Chapter 1

15th Day, Middle Wind Month, 1 CE

“I must say these past few days have been remarkably fruitful.”

A wisp of breath rose from behind the Goblin Strategist’s white feather fan. Two Elder Liches came up to the war room’s central table. One rolled up the map spread out upon it – which was of the Forst River’s upper reaches – while the other unfurled a map centred on its confluence with the Oriculon.

“I agree,” one of Cocytus’ insectoid lieutenants inclined his mantis-like head. “The Elder Liches of the Southeast Army Group are becoming well-practised in the use of their dominated forces. I recommend that we rotate Elder Liches from the other army groups to participate in the theatre.”

“If only we had unlimited time to do so,” the Goblin Strategist said. “Alas, we have but a week or two before sufficient reconnaissance has been collected to advance with.”

Early spring had come and gone, but it was still frigid high on the northern slopes of the Azerlisia Mountains. The headquarters of the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Northern Army Group had relocated from the central Azerlisia Mountains to a newly constructed facility that overlooked the ever-growing Azerlisia Arsenal: the massive shipyard founded shortly after the Frost Giants joined the Sorcerous Kingdom.

The shore was filled with the industrial yards, workshops and storage facilities that fed the dozens of drydocks lining the coast. As high as the war room of the headquarters was, even the Frost Giants working below barely registered as specks in Ludmila’s vision. Vessels – from the Sorcerous Kingdom’s new barges to Frost Giant longships of traditional make – were in various stages of completion. It was here that the trade fleet conveying cargo to the Draconic Kingdom was built, and many more were on the way.

About half of the shipyard’s current capacity was reserved for research and development. Naval architects, artisans and maritime enthusiasts had come from around the Sorcerous Kingdom to create a community attached to the arsenal. Granted, there were few such individuals – most of them were Frost Giants – and the settlement only amounted to a large village, but it would surely grow as demand for the arsenal’s products did.

“At this rate,” Lord Cocytus’ brain-shaped lieutenant said, “we’ll have explored the limits of their warbands by then anyway. There is only so much they can do when operating in that fashion.”

“Don’t forget that amphibious assault early on,” a red, ant-like lieutenant said. “They’ve amply demonstrated their ability to conduct complex offensives as a large force. Their current challenges stem from the nature of this theatre: the front is wide, and a force of twenty thousand Beastmen is too few to defend it.”

Much like the Sorcerous Kingdom’s Elder Liches and Lady Shalltear’s Vampire Brides, Lord Cocytus’ lieutenants did not have names. In her head, Ludmila could only refer to them by their colour or some other distinguishing characteristic. She couldn’t just arbitrarily name them, yet being unable to address them properly felt horribly rude – not to mention confusing for others when there was more than one present. For their part, they didn’t seem to care.

“Still, they haven’t shown any signs of buckling,” the green lieutenant said. “Their warbands are resilient, flexible and mobile. We’ve learned more about company-level operations from observing them than we have from a year of exercises and experiments.”

“Yet we cannot incorporate most of what we have learned from them into the low-level Undead forces,” the brown brain lieutenant said. “The degree of micromanagement demanded by the Elder Liches is not worth the advantages gained. Most of the Undead units are incapable of carrying out the complex tasks demanded by those tactics, anyway.”

“Every drop of knowledge and experience is important to the development of the Royal Army,” the red lieutenant said. “If what we learn cannot be applied to our forces now, it can be applied later. Either way, it still applies to our approach against these Beastmen.”

Ludmila pondered the exchange. She had a sense of how the Sorcerer King’s closest vassals, their subordinates and His Majesty’s summoned servitors defined things according to their value to their liege, and it was to the point that it was obsessive. Service, tribute and even thought were weighed and measured, and they would step over one another in the manner that highly competitive and absolutely loyal vassals would.

As Lady Shalltear once told her, if something got them even one millimetre closer to achieving His Majesty’s desires, they would be more than happy to help accomplish it. This applied to everything and anything, and they were jealous of every opportunity to do so. Of course, this also applied to Ludmila and any of her assignments.

Still, there were differences between them. The brown brain lieutenant tended to be aggressive and quick to discount the value of ‘outside’ knowledge, expertise and attitudes. The green mantis lieutenant was something like the opposite and actively embraced new knowledge and ideas from external sources. The red ant lieutenant ended up being a sort of peacemaker between them, seeking common ground and recognising benefits to both sides’ positions.

