to kill yourselves?"
Silence crashed down like a curtain.
I walked to the nearest pine, drew an ordinary wooden axe from the pile, and took my stance where everyone could see. One smooth, powerful stroke, blade biting deep. Second stroke, precise. Third, merciless. The trunk groaned, shuddered, and came down with a thunderous crack that shook the earth and filled the air with the sharp, sweet scent of fresh resin.
They stared, some awestruck, some wary.
"See?" I said, resting the axe on my shoulder. "It's not about flailing like madmen. Technique beats brute force every time. Slow and steady wins the race. Repeat it."
"Slow and steady… wins the race," they muttered, still half-dazed.
"Exactly. Work at your own pace, but work smart. Energy is expensive. Don't burn it all in the first hour."
They went back to it, slower now, almost comically careful at first. But I watched the change take root. Each swing became cleaner, more deliberate. They were learning. Fast.
Half an hour later, once the rhythm felt solid, I activated the glowing timer rune hovering in the air and called out, "Ten-minute break!"
A collective exhale rippled through the group, but no one sat until I nodded. They lowered themselves onto logs like men afraid the ground might bite, wiping sweat, trading quick whispers.
"At this speed we'll never earn anything…" one grumbled, rolling the axe handle between cracked palms.
"He keeps telling us not to push too hard," another muttered, shaking his head. "Crazy."
"We're fed. We're not being beaten. That's already heaven," a third laughed, low and bitter. "Forget the vodka and smokes. Just obey."
"Did you see him drop that tree? With a normal axe?"
"He could clear this whole forest alone if he wanted."
"So why the hell does he need us?"
"Maybe it's not about the wood. Maybe it's about… watching us dance."
"Shut up, timer's almost up."
They shot to their feet like puppets on strings and seized their tools again.
I stepped closer. "Stones in one pile, branches in another, leaves and brush separate. Everything gets used. Work with your heads, not like barbarians."
A chorus of nods, and I retreated into the shade to watch.
Yes. Exactly according to plan. They still had no idea I wasn't raising laborers. I was raising belief. And belief, properly cultivated, becomes power.
The air thickened without warning. Birds went silent. Even the wind held its breath.
Then she stepped out of the forest as though the trees themselves parted for her.
The Forest Queen.
Her bare feet made no sound on the moss, yet every eye was dragged toward her like iron filings to a magnet. Her voice rolled across the clearing, soft as morning mist, cold as first frost.
"So this is what you're spending my gold on? These useless wrecks?"
"I haven't touched your gold yet," I answered, keeping my tone level, no excuses.
"I asked for explanations, not evasions."
"I'm practicing people management," I said. "I know you're impatient, but a little patience now will pay dividends later."
"I asked for explanations," she repeated, steel sliding into the silk.
"Fine." I lifted a hand, cutting the air. "We're spending resources today so we can earn far more tomorrow. It's called investment."
Her brows drew together. "I don't understand a word."
"Simpler, then," I said calmly. "We sell the logs, we make money. Yes?"
A pause. Then a slow nod. "Yes."
"These men turn labor into logs. Logs into coin. Their sweat is capital. Slow capital, but guaranteed."
She studied me, green eyes narrowing. "Still… much is unclear."
"That's good for you," I smiled. "If my plan fails, you lose nothing. If it succeeds, we both win big."
Silence. Then the faintest curve at the corner of her mouth, though her gaze stayed winter-cool.
"There is logic in that," she conceded. "Logic, however, does not prevent mistakes."
"Determination does," I countered.
Our contract was iron and starlight: if I failed her, I'd be bound to hunt monsters in these woods for eternity, filling her larders until the suns burned out. Motivation enough.
"Fine," she said, folding her arms. "We'll sell the timber and test your theory in the real world."
"Are you insane?" I laughed. "I need every log. We're nowhere near ready to sell raw materials."
She tilted her head, testing. "There's hardly enough wood here anyway…"
"It's not about volume yet," I shook my head. "The more we invest up front, the fatter the return. Right now we're operating at a planned loss. Necessary loss. Find craftsmen, turn logs into furniture, furniture sells for three, four, five times the price of raw timber. That's where the real money hides."
She considered me for a long moment, something almost like intrigue flickering behind the ice.
"I'll trust you," she said at last. "You are not of this world. Your ways are alien… but interesting." A pause. "Part of me still doubts."
"Excellent," I grinned. "Means I'm doing it right."
We stood side by side, watching the men work. The steady thunk-thunk-thunk of axes became a heartbeat in the clearing, rhythmic, almost meditative.
"Soon," I said quietly, "these same men will hunt monsters for you. They'll bleed so your storehouses stay full."
"That sounds… perfect," she replied, but doubt lingered like morning fog.
I turned to her. "And when they take all the burden off your shoulders… won't you get bored?"
She gave a soft, dangerous laugh. "Boredom is a luxury for the weak. I have lived inside my duty for centuries. Exhaustion is stronger than nostalgia."
"Losing your purpose is scarier than any labor," I murmured, studying the perfect, cold line of her profile in the slanted light.
"You say strange things," she smiled, "like someone who has never been truly tormented." Then she leaned closer, eyes sharpening. "Speaking of which… what did you do to your life essence?"
"Nothing," I said, genuinely startled.
"Then why…" Her voice dropped, velvet and steel. "Why do I suddenly feel desire? I am not like other women. I do not hunger for energy the way they do."
I hesitated. "I have a theory."
"Speak."
"It's possible… your body senses it's time. Time to choose a father. The urge appears even without magical need. Biology overriding everything else."
She went very still, lips parting as she tasted the idea. Then a slow, wondering smile.
"If you truly did nothing to your aura… then perhaps you're right. The body rarely lies."
Something wicked sparked in her eyes.
"The real question is location. Where should the Forest Queen's child be conceived? Mud swamps, perhaps?"
"Absolutely not," I shot back instantly.
"The sea, then?" Her smile turned predatory. "You said you loved the sea."
Before I could answer, she closed the distance and wrapped her arms around me. Her skin was cool as moonlight, but beneath it burned something fierce and ancient, like geothermal fire under a glacier.
Space folded.
One heartbeat we were in the forest; the next, barefoot on warm golden sand.
The ocean roared its welcome. Salt wind whipped my hair, filled my lungs with wild, electric freedom. Waves rolled in endless silver and sapphire, whispering secrets older than continents. The sun here was gentler, a lover's touch rather than a tyrant's lash, turning the beach into living amber.
Even mud swamps sounded tempting all of a sudden.
Later, I promised myself. Everything later.
She released me but stayed close, staring out where sea kissed sky until the line between them vanished. In her silence was a vow. Something vast and imminent.
I had spent my old life choking on gray monotony, one identical day after another until the hunger for anything new became a living beast inside me. That beast was wide awake now, pacing, eager.
Sex in a swamp? Why not. Sex on a cliff in a thunderstorm? Sign me up. Sex right here while the tide sang its endless song?
Also an excellent option.
I turned to her.
Our eyes met, hers the exact green of deep forest pools, wild and bottomless as the ocean before us.
Neither of us spoke.
We didn't need to.
The sea already knew why we had come.