[Tips] One could argue that the classifications of humankind—humanfolk, demihumans, and demonfolk—are based at least in part on the proximity of sexual compatibility and tastes.
The lay priestess of the Harvest Goddess, who had protected men and women of pleasure for a long time, could make shrewd decisions for her clientele despite differences in race. She was well aware that ogre society wasn’t quite a matriarchy insofar as it did not precisely value women over men. Female ogres derived pleasure from tackling the men they fancied and handling them ruthlessly. She’d gleaned as much when one of her male clients had been singled out by an ogre warrior. In addition, she had been told that ogre men had the opposite sexual inclinations to the women. Copulation was necessary for the propagation of any species, and so their inclinations could be said to have been hardwired. In other words, the priestess’s ability to select the reliable werewolf for Yorgos was incredible work in and of itself.
With all the tents occupied, I decided that there was no point standing like a dunce while everyone was having fun. It was time to head back.
“Ye’re a kind soul.”
I was just about to move along—I felt awkward loitering outside these tents when I had zero intent to do business—when I heard a voice call out to me from inside one of them. I had sensed her presence so I turned to her without much surprise. It was that sunshine girl who had given me a cup of water back on the first day of the job—the young woman who’d seemed like a fan of mine.
“Your care for your juniors makes me tremble like a leaf,” she said.
Just like that day, she spoke in a way that told me she had lived a long time in the pleasure district. As someone with little experience there and who had lived in Berylin, not Marsheim, I found her a little difficult to understand. If I remembered correctly “tremble” here was in the sense of being impressed by something.
It didn’t feel bad to be complimented, but I felt embarrassed to be stopped like this. I didn’t want to be drawn into some nighttime services and push four or five customers down the line simply because she thought I was flush with cash. For her part, she didn’t seem like she was hard selling, but I couldn’t help feeling this way because of where we were.
“A boss is supposed to make sure his subordinates can work in peace,” I said.
“What a wonderful saying. They sure are lucky to have someone as wonderful as ye,” she replied.
“It pleases me to hear you say that.”
I scratched my cheek awkwardly. I didn’t often get compliments like this, so I was happy to hear it. She didn’t seem to be trying to sneak in some kind of jab or lavish me with empty flattery, so I took the compliment at face value.
It had been a while since I’d become an adventurer, so I thought I’d become a bit jaded, but it seemed like there were still parts of me that hadn’t picked up much weathering. Of course, being a bit too pure and naive could be a weakness, so I needed to make sure I didn’t get ahead of myself with what little I had left.
I told her I had somewhere to be, and she saw me off with a simple, “I wish ye luck in the fray.”
With such a good priestess taking charge, the women under her would be good people too. When everything was over, it might be a good idea to splash out and buy everyone a well-earned party. Instead of returning to Marsheim with exhausted minds from the battle, we could return full of energy and take on our future job with gusto as well.
[Tips] Tents that have received the protection of the Harvest Goddess have a blessing which prevents any sounds of pleasure from seeping out. This is because She knows that while there is joy in sex, there is beauty in keeping things secret.
It was the seventh day since we began our job here. Things had progressed more smoothly than I’d imagined.
“Aaall right, get in position! Carefully, now!”
“Lower your hips! Don’t tie the ropes around your hands or you’ll get yanked away!”
“Master carpenter, everything’s safe! We’re ready to go!”
The young folk and the craftspeople counted with raucous voices as they pulled on various ropes. Little by little the watchtower was brought up into a standing position. It had four feet, and the two rear posts were slotted into the supports in the ground as the other two were slowly pulled earthward. It cut a striking figure as it gradually rose into the air. Our design here had been to build it on its side before hoisting it up and slotting its four feet into the foundations. These watchtowers—designed so the lookout had defensive panels on all four sides—had all been built at the same time. We were scheduled to raise the remaining four as soon as this was done.
Just like the defensive walls and the abatises, we had secretly crafted the watchtowers in the plaza before raising them all across the canton at the same time to make sure that our enemy didn’t notice we were working on our defenses and rush in to raze us to the ground while we were barely protected. There was no point stressing out about whether you’d finish one watchtower in time to put up the next; better to set things up so that if folks started panicking, it was because they had a damn good reason to.
“Slowly now!”
“People at the back, give some slack! But just a bit!”
“Great! Just a bit lighter! The legs aren’t misaligned, are they?”