The chill of the stone floor no longer bothered Liselotte since she had kicked off her tight, lacquered stilettos.
Having completed the task assigned by her Mistress, the maid was once again sitting barefoot on a soft patch of damp moss, wedged directly between the thighs of Nyssara, who was sitting on the stone block and curiously following the chat and exchanges between the demon kings.
She leaned her back against her knees, and her bare, petite toes curled sensually every time a cool gust of night wind brushed against her bare, fishnet-clad calves.
The fire in the hearth was slowly dying down, casting long, swaying shadows on the ruined walls. A faint, savory aroma of roasted horned beast meat still lingered around them.
Seeing that her maid had finished counting, Nyssara raised her hand, summoning the purple interface window before her, wanting to perfectly understand how the trade feature between demon kings functioned.
The Empress ran her nail over the displayed regulations, reading them carefully.
"Listen," Nyssara spoke, her deep, velvety voice cutting through the silence of the ruins. "The system's trading platform operates surprisingly simply, but it has its strict rules. Items are listed directly from our territory. The moment an offer is confirmed, the goods vanish from our domain and hang in the systemic transit space for exactly fifteen minutes. If no one buys it, it returns to us."
Elarienne stepped closer, leaning on her staff.
"And the costs?" the blonde asked matter-of-factly. "Nothing in this world is free."
"Listing a single offer costs exactly one Dominion Coin," Nyssara explained, tapping the corresponding line. "You pay upfront simply for creating the auction. Fortunately, the system does not deduct any additional commission from a successful transaction. If someone purchases our goods, the entirely negotiated sum immediately flows straight into our treasury."
Liselotte turned her head slightly, resting her chin on the Mistress's bare thigh. Her demonic tail lazily swept the floor right next to Nyssara's aristocratic boots.
"One coin for fifteen minutes..." the maid murmured, wrinkling her nose adorably. "So this isn't the place to list garbage and wait weeks for a miracle. Every auction has to sell immediately, otherwise we'll burn through our capital just on fees."
"Precisely," the Empress agreed, then glanced toward the roofed depot, where the salvaged supplies rested under the watchful eyes of the workers.
"I've already counted everything, my Mistress! After our meal, we have exactly twenty-four large, even portions of roasted horned beast left. Each one is a solid, thick slab of pure meat, perfectly preserved in the smoke of forest herbs."
Nyssara nodded gravely, quickly calculating in her head.
"Right now there are eight of us: the three of us and five demonic workers. If everyone gets two meals a day, we need sixteen portions to comfortably survive tomorrow without having to go hunting at dawn."
"Agreed," Elarienne supported her. "Especially since the workers are facing heavy physical labor tomorrow felling trees. We cannot cut their rations."
"That leaves us with eight portions of pure surplus," the Mistress summarized. "We are keeping the fruits and medicinal herbs entirely for ourselves. They are too valuable, so we are exclusively selling meat."
Liselotte clapped her hands, that same brazen glint flaring in her ruby eyes.
"Since we have eight portions, under absolutely no circumstances should we list them as one massive bundle!" the servant exclaimed, squirming between the Empress's legs. "No one will buy that! The vast majority of those pathetic creatures in the chat have empty pockets. If you demand twenty coins for the entire batch at once, you'll scare off ninety-nine percent of the customers. We need to split it into small, affordable portions! Four packs of two pieces! Two pieces of meat is the perfect ration to keep someone in a cave or a desert from starving to death for the next twenty-four hours."
Elarienne looked at her with mild appreciation.
"That makes sense. A lower barrier to entry will attract desperate loners. And what price do you propose for such a two-pack?"
"Five Dominion Coins," Nyssara threw out without hesitation, the hard, predatory chill of a monarch appearing in her gaze.
Elarienne raised an eyebrow, locking her gaze on the Empress.
"Five coins?" the blonde repeated. "But summoning a new worker costs six. You are demanding nearly the equivalent of a living unit for two pieces of roast. Is that not a slight exaggeration?"
"In a stable world? Yes, it would be usury," Nyssara replied calmly, resting her hand on Liselotte's nape and unconsciously stroking the sensitive base of her elven ear. "But we are not in a stable world. These people are sitting in traps, in darkness, terrified to step out of their holes because of the beasts. Their hunger and thirst are growing by the hour. Five coins to someone terrified they won't live to see the morning is a laughable price for survival. If someone has coins as a racial privilege or managed to get lucky and acquire them somehow, they will pay without blinking an eye."
"Absolutely brilliant, my Mistress!" Liselotte chirped in delight, fluttering her eyelids shut under the touch of her fingers. "Let me draft the listing description, I beg you! I'll turn it into a genuine marketing hit!"
The maid took a deep breath, thrusting out her monstrous, corset-spilling bust, and began reciting with exaggerated, theatrical emphasis:
"Do you desire to feel true luxury in this cursed wilderness?! We present to you royal roast of wild horned beast! Meat so warm, unbelievably tender, and dripping with hot, aromatic juices that it will melt in your mouth exactly like my naked little body under the touch of my powerful, dominating Mis… !"
