Chapter 22: I Think What You Lack Is Love—Just Endure the Flames of My Wrath

After dismissing everyone.

Aililan fell into deep thought.

She now had to devise an industry for the Slums.

Considering Atester City’s unique geography, not only did humans live here, but also quite a few Beastkin, Elves, and even Demons from the southern Lava Lands lurking beneath the surface.

The city’s circumstances were rather complicated.

But what it lacked least was opportunity.

“The Northern Beastkin need salt, iron, spices, and a large amount of clothing.”

“The Elves and Fairies in the western forests need all sorts of high-grade luxury goods.”

“The southern Demons need slaves and people.”

Aililan picked up her pen.

She listed the various products from each region on paper.

She could trade with the Beastkin for vast amounts of leather, get rare fruits and precious herbs from the Elves, and mineral resources from the Demons of the Lava Lands.

However, “No ironware for the Beastkin.” Aililan wrote a Prohibition Clause on her paper. With how quickly the Beastkin multiplied, they waged war on average every twenty years—she had no intention of selling them iron, only to have it turned against herself in the end.

“Can’t manufacture high-end goods for the Elves either.”

“And even more so, can’t sell people to the Demons.”

Aililan glanced up.

What kind of damn beasts are living around here!

Especially the Elves—don’t be fooled by how they now claim to be a peaceful race. Back when they were strong, they launched plenty of genocides under the pretext of wiping out ‘ugly races.’

What do you call this? When strong, they exterminate other races; when weak, suddenly they’re lovers of peace. There’s nothing new under the sun.

And then there was trading with the southern Demons.

This touched on Aililan’s doctrine.

But the mineral resources there were too tempting. She had no reason to give up entirely! But she would never, ever sell them people as slaves or food.

She took a deep breath.

Aililan gradually sorted out her thoughts and said, “Let’s take it step by step. Don’t get ahead of myself, or I’ll end up tripping.”

“The Northern Beastkin need salt and spices—these are all regulated goods. Without a proper excuse, it won’t be easy to get involved.”

“But as for clothing…”

“Maybe it’s worth a try.”

Aililan wrote a Secret Letter.

She had it sent to the Slums’ Arkernard Knight, instructing him to clear out some buildings to serve as a Workshop, and to start recruiting workers—no gender restrictions, focusing on hiring those in dire need.

She also told him to buy up flax, cotton, and other raw materials from the surrounding area to use for making cloth.

First, get the garment Workshop running. Like she kept saying—take too big a step, and you’ll trip. Just grabbing a share of the clothing market in the city was enough to make quite a few people jump up in outrage.

If she got involved with the Elves—

Or with the southern Demons’ market as well—

Aililan felt that wouldn’t just be snatching markets. It would be like launching a war—a war that would unite all the powerful factions of Atester City against her.

As soon as Aililan’s orders were issued,

Everything proceeded in an orderly fashion.

Arkernard applied for funding and renovated an old gang headquarters, carving out a roughly 400-square-meter Workshop in the chaotic, unplanned Slums.

He also bought Weaving Machines.

And carefully selected sixty workers.

Twenty men, forty women—most from families struggling to survive.

Don’t ask why there were more women. Spinning and making clothes—it’s naturally women who are more skilled at it!

While she was busy with planning, a little maid entered gracefully, beaming as she brought in a bouquet of vibrant, dew-fresh flowers and handed them to her. Aililan asked in surprise, “Who sent this?”

The maid hurried to explain, “It was Grandmaster Fina Nisi. She told me to give it to you myself.” When she mentioned Fina Nisi, the little maid’s eyes shone with admiration and longing.

Aililan instantly frowned.

This maid can’t stay.

Her temper flared up instantly.

She picked up the bouquet and threw it straight into the trash, making the little maid tremble with fright.

Thinking for a moment, she took the bouquet out and handed it back to the maid, saying, “Take this back to Grandmaster Fina Nisi and tell her: everyone has their own duties. As the Chastity Knights’ Grandmaster, she should lead by example. Don’t send anything like this again.”

For the rest of the morning,

The atmosphere in the mansion was so tense it was frightening.

Because everyone had heard about Aililan’s temper tantrum, and no one wanted to risk drawing her ire.

Word spread that over at the Chastity Knights, after returning, Grandmaster Fina Nisi smashed several desks in a row. The mood there was just as terrifying.

As for the reason?

No one dared investigate too closely.

“Damn it!”

“Damn it all!”

“How dare Aililan? I sent her flowers out of goodwill, and she accused me of neglecting my duties?”

“Damn it.”

“I’ll make sure she pays for this.”

Pella was trembling too.

She didn’t even know whether to try and offer comfort.

After thinking about it, better not—Grandmaster was in a terrible mood!

But,

Fina Nisi glanced at her, refusing to let her off, and asked darkly, “Pella, why aren’t you saying anything? Are you laughing at me too?”

“Ah, me?” Pella shook her head quickly, trying to console her, “Of course I’m not laughing at you! Grandmaster, with your strength, the Saintess will be yours sooner or later. You can teach her a lesson then!”

“Hmph, are you telling me what to do?”

“No, I’m not. I wouldn’t dare.”

“I think what you lack is love—just endure my wrath, then.”

“I…” Pella started shaking even more violently. Her stomach had been hurting a lot lately—she really couldn’t take any more torment.

“Come here.”

“Grandmaster, spare me!”

“……”

Outside the barracks.

The screams from inside were audible.

Captain Linuor and Morphete, who had originally come to discuss Chastity Knights’ affairs with Fina Nisi, both hesitated as their faces changed.

Linuor gave an awkward laugh, turned, and said, “I just remembered, it’s been a while since I paid my respects to the Saintess.”

Morphete’s expression was even more complicated. He too had heard about Aililan rebuking Fina Nisi this morning.

He’d thought it was just a trivial matter.

Who knew?

“Um.”

Morphete hesitated, then called out, “Linuor Knight, if it’s not too much trouble, please pass along my regards to the Saintess as well!”

People like them—

Lately, Aililan had been leaving them with little to do.

Meanwhile, Renata, Milisanel, and their knights were accomplishing things with remarkable drive!

Morphete’s own knights had a lot of complaints about this. Many questioned him, as a Chastity Knight, about where his true loyalties lay.

In short, it was getting harder and harder to lead his unit. And the Grandmaster he respected, Fina Nisi, had… sigh, best not to say more!

Morphete couldn’t help but reflect.

Had he truly been wrong?

In the afternoon.

As usual, after meeting with several key governors of Atester City, Aililan prepared to go out.

Unlike Fina Nisi, that peacock-haired upstart who spent all day embroiled in petty squabbles,

Aililan had to check on the Inspectorate’s work.

She had to follow the compilation of the Civil Code.

She needed to consult with Bishop Wilma, urging her to send more grain to the Slums if possible.

She needed to get the garment Workshop established.

She needed to help them find sales channels.

She needed to…

She’d heard the people sent to buy flax and cotton in the villages had also run into considerable trouble.

All in all, she was very busy. The daily tasks piling up before her were as thick as the books on a high school desk—no matter what, she could never seem to get through them all!

At the front entrance of the mansion.

“Greetings, Saintess Aililan.”

Linuor’s upright Knightly figure stood at the door, as if she had been waiting there for quite some time.

“Mm.”

Aililan only nodded slightly in acknowledgement, then left without another glance. Her attitude toward Linuor seemed rather distant.

Linuor sighed softly.

She knew Aililan still harbored anger in her heart.