Chapter 121. Homewards, Estate Edition

I am pleasantly surprised. After the absolute fustercluck that sorting Elsinores out turned out to be, Fortinbras is a refreshingly reasonable person to deal with. He is considerably older than Dweezil but does not seem to be considering his age to be a reason for extra considerations, so far. While technically I can not abstain from the deal, neither of them insisted I take on more than being the silent threat to anyone disagreeing with their decisions. Fortinbras will be adsorbing the remainder of Elsinore retainers into his own clan, and the glade they used to own will be treated as a secondary it used to be before the split. Fortinbras and Tamaya are taken on a tour to show off new treehomes that Zappas are going to be offering from now on on a limited basis, and Fortinbras immediately works out several treestruction projects he wants to have in his glades. Which is the point where they leave Tamaya with Diva and abscond to do whatever prosperous elves do in the evening. I presume they're gonna drink. Tamaya for some reason is nigh-obsessed with the treehomes and with Diva's willing and wanton aid is deep in designing a very customized tree for her own personal domicile.

I... just have to ask. "Why such an interest?" - I quip lazily, as I glance at the plans Diva and Tamaya are frantically altering.

Tamaya jerks up and... kinda falters before mustering her resolve. Wonder what's up with that. "You know that treeborn have a connection to the woods, don't you?" - she then begins slowly, brightening up as I nod - "Well, in some of us, like me, this connection is especially strong. I am, by the very nature of it, bound to live on a tree, lest I lose my mind in short order. And thus, living within a tree, one that is purposely grown to be my domicile? It appeals to me grandly."

"Ah." - well, that kinda explains it. So I point out to her and Diva how several advanced options could actually integrate with each other. I am then treated to a surreal image of an elven matron skipping around excitedly within the illusory outline of the room, poking at things. Well, that should make up for the nerve-wracking conditions of the last few days, I hope.

___

"Moon, dear. Darling. The light of my life. I am SO VERY DONE with your homeland right now like you wouldn't believe." - I announce firmly.

Much to her credit, Moon Unit simply giggles at my exasperation. "What is wrong, dear." - she offers jovially.

"I think I just gave the majority of Counsel the idea I'm about to... I don't even know what." - I grumble, as I flop down on the couch and sulk.

Lily-Anne seizes the moment and clambers on my lap, making me chuckle. "Can't be worse than eating heads." - she quips cheekily.

I sigh. "Ok, so... I found out that I can actually sing along to soul aria." - I offer somberly - "I also learned I probably should not. Oh, I also don't need the circle any longer, I've got it downpat well enough to just trigger the effect anywhere at will. So... I can have theme music or something if I want to..."

"What did you sing, though?" - Moon Unit is curious - "I know you're not really musically inclined, dear, but surely it wasn't that bad, now was it?"

"The musical part was fine, I think." - I explain - "It's the lyrics..."

Seeing that they still don't seem to get it, I give up and just reprise refrain for them - "Turn off your conscience, leave the world outside. Nothing at all can ever make you feel that anything's so real so you just... disconnect."

Aaand I get four synchronous shudders in response.

"...Please, oh please tell me you are NOT really feeling that." - Moon Unit proffers then tremulously. What's wrong?

"Um... What?" - I blink at them.

Lily-Anne leans closer and bops me on the forehead. "When you sing that, you feel... OTHER." - she says, hitching up and putting both hands on her mouth as a very odd sound slips out. Oh, wow, slipping into conceptual? Sounds serious.

"Other as in... how?" - I inquire. I seem to be giving out vibes I don't perceive myself and that might be a problem. I'm an eldritch abomination, and being subconsciously unsetting is our bread and butter. And kinda a problem for masquerading as a not-so-normal human, so...

"It feels like... like..." - Roxy begins and trails off thoughtfully - "...like we sort of feel the glimpse of not-you that you could possibly turn into if you turned off your conscience. Like something that wears your face... but looks at me like I'm... a dinner."

"And... do I give that kind of impression often?" - I venture.

"If I may, mistress?" - Bridgit interjects - "I believe I feel the same as Roxolane, but she picked an unfortunate word to describe it. Perhaps replacing dinner with a spool of thread or a plank of lumber would be better. It feels like you consider the person before you and gauge if they'd be best used nailed to the wall or stitching up the blankets... And yes, sometimes you do look at people like that. When you talk to people in your trading house, mostly. It gets better when you are talking to someone you know well, but random servant? Yes, well..."

"So... I creep random underlings out?" - I muse and Bridgit stammers for a moment before coming up with - "Maybe not exactly quite as strong as precisely creeping but well a little bit somewhat a little in part... yes."

She yelps as I tentacle her close and pull on the lap next to Lily-Anne. "Mercy mistress!" - she cries, giggling as I tease her with a flurry of kisses. Lily-Anne leans in for her own share, and before long, the annoyances of ill-considered song choices are forgotten. I have four wives to kiss and pamper, I have no time to brood.

___

We are, thankfully, quite done with Evergreens. I've obviously seeded the house well enough to make it trivial for me or Bridgit to bamf back there should we ever need something around here. After one last night at the house in question, we board the ship and depart amid much fanfare. Literal fanfare, even. Clans I care about are in very good standing right now, there were some discussions about possible further trade deals once they get used to the whole tree industry I dumped on their heads. If it goes like I plan (and I will put a lot of pressure on any... obstacles) then Evergreens is going to transform into an exporter of natural luxuries and exotic arts. I MIGHT have clued Fortinbras and Dweezil in one interesting tidbit - if something is forbidden, it is much more costly. So the plan is (among incredulous headshaking) that official exports would be "lesser" wares like furniture and basic scrolls... And there will be a "hidden smuggling ring" carefully supervised by clan leadership that would export more luxurious items under the guise of "forbidden elven artifacts". Which are artisanal items like artistic scrollwork, simple enchantments themed to forest and elves and other assorted oddjobs flim-flam that would appeal to collectors and hoarders as "unique elven treasures".

