Every client is one missed payment from becoming a target. Every target is one bribe away from becoming a client.

The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries

 

I've turned into a monster, A monster, a monster, And it keeps getting stronger.

Imagine Dragons

 

 

"Arisa, my cuddly kitty, I have a few tasks for you and the other kittens."

"Anything for you, My beloved Mistress, shall I get the cream?"

 

Basically I was always up for some frolicking and entertainment, unfortunately I had to forgo my fun for now. Regretfully, I denied my murderous kitten the pleasure of snacking on me. Instead, I gave her several of sealed envelopes. The seals were show, but I had to serve the cliché. On them were the names of six different empires, kingdoms, nations, fiefdoms, thiefdoms and their most populous cities. The usual stuff, that is.

 

"Choose a group of sisters for each city and send them on their way. They are to make contact with the prostitute in the letter. Cheval has already prepared the candidates and smuggled them in. Each group is to add to their lists the names that Cheval's little horsey calls. They should make sure that only one of the group appears in general but especially near the " Nameless Man ". Include this in the standard procedure, dear. Just in case the "Nameless Man" has other ideas than dutifully accepting the gold for the orders. If the group determines on the spot that a target has the necessary characteristics, we leave it alone. For opportune targets, the group should decide for itself whether to place an order. It is desirable if none of the sisters have a hand in it themselves, but as long as the mission is not in jeopardy, the decision is up to the group. The important thing is, the people we have chosen must move up. The gold for the guild is ready at our bank branches in the cities. As soon as everything is completed, they should report to you how successful the process was. You decide after that if there is still reason for a longer stay."

"Tempting, mate. I will not disappoint you. But you shouldn't let Eva sleep on your lap so much, she gets lazy!"

Some jealousies are just adorable. The stuck out tongues of the two were sooo cute. It was a little strange that Eva kept making it onto my lap without me noticing. Crafty little kitten. She did very well as my indoctrinatrix. Not just good, downright excellent. The number of more interesting orphans grew steadily. Not that each wasn't special and precious, a certain number I kept a closer eye on. Discovering talents at a young age and preparing them appropriately for their path was always important. Carlun, for example, was a prime example of a scientific career. Then there was Mitral, a girl who already showed outstanding tactical skills. Or Wanta, who was unbeatable at finding connections. About half of the orphan girls were sure candidates for the sisterhood. Most of the boys were suited for the army, but probably a good number would still drop out when they realized they had only tiny chances of an upper echelon career. It was sexist and unfair, but my army - my rules. And I only fuck men in exceptional circumstances.

"Chloe. Your job for the next three months will be to get as many orphanages under our control as possible. Buy the rights where you can, otherwise - Arisa has the necessary contacts. Remove the obstacles and quietly take control."

 

I did not anticipate any problems as far as the orphans were concerned. The experience with Nagronde had been transferable to every other realm so far. As soon as I put gold on the table, I could take all the children I wanted. Without even being asked any questions. Nobody seemed to even think about what I was going to do with the children. Let alone what potential fell into my hands for literally nothing.

 

"Mariette, has Cebille already expanded the production of uniforms for the fleet? We need the full pirate regalia for all recruits. It is very important for the next stage of the plan."

"Yes, My Mistress. Cebille has reported to us that there are enough seamstresses and tailors ready for 200 new recruits every day. Whether for the army, marines or fleet."

"Excellent. It's important to keep all soldiers looking their best. For everyone a tailored uniform is the goal what must be achieved at all costs. Make sure that the diet is strictly followed. If anyone complains it's too monotonous let me know and I'll give out more recipes. Feed them the most delicious pasta."

 

Appearance played a crucial role for me in the military. Here I could not and would not accept any compromises. It was almost essential for survival and I would not accept any deviation. And it wasn't just the eye candy my girls gave me in their stylish uniforms.

 

"Virga has turned up several interesting sources of raw materials. Plan my tours accordingly, Mariette my darling. The idiots are giving away their silverware to me and don't even realize it."

"Very well, my true love. I wouldn't call it giving away, with the oodles of gold you're paying for it." My Mariette was special. Even among my wives.

"There's an interesting saying where I come from, Mariette: someday you find you can't eat gold."

"You look beautiful when you smile like that, My Mistress. Even if I don't understand half of what's behind your motives."

