Their trip to the mansion didn’t take long. It was located just over the rolling green hills to the west side of the village. Mary led the way, with the man walking behind her, his eyes locked into her ample behind. When the wind blew, his gaze went to her exposed legs and thighs, cursing the fact that her long skirt didn’t go all the way up for her panties to show. Mary, of course, had no idea he was ogling her like that.

“Here we are! Sorry about the dust. I’ve not had the time to go here and clean recently.”

They now stood in front of the Greenwood mansion. Not that lavish compared to your ordinary noble houses but it was definitely the largest house in the entire mountain.

The man did not say anything. But the big grin on his face defied his stoicism. Mary completely missed his reaction, however, as she didn’t turn around to see him.

They strolled in through the front door, Mary unlocking it with her key. It was made by the village’s smith at her request. She couldn’t bear seeing such a beautiful house going neglected. 

Even so, the doorknob was beginning to rust, thanks to all the rain and wind it had to endure these past four years without being cleaned regularly. She simply hadn’t the time.

The inside was dark as all the lamps were off and curtains covered the closed windows. And, just like she said, dust layered the furniture, walls, and even the floor.

“Please, watch your step. In fact, stay there until I open up the windows.”

He watched her with amusement. He could easily make light with his magic but he didn’t want to reveal to her that he was a mage. Not yet.

The two then toured the house from top to bottom, with the exception of the bedrooms, as she didn’t want to intrude. In fact, she never stepped into them in these past four years. She just couldn’t.

She was glad that the man was smiling and nodding, seemingly happy with the condition of the house. She was worried they would just decide to tear it down and build a new one over it. All that effort keeping it maintained paid off after all! She would hate to see such a warm, loving house, full of memories she was fond of, to be replaced by a new, cold one.

“And that’s it! That’s all there is to know about this little mansion!” She smiled, ending the tour. “Any questions?”

They were now back in the living room, standing near the staircase that would take them back to the second floor.

“Oh yes, I do.” He smiled back. “I wish to know where the bedroom of the girl named Marina Greenwood is.”

“Eh?”

“And, if possible, I would like to take a tour inside it. If you please.”

Mary froze, her smile suddenly becoming a lot more unnatural.

What did he just say? Why would he want to do that?!

Does the inspection really have to be that thorough?

“I-I’m sorry, but I don’t really have the key for the door. And I do not wish to break it down.” She lied.

“Oh, that wouldn’t be a problem,” he cheerfully replied. “I should be able to open it with my little trick.”

His little trick?

“W-well then.” She forced herself to retain her smile, her fingers now nervously fidgeting near her abdomen. “Her room is just right here, on the first floor.”

Slowly, she led him there, hoping that he would change his mind. She really did not want to disturb her room. It just felt… wrong.

“Ah. Here it is, I take it?” He pointed his cane at the door. “Watch.”

With a single tap at the doorknob, the door opened.

A simple application of earth magic, manipulating the metal used for the locking mechanism. He’s capable of metal magic a little though nothing compared to his older sister, the Witch of Iron herself.

Mary was speechless. Was that… was that magic he just used?

He stepped inside, ignoring the ex-maid entirely. Without waiting for her to turn on the lamp, he aimed the tip of his cane at the device, lighting it with his fire magic.

Now that he could see what’s inside the room, he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Ha… ahahahahaha! Ahahahahahahaha!”

His laugh sent chills all over Mary’s body.

She had made a grave mistake.

“Finally! Finally I am here! The sacred kingdom of my lady Marina!”

He jumped onto the bed and hugged the pillow there, not caring in the slightest by their dustiness. He kissed it over and over, rubbing his crotch into the fabric. He rolled back and forth on the mattress, making it creak from his weight.

Mary couldn’t move. She was too aghast by what she was seeing her feet refused to budge.

“Mpphhhh, her scent! I can almost taste it! Even through all this annoying dust!”

“S-Sir! Please! Please stop!”

She walked into the room, fully intending to drag him off the bed if that’s what it took.

Only for him to make her trip, her face landing first onto the dusty carpet. He had cast an Earth Cuff spell silently without even looking at her direction, locking her feet together to the floor

“Please, my dear, wait for your turn~”

Satisfied with the bed/pillow combo, he stood back up, dusting himself off as he looked down at Mary. Hmm, that’s a good position. Her butt is all the way up there. I can take her from behind.

…No, not now. My Marina comes first.

He cast another Earth Cuff spell, this time locking her hands to the floor. He didn’t want her to interrupt after all.

His next attention landed on the wardrobe. Stepping over Mary, he opened the door. 

He was greeted by the sight of a half-full dresser. Indeed, back when Marina left with Erika, she didn’t have the room to carry all her dresses (Renee loved dressing her up, so she had so many of them). So she left behind quite a number of them.

“Ooh, so these are her clothes! I have to remember this! Commit this into my memory!”

He took out all her dresses and put them side-by-side on the bed. He wanted to know what kind of clothes she would be wearing from day to day. And, just like with the pillow, he sniffed them as well.