So the brown one is Salacia Soruel, the green is Emmad Zorlu and the red, Zoren Carillo…

Did that make Lord Cocytus Queen Oriculus? Probably not. She shook the thought away.

“Has something caught your attention, Captain Zahradnik?” The green mantis lieutenant asked.

“I was just considering the dynamics of the Draconic Kingdom’s Royal Court, Your Excellency,” Ludmila answered.

“The political angle, hm,” the Goblin General rested his fan against his arm. “I can’t say we’ve been exposed to much of it. Countess Corelyn’s reports contain many details that seem frivolous to a military mind.”

“Our time frames are simply too disparate,” Ludmila said. “The Sorcerous Kingdom’s diplomacy will require years and decades to achieve our government’s policy goals, while the Royal Army’s campaign is slated to end before summer.”

Friction in the form of political and economic resistance was to be expected. They were two countries with no shared history whatsoever, and the similarities between them were sparse. While the Sorcerous Kingdom was eager to expand its influence, achieving its aims in such a short time wasn’t in any way realistic. Even the Duchy of E-Rantel was projected to take somewhere around half a decade to stabilise fully, and complete integration was beyond any predictable horizon.

“The Prime Minister. Displeased,” Lord Cocytus said from his dais. “‘Ingrates’, she claims.”

“A difference in expectations, Your Excellency,” Ludmila replied. “It’s true that we are in the process of liberating their country, but what we seek are friends and allies, not servants or slaves. The Baharuth Empire has proven that a client state in a position of absolute submission – no matter how benevolent the suzerain is – is not conducive to fostering the relations that His Majesty seeks for his dominion. In the Draconic Kingdom, we have the opportunity to join hands with a sovereign state in such a way that it legitimises our hegemony in the eyes of the world. It is also Countess Corelyn’s hope that our relationship with the Draconic Kingdom will succeed where the Empire is currently failing as a model for other countries to follow.”

A combination of legal helplessness, preconceptions of the Undead and other ‘evil’ beings, and the relatively strong, independent position that the Empire had been in when it became a client state of the Sorcerous Kingdom created a situation where they believed themselves to be hostages subject to the whims of some sort of supremely evil being. Granted, there were a few who thought differently, but the vast majority of the Empire’s citizens existed in a state where they had nothing to complain about, yet still believed they were a hair’s breadth from calamity. As a result, efforts at improving economic, cultural and voluntary political cooperation were moving at the pace of a particularly sluggish Brown Sewer Slime.

The Grand Marshal raised a claw to scratch his icy blue head. A burst of frigid breath swept over his dais as he released a sigh.

“Politics. Not for me.”

“Hear, hear,” Sigurd thumped the base of his Frostreaver against the ground. “Leave that mess to the politicians. We are here to wage war.”

They turned their attention back to the map. Elder Liches had placed markers upon it, displaying the disposition of forces on both sides.

As the green lieutenant had mentioned, twenty thousand Beastman warriors could not adequately cover the one hundred fifty kilometre front, which ran along the Forst River in the north and the Billaeus River in the south. Then again, neither could the Sorcerous Kingdom’s expeditionary army.

Over the course of their sweep from the Katze Plains, they had managed to gather roughly one hundred fifty thousand Beastman Zombies. Additionally, the Southeast Army Group had deployed all of their Elder Liches to the theatre, seeing it as an opportunity to practise commanding dominated contingents from the Katze Plains. That added sixty thousand easily-replaceable Undead to their available forces, which were used for ongoing experimentation against the Beastman defenders.

Though they had ten times the numbers as their opponent, it was still inadequate for the size of the theatre. Unlike many a tale of war and valour, armies of any size did not conveniently gather to attack and be attacked unless they decided to. However, the Beastmen were clearly at a disadvantage when it came to the defence of their territory.

…at least if one thought as Humans did. The Beastmen’s answer to the problem, however, came almost immediately. Rather than act defensively to preserve their limited and outnumbered forces, they went on the offensive. It was devastating to the forces of the Sorcerous Kingdom, and the Royal Army’s general staff lauded it as the correct and rational course of action on the Beastmen’s part.