The funniest outcome of this was when Dweezil announced complete amnesty to any actual smuggler who wants to sign up within his clan. Turns out he had a bunch. Who knew another bunch. Then Fortinbras made the same announcement... And well. The end outcome is, that apparently minor clan Garret is basically comprised out of such smugglers and has ties with pretty much all other clan petty people. So they're now included into the alliance and will be the official "unofficial" face of the elven smuggling. On my end, I have done some... creative executive decisions that basically mean I pay the tax on "smuggled" items in exchange for being the backer and reseller of them across the Champagne. Which, in TURN, makes the entire organization I "inherited" from Konistan heave a collective sigh of relief. Apparently, they are SO used to something shady going on that being "scrupulously clear" was causing some paranoia incidents. So now that they are "unofficially" in the big smuggling business again (which, again, I pay taxes to Abe on, something he is endlessly bemused about), there is a palpable sense of "oh gods finally, the period of loyalty testing was terrifying" across the board.

Whisperers with an inclination for that sort of work are partially merged into Garrets, partially dispersed among the allied clans where Garrets themselves lack the manpower. I have to note that Fourth (the name of the current clan head of Garrets, apparently they just take their sequential number as a name when they take the headship) is one sneaky crafty cunning bastard I did not expect to encounter among elves, and his expertise in making things look "inconspicuously almost legal" is a gift par excellence. Moreso, he is not unfamiliar with the scheme I proposed, though according to him, this is way bigger than anything they managed in the past, let alone something crown-approved. The most amusing part of it all, however? The whole "elves are ageless teenagers" thing strikes AGAIN. Turns out that tailoring the whole thing as an "underground illegal clandestine operation" mightily appeals to the sensibilities of participants. Up to and including to a point where they willingly and eagerly prescribe to discipline and rules if it means they're "on the in", so to speak. I need to keep an eye on this. Lots of eyes, actually. Because I have this annoying feeling I have just kickstarted the elven mafia to span millennia. Still, having them run "barely legal" stuff and exchange passwords is better than rampant literal backstabbing that was their traditional occupation.

___

"...I didn't think about how short of a trip this would be." - I grouse. I was all set on molesting my wives, dammit. Well, molesting insofar as it is even possible with their full connivance, that is. Reconfirming mile-high club membership and all that. But the grand total of the distance between Evergreens and Gillespie estates was covered in less than three hours. No, I get it, travel by air is stupidly quick by contemporary sensibilities, but... Just... Argh. Throwing an orgy in the estate is just going to be weird and awkward and arglbargl. And... I probably need to talk to Sally and Louise sooner then later, before they decide that if Bridgit warms my bed, they should do so as well. Sometimes people just... yeah. Not that I'm not prone to jumping to conclusions myself at times, of course. All the more reason to watch out for those kinds of misunderstandings piling up.

At least I got some kisses out of the trip, darn it. And some cuddling. And... yeah, well. Even with my considerably better capacity for multitasking, entertaining four girls at once is not a quick process. In no small part because no one is in any kind of hurry to get it over with, while I'm at it. So, begrudgingly, I remove hands, fingers, tentacles and other assorted appendages from impolite places and... I was going somewhere with this, darn it! I've got lewd on my mind and it interferes with my inner narration. The bane of having a harem - lewds come to mind easy and often and in variety. ...Especially in my case. Far it be from me to complain, but I simply have to make a note out of the fact all four of my wives seem to be in possession of eminently healthy libido and are not in any way hesitant about exercising it. Perhaps I should... Eh. Not all at once. I should do more one-on-one dates with them all and figure out more about their individual fetishes. To be unabashedly corny - ahegao is justice.

___

There is some kind of hubbub going on in the estate. I'm still on the glissade, and I can see the activity from all the way up there. Dad's going out for some reason? With gendarmes, to boot? What's up? Just as I am about to start finding things out, my pocket rings. Dad's on copperphone, huh.

"Yeah?" - I mutter into it, as I keep the descent steady.

"Alyssa? How soon can you be at the estate?" - dad sounds urgent. What's going on?

"In... Ten minutes, give or take, why? What's happening?" - I ask him, at the same time arming the enchantments on the zeppelin. I haven't had the reason yet to fire fear arrays in anger, come to think of it.

"Wha?" - aaaand he sounds entirely befuddled. Then he looks up and I hear the smack of facepalm through the receiver. "Talk about serendipitous. How many more men your airship can carry?" - he asks.

"I believe we can take a dozen gendarmes if they all agree to sit next to each other. What kind of problem are we facing?" - I try to steer him to clarification.

"I do not actually know. We've received a pigeon from la Vallieres, but all the note says is that they are under attack and need assistance. I doubt it's a matter of armies, given they are essentially in the heartlands, so the most likely issue is a monster or a mage." - he grumbles - "I'm going to handpick some men and wait for you to land. You should probably consider leaving your wives at the estate in safety, as well."

"Let me ask them." - I offer - "See you soon."