And I trully hope you are the only one, my precious. I kissed her. Every woman likes to hear compliments. Me too. Since we were here at the Pebble, the tone in the harem has become significantly more harmonious and emotional. It delighted me when my wives used the L-word. I was amazed to feel that warm closeness myself. Somehow at home. Loved. And I would have liked, in that state of bliss, to be lost forever. But the duty of the Villainess called.

 

"Oh dear, you ooze charm. Louve, send out the five new destroyers as soon as they are ready. Plan a constant exchange of crews so that the recruits and the sisters gain as much experience as quickly as possible. I know you have everything under control, but make sure that the marines are always able to take care of any problem. Especially if we have to sink a ship before it falls into enemy hands. Bring me my recruits, Louve. Raid the ships and then let them float without masts."

" With the message nailed to the helm, my alpha?"

"Definitely with the message. It's only polite to let the other ships know what to expect."

"Has the search of the islands shown any results yet? Have you found the plants?"

"Nothing, My Mistress. The people who live on the islands have never seen such a plant."

 

Damn. No coffee. I was tired of the perpetual tea. And grain coffee was an abomination in the eyes of the world. Cocoa and tea were no problem. But there was no coffee for a very long way. Maddening.

 

"Before we leave for Orlormen in the Tzarist Empire, I have finished the balloons for the air and sea surveillance network. Find several sisters gifted in crafts and magic to go around the islands as a construction crew and do the installation. Have Azais oversee the commissioning and communication with the Pebble. This MADAR network will serve us exquisitely."

When I was setting up my sea and air surveillance network, I was a little torn. Having a Zeppelin airship hovering over the Pebble would have something completely majestic about it. And it would be ultra cool to boot. The fatal design and operational flaws of the old Zeppelins had to be solved. And why not? Filling balloons with hydrogen, then brushing those balloons with metallic paint so that as little of the hydrogen as possible diffuses back out, literally screams for Murphy to come forward. Thanks, but no thanks. Technically solvable problems. But unfortunately a Zeppelin is far too visible. These things are just humongous. Too many people could come up with unpleasant ideas for me afterwards. Like Fireballs or big ballistas. Just thinking someone got the wrong idea about: Hey why don´t we build our firework rockets bigger? Nope. Simple balloons on a rope were a more elegant solution. At least when I got a grip on the constantly striking lightning.

No, the idea of a zeppelin or maybe a pleasure ship in the sky was cool - but as soon as I would float around with it, someone would surely get the glorious idea to want to shoot down my airship. And I honestly didn't feel like having to deal with enemy planes. Some nutcase might come up with the idea of replaying Top Gun. Hey Goose, you feel the greed? Yes, Maverick, i feel the greed for speed in me. Yeah, better not wake any sleeping dogs unnecessarily.

 

I, too, have been feeling this nagging sensation lately to check my own assumptions, especially about magic. But there was always something more important to do. And it wasn't like I couldn't have just put the entire world in my pocket. Really, who comes up with such insane ideas? The gods must be crazy. Or ignorant bunglers. Not that it would matter to me, in any case they had screwed up with me. Everyone knows the old saying: bortaS bIr jablu'DI' reH QaQqu' nay'. ¹Revenge is a dish that is best served cold.

 

There was an unforeseen effect in my recruitment of pirates. For reasons unknown to me, several - no actually all - pirates had started calling me Grace O'Malley. It took some research until I found out the meaning of Grace O'Malley or better called by her real name Gráinne Mhaol Ní Mháille of the clan of Uí Mháille. Irish noblewoman and pirate queen. Hear, hear. Pirate queen indeed - but queen is queen. Although it was probably only the outraged English who were whining. Finally, she was able to issue herself a letter of marque. And if I interpret the signs correctly - at least the recruits take me for her incarnation or embodiment. To my amazement, there were even a few parallels between me and her. She cut her hair short and she had little love for religion. When I found about her nickname I had to laugh:  Dark Mistress of Doona. But I do not want to complain on a high level, so far I could not complain about the additional adoration. If such a gift fell into my lap, I would use it. I couldn't be sure, but the probability was high that there was a connection between Gráinne Mhaol and my second blessing by Morrigan. And if I found out that the two of them were watching me have sex, I'd be really pissed.