“Tch, disappointing. Too dusty for me to smell anything. And they’re cleaned too well. Not any hint of sweat remained.”

“Please, stop!” Mary begged, tears pooling in her eyes. “What are you—Ummfffhhh!”

He sealed her mouth with his magic as well.

He then went back to the wardrobe, opening the small compartment underneath.

“There they are! The real treasure! Her lovely and beautiful undergarments!”

He crouched down and pinched one of them by the hem. They were her black pair, with red outline.

“How lewd! How skimpy! How naughty!”

Grinning, he buried them into his nose.

Only to find that, just like her clothes, they smelled only like dust and grime.

“Gah! You stupid maid! You cleaned them too well!” He gave a kick to her head, his face now filled with fury, a far contrast from his perverted or gentemantly expressions from before.

“But that’s fine. I still can recover from this. I’ll just imagine her scent in my free time.” He mumbled under his breath.

He then grabbed the entire pile of panties from the small compartment before spreading them all out on the bed. He made note in his mind just what type of undergarments she liked to wear every day.

Green and black were definitely her favorite colors. And they’re all the skimpy, low-rise type. What a naughty girl. The contour of her lovely pelvis must be visible on the front as it failed to cover her entire behind on the back.

At this point, Mary began to cry. What should she do? She couldn’t move or call for help. And even if she could, her voice would never reach all the way to the village.

The man was a pervert. And she knew what perverts did to women like her. Once he was satisfied with the young lady’s undergarments, he would come for her. She was sure of it.

“…Hmm, yes! That would be all! I’ve memorized everything!”

He turned his attention back to her.

Her heart skipped a beat. A sinking feeling was now seeping into her stomach.

“Now, what to do with you.” He smiled, crouching down near her head. “I’m not a cruel man. But, after all these… excitement, I badly needed relief. See my little guy down there? He’s hungry. And you, my good woman, looked perfect as a snack.”

“Hmmphhhh! Hmpphhhhh!”

She struggled through her binds, screaming as loudly as she could through her muffler. But, she could neither free herself or make herself be heard. All she did was to tempt the man even more by moving her breasts back and forth, making them bounce left and right like a pendulum.

“Yep. After seeing that, there’s no way I’m letting you off without raping you. Apologies to your husband beforehand.”

With his hands, he ripped open her flimsy button-up shirt, revealing her white bra to the world. She screamed even harder, her tears now streaming down her cheeks to the floor.

“But really, you two should be honored. You, for having intercourse with a genius mage like me, and him, for having the honor of offering his wife to a genius mage like me.”

He then used miniature fire magic off her fingers to take off her bra. He couldn’t be bothered with going to her shoulder and unhooking it from behind.

“Oh, forgive me. I’ve forgotten to introduce myself.”

“My name is Locht Vehta. The heir to the Vehta Dynasty of the Magocracy. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Mary.”

What happened next, Mary would not forget for the rest of her life.

————

Well, that was a delightful trip. I learned so much about my lovely third love.

When the mage left the house, the sun was already sinking. It seemed he would have to rush back to town if he didn’t want to camp, which he hated.

He tapped his cane twice on the ground. The earth rose up, molding itself into the shape of a horse.

He could create his own horse sculpture to ride around. Much more efficient than ordinary horses. You don’t have to feed it and it can never tire. As long as you yourself don’t tire of manipulating it of course.

But, for a master of manipulating earth, he could do it all day with his eyes closed.

He jumped up the created beast before ordering it to rush back to Aarom as fast as it could.

That maid was pretty good. Big breasts really are the best. Though, seeing that my Marina doesn’t wear a bra, she’s probably small-chested. A disappointing revelation, but one I can live by..

What a gusher though. I gave her one of my aphrodisiacs and she spurted like a racehorse. My penis just slid right in without any resistance. And the moans—they were the moans of a whore.

Heh, his husband would never be able to satisfy her after that.

As a man, he was extremely proud of his sexual prowess. No woman he touched would leave the room unsatisfied. He even brought around a special kind of aphrodisiac perfume. It only worked for women and it would make their response to stimuli much more pleasurable. The endorphins that rushed their brains would be doubled and they would melt in his fingers.

Sex is an animalistic act. It is not some sacred ritual like the Church loved to say it was. A man should have sex as much as he could, to spread his seed across the world. Only a prudish idiot would think otherwise.

Sex is also a game of wits and intelligence. You must know what your partner’s weaknesses are and abuse them as much as you can. See that they come before you, begging for more of your touch. As such, it’s only logical that you will bring tools to aid you to that goal, like his aphrodisiac.

And lastly, sex is a display of dominance. He had dominated that maid’s husband by pleasuring her far more than he ever could.

Ever since he hit puberty, he was already raping all the kidnapped people his father experimented with. Most of them were hobbits, as they were really a pathetic race that could not defend themselves. Others were humans, part of the magicless who dared to scheme against him. But sometimes, whenever his father was on a good mood, he’d buy him a slave to use. Elves, dark elves, beastkin—whatever exotic race he could get his hand on. He didn’t know where his father bought it from. Nor did he care. He would just rape them over and over, before handing them over to his father for his research.