Before she could finish that scandalous sentence, Nyssara's slender hand came down mercilessly over her mouth, clamping it shut with a muffled thud.
"That is quite enough," the Empress cut off dryly.
Liselotte, however, had no intention of feeling ashamed.
Instead of falling silent, her ruby eyes blazed with wild, shameless fire. She stuck out her wet, hot tongue and, with a quiet smack, began brazenly licking the inside of Nyssara's palm, tracing the hollow of her hand with greedy, perverse passion.
The Mistress furrowed her brow, instantly withdrawing her hand and wiping the wet skin against the fabric of her gown.
"Liselotte, save your bedroom fantasies for when we are alone," Nyssara tossed out with a dangerous glint in her eye, though a barely visible smirk twitched at the corner of her mouth. "We are posting a standard, raw listing. No baroque nonsense about juices and bodies."
"And above all: absolutely no details," Elarienne interjected coldly. "Zero mentions of Gloamreach Vale, the Green Forest, the quantity of our stockpiles, or the fact that we have workers. Simply list the goods: roasted forest horned beast meat, two portions, price: five Dominion Coins. Anonymity is a very powerful shield."
Nyssara nodded. She brought up the trading platform panel and, without further delay, configured four identical offers.
[Handling fee deducted: 4 Dominion Coins.]
[Offers listed on the Trade platform: 4 packs of Horned Beast Roast x2.]
[Duration: 15 minutes.]
Right after confirming the transaction, Nyssara switched to the main stream of the regional chat and dropped a short, concise message with a direct link to the market:
[4 packs of roasted meat (2 portions per pack) have been listed on the trading platform. Ready to eat. Price: 5 DC per pack. First come, first served.]
For the first three seconds, relative silence reigned in the chat.
And then the message stream literally exploded with a wave of fury, venom, and helpless frustration:
[WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?! Five coins for two pieces of meat?! Are you insane, woman?!]
[Five coins?! I spent half the day barely killing one rat and got ONE coin, and some leech is demanding five for dinner?!]
[Usurer! You soulless, greedy scum!]
[People are dying of thirst in caves here, and the rich are doing business on human misery!]
[I have 0 coins and I'm starving to death. Send me that pack for free, you bitch, or I swear when the grace period ends, I'll find your lair and burn it to the ground!]
[I'll trade my stone knife for one piece! Please, someone accept a barter!]
[Hahaha, look at these beggars! If you can't afford food, eat the moss off the walls! No one's giving you anything for free!]
[Shut your mouth, troll! Five coins is daylight robbery! Boycott this offer! Let her meat rot!]
[Boycott! Not a single coin for the exploiters!]
Reading this slop, Liselotte literally boiled inside.
Her elven ears stood rigidly in the air, her cheeks flooded with crimson from anger, and her gigantic bust began to heave so violently that the lace of her corset groaned at the seams.
Her demonic tail wrapped tightly around Nyssara's calf, nearly digging its small heart-shaped spade into her skin.
"What brazen, ungrateful trash!" the servant shrieked, waving her fists at the screen. "They sit on their asses in their bushes, terrified to lift a finger, and when my wonderful Mistress offers them ready, safe food, they bark like rabid dogs! Mistress, give me the panel! Let me type there! I'll personally string together such a tirade that they'll go crying back to their caves! I'll explain exactly where they can shove their threats!"
Nyssara placed a heavy hand on the top of the maid's head, pressing it down slightly.
"Calm yourself, Liselotte," the Empress spoke coldly, not a single muscle twitching on her face. "Why waste energy on the loudmouths? Remember one fundamental rule of commerce: those who bark the loudest on a public forum generally don't have a single bent copper in their pockets. Real customers do not waste time writing posts."
"Nyssara is correct," Elarienne noted, glancing at the auction timer. "Among this million players, there are plenty who managed to kill a few weaker creatures and have coins, but their territory is a barren desert, scorched rocks, or frozen tundra. Surely not all creatures are edible either, so there are absolutely demon kings who have coins from killing but still have no meat. For them, five coins is no price at all to avoid starving to death."
The blonde looked down at the still-pouting Liselotte, a note of mild irony flickering in her emerald eyes.
"By the way... do you intend to record this first grand commercial success in your highly classified personal development document as well?"
Liselotte froze.
With a lightning-fast motion, she pressed her hands to her side, checking if the pink notebook rested safely in her inventory.
"This is a matter of state importance! Hands off!" the maid retorted proudly.
Before Elarienne could reply, a quiet, crystalline chime rang through the air.
BING.
Nyssara's system window flashed with golden light.
BING. BING. BING.
Four hollow, instantaneous notifications struck the interface in almost the exact same fraction of a second, bleeding into one triumphant fanfare:
[Transaction completed successfully!]
[A buyer has purchased: Pack Horned Beast Roast x2 for 5 Dominion Coins.]
[A buyer has purchased: Pack Horned Beast Roast x2 for 5 Dominion Coins.]
[A buyer has purchased: Pack Horned Beast Roast x2 for 5 Dominion Coins.]
[A buyer has purchased: Pack Horned Beast Roast x2 for 5 Dominion Coins.]