 

 

Our trip to the capital of the Tzarist Empire of Orlormen, Saint Patchaburg, was quiet except for three larger groups who more or less volunteered to be future customs officers. As an employer, it is always a pleasure to find such diligent and hardworking employees. Even though I have to admit, in this case they found me. What can I say, it just pays to be known as a good-paying employer.

 

While the courteous new customs officers were not an inconvenience, traveling with a larger group was - well I'll just say - cramped. Even if we all liked each other exceptionally, 14 women in a buggy with four seats is not an option. Simply tying a few of the more outgoing girls to the chassis like Mad Max had its charm at first glance, but not feasible in practice. Hmmm - maybe Alice? Better I keep that promising thought in the back of my mind. It had potential.

What I did was I hitched a sort of carriage to my buggy. Yes, it was a stopgap. And yes, I would build transportation vehicles after Orlormen. To hell with my caution. It wasn't fancy to travel without a decent vehicle. And I couldn't stand horses. I didn't have to want to eat them, but I didn't have to like the creatures either.

 

The trip to Saint Patchaburg was something in between a business trip and a state visit, after all, the meritocracy shared a border with the Tzarist Empire in the north. The incumbent Tzarina was Katrina Narmanoff, the fifth. Funnily enough, there were almost only tzarinas and rarely tzars on the imperial throne. In principle, this would be a reason for me to set up camp here. But as any girl can tell you from kindergarten on, women in power are backstabbing vipers. And if they are not at the top, they try to get there. Women are their own worst enemy. Well, just because we're female doesn't mean we're any less competitive with each other.

My impression of Ambassador Ivan Kombuchov in Nuldur was: intelligent. Not the same astuteness that Throinain displayed, but still not to be sneezed at. According to Cheval's horsey, his wife Petrushkaya was quite a monster. Or maybe he was just a wimp. Not that I minded.

 

Besides Mariette, Alice and Louve, another of my mates, Ratones, accompanied me. She was outwardly inconspicuous, unobtrusive and shy like a little mouse. Which could also be due to the fact that she was a demi-mouse girl. Her cute pointed nose was an exciting little adventure between my thighs. And as unassuming as she might appear, she had it fistful behind her little ears. She had only one squad of soldiers with her instead of her entire platoon.  A small group of bodyguards if you will. The rest of her platoon was already in Saint Patchaburg to buy and set up our embassy. And to lend a helping hand to Chloe's girls if need be - just in case.

 

Ratones was very suitable for reconnaissance or liquidations. There was nothing remarkable about her It was just this mediocrity that made her valuable for these particular tasks. After our trip, I would put her in charge of a company. A scout and reconnaissance company. Precisely because she was so inconspicuous, I felt a little guilty. Somehow she came up short when it came to her rights and duties as a wife. In other words, I didn't want to neglect her.

 

The agenda for my visit to Orlormen was well filled. The audience with the Tzarina was actually not that important to me, even though I would not mention that fact. The foundation for spreading my feelers was, first and foremost, the Whores' Guild. All other guilds, rulers and nobles were not unimportant, not at all, but the starting point was always the whores. I could not allow anyone to dispute my control here. I'm sure it sounds sexist - and I admit it openly and freely - but the male pimps had to go. And by leave, I mean go on to the next life. Female pimps I could deal with. No problem. The effort I had to put in to keep the men in line was far too much for me, only to have to dispose of them in the end. A waste of resources without question, but I could not - no better - I did not want to afford this unnecessary burden. Disposal was the far simpler solution. Who knows, maybe the whores could grow a few suitable candidates themselves over time. For three weeks, the base mortality rate of male members in administrative positions had been fearfully high. The grieving bereaved tried valiantly to protect themselves from the prowling danger by self-isolation. With mixed success.

 

It didn't help that we made it look like an internal power struggle in the guild. One pimp either kills the other or has the other killed. That kind of thing always develops a delicious momentum of its own. Better yet, it sowed distrust within their own ranks. If the people involved had talked to each other, it would probably have been obvious that someone, yours truly for example, was pulling the strings in the background. I left the execution of the hostile takeover to my girls. Taking responsibility is a great life lesson.