Ludmila wasn’t sure if the Beastmen had gained the relevant information to make that decision from the fleeing migrants or if they discerned the appropriate response within days of finding out the Undead were coming their way. What she did know, however, was that they knew what they were doing.

The ‘Undead horde’ tactics that proved so potent against the migrants were ineffective against the warrior clans. They struck swiftly and decisively, exploiting the weaknesses of the dominated forces. If the Royal Army deployed its assets to present multiple threats across the front, the Undead detachments were rapidly picked off. If they consolidated their forces for a mass assault, force was met with force and the high offensive power of the enemy warbands allowed them to tear through the Undead with relative ease. Responding to any Beastman strike was pointless, as they made a point of never lingering long enough for a counterattack and ambushes were detected well in advance.

Without using Elder Liches or Death-series Servitors, they were completely outclassed, and Ludmila gained a fresh appreciation for the challenges that the Draconic Kingdom faced. It was one thing to hear about their troubles; it was another to witness what they faced in detail. The Imperial Army would likely be shattered just as quickly; their formations and methodical tactics rendered utterly useless against the asymmetrical warfare of the warrior clans.

Rather than be incensed over the fact that they had effectively hit a wall, the Royal Army’s general staff delighted in the opportunity to try all sorts of things. As the Goblin General had mentioned, it was a remarkably fruitful experience, but she wondered how the Beastmen would feel if they found out that they hadn’t inflicted any lasting damage to the Royal Army and were being treated as experimental subjects.

“Our next regiment of dominated forces has nearly arrived at the front,” the brown lieutenant said. “Since we’re focusing on the Rivergarden area again, we should answer their amphibious assault from back then with one of our own.”

“Shouldn’t we leave that as a surprise for later?” The red lieutenant leaned forward to look down at the map, “Once we present the possibility that the Undead may use the riverbed as an unchallenged corridor, their entire posture will change. The increased security further east may interfere with our intelligence operations.”

“That’s true…in that case, how about we put more pressure on the front to speed things along?”

“You mean with the Death-series Servitors?”

The brown lieutenant bobbed his body.

“Indeed. Our opponents have managed to handle what we’ve sent against them thus far, but we’ve only been skirmishing over the past week or so. Presenting a tangible threat to an important target should produce some interesting results.”

Ludmila sent a sharp look at Cocytus’ lieutenant.

“Are you proposing a full-scale assault on Rivergarden, Your Excellency?”

“As much as is required to capture the city intact and secure its remaining inhabitants,” the brown lieutenant replied. “Is this not well within your capabilities, Captain?”

“The cities we’ve liberated thus far have been defended by a disorganised and unprofessional force,” Ludmila said. “Rivergarden is not the same. We have no idea how the warrior clans will react, and a direct assault is not how we’ve been freeing towns and cities up until this point.”

“Facing the unknown is a part of war, Captain Zahradnik,” Gunnar said from beside Sigurd. “Having such thorough intelligence is certainly a boon, yet it is a luxury all the same. There will inevitably come a time when one must take risks…but I’m sure you already understand this.”

“I do, Captain Gunnar,” Ludmila replied, “but I don’t believe we must take this particular risk in our current situation. The general staff has treated this entire campaign as a large-scale experiment thus far, and I’ve done my best to see that our operations satisfy our nation’s policy goals while maximising what we can glean from the battlefield. I appreciate the fact that the gentlemen here are eager to move forward, but, at this juncture, we risk significant ramifications in pursuit of an ‘interesting result’.”

Stolen novel; please report.

The officers around the war room exchanged looks between themselves. As strange as it seemed, she was the most politically-sensitive individual in her present company. She was used to it being the opposite, but now she constantly had to be mindful of how the general staff’s actions would affect their diplomatic efforts.

“The Draconic Kingdom has already lost the city,” the brown lieutenant said. “They can hardly complain if we take it back for them, no matter the result.”

“If only it were so simple,” Ludmila shook her head. “People tend to focus more on negative outcomes than positive ones, and bad rumours fly faster and farther than good ones. The Sorcerous Kingdom’s geopolitical position is already difficult enough for us to work with as it is, which is why our goals in the Draconic Kingdom are what they are. Furthermore, any major mishaps will be a stain against the reputation of the Sorcerous Kingdom and a mark against the honour of His Majesty the Sorcerer King. I trust that no one here would ever desire to be the cause of it.”

