A noble lady? Vainqueur's head perked up, his Princess Sense stirring. "Is she a princess?"
"A princess? I don't think so, no. Why?"
Disappointing. "Old habits."
The manling's tiny eyes blinked. "Does Your Majesty kidnap princesses?"
"Sometimes, mostly elves," Vainqueur said, fondly remembering that particular hunting season he snatched the only elven princess of the current generation before his rivals. He had bragged to his fellow dragons for centuries afterward. "This is a very popular sport among dragonkind, since the black dragon Grandrake ransomed the manling Princess Genevieve a thousand years ago. Maybe I will take you minion on a hunting season someday."
"Do you…" His minion hesitated, as if afraid of the answer, "Do you eat them?"
"Of course not, do you take me for a savage? I release them back in the wild when I get bored of their whining." Or when he ran out of the food he had stored to keep them alive.
As if hearing their conversation, a chubby, two-legged cat the size of a manling joined the soldiers on the walls, wearing emerald and gold jewelry that Vainqueur immediately thought would look great atop his hoard; so would her golden fur. Two pretty manling maidens attended the cat, looking fearfully at Vainqueur.
Apparently, the owner wasn't a manling, but a catkin. "What business have you here, threatening my castle, dragon tamer?" the cat, Marquise Louise, asked the minion.
Vainqueur couldn't help but laugh. Humans, taming dragons? "I think you got our relationship backward!" Victor shouted back with modesty.
"I tamed him," Vainqueur made a face. Even if that talking cat was probably the Marquise, she didn't smell like a princess. She didn't even smell like a virgin! Not worth adding to his hoard. Still, since she was noble blood, Vainqueur deigned answer directly. "I am Vainqueur Knightsbane, King of the Albain Mountains, great calamity of this age! You sent ruffians after my silver rapier treasure, interrupting my long nap. I thereby demand half your cattle as restitution for the trouble caused, alongside the one thousand gold coins you offered for my possession."
"Half the cattle in my marquisate?" the catkin asked with her shrill, insolent voice. "This is preposterous!"
"I had to fly two hours to get here," Vainqueur emphasized his pain, "Two. Hours. I burned pounds of fat and smelled the dung of your peasants coming to this place."
"Also, Your Majesty burned the local woods coming here!" minion Victor shouted to the Marquise. "On request of the Count of Provencal!"
"Who owes me six thousand golden coins for this service!" Vainqueur pointed at the lead tag around his neck with his claw. "See this tag? I am an adventurer! The greatest your puny race has ever known!"
"Certainly, Your Majesty," Victor said. "Certainly."
The marquise let out a hiss as she squinted at the lead tag, then turned to whisper at one of her manling knights. "Bring me Count Gilbert for an explanation," Vainqueur heard her say thanks to his good ears, before she turned to the dragon. "If I give you what you want, you will leave my lands at once?"
"That depends, do you have more quests for me?" Vainqueur asked, eager for more gold.
"No, no, we do not," the marquise declared with haste.
"Also, if you have a Bishop on hands, Your Majesty has theological questions!" Victor added. "Important questions!"
"Good thinking, minion," Vainqueur said.
"Our chaplain is away on a diplomatic mission." The marquise then turned to whisper to the same knight as before. "Tell our cooks to prepare a feast for King Vainqueur. The 'troublesome guest' kind, with the special ingredient."
"I will tell the cooks to put the maximum dose," the knight added.
"We will provide you with a feast, and the reward for your noble deed!" the marquise told Vainqueur. "I hope you shall forgive us for our lack of courtesy!"
"Only if your cattle is good!" Vainqueur replied.
"You will find it most exquisite," the catkin noble replied with a strange tone, before leaving with her knight.
"She's…" Victor struggled to find his words. "Damn, she's a catkin. And here I thought she would be hot."
"Not as hot as me," Vainqueur rolled his eyes at his chief of staff's naivety. "You are too easily impressed, minion. My breath burns brighter than the sun. You have seen it. Of course, she would be lukewarm in comparison."
"Yeah, at least most of the staff is human. I wonder if one of the ladies-in-waiting is single."
"Of course they are not 'single', your noblewomen are rare in the wild, but not as much as princesses." Clearly, Vainqueur would have to finish the poor minion's education.
As the sun began to set, armorless manlings came out of the castle, bringing Vainqueur fat, cooked sheep, pigs, and cows on carriages. A fat, obese manling wearing brighter, cleaner clothes than the servants led the way, carrying purses and sweating. "Minion, is that manling part of the feast?" Vainqueur asked Victor.
"I'm not sure, Your Majesty…"
"No, no," the fat man sweated. "I am Gilbert, Count of Provencal."
"Ah, the one who issued the troll request?" Vainqueur's head perked up. The purses must contain his rewards.
"Yes, yes, I was petitioning the marquise for help getting rid of them before Your… Your Majesty solved the problem." The count gulped as he looked at the smoke rising on the horizon. "You were very zealous…"
"I am taking my duty as an adventurer seriously," Vainqueur agreed, swallowing a cow whole and spitting out some meat that got stuck between his sharp fangs. "You can eat the leftovers, minion. Let it never be said that Vainqueur starves his staff."
The minion glanced at the feast, then at the count, noticing sweat over his forehead. "No, no, I cannot share Your Majesty's meal," Victor replied. "It's all yours."
Such a dutiful manling. Why did Vainqueur ever bother with goblins? "You have come to deliver my reward?"
"Alongside the marquise's gift of apology," the sweating manling said. "She said this was my duty as her vassal."
"Indeed, what a good minion you are," Vainqueur said, feasting on sheep covered with a strange sauce. "Minion Victor, count the coins. And do not dare steal them!"
"Oh, very far from my mind, Your Majesty," Victor replied, taking the purses and doing as asked.
Congratulations! By stomaching the poison in the food like a champ, you gained the [Lesser Poison Immunity] Perk!
"Poison? What was this? Manling seasoning?" The count smiled, although it strangely did not reach his ears, and sweated so much Vainqueur wondered if he would die of it on the spot. Was he ill?
"Yes, Your Majesty," minion Victor said. "It's a very bitter spice for special occasions."
"I did not feel the taste, bring more of it!" Vainqueur complained, the count hurriedly running to the castle and attend to his needs.
Maybe he would get a stronger Perk at the end of the feast?