 

I am aware that my actions look at least hostile to men. Personally, I think that I have nothing against men as such. If anything, I feel superior to them in general. This kind of thinking inevitably leads to it biting you in the butt. Whether it's a woman or a man. Or any other color on the spectrum. Hubris always gets even - and it nests everywhere. Anyway, in this case, or rather in any takeover of the local whore guilds, men had no place in my plan.

 

Tonight the last grace period expired. Starting tomorrow morning, the whore guild would be under my firm control. All the little delicate dirty details would fall into my lap. Available to be exploited. Apply pressure in the right places, influence a few necessary decisions, all it took was a little dirt. And of course, there was the other thing. Anticipation is sometimes the best joy. Come to mommy, my precious.

 

While the "normal" guilds were relatively easy to bend over gold, there was one guild that functioned on the "most" gold, so to speak. Unlike the banking, trading, whoring, assassin, ... oh never mind - to every other guild, the mercenaries had a twisted sort of code of honor. At least sometimes. Sometimes meaning as long as you paid enough gold they stayed loyal to their client. If someone offered more, they changed camps. The reliability of mercenaries was notorious. With politicians and merchants, you could hope that they would stay honest once you bribed them. Mercenaries ticked a little differently. Maybe that comes from the increased risk.

 

Saint Patschaburg in Orlormen is something like a job exchange for mercenaries. Here you could meet with interested clients or mercenaries looking for a new bag of gold and take a leisurely vacation or replenish your own ranks with new recruits. Lots of opportunities to meet interesting people. Like, for example, Colonel Pyiotr Gustolov.

 

Colonel Gustolov, as his name and rank indicated, was a native of Orlomen and commanded a regiment of about 3000 mercenaries. The Kossakil regiment was undoubtedly one of the larger mercenary units and had the charming reputation of always being on the side of the victor. Even the uninitiated and completely ignorant of military history were struck by this peculiarity. Depending on whom you asked, it was: military skill, outrageous luck, or foresighted switching sides at the right moment. Probably all of the above. Whichever, the man succeeded in what he did. And with success, the good colonel earned respect from me. The question I had was not whether to buy him and his regiment but when and where I would use him.

 

We met on neutral ground, that is, in an open area with several kilometers of unobstructed view in all directions. He and his senior officers sat opposite me. The astonishment of the Kossakil was quite understandable. Apparently I was alone with my aide-de-camp and a demi-wolf, no horses or carriages were to be seen, and I was sitting on the long side of a large, heavy wooden table, waiting for the mercenary delegation. It spoke for him that he found the situation suspicious and approached us hesitantly. He probably didn't have to deal with cloaked troop units too often.

 

 

"Colonel Pyiotr Gustolov, you and your Kossakil Regiment have a reputation for respect that precedes you. It is surprising that you sit down with me when it is obvious that I could kill anyone here without having to stand up. I can respect such courage in a man." And I hadn't even lied. Maybe a little, I had no idea if he was actually aware of that before the colonel and his officers sat down. At least the reaction of his officers, who were now very attentive, suggested a certain initial nonchalance. Which had now completely disappeared. It always makes to be open with the counterpart in every negotiation. Especially as far as the distribution of power was concerned.

"The information I've been able to gather about the Kossakil Regiment and you Colonel Gustolov, is eye-opening, so to speak." Mariette handed me a thick folder of documents on her cue. In my estimation, Major von Ritten, the officer in charge of reconnaissance, would have some questions to answer after the meeting. I almost felt sorry for him.

"Frankly, the regiment's ability to "always" side with the victor does not make me happy. It at least suggests that it is possible to get the regiment to change its employer. Before you complain, Colonel Gustolov, just because something doesn't make me happy doesn't mean I won't recruit the regiment. Just when." Based on the laughter that occurred, this situation was not unfamiliar to the mercenaries before me. This professional ethos among mercenaries did not appeal to me, understandable as it was.

"Such is the business of mercenaries, Ambassador Lady Laura, or should I say Queen Gracey O'Malley of the Meritocracy of German Nation, Your Majesty?" Someone had done their homework. Even if it wasn't enough for an A grade a good B was definitely warranted.

 

"The little doll in the fancy uniform is no more a queen than I am a tzarina, Colonel. The other two matrioshkas are just staffage, too." Well it didn't really surprise me that there was at least one spoiler. In this case, it was a woman for a change. Fascinating. Blonde and batshit crazy. Tasty.

