The slick snipping sound of scissors can be heard from one of the far-off trees surrounding their camp. The shadow of the leaves gave a silhouette of stained glass across Aiven as he continued with his sewing. On his lap was a black mass of matted cloth that creased in a heap.

It was a nice day. The Garmhound's furs were one of the softest he had encountered that matched the black and white theme he had in mind for the maid costumes.

Aiven leaned back and rolled his shoulders from its ball joints to ease up the aching sensation from slumping too much over the materials.

"This is becoming a habit," a shadow loomed over him, and Aiven saw Delica standing beside him, hands on hips and feet parted firmly on the ground with a fed-up expression she seemed to be fond of these past few days.

"Should I be concerned?" Delica asked as she scanned the four familiars who were kneeling infront of them. They had been perfecting the position of feet tucked under their legs, with their forehead touching the ground. A dogeza.

"Hmmm," Aiven continued stitching, the template still fixed on the materials on his hands.

"Remind me again why they have been doing that for two nights and one day straight?" she asked.

The four undeads were no other than Malar, who was as motionless as a statue and would murmur something Aiven could easily accept as a curse of some kind. Next to the elven was Hyoid, her ram-like horns were hidden from the mesh of sandy-colored curls as her whole muscle tensed at the humiliation of her position; followed by Vomer, the bear-beastkin who was still trembling, Delica gave a look of pity on the poor girl. And at the end of the line was Lacrimal, the undead-general of the Head Unit and responsible of their intelligence network. The seafolk octopus-inherent was also shivering, but the way he panted and squirmed was sending awkward chilliness at Aiven.

The undeads were the ones he had the pleasure of being acquainted with when they were stationed in the command center. Remembering their actions, Aiven was still pissed.

"They abandoned their posts," he answered with the usual sharpness he used when talking about the undead.

"We are getting in circles here," Delica was pouting and flopped beside him in a graceful pose, "the only reason they left you and Master, that time, was because I called to them!"

"You have negative status then, so you were excused," another snip of his shears and the bodice was done, "but these four, are not."

She grunted, giving up on the argument knowing that they have been at it for more than what was necessary, "you really shouldn't abused my babies."

At the mention of her pet name, Aiven's face darkened and he put down his work so he could stare at Delica. The lich held his gaze. A telepathic bargaining went over the two. If Simos was there, he would have been able to translate the opposing wavelengths, but since he wasn't, no one could even guess at what overwent in their silent conversation. They made a staring contest for about a few more seconds. Delica was the first one who break the eye contact.

"Sheesh! Fine! But you could only reduce their health to one percent, any bigger than that and I'll get angry," Aiven didn't moved, but the glint of his eyes told her that he was not that happy with the condition, "okay, two percent, each for you and master. Satisfied?"

The four looked up, expectant and happy of finally ending their punishment. The hardship was puny. It would be an insult to even call it that, with their living expereience to consider. But the feeling of uselessness was driving them mad, that when their mistress came to their defense they were tearing up with joy--aside from Lacrimal who seems to be disappointed.

Aiven stood up and left Delica who was still grunting in displeasure. He moved closer towards the four and started to took out identical bowls and poured holy water into it.

The familiars were all confused even when he set each bowl on the ground infront of each of the familiars.

Looking down on them, shadows menacingly forming on his eyes, Aiven said, "start licking."

"EHHHHHH????"

They all straightened and stiffened. Cold sweat breaking on their forehead.

"The humiliation!" the elven blurted, the first word he had uttered since the start of their punishment.

"This.damn.human.larvae!" the sheep said, trying to restrain herself.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." the bear was muttering while hiding her face. She was so deep in her dogeza, the dirt were all pushed downward in the pattern of her hands.

The air was filling with their complaints, but then they realized that their mistress was just at hearing distance so they quickly quieted down.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Delica was staring at a far off place with a blank face, shoulders slumped that she looked like all life was drained from her. She could be heard saying to no one in particular, my little Aiven...ayah, what happened to my little Aiven? Where did I go wrong? Where is my cute, adorable, little Aiven?...

Then Lacrimal with no hesitation at all, bend and put out his tongue on the bowl.

The remaining three was suddenly assaulted with remorse. Their great leader of the Head Unit, whom they looked up to, took the challenge and punishment head on without any negative word. Strengthening their resolves they also started bending down to lick the accursed holy water.

Then the sheep was getting a hard time at the task with her curly mess of a hair getting on the way. So Aiven, sincerely feeling bad for her and thinking he might have gotten carried away, grabbed her hair in a bunch, away from her face.

He crouched down and tried to smile to ease her discomfort, "go on, continue."

Hyoid stared at him in horror, remembering the deranged aura they have all felt from the little boy, she shut her mouth and do what she was told. Everyone got shivers at his merciless action. Delica in particular covered her ears, trying to hold on to the thread of deniability she still have on the growing sadistic tendency of her friend.