Everyone seemed to deflate at her words. Ludmila’s lips drew into a thin line. She didn’t mean to press her case so strongly, but some things were simply unacceptable.

“Even so,” Lord Cocytus said. “Advance, you must. If not now, a week. If nothing changes, what then?”

“Then I will consult with Queen Oriculus, Your Excellency,” Ludmila replied. “Acting unilaterally in this operation will only serve to distance us from the allies we are trying to court. As the Queen of the Draconic Kingdom, the final call is hers to make.”

“And if she turns the blame for any ‘major mishaps’ on us anyway?” Sigurd crossed his arms.

“Then we will know the quality of her character,” Ludmila said. “And unlike her, we do not have to take any slight lying down.”

The remainder of the meeting was spent tossing around ideas for the eventual assault on Rivergarden. Most of the strategic planning went not to the city itself, but to the rest of the front. Taking the city and leaving it as a salient in the Beastman lines was a sure way to have them discover that the Humans within it remained unharmed, thus dispelling the illusion of the ‘Undead horde’.

Six hours later, Ludmila stretched as she made her way to the headquarters’ designated teleportation zone, where Lady Entoma awaited her. The Royal Maid had been present at the entire meeting, barely moving and voicing no complaint over having to attend the proceedings.

“Thank you for your hard work~” Lady Entoma said cheerfully as she raised a sleeve to wave at her.

“Thank you for your hard work, Lady Entoma,” Ludmila smiled in response. “How did the transportation of all the corpses go?”

“They were deli–I mean, we moved everything without any problems! Are you going straight back to the Draconic Kingdom?”

Ludmila pondered the question. All of her administrative work was relayed to the delegation’s suite in Oriculon. She was curious about the progress being made in her demesne, but that could wait. That left only one major thing that might require her presence.

“If it isn’t a bother,” she said, “could you contact Lady Shalltear and let her know that I’m available for a while if she needs me for anything?”

“Sure thing!”

Lady Entoma reached into her frilly sleeve and produced a rectangular talisman. She attached it to her forehead – or at least the forehead of what Ludmila assumed was a mask – and went still. A few moments later, the portal of a Gate spell opened in front of them.

“Lady Shalltear will see you now,” the Royal Maid said.

“Thank you, Lady Entoma,” Ludmila lowered her head. “Have a pleasant evening.”

Ludmila stepped through the portal, setting foot atop the palace in Castle Corelyn. Lady Shalltear stood before her with a Vampire Bride to either side.

“Welcome back,” she said.

“If only for a while,” Ludmila lowered her head in a curtsey. “I hope the evening finds you well, Lady Shalltear.”

Lady Shalltear came forward, wrapping an arm around Ludmila’s elbow.

“It certainly has improved, now that you’re here. Tell me: do I smell like anything to you?”

Unless she was wearing perfume, Lady Shalltear didn’t smell like much of anything in public. Ludmila leaned forward slightly to test the scents coming from her liege. A green odour rose from the Vampire’s platinum hair.

“Have you been out in the woods, my lady?”

“More like I’ve been stuck in the woods,” Lady Shalltear pouted. “That Albedo really works people to the bone. She’s gone all out with her ‘restructuring’ of the Abelion Hills.”

“Restructuring…she ordered me to build a transportation link to the Holy Kingdom through the Upper Reaches, but may I ask what else is going on out there?”

“Oh, there’s plenty going on. That gorilla wants everything. Transportation infrastructure, dozens of administrative hubs, reeducation facilities, the list goes on. People always remark about how much labour the Undead servitors can provide, but with Albedo and her ambitions, there’s never enough. Speaking of which, I need to speak to Florine whenever you girls are done with your thing in the Draconic Kingdom. She needs to do some boobing out there.”

Ludmila frowned.

“Boobing?”

“That’s what Liane calls it. It sounds absolutely wondrous, so I decided to adopt the term.”

“I don’t think we can use ‘boobing’ in our official vernacular, my lady.”

“And whyever not?”

“I believe Her Excellency the Prime Minister is best equipped to inform you as to why.”

Lady Shalltear’s face cycled through several expressions of introspection and confusion before she straightened and raised a hand to her ear.

“Yes, what is it? …I suppose – one minute.”