"Captain Jelisaweta Anninka Tarasovna, I only allowed you to attend this meeting because of my friendship with your mother. Do not disturb negotiations with a potential client."

"Yes, Colonel Gustolov. I'm not done with the dolls yet, though. What are you grinning at, bitch?" The snooty ones are the most fun to break.

"Colonel Gustolov, I'm curious. How much would it cost me if you were to wipe out Captain Tarasovna's company? Would two platinum coins be enough? If you capture Captain Tarasovna alive and unharmed to deliver to me afterwards, that would be worth three platinum coins to me." The silence was cute. Sometimes it's really fun to be the Villainess. I wonder what would happen if I threw the three coins on the table?

 

"My Mistress, you are scaring the negotiators." whispered Mariette in my ear. Damn!

 

"Great Uncle Pyiotr, you can't seriously be thinking about stabbing my company in the back. Mother would be all over you!" Dear Uncle Colonel did not look happy. A typical "blood is thicker than water" or "skin is closer than shirt" situation. I wonder if her mother was still crisp and fresh? To get a MILF with her daughter in my greedy, needy dirty little fingers would have an entertainment value not to be denied.

 

"Colonel Gustolov, I see that in addition to the usual factors, there are apparently family connections for you to consider. I'm afraid that narrows the scope for a possible assignment." Oh, what a bitter face the colonel can make. Out of sheer spite, I stacked twenty of the nondescript gray coins in front of me and, of course, conscientiously counted them out in front of my counterparts. His officers looked with interested glances at both the uncle and his niece. It speaks for the good discipline of a mercenary troop if they don't start salivating as soon as someone puts some money on the table.

"Don't worry, my dear colonel, I won't sic you on your cute grandniece Liska. I may call you Liska, mayn't I, Captain Tarasovna? But as I said, it will considerably reduce the room for negotiation that you had at your disposal. Tell me, Colonel Gustolov, does the good Mrs. Mama of our impulsive Captain also lead a mercenary unit? Is well-paid military work perhaps in your family's blood?"

"Yes, Your Majesty, my grandniece serves in the 3rd Company of the Julianka battalion under her mother's command." If looks could put someone over their knee Liska's poor butt would glow deep red. Good boy.

"To what extent does this unfortunate incident limit us, Your Majesty? I formally apologize for my grandniece's impetuous behavior." Fortunately, he did not cite age as an excuse. That would be ridiculous. Since the money was on the table, Liska was no longer eager to make her opinion known. Money talks, mercenary walks.

"Very simple, my smart Colonel Gustolov and my pretty Captain Tarasovna. I recruit the Kossakil regiment and the Julianka battalion together. And only together. The deal will only go through if I get both. It would be a shame if your family had to face each other on the battlefield. Terrible." Hehehe, and if necessary, I would do just that. It would be such a terrible tragedy. But that's the way war is. War is hell.

At what conditions I could hire the mercenaries was of no importance to me. Whether they were on my side or against me would make little difference in the end. The difference between living and dead is not really that big. Statistically considered. No matter whether they only spouted gibberish or also kept what they promised. Talk the talk or walk the walk. Not really of interest to me. The main thing was that everyone knew my pockets were deep and believed I had to hire mercenaries instead of building an army myself.

 

Against the ever-present danger that the mercenaries I had on my payroll would turn on me, I had one or two tried and true remedies at hand. This was going to be fun.

 

My wives were delighted with my good mood that evening. I fell asleep wonderfully content. And extremely satisfied.

 

The Tzarina - Katrina Narmanoff - and her Prince Consort - Lev Narmanoff, were siblings. In case I forgot to mention that. The Narmanoffs were known to be incestuous and apparently, as far as I could tell, generations of inbreeding did not negatively affect their reign. There were character flaws, no doubt. But that was the case everywhere. And who am I to raise the admonishing finger and oppose love between siblings? That would be completely inappropriate and arrogant on my part.

 

My meeting with the Tzarina to clarify certain details regarding my business - did not take place. Which, considering her nature and demeanor, was probably for the better. Sometimes the chemistry between two people is not right. Sometimes the world views, ideologies or religions differ too much from each other to really form a basis. And sometimes a wacky bitch was just a wacky bitch who, like a rabid mutt, was best put out of the misery of existence. I met with Prince Consort Lev and, surprisingly, Prince Sergey was also present. It was unfortunate, but my small group of  bodyguards had to wait outside together with Louve.

