A soft chime broke the silence of the throne room, cutting through Renji's lingering embarrassment.
A blue holographic window materialized in front of his face.
[Message Received from: Prime Minister Kaelthas]
[Subject: Staffing Update]
[Body: My Lord, per your directive to integrate the conquered populace, I have selected a mortal assistant to aid in logistical operations. Your approval is required.]
Renji let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Thank god. A distraction.
He stood up from the obsidian throne, his joints popping satisfyingly. He stretched his arms high above his head, the heavy fur-lined mantle shifting with the movement.
"Well," he murmured to the empty room, "let's check it out."
He descended the dais and pushed open the massive double doors. The guards stationed outside slammed their halberds against the floor in a thunderous salute, but Renji walked past them without a glance.
To get to the Administrative Wing, he had to cross the Inner Palace.
Renji hated the Inner Palace.
It was a sprawling labyrinth of marble, silk, and gold leaf. It smelled of perfume so thick it tasted like candy, masking the underlying scent of desperation. This was where the "tributes" lived. The Imperial Consorts and Concubines. Daughters of defeated dukes, princesses of annexed city-states, beauties offered up by terrified mayors hoping to spare their towns from burning.
There were dozens of them. And technically, they all belonged to him.
As Renji strode into the Garden of Whispers, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The idle chatter of women lounging by the fountains died out. Heads turned. Fans snapped shut.
"His Majesty!" someone whispered.
Like a flock of beautiful, predatory birds, they began to move.
Renji kept his pace steady, his face locked into a serene, unreadable mask. Internally, his stomach churned.
This feels like walking through a minefield made of lingerie and political ambition, he thought bitterly.
A woman with hair like spun copper stepped directly into his path. She was wearing a gown of sheer blue silk that left very little to the imagination—a princess from the Sapphire Coast, if he remembered correctly.
"My Lord," she purred, dropping into a deep curtsey that displayed her cleavage. She held up a silver goblet. " The afternoon sun is harsh. Would you care for some chilled wine? It is a vintage from my father's—"
"No," Renji said.
He didn't stop moving. He side-stepped her smoothly.
She looked crushed, but another woman was already there to take her place. A raven-haired beauty from the Northern Duchies, holding a silk handkerchief.
"My King, your brow is damp," she said, reaching out as if to dab his forehead.
Renji caught her wrist gently but firmly before she could touch him. He flashed her a smile—a perfect, dazzling smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"I am fine," he said softly.
The woman flushed crimson, trembling at his touch. "O-of course, Your Majesty."
He released her and kept walking.
Get me out of here, he screamed internally. I'm not a prize stallion. I'm not a trophy. Stop looking at me like I'm a winning lottery ticket.
To them, he was the ultimate power. Sleeping with him meant safety. It meant their families back home might get better treatment. It meant status. He understood it, logically.
But emotionally? It made his skin crawl.
He kept the plastic smile plastered on his face, nodding politely to the women who lined the path, acknowledging their bows with regal indifference. He was the benevolent conqueror. The untouchable god-king.
He reached the heavy iron door at the end of the garden, shoved it open, and stepped into the cool, sterile hallway of the Administrative Wing.
The door slammed shut, cutting off the scent of perfume.
"Jesus," Renji exhaled, wiping his hand on his pants where he'd touched the woman's wrist. "I need to conquer a country just so I have an excuse to leave the house."
Kaelthas's office was the antithesis of the harem. It was cold, lit by the harsh white glow of mana-crystals, and smelled of ink and dry paper. Stacks of documents formed miniature skyscrapers on every available surface.
Kaelthas sat behind a desk large enough to land a wyvern on. In his human form, wearing his glasses and a crisp black suit, he looked like a CEO prepping for a hostile takeover.
"My Lord," Kaelthas said, standing up immediately and bowing. "You arrived quickly."
"I took a shortcut," Renji lied, walking into the room.
Then he saw her.
Standing by a bookshelf, clutching a stack of ledgers against her chest like a shield, was a Dark Elf.
She was stunning, in an exotic, dangerous way. Her skin was the color of obsidian, contrasting sharply with her short, silvery-white hair. Her eyes were a piercing violet. She wore a simple secretary's uniform—a tight pencil skirt and a white blouse—that struggled to contain her athletic frame.
Renji noticed the slight tremor in her hands.
[Name: Nyssa]
[Race: Dark Elf]
[Level: 15]
[Status: Terrified/Aroused]
Renji ignored the status tag. He walked over to the desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms.
"This is the helper?" Renji asked.
"Yes, my Lord," Kaelthas said, pushing his glasses up his nose. "Nyssa. She was a scribe in the obsidian mines. Her aptitude for calculus and resource management is... acceptable. For a mortal."
Nyssa quickly bowed, nearly dropping the ledgers. "I-it is an honor to stand in your presence, O Supreme One!"
Her voice was breathless. She didn't dare look him in the eye. She stared at his chest, at the silver embroidery of his tunic.
Renji looked at Kaelthas. "The Solarian Theocracy. Give me the logistical breakdown."
Kaelthas nodded, his demeanor shifting instantly to business. "The main invasion route lies through the Sun-Scorched Pass. However, their supply lines are vulnerable near the River delta. If we cut them off there..."
As Kaelthas droned on about grain shipments and mana-crystal consumption rates, Renji leaned forward to look at the map spread across the desk.
His movement brought him closer to Nyssa. He was close enough to smell her—she smelled of crushed berries and rain.
"And here," Renji said, pointing a finger at a fortress on the map. "If we move the siege engines here, what's the travel time?"
"Three days, my Lord," Kaelthas answered.
Renji nodded, deep in thought. "Make it two. Use the undead as pack mules if you have to."
As he spoke, his voice low and commanding, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye.
Nyssa was staring at him. She wasn't looking at the map. She was looking at his profile, her violet eyes wide and glassy. A dark flush had spread across her obsidian cheeks.
Renji shifted his weight, the muscles in his arm flexing under the silk tunic.
Fwip.
Nyssa's long, pointed ears twitched violently. They flicked downward, then perked up, vibrating slightly.
Renji paused. He glanced at her.
She gasped softly, realizing he was looking at her. She quickly tried to hide her face behind the ledger, but her ears were betraying her, twitching rhythmically like a cat spotting a bird.
Is she... is she getting turned on by logistics? Renji wondered, baffled.
"Nyssa," Renji said.
"Y-yes! Yes, my Lord!" She squeaked, snapping to attention.
"Take notes," he said, pointing at the map. "I want a summary of the grain distribution for the western front on my desk by morning."
"I will do it!" she said, her voice shaking with intensity. "I will count every grain! I will not fail you!"
Her ears flicked again, harder this time. She bit her lip, her eyes glued to his pointing finger.
Renji looked back at Kaelthas. The Lich-turned-human offered a small, knowing shrug.
"Very well," Renji said, straightening up. The overwhelming pressure of his presence receded slightly, allowing Nyssa to breathe. "Carry on, Kaelthas. I expect the army ready to march at dawn."
"It shall be done."
Renji turned and walked out of the office. As the door closed, he heard a distinct, heavy thud, as if someone had just collapsed into a chair with weak knees.
He walked back into the hallway, shaking his head.
Generals, harems, and now a secretary with an ear fetish, he thought. World conquest is weird.