"How much longer do you need?"
"We've managed to recover most of what we've lost to those raids, so we should be ready to go within the next few days."
"Hurry it up. I'm getting itchy sitting around in this backwoods town. Even the whores are boring; how is that possible?" Duke Avaritan leans back in his chair and drains the last swig of alcohol in his mug. The last gasp of winter still shows its breath after the suns fall. The Duke wears a thick fur coat to ward off the chill in the air.
"Having our warehouses burned down certainly hurt, but the constant bandit raids on our caravans are what really set us back. It's as if every bandit group in the country came together just to rob us."
"I mean, when you really think about it, they're just entertainers."
"The bandits?"
"No, the whores! And if they're not entertaining, then they're not doing their jobs right."
"We are out in the boondocks, sir. Maybe they just don't have much to talk about."
"Honestly, I'm really getting sick of them stealing my shit."
"The whores?"
"No, the bandits! We hired double the guards of a normal caravan, and we still can't keep them off our backs," the Duke complains.
"I understand your frustrations. We've had to contact several merchants to make up for lost goods, but in the end, we were able to stockpile enough supplies to support our operation."
"Honestly, I can barely keep them off my back. I can't even walk down the street without them trying to get a piece of me."
"Prostitutes are known to be more outgoing in competitive areas. Perhaps this is due to the influx of soldiers?"
"What? No, I was talking about the bandits."
"My apologies, sir." Baron Armon Reynolds bows to cover up the frustration that's contorted his face.
"That bitch enlisted the lowest dregs of our society to work against us. I'll have her head when all this is over."
"Sir, do you have any proof that she directly contacted those bandits?"
"What are you trying to say? You think I'm lying?"
"What I think matters not. You need to convince the king and the leader of the Adventurer's Guild."
"I'll get something together after she's dead."
"Very well, sir." Reynolds relents and just agrees with the Duke. At the end of the day, the health of his superior isn't his concern.
"On some level, I appreciate them breaking up the monotony of our day-to-day. I can only sit here doing nothing for so long."
"…" Having given up guessing which topic the Duke is rambling about, Reynolds just keeps his mouth shut.
"I can only get sucked dry by those whores for so long before I lose it!" Duke Avaritan rages.
"Maybe you shouldn't frequent the red light district as often."
"What? No, I'm talking about the bandits! Are you even paying attention?!"
"Of course, my apologies, sir." Reynolds bows again as fire burns in his eyes. He'd been putting up with this kind of abuse for almost a month now and was at his wit's end. The Duke treated him, a Baron, like a cheap servant. Reynolds couldn't help but think how much more he was respected working under Count Richter.
"How many men do we have remaining?" After the disaster in the forest, the Duke's forces had taken a severe blow. Over one hundred troops were lost that day.
"Nine hundred seventy-two, sir."
"I can't believe I need to bring so many troops to take care of a handful of fairies." Duke Avaritan sighs.
"Our kingdom has tried to defeat them three times in the past to no avail. With our current numbers, we're only twice as large as the last attempt, so our victory is still far from guaranteed."
"How dare you doubt my command!" The Duke booms. Reynolds lowers his head and backpedals.
"I have no doubts about your abilities, but unfortunately, there will always be things we can't control. Given you have all the necessary information, I'm sure you'll make the right decision, but we have many people working against us, many people waiting to stab us in the back."
"You think I don't know that?!"
"Of course not." Baron Reynolds steps back in an attempt to end the argument. Feeling that he's won, Avaritan drops the topic. He rummages around his desk, clearly searching for something.
"What happened to my wine?" The Duke asks.
"I'll fetch some more." Reynolds thinks to say, 'You drank it all, you stupid drunk!' but he holds his tongue. Instead, he dashes out of the room at the first chance he has to avoid dealing with his superior any longer.
The hallways of the Reynolds manor are narrow but well-lit, which gives the space a cozy feeling. He offered his house up to be the main base of operations for the Duke in order to curry favor, a decision he came to regret almost immediately. Reynolds's salt and pepper hair is growing whiter by the day. The Duke's unreasonable orders have layered many blankets of stress over his aging body.
"You there! Fetch the Duke more wine!" The Baron barks at the first person he sees.
"Right away, sir."
"I don't think I've seen you around here before. What's your name?"
"Hugo, sir." The servant says with a smile."
"Hugo, huh? Why do I feel like I've heard that name before? Well, whatever. Bring as much wine as you can carry to the Duke's office. Hopefully, he passes out before calling me again."
"Right away, sir." The servant bows, and Baron Reynolds trudges off down the hallway. Left alone again in the manor, Hugo smiles.
"The madam said this would be easy, but I never thought I could just walk in here unimpeded." Hugo muses to himself. He chuckles quietly as he walks down the stairs to find the kitchen.
"Excuse me, miss?" Hugo's deep, gentle voice startles the young woman sweeping the floor.
"Hello!? Yes?" She turns around in a tither. Hugo towers over her. She looks up slowly at his calm smile.
"I was wondering if you know where the kitchen is. I've been tasked with bringing wine to the Duke."
"Oh, right this way." The young servant places her broom against the wall and scurries down the hallway. Hugo follows several steps behind so she doesn't feel intimidated.
"Are you new here?" she asks. "I haven't seen you around here before."
"Yes, my name is Hugo. I don't know how long I'll be staying at this manor, but please take care of me during our time together."
"Don't worry, Hugo. I'll show you the ropes. Stick by my side, and you'll have nothing to worry about." She swiftly wheels back around and latches onto his side. "My name is Clare."
"Clare, that's a pretty name."
"Mmmm!" Clare squeals and squirms at his light compliment. Her face glows red with infatuation while looking up at the tall, stoic man beside her.