[All offers were purchased in time: 14 seconds.]
[Funds have been transferred to the Sovereign Treasury: +20 Dominion Coins!]
Absolute, ear-ringing silence fell over the gorge.
Even Elarienne blinked in astonishment, staring at the system notifications.
Fourteen seconds... That was all it took for the entire listed inventory to vanish without a trace, while in the chat, people were still typing about "boycotting the exploiters."
"Fourteen seconds..." the blonde whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. "It appears the demand is even greater than we anticipated."
Liselotte, on the other hand, exploded with wild, unbridled joy. She sprang from the moss onto her knees, bouncing in place and clapping her hands:
"HA! I KNEW IT!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "Did you see that?! Fourteen seconds! Those hypocrites threw themselves at that meat like starving jackals! I said small packs were the key to success! I said it!"
Nyssara opened the main treasury panel, surveying the updated figures.
Before listing the offers, they had nine coins. They spent four on handling fees, dropping to five. Now, an even twenty had flowed in.
[Current account balance: 25 Dominion Coins.]
The pure net profit from this one minor operation was sixteen coins.
They were still quite short of the hundred coins required to summon an elite [Infernal Guard], but the foundation for building a true economic powerhouse had just been permanently laid.
The Empress slowly closed the interface. She looked down at the servant kneeling before her, who was staring up with wide, awe-sparkling eyes, her entire body begging for acknowledgment.
"I concede you were right, Liselotte," Nyssara spoke calmly, genuine pride ringing in her voice. "Dividing it into small portions was a brilliant move. Without your idea, those goods would likely have hung on the market for significantly longer. You performed outstandingly."
Although that "significantly longer" probably would have been 25 seconds instead of 14... But there is no point in saying that aloud while looking at her excited and proud facial expression.
Liselotte flushed a violent strawberry red, oblivious to her Mistress's thoughts, and her demonic tail danced in the air.
She proudly thrust out her massive cleavage, clasping her hands over her sternum and grinning brazenly:
"Since I performed outstandingly, my wonderful Mistress... then perhaps I deserve some sort of promotion? First Maid? Steward of the Court? Or perhaps Confidante to the Empress?" She smiled at her expectantly. "I particularly like that last one."
Nyssara slightly narrowed her blazing, crimson eyes. A slow, predatory, terrifyingly beautiful smirk bloomed on her sensual lips.
Instead of answering from above, the Mistress slowly leaned forward.
She reached out, slipped her fingers under Liselotte's chin, and lightly tilted her face up toward her.
With her other hand, she gently grasped the base of her long elven ear, pulling the girl's head right up to her lips.
The Empress's hot breath swept over the servant's auricle, and the sharp tip of Nyssara's fang brushed her skin, sending an immediate, paralyzing shiver through Liselotte.
And then Nyssara whispered directly into her ear, in a low, vibrating, velvety tone:
"You have already been promoted several times in my mind today anyway, and currently your official title is... Whore."
The Demon Queen's final word hung in the air like a searing brand burned into living flesh.
Liselotte literally melted.
"Haaahn...!" a muffled, shameless, pleasure-dripping moan tore from her chest.
Her thighs clamped together violently, a wave of paralyzing heat exploded in her lower belly, and her entire body went limp, collapsing heavily onto Nyssara's knees.
The maid's eyes clouded over, her cheeks burned deep scarlet, and a quiet trickle of drool slipped from her parted lips.
That final, degrading word, delivered with absolute dominance, acted upon her warped, masochistic nature more powerfully than any imperial medal or official commendation.
The girl was in seventh heaven.
Standing nearby, Elarienne tightened her grip on the carved wood of her staff.
Her emerald eyes darkened, shining with a predatory gleam as she observed the servant's pleasure-trembling body and Nyssara's ruthless dominance.
Beneath the fabric of the blonde's elegant robe, her muscles tensed involuntarily, and a fascinating, mysterious smirk played at the corner of her mouth - the smirk of a scholar who had just witnessed a phenomenon defying all known laws of nature.
Nyssara pulled back with stoic calm, releasing the swooning maid.
"Good," the Mistress declared, rising from the stone block and dusting off her gown. "We have twenty-five coins and confirmation that this forest is our private mint. Tomorrow at first light, Elarienne will lead the workers to fell timber, and we shall conduct another scouting run. It is time to rest before dawn."
As the Empress and the elf turned toward the shelter prepared beneath the colonnade, Liselotte still knelt on the cool moss, panting heavily and trying to control the trembling in her legs.
With a blissful, completely radiant smile on her face, the servant reached a trembling hand into her spatial inventory.
She pulled out her pink leather notebook.
She thumbed through it hastily, skipping dozens of lines, until her gaze stopped on item number forty-two.
She moistened the phallic pen with a generous serving of saliva and, with reverent devotion, scribbled on the paper:
42. Be called a whore by my Mistress.
A sweeping, perfect checkmark with a small, pulsing little heart crossed the line of text.
Liselotte hugged the diary to her chest, closing her eyes and listening to the nocturnal silence of Gloamreach Vale.