 

"Ambassador Lady Laura, welcome to the Orlormen Tzardom, I regret the absence of the Tzarina, but my wife has urgent state business to attend to." Fascinating. Apparently my position as queen of a neighboring country had not yet reached the palace. Pyiotr was better than I had hoped. After he and his niece realized that instead of dealing with me personally, they had signed their contract with the trade guild and the major shareholder of the largest arms supplier, they had realized that simply switching sides would become a problem. Not being perceived as a queen didn't really bother me. Basically, I should have responded to this insult. After all, what urgent state business could be more important than another head of state on a business trip?

"Really Prince Consort Narmanoff? How unfortunate. But surely We can work out the details without Her Majesty. Surely you can negotiate and make valid agreements on behalf of Her Majesty the Tzarina?" It would be bitter to have to go through the whole thing twice, or rather several times. To his credit, the prince did not flinch.

"I have been given this task by Her Majesty the Tzarina, Ambassador Lady Laura. Rest assured, I am authorized to regulate the details addressed on behalf of Her Majesty." Prince Sergey followed our conversation closely, and from his slight uneasiness, it was apparent to him that something about the conversation seemed odd. Good for him. Wise and attentive men are rare.

 

"Excellent, Prince Consort Narmanoff. The Meritocracy of German Nation wishes to ensure that any trade or business transactions of Our two states or citizens are not hindered, impaired or even prevented due to state intervention. It would certainly not please the Tzardom of Orlormen if, for example, We were to tax the movement of goods between you and the Kingdom of Mitoran. Conversely, We would not like it either. Therefore, We propose to proceed reciprocally. Any restriction you impose on Us will be answered by Us with either the same or a comparable restriction. If there are no restrictions in terms of trade or business on your part, We will not take any restrictions against you either. We have already made the same agreement with Nagronde and Mitoran and all benefit from it. The Meritocracy assumes that other nations will join Us." Getting Nagronde's approval was extremely easy and the new treasurer in Mitoran was too happy to have received a large loan from the Royal Bank of German Nation to keep the state's business going than to think about what the condition for the gold was.

"Did I understand you correctly, Ambassador Lady Laura, that we do not impose tariffs on your goods and that you do not impose tariffs on ours?"

"That is very simplified, Prince Consort Narmanoff. And if you want to use it as an example, We are happy to do so. Yes, the Meritocracy does not impose tariffs if the Tzardom waives them. Any restriction, hindrance or prohibition by the Tzardom We would of course mirror or do something similar."

"Ambassador Lady Laura, if you will allow me the interjection, was it your inventions that made transparent glass, mirrors and the many other things that reach us from Mitoran?" The prince had a good head on his shoulders.

"Prince Narmanoff. Glad someone recognized where all the beautiful new things came from." I hadn't invented them, but at least the making of them was my doing.

"If you will allow me another question, is it correct that you are the Queen of the Meritocracy, Your Majesty?" The clever little fellow smoked me out. What a pity - but such is life.
"You know Prince Sergey, when We first spoke to Edward, We forbade to address Us in pluralis majetatis until it was proven that Our grandparents and parents were dead. We have found, however, that there are advantages to ruling by Ourself, and so We have decided to become Queen in Our own right." Lev immediately realized the implications of what I was saying. The slight sallowness and beads of sweat on his forehead exposed him.
"We think Our position is clearly established, Prince Consort Narmanoff, Prince Narmanoff. Hopefully, Her Majesty the Tzarina can bring the urgent business of state to a conclusion just as successfully. Is there anything else Your Highnesses would like to clarify with Us?"

 

Everyone knows what happens when you get to this point in a conversation.

 

Exactly - a flag is raised.

 

Sure enough, the door was yanked open, without knocking first of course, and a young woman in armor rushed in.

"Brother! Brother! Thank you! Thank you so much! You found demi-slaves for me to play with! I had almost given up hope. You are just the very best, brother dear. My guards are already bringing the demis to the courtyard - would you like to watch?"

Her eyes fell on me and Mariette.

"Who are those two sluts, Father?"

To my shame, I didn't register what she had said at first. Based on her demeanor and how she addressed Prince Sergeij, I correctly assumed she was the crown princess. Calling me and Mariette sluts was not a nice thing to do as long as men were present. Among us girls it may already go a little rougher. Here and now, however, she was just rude.

