Kaniel leaned back after finishing another document. He let out a heavy sigh, contemplating and weighing the future possibilities. All had to be accounted for. Advantages. Population. Specialties. Resources. Prospects. Detriments. Undercurrents. Every variable mattered.

Unimaginable it was. Kaniel was great at ruining everything, not repairing. The sole reason he had instigated his exile and had come to the north in the first place was to buy as much time as he could and gain strength. What worth was his previous act as an imbecile now that everything had gone south even though he was in the north?

Life was such, ridiculous. Expect and you get the unexpected. Consider the unexpected and you get the expected. Regard both and you get the disregarded.

That was why he should have disregarded everything to begin with! Only if he had the guts and wit to disconsider ‘ifs’, this situation would’ve never occurred! He shouldn’t have stolen the damn inheritance… Yet no matter how long he lamented, it was no use crying over the spilled milk, especially if it was spoiled to top it off. The best he could do was enjoy the shitty taste of it.

The table before him was an absolute mess, barely visible beneath the disordered piles of stacks of parchment, reports, and letters yellowed and curled from years of handling. His fingers felt stiff from gripping the pages, flipping through report after report that described the challenges facing the land.

Thick ledgers filled with grain counts from the last ten years scribbled in gradually worsening handwriting documented food shortages that also worsened each winter atop the failed attempts to grow crops in the freezing soil and the frustration of farmers who worked tirelessly to see their efforts wither under the northern frost. Maps lay between the stacks, the hand-drawn sketches of the surrounding territories marked with notes about monster lairs and potential hunting grounds. Vague attempts to make sense of the ever-changing wasteland.

Wasteland. Those territories were owned by mindless beasts. People have tried over the centuries to conquer the wasteland, yet all the efforts were rendered futile and only backfired. Every piece of land beyond the borders of The Peiros Continent, The Four Empires and The Holy Land, was considered as such.

Anthropos, the human empire.

Nereos, the elven empire.

Nanos, the dwarven empire.

Kobalos, the goblin empire.

Finally, Bios, The Holy Land. A city at the very center of the continent, where all were welcome. Dragons, organizations, both religious and criminal, and the richest and strongest people predominantly resided therein.

The five places altogether made up The Peiros Continent, the only habitable chunk of land in the world.

Kaniel’s initial plan was to finish the academy and move to Bios. Those were relatively shinier days, the days he had wanted to live in peace. Now, it was different. Peace was the last thing on his mind.

“I have it figured out,” Kaniel said as he reached the last of the documents, an ache building in his temples, his eyes dry and tired, “Let’s begin with the monster problem.”

Just when he was about to start with the master plan, the door creaked open. Lumine, the vampire, a vision of chilling beauty, stepped inside. Her black hair flowed down her shoulders, streaked with a shade of crimson at the tips like the last remnants of blood trailing down from a blade. Her expression was as cold and detached as her dark, wine-red eyes that held no warmth. Deep and hollow, they fixated on Kaniel for a long while, assessably. Her lips parted, barely. A barely-there smile, more of a polite facade.

Slightly different than the standard one before, she wore a dress of deep ebony with white lace against her pale skin, its sleeves flaring out at the wrists where lace ruffles trailed. A large purple bow was tied just under her collar.

A silver tea tray balanced in her gloved hands, she approached the table and set it down. The porcelain teapot gleamed in the candlelight as she poured tea. Then, she took her place across the table to the lord’s left, seated opposite Gora, folding her hands in her lap, her posture straight yet relaxed, her gaze shifting from Kaniel to settle into a steady stare forward.

“Is this okay?” Kaniel pointed to the demon to his left.

Lumine nodded.

“I wasn’t asking you,” he said, turning to the supposed steward. “Why is she here?”

“She’ll be your personal servant. Your valet. I was planning to appoint Zara, yet you two didn’t get along. ” Gora locked eyes with him. “You can trust her as you trust me,” he said.

To Kaniel, that meant he couldn’t trust her under any circumstances. Though, on second thought, did it really matter? Be it a god, a human, or a fly, everything could kill him with ease. More importantly, their goals aligned. Both Kaniel and Gora wished the best for Nashdome. Even the greatest enemies would cooperate for a common goal.

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“What about you?” Kaniel asked the pseudo-butler.

“I have too many tasks at hand,” Gora stated.

“Ah,” the lord muttered, smiling at Lumine, “Fine by me. I’m looking forward to knowing you, Lumine.”

Lumine simply stared at him, expressionless.

Kaniel leaned back, closed his eyes, and let the silence punctuated only by the crackle of the candles and the distant winds outside the stone walls settle around him. “First, the plans for the winter.” He opened his eyes and muttered, “We’ll lure the adventurers to do the job for us.”