Her liege lowered her hand and released Ludmila’s arm. Her black ballroom gown swept back and forth over the grounds of the rooftop garden – which was still in the process of being carefully landscaped into a ‘tropical jungle pool’ by Lord Mare – as she milled about before stopping at a bare patch. The portal of a Gate spell opened up and two soggy Nar flew out to land in the dirt. A disembodied head appeared a split second later, leaving a bloody trail as it rolled off toward the edge of the rooftop. A Vampire Bride went chasing after it.

“What happened?” Ludmila asked.

“Tira needed some evidence disposed of,” Lady Shalltear answered as she examined the corpses. “Are they all this big?”

“That’s about average for Tiger Beastmen, my lady.”

“Hmm…”

Lady Shalltear leaned forward, her crimson eyes gleaming. Partway through, she turned her gaze in Ludmila’s direction.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like ‘nothing’ to me.”

“…you want to try some, don’t you?”

“…maybe.”

Ludmila smiled and rolled her eyes, turning away to enter Lady Shalltear’s court. A Vampire’s sensibilities were complicated. Lady Shalltear was utterly unapologetic over the fact that she was an ‘evil monster’, yet her sense of decorum demanded that she act appropriately according to her setting and present company.

Upon entering the hall, Ludmila found that it was in the same state as they had left it. Gossamer silks hung from the ceiling, turned a pale pink from the chamber’s soft, coloured lighting. The marble floor was similarly tinted, offering hazy red reflections on its perfectly polished surface. Ludmila seated herself at her desk, staring down at the fine ebony craftsmanship before turning to lie back on her comfortable chaise.

Her eyes idly scanned the ceiling as she considered the task before her. Achieving victory was one thing; doing so while minimising collateral damage to the Draconic Kingdom and its subjects was another. Their overall strategy only worked up to the point where their opponents stopped fleeing in mass panic and took the time to analyse what was actually going on.

In a way, Lord Cocytus’ lieutenant was right, though not for his stated desire. The longer they lingered where they were, the more likely the Beastmen would work past their preconceptions. The less ‘mindless’ the Undead appeared, the more the enemy would start to wonder what the objectives of the Undead horde were. They had to act as effectively and quickly as possible.

A dim shadow fell over her as Lady Shalltear came in to join Ludmila at her desk, wiping her fingers on a stained white napkin.

“Where are your attendants, Mistress Shalltear?” Ludmila asked.

“Delivering those corpses,” Lady Shalltear answered with a salacious smile. “Why, are you finally ready to spice things up and make it a foursome?”

“I was just wondering. How were the Nar?”

“Lacking,” Lady Shalltear sighed. “It’s as if they died without knowing they were dead. There was no fear, despair, panic or any sense of struggle.”

“Well, Tira is an Assassin. Her targets shouldn’t know what’s about to hit them. Also, doesn’t that mean you tasted what they were like normally?”

“I did, and it was boring. I’d prefer that they tasted more like, well, prey.”

As something like a Human, the mindset of a pure predator was something that Ludmila could only try to understand from an outsider’s perspective. Humans only shared some of the primal feelings and sensations that obligate carnivores did, so that part of their psyche would always be difficult to fully empathise with, even as a Ranger.

Lady Shalltear joined her on the chaise, straddling her hips. She lay her head on Ludmila’s breast and her hands started to roam, but Ludmila’s mind was filled with her own troubles.

“Maybe I was the wrong choice for this assignment,” she sighed.

“Well, that came out of nowhere,” Lady Shalltear’s hands stopped. “Did something bad happen? I hope not, for your sake.”

“On the contrary,” Ludmila replied, “everything is as close to perfect as reasonable. Which is enough for any sane person to wonder if they’re ignorant of any problems that may exist.”

“And what might go wrong?”

“Nearly everything. We could lose two million of the Draconic Kingdom’s citizens, which would result in an indelible black mark on the Sorcerous Kingdom’s reputation. Tactically, victory is assured, but the strategic and diplomatic outcomes are still in question.”

While others might console her by saying that people were bound to forget what happened in time, she knew that Lady Shalltear would do no such thing. She held herself personally accountable for all of her actions: even if everyone else forgot, she would not. It was an admirable trait to have for one with an eternal lifespan, as it would be far easier for most to simply shrug and allow time to bury the past.

“As far as I understand it,” Lady Shalltear said, “Your current strategy should work just fine.”