As I said, to my shame it took some time until I realized what she had said. And in this moment my patience snapped. No one was allowed to take advantage of my toys. Nobody was allowed to hurt my wives and slaves except me. Girls don't fight fair. And when someone says the sparks fly, that's exactly what they mean. My fist buried itself in her mop of hair faster than anyone in the room could imagine. Any woman can tell you that being yanked by the hair is no fun. When I pulled her head down and dragged her to the window she screamed with pain and rage.

In the courtyard below the window, a large number of armed guards were dragging my girls away. In retrospect, it was not a good idea to mention before I made them wait outside the door that they should not start a war. Stupid of me.

"General Louve! Overcome the attackers and detain them until I can get down there and take care of them."

I did not wait to observe the execution of my order. Instead, I dragged and pulled the crown princess with me to the door. Before the stunned eyes of her father and brother. Sometimes men are a real mystery to me. Well, a fight between girls is brutal and we don't grant each other anything, but why men always look with fascination goes over my horizon. For the princess, my manhandling of her was no fun. To be womanhandled is different from being manhandled, at least by me, that I can justly say. The bitch screamed I should let her go or else and kicked at me like a madwoman. Unfortunately for her, I had no patience to get involved in her ridiculous complaints. I bent her head in every possible direction as we walked downstairs. The servants present were scared to death to see how their princess was behaving. Her education was very incomplete in my eyes. As a future Tzarina, she really should learn to cut a better figure. Granted, it didn't help that my grip on her hair forced her to walk with bent knees. It was unfortunate that she didn't really have time to internalize a gait appropriate for her future position. We reached the courtyard too quickly for that.

 

I was rewarded with the sight of my girls, who already had defeated their attackers and were now forced kneeling on the ground. Where had they gotten the shackles so quickly? Not that I was complaining.

 

Taking in the scene before me, I breathed deeply. Relieved that none of my girls seemed to be hurt. Some parts of the uniforms showed signs of destruction. Badges of rank had been torn off. I paid no further attention to the now whimpering princess. There were more serious things to organize.

 

"General Louve. Effective immediately, as a general directive, any attack on Our military personnel is to be met with force unless the commanding officer specifically orders otherwise. Forward this order with the necessary urgency as soon as we are back at the embassy."

 

"By your command, my Alpha!"

 

This disaster due to my oversight - no mistake - would not be repeated a second time. Discipline is a wonderful thing. But not to the point where others could hurt my wives just because I forgot to allow self-defense. I was so angry at myself.

 

Anger and rage is always a bad advisor when it comes to all kinds of situations. This one is no exception. To calm down, I looked at the offenders. There were 16 women and men in all. All were in the same type of uniform and armor. They probably belonged to the same unit. The little princess said something like this.

 

There is always something sad about executions. Basically, it shows ultimate failure. There's nothing to sugarcoat. Euphemism is simply not appropriate in such a case.

 

But it also didn't help when I melted into self-pity. Well, it was probably meant to be that way. I would need my right hand for what would follow. The princess would have to make friends with my left. I had to start somewhere and each end of the row was right for me, the soldier on the far left moaned the loudest, so I chose this end of the row.

 

Of course, I could have ordered my female soldiers to carry out the executions. Perhaps they would have felt a certain satisfaction. However, I don't think anyone in a position of military power should dump the real dirty work on others. It was my duty and I would fulfill my responsibility.

 

As calm on the inside as on the outside, I pulled my pistol from its holster. What a waste. On such occasions, appearances play an important role. The seriousness of the situation had to be done justice by proper formalities.

 

"Put the delinquents against the wall."

 

"At your command!"

 

" Attention!"

 

The delinquents also stood still. Magic is really very helpful.

 

My women were outnumbered during the attack. It spoke well for the training of the Sisterhood that they were able to subdue the attackers after I gave the order.

 

It was bad enough that I could not concede a blindfold or last cigarette to the deliquents. The only concession was who they could look at last. I let the princess look into the eyes of her comrade. It was only fair that she had a front row seat. She had earned it.

 

Surrendered to my fate, I pulled the trigger. What a waste. It was really unspeakably sad. Executions are never fun.