Now, to march to the capital of Marchen. It’s a shame I can’t go to the far northwest right away but I have to obey Father.

She can wait. She definitely can.

With a grin on his face, he ordered his horse to hasten its place.

Ah, the outside world. What a delightful place to be in!

————-

Meanwhile, at Hobbiton…

“Aah, there it is… there’s the spot…”

Mimir Vehta was smiling blissfully enjoying herself. She was now laying down stomach first on top of a massage bed, closing her eyes as moans escaped her lips.

She was now at Foliton, inside the home of the wealthiest hobbit there (which just so happened to be the mayor). And she was enjoying the massage his hobbit servants were giving her.

The hobbits, being the cowards that they were, surrendered without a fight.

…Okay, that was not entirely true. Some weasel-brained hobbits actually tried to ambush her, with some clever traps if she might add. However, a handful of rocks being slung at her, and a couple of golems tripping from their ropes, meant nothing to a mage of her capacity. She simply snapped her fingers and they all got swallowed by her desert wind.

Oh yes, she was a Master-level mage in both Earth and Wind. And she was so good at it she earned the title Desert Witch, for the desert itself is under her command.

“Ohhhhh! That’s it! Keep going!”

Outside the room, the mayor and his servants were strolling nervously, praying she was happy with the massage. She had threatened to destroy his home if it wasn’t and he had the complete and utmost faith she would do it without a second thought.

Damn them! Damn them all to the Abyss!

Why would they invade us like this? For our wheat and corn farms? We don’t have any mithril or mana crystal mines! No resources so important any nation would go to war against us! We’re not even that good as slaves! Too tiny to lift up their heavy rocks!

Damn the bigfoots’ greed! It’s not enough they took our lands! Now they want to enslave us as well!

And where’s Marchen when you need them? Where’s our pact? They promised they would protect us! And we paid heavy tax to them every year!

The mayor was an old hobbit. He was as small as a human child, but with white beard and balding head. He wore a monocle on his left eye, a necessity so he could read his poems beside his fireplace—his favorite pastime.

His name was Huebald Whitbottom, the thirteenth of the illustrated Whitbottom line. His ancestors were amongst the first to cultivate this land and to this day, they were still one of the most influential Hobbit families in Foliton. They were “old money”, so to speak, and the other hobbits would always come to him if they were even in trouble of any sort.

But now… now he could do nothing. His authority was being trampled, right in front of his very eyes. Oh, his fathers and grandfathers and great great grandfathers must be looking down at him in shame right now!

But, to resist against an army of such might, it would be suicide.

In fact, it was the very wisdom of the Whitbottoms to avoid war and conflict, even if it meant leaving their land in search of another. That was how they settled here at the far southern corner of the world in the first place.

Hobbits weren’t strong. They weren’t as multi-talented as humans nor were they as ferocious as demons. They couldn’t listen to the whispers of the rocks like dwarves could nor could they devise clever magical tools like the gnomes could. All they had were their wits, and nothing else.

And, by the name of his forefathers, they would survive by them. Even if it meant licking the boots of this arrogant bigfoot.

“I’m done!”

The door swung open, nearly hitting the old hobbit on his big, goblin-like nose.

Mimir, now all refreshed, was standing in front of him with a big grin on her face.

“Well, you weren’t lying, little gray man! Your servants really are as good as you say!” She called him so as that was what he looked like—a little-sized man with gray hair.

Her smile vanished. “Now, to business.”

He gulped. What request would she ask of them?

“I want you to round up every man, woman, and children you could find—”

Round them up? This can’t be good!

“—and make them all march to the Magocracy—”

His heart sank.

The worst of his fears had just been realized.

She invaded them to turn them into slaves.

“—all nice and neat. No complaining. No running away. And, this goes without saying, no attempts at assassinating me while I sleep. I figure you sneaky goblins will do that if I let you.”

Assassins?! Perish the thought! No hobbit would be caught being one! Thieves and assassins are what those close-minded bigfoots see hobbits as! She’s just one of them!

“Now, before you ask why, don’t. I have no time nor the patience to explain my Father’s grand plan for your people.”

She crouched down, patting his head as if he was a child. Her smile was poison and the stench of her arrogance nearly made him punch her there and then.

“Be a good boy, would you, my dear Huebald Whitbottom?” She giggled. “Sheesh, what a funny name you have.”

He could only nod in silence. She stood up and walked away, ordering the servants to assist her in her bath next.

Survive. It was all they could do now.

No matter how bitter it was.

———

A/N:

I almost titled this chapter “Oh great yet another perverted stalker chases after Marina.”

I guess you can see him as Hugo’s mirror. Hugo could end up like that if he was born to a less virtuous family. And a more powerful one. His extreme talent in magic will be cultivated to its maximum and no one will challenge him or keep him in check. His maids will gladly have sex with him once he comes to age. And, using his magic, he’ll go around sleeping with whoever he wants as well.