However, Aiven would soon regret his decision, afterall the pink octopus was starting to get excited.

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Afterwards, they talked about the gathered info on the bandits over lunch. This time, Aiven did the cooking, though it was mostly with Delica's strict instructions. Roast pheasant with herbs and spices, rye breads with butter and garlic. Coffee, milk.

Simos gave another list of trade routes and schedules of travelers, but Aiven emphasized on loan and tax collectors.

"You visited Runsaer often, right Delica?" Simos asked.

"On a few Blaze vacations more than you, what of it?"

He moved a few list of names towards her, "recognize these names?"

Delica and Simos studied the lists and tried to reminisced who, what and where they have heard the names and titles on the parchments. Living on the higher circles of the society before, they have a good grasp on the structures from other places compared to Aiven, who only have the honorary title.

"What is this for?" Simos asked. He had been bothered by Aiven's growing interest about these people, which was a first. Anything that has no script on it, barely warrant a second glance from his friend.

"I'm looking for someone we could use, their weaknesses mostly."

"Hmm, interesting. But what are you looking for exactly?" Delica asked.

Aiven paused and pondered on it, "political manipulation is all theory to me, so can you look on these? If we could know where their money comes from and where it went, then we could find what dirt we could rub on their faces."

"That's a good start. Actually, the only start we could have, but it is still a long shot. Runsaer and Arvalar have trade but their relationship is strained specially after the Runsaer lorded the east from the Bassine City Fortress," Simos remarked after stuffing a mouthful of meat.

"Well, Arvalar did abolished their eastern stronghold, shrinking Bassine towards the south after the demon attacks. It was only through the rogue camps that the man was able to hold the border." Delica added.

"And that camp grew until it called itself Runsaer, 'the one who sees rune'."

"Wrong. It's actually,'the one who saws the rune'," Aiven said.

"Aren't they the same?" Simos asked.

"[Saws], as in cut, maim, separate. There's a difference," he remarked.

"It doesn't matter, there's a lot of theories on the Kingdom's origin and no one knows it's real meaning anyway. All we know so far was Arvalarian hates the Runsaerines so I don't know how much we could get about the Emblems," Delica said.

"On the contrary, if the Runsaerines really hates the Arvalar Kingdom, then we are headed on the right direction," Aiven replied.

"Emblems? Like that one we met, Ainee?" Mieu asked, still nibbling on some bread toast.

"Yes, but we are targeting the other one with Simos, you've seen him right Master?" Delica asked.

"Hn," she muttered while nodding. "I don't like him. He had no injuries but when I healed him, he took most of the elements from the spell. I really don't get it."

[i]Wait you healed the Emblem? How...[i] Then Aiven realized something, "it was when you casted a wide-area healing." He declared.

Mieu again nodded, happily eating her meal.

"Can you still remember his constitution when you healed him? And also everyone on the area."

"Pretty much, why?" her eyes looked up to him.

"Great job, Maou!" Aiven patted her on the head, "you really are a great evil demon king."

"Hehehe," she chuckled, glowing with the compliment.

"Oh, speaking of which, how was the demon army equipments going along?" Delica asked.

"The costumes?"

"Uniforms," Delica corrected, too tired to even get angry.

They talked about Aiven's progress in his class. Which he clarified to be not much. Though he was finished with the sketches.

"Wait, aren't you supposed to take their measurements?" Delica asked.

"No need, I already have them," Aiven remarked.

"And how, pray tell, did you gotten hold of such intimate personal information out of my precious familiars, without my knowing? Eh?"

"Delica, your miasma is ruining the food," Simos annouced forcing a smile to calm the atmosphere.

"I have good cartologist skills."

"And what's that have to do with you peeking over my familiars!"

"I could measure a mountain's height within eyesight, so knowing a person's measurement just by looking isn't hard," he explained blandly. He was kinda proud of his mapping skills afterall. He kept his poker face on as he hands his plate to Mieu. When it touched her hand, the food went back to normal.

"Ah," Delica calmed down, "ah I see, you do have a point."

"By the way," he finished his food quickly and started cleaning, "do you have any hair and skin products?"

"Hair and skin?"

"Any cosmetics? Make up?"

"Uh...is your Babel translating properly? I can't..."

"Face paint used on humans."

"Ah, like what the undertakers used?" Simos suggested.

Beautification was different from this world. With the existence of magic, glamour and illusions could be done with much more realism compared to the cosmetics of his old-world. Placing coloring agents on the skin was only done to their dead to give it a decent appearance before burial. Hence, most make up artists were those with professions of undertakers.

"Perfect. Do you have any?"

"We used some as necromancers, but what is it for?"

"A project for world domination."

She smiled, and taught him everything she knows.