 

On the wall behind the dead man was the typical spray of blood. It was a repulsive sight. I spare myself to describe the abomination in detail. It is enough that I can always remember it.

 

Surprisingly, even downright irritating was, nobody tried to intervene. The meanwhile present audience stared with open mouths in morbid fascination at the spectacle of death.

 

To delay death unnecessarily is not in my nature. Within a minute, my bloody duty was done, interrupted only by the changing of the magazine. The oppressive silence after the shots was almost stupefying.

 

"At ease."

 

True to the motto "Always ready," I again exchanged the magazine for a full one. And true to the motto "Mr. Gun is not your friend unless you want to shoot someone," I put the pistol away again.

Little Crown Princess was a crying wreck. To see one's longtime comrades, maybe even friends, face to face, idly witnessing me wipe them out of existence, does that to a person. I could only think of the screaming waste, just to teach a lesson. Sad.

 

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE TZARDOM IS GOING ON HERE?!"

 

The appearance of a person of authority is usually accompanied by some pomp. So far, I had refrained from that kind of bravado. The Tzarina, unlike me, was of a different opinion. At least, that's how one could explain the suddenly scattering guards. Somewhat behind her were the "urgent affairs of state" that she had taken care of while I had been fobbed off with the second tier. Honestly, I have to admit, in her place I probably would have acted the same way.

 

"Hello Katrina. Well, We are teaching your daughter some basic behavior, one thing you hopelessly failed at and We now had to correct just because you were too lazy. The lesson is a very simple one: you don't play with other people's things without permission. You don't take what isn't yours."

 

Faced with my answer, she was at a loss for words. No reason for me not to continue.

 

"What were you thinking, Katrina? We come here to agree on the rules of mutual business only to have you disrespect Us and instead of talking to Us yourself you pass the matter onto your spouse? And as if that is not enough, your daughter, yes this little piece of shit here, tries to kidnap, torture and kill Our female soldiers and wives. And then you also have the audacity to shout around here and ask what is going on? You should be ashamed of yourself for failing to raise your daughter in such a way."

 

The executions had made me a little irritable. This is not an excuse, certainly not, just an explanation.

 

Lev and Sergey hurried to get Katrina up to speed as soon as possible. It was sad that they thought of it only now, before would have been decidedly better. The family conversation gave me the opportunity to greet two old acquaintances.

 

"Victoria! Captain Klien. We did not know that you were also going to Orlormen. Otherwise, We would have found a way to travel together. If We had known that you were the 'urgent state business', We would have gladly let you go first. Unfortunately, Nadka has been very naughty here. Hasn't she, Nadka?"

 

That was not entirely honest of me. Since the princess was on the Autobahn, I was aware of her journey. Nadia was crying her eyes out by now, and although she had little room to maneuver, she tried to nod instead of speaking. She croaked a soft yes. Behaviorism relies on positive reinforcement where desired behavior is rewarded and I decreased my pull on her hair.

 

"Good girl. Behave and I won't have to hurt you anymore."

 

I waved Victoria toward me, meaning her to look into Nadia's eyes before whispering to both of them, "You two had better learn to get along well. If you keep insisting on pissing me off, I'm going to tie you together and rip your asses off one after the other until you beg me to keep going."

 

Released, Nadia fell sobbing into Victoria's arms. Best friends forever.

 

I was still a little annoyed and getting bored. To my entourage, I signified that we were leaving.

 

On the way out, under the dismayed eyes of Katrina, I took the time to whisper a few words of farewell in Sergeij's ears.

 

"If We catch you damaging the goods before you've paid for them in full, you'll watch your sister as We gleefully snack on her before it's your own turn. You better understand Us, princeling."

 

Planting fear in the heart of an opponent is an art. Being a little vague helps a lot. If Victoria was going to sell her body, she had better learn from whores to collect BEFOREhand. In political alliances, this detail was often forgotten.

 

On the way to the embassy, I kept fighting the memory of that wastage. Each time I pulled the trigger I felt the waste physically.

 

Sixteen times.

 

Sixteen precious bullets wasted.

 

At this rate of consumption, I would probably have to crank up ammunition production early. It was really sad.

 

"My beautiful slaves and wifes. If I told you what I am, would you turn away from me?

And if I appeared dangerous, would you be afraid?"

 

"""Never, my love."""