“That won’t work,” Gora interrupted. “Most of the adventurers are prideful and cowardly. They demand a huge prize for a half-assed job.”

Kaniel held the teacup with a slight tilt and took a small sip. “Broaden your horizons.”

He lifted a finger. “By funneling adventurers, we minimize the need to sacrifice our population to defend the borders. We’ll use the adventurers as a line of disposable fighters who face the worst monsters so the locals don’t have to.”

His gaze flicked from his drink to the people around him and back to the cup. The tea's steam curled up around his face over his narrowed eyes.

“Adventurers are often driven by ambition and desperation. We will make Nashdome seem like a chance that cannot be missed. Many will come, blinded by the promise of wealth, status, or glory, not realizing they’re entering a trap.”

“A trap?” the steward raised his brows.

“Why, obviously,” the lord whiffed.

The corners of his lips pulled back into a mad grin. He leaned forward, one hand curled under his chin, fingers tapping. The creases around his eyes deepened the manic gleam in his gaze.

“We kill them. We eliminate most adventurers after their usefulness has expired to avoid the payment. We’ll craft a feedback loop where these ‘success stories’ keep the legend alive, attracting new adventurers and maintaining a facade of prosperity. These adventurers essentially draw more recruits to replace those who ‘didn’t make it.’”

Gora gave a sharp look to gauge the lord. “But won’t that eventually raise suspicions? If enough adventurers disappear and the word of it is spread, it’ll tarnish our reputation. Not just adventurers but traders and allies will avoid us entirely.”

“It’s no easy task indeed,” Kaniel replied.

He held the cup aloft, theatrically, a nobleman delivering a speech. His fingers tapped on the porcelain as he let each word roll off his tongue thoughtfully.

“The adventurers will be welcomed with feasts and promises of recognition. While they work on the frontlines, we will control the information flow to ensure the foreigners believe they are part of a noble cause.” He took another sip, giving a slow nod. “Those who ask too many questions or express doubts will be isolated and assigned to more dangerous missions. Similarly, after adventurers have contributed to stabilizing the region, we will arrange for most of them to face missions with low survival odds.”

He pointed a finger at his steward. “As for the concern with rumors, a few handpicked adventurers convinced of the barony’s legitimacy will be spared to spread curated stories back to their guilds and hometowns, with high rewards, of course, ensuring the cycle continues.”

“You mean to bribe them?” Gora asked, brushing his chin with his fingers. “While they do the fighting, Nashdome can quietly redirect its focus to rebuilding, strengthening the walls, improving trade, and investing in sustainable food and weapon production.”

“Exactly,” Kaniel affirmed, the corner of his mouth quirking into a knowing smirk. “What do you think?” He turned his head and looked at the vampire.

She remained silent and just nodded. This time, though, it wasn’t by her own will. Lumine was left speechless. There was no way, whether in Hell or here on the Surface, such a thing would be legal. Never mind the legal part. Wasn’t it just… pure evil?

But this was nothing in comparison to what followed.

“Yet what we want aren’t their lives. We want their everything. Their weapons, money, and even their families,” the lord said.

Lumine needed out of the room. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to unhear what was about to come.

“A unique idea of mine. Let me introduce you two to banking.”

And so the avid discussions between the lord and his steward followed. Lumine didn’t follow. She was simply disgusted, to say the least, by the world, herself, the lord, and humanity in general. As the time went by, sweat flowed down her chin. Her lips tightened, pressing into a line, the furrow between her brows deepening as she fought to maintain her calm. Kaniel reminded her of her father. Yet even her father wasn’t as despicable.

Gora leaned back with his sharp eyes, never leaving Kaniel. He spoke with a low voice, occasionally tilting his head, fingers beating against the table, probing curiously. The lord maintained his confidence, leaning forward at times with a provocative smirk and at others back with his arms crossed.

“This is brilliant,” Gora whispered at the end of the discussion, squinting his eyes still. “However, we lack the resources to kick-start the project. How is this any different from the designs I’ve come up with? This idea of yours demands immense investment. You contradict yourself.”

“No,” the lord exclaimed, pointing a finger at Gora, watching him piercingly. “You—are poor.”

“I—am not,” he followed, pointing at himself. “I can get enough resources to buy every single property in this barony.”

Both pairs of eyes, Gora’s scrutinizing stare and Lumine’s observant crimson gaze turned toward Kaniel with sudden surprise. Those two didn’t account for the difference between ‘I can get’ and ‘I have’.

“How long would it take to establish communication with the local church in Reinhardt?” the lord asked.

“Five days at minimum,” the steward responded.

“It can’t be helped,” Kaniel stood up, leaving. “Go notify the priestess to begin the process.”

Lumine followed from behind.