“About that…I have another concern.”

“What’s that?”

Ludmila shifted on the chaise, and Lady Shalltear got off of her. She sat up beside her liege, reflecting on her conclusions since falling upon the Con Lord in pursuit of General Saroukhanyan.

“I’ve…gotten stronger.”

Lady Shalltear snorted.

“That hardly seems a concern. I can only wish I could level so easily.”

“The problem is that I’ve barely done anything,” Ludmila said. “My role thus far in the campaign has primarily revolved around political and operational oversight. Nearly all of the strategising and coordination of our forces in the theatre has been the work of the general staff and the Elder Lich sergeants. The few fights I participated in were trivial.”

“You’re still the ranking officer on the field. The Royal Army has racked up quite the kill count.”

Ludmila shook her head.

“The Adventurer Guild has been experimenting to find the most efficient ways to strengthen its members,” she said. “Rates of progression are directly related to the ‘challenge’ of a task. The Royal Army could kill a million Beastmen, but if the Commander’s task is trivial, they wouldn’t gain a thing.”

“No wonder you’re pushing your subjects to do their utmost.”

“Doing one’s utmost was always a part of our faith,” Ludmila said. “The findings only strengthen my conviction and help determine the best ways to go about it for each vocation. As for my getting stronger, I believe I haven’t gained any Job Class Levels.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Both you and Lord Mare said that the average Heteromorph Racial Class Level has triple the attribute gain of the nearest equivalent Job Class Level. It’s unreasonable to think that I’ve gotten multiple Job Class Levels from doing so little, but a single Racial Class Level is well within the realm of possibility. I gained a surprising amount of power unexpectedly, whereas I should have noted small, incremental gains with multiple Job Class Levels.”

“I see. So you just…grew? Like a Dragon?”

“The most likely culprit is my ability to absorb negative energy.”

“Ah, you mean the death maid thing.”

The corner of Ludmila’s mouth twitched.

“Yes, Mistress. Between my time in the Empire and this campaign in the Draconic Kingdom, I’ve been exposed to substantial amounts of violence and death. In terms of negative energy, the wake of the Royal Army is spotless, yet the way we’re waging war is…”

Her words trailed off, and she swallowed. It was her first ‘quality’ that truly felt ‘Undead’. For her to grow as a Revenant, she needed to absorb the very force that was an antithesis to the living. And to create it…

“Atrocity calls to unlife.”

Ludmila blinked.

“I beg your pardon, Mistress?”

“That’s what it is, isn’t it?” Lady Shalltear told her, “Unspeakable brutality; exquisite anguish. Despair, decay and death. All of it leads to the generation of what is commonly referred to as ‘negative energy’.”

Ludmila nodded silently. Lady Shalltear wrapped her arm around Ludmila’s waist and pressed herself against her arm.

“But you…” Lady Shalltear’s crimson gaze glowed up at her, “You can take all of it in. Every. Single. Drop. You feed on it. Lord Ainz wishes for a world where all may live in harmony and prosperity under his reign, but there will be many who resist out of pride and foolishness. Ruin will be wrought upon them and with it will come the rise of the energies that the living abhor.

“When that happens, you will be there on the front lines as a Captain of the Royal Army, enabling us to do what must be done without marring His Majesty’s perfect vision. In His supreme wisdom, Ainz Ooal Gown has granted you eternity. With that eternity, comes duty. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Ludmila didn’t think that a life of duty was especially out of the ordinary, but, then again, duty was a constant to her. She couldn’t imagine her existence without it. An eternity of duty in service to her god was not an unattractive prospect.

“So I exist to regulate the generation of negative energy?”

“Well, it feels right, doesn’t it?” Her liege replied, “A noblewoman born to a life of duty. A Ranger whose duty is to maintain the balance of nature. A mistress of fear who worships the Supreme Ruler of Death. I can think of no one more suited for the role, and it is impossible for it all to be a mere coincidence.”

The crimson glow of Lady Shalltear’s eyes intensified as her face drew closer.

“Atrocity calls to unlife,” she said softly. “And you can manage it all as you please. To me, it seems that you have been granted a licence for atrocity.”

A sweet smile formed on her liege’s lips as they brushed lightly up Ludmila’s neck to whisper in her ear.

“You should use it.”