In Another World, All Milfs Will Be Mine-Chapter 175: [ - - ]

"Never," Mara smirked, as she looked Aris in the eye, "He took a permanent vacation to the Endless Forest long back

"I have been handling the place since then."

"You want something? Get in line."

But the cockiness of her words made General Arthur storm forward. He slammed his heavy metal gauntlet on the wooden counter, cracking the wood under the sheer force.

"Watch your tongue, whore!" Arthur roared, spit flying from his lips, "You are speaking to the King’s Envoy! Bring me whoever is in charge of this rabble, or I will burn this entire building to the ground!"

Mara didn’t flinch. She just picked at her teeth with the razor-sharp tip of her dagger.

Around the room, the sound of swords sliding out of scabbards echoed clearly. Chairs scraped back. The bandits stood up in unison.

"Stand down, General," Aris ordered sharply.

Arthur glared at Aris, his chest heaving with rage, but he slowly stepped back, his hand trembling on his hilt.

Aris looked around the room. He didn’t see a chaotic, unruly bunch of wannabe adventures that should have been in this run down place at the corner of the Kingdom’s map.

The Blackfangs not only bought the place in front of the Iron Oath Guild, but they have swarmed the Guild itself.

"Remarkable," Aris could not help but murmur, genuinely impressed. He nodded respectfully to Mara, "Thank you for your time, miss. We will find our own way out."

Aris turned and walked out. Arthur followed, cursing the entire city and its whores under his breath.

They walked towards the commercial sector of the city. The merchant district was bustling with heavy wagons and armed escorts.

"They are bandits, Aris!" Arthur hissed as they walked, his face turning purple, "They must have slaughtered the real adventurers or maybe made them run away."

"It is blatant treason! We need to execute that arrogant boy and hang his women from the city gates!"

"Patience, Arthur," Aris replied smoothly, unbothered by the General’s outburst, "I want to see how deep the roots of this tree go in just a month."

Soon they arrived at a massive warehouse and storefront. The sign swinging above the door read Golden Scales Guild.

Aris walked in. The place was packed with clerks counting coins, weighing grain, and logging inventory. But something was immediately obvious.

Every single clerk was wearing a crisp, crimson uniform.

Aris frowned. He walked back out and headed down the street to the Iron Caravan headquarters. He pushed the door open.

Again! Crimson uniforms everywhere.

Arthur walked up to a sweaty, nervous-looking clerk who was frantically counting silver coins into neat stacks. He reached over the counter, grabbed the man by the collar of his red shirt, and yanked him forward.

"Where is the master of the Iron Caravan?" Arthur demanded, his voice low, cold, and dangerous.

The clerk whimpered, his eyes darting wildly, "H... He’s gone, my Lord! He left before the monster raid! No one has seen him!"

"Then who owns this guild?" Aris asked from the side, "Why are you all wearing the colors of the Silver Route?"

"L... Lady Ryana!" the clerk choked out, tears of panic welling in his eyes. "She has sent people from the Silver Route to manage the inventory and keep the operations running."

"She also did the same for Golden Scales too!"

"She controls the warehouses, the carts, everything! The Silver Route controls all the trade in Auravale now! Please, I am just a counter!"

Arthur let the man drop back onto the floor. The clerk scrambled away into the back room, crying like a beaten dog.

Walking out of the Iron Caravan, both Aris and Arthur stepped back out into the bright street.

Aris looked up at the towering Lord’s Mansion in the distance, casting a long shadow over the city.

A slow, calculating smile spread across the High Inquisitor’s face.

"Treason?" Aris chuckled, adjusting his pristine grey robes. "Arthur, this isn’t treason. This is a masterpiece."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Arthur grunted, looking at Aris like the man had lost his mind.

"Look around you, General," Aris said, spreading his arms wide to encompass the busy street.

"The boy has the muscle. He absorbed the Blackfangs and neutralized what could have been the only independent fighters in the city, the Iron Oaths. Though they were most likely useless anyway."

"For the time being, he is using Lady Seraphine to rubber-stamp his orders, making everything look perfectly legal and pristine."

Aris pointed to the crimson-clad merchants loading heavy crates of weapons onto a cart.

"And then has the coin. Lady Ryana holds a total, unbreakable monopoly over the economy. Nothing comes in or goes out of this city without that woman knowing."

Aris shook his head in pure, unfiltered admiration.

"In just a month, he has not only conquered this tiny little town. He has also managed to choke it, cutting it from the Kingdom."

"Give him enough time, and he might surprise you, Arthur."

"A rabid dog cannot be leashed," Arthur spat, his eyes full of violent hate, "He must be put down before he bites the hand that feeds him."

"But is the hand really feeding him?" Aris smiled.

They were interrupted by the sound of heavy boots hitting the stone.

A man stepped directly into their path. He was massive, wearing the black armour as he chewed lazily on a piece of straw.

He held out a thick, gold-embossed envelope.

"For the Envoys," the bandit grunted in a rough, gravelly voice.

Arthur looked ready to draw his sword and cut the man’s arm off, but Aris stepped forward and took the letter smoothly.

Aris broke the red wax seal. He read the heavy, elegant script written inside.

"Well," Aris said, folding the letter and tucking it into his robes. "It seems we have evening plans."

"What does it say?" Arthur demanded.

"Our dear "Lord" Leo has invited us to a Grand Feast tonight at the Manor," Aris explained.

"He is also throwing a public banquet in the square. Free food and ale for the entire city. A celebration of unity, he calls it."

"He draws when he is not even the Lord," Arthur snarled, his fists clenching, "He wants to provoke us and rub our noses in it."

"Of course he does," Aris agreed easily, "He wants to show us that he owns the people’s stomachs as well as their hearts. It’s a psychological play. A brilliant one."

Aris looked down the street, towards a large, heavily guarded townhouse in the distance. The Blackfang guards outside it looked particularly alert.

"But before we eat his food and drink his wine," Aris said, his eyes turning cold and sharp, "We are going to make a little detour, General."

"Where to?"

"To see Baron Volkov," Aris replied. "I want to see this terrible ’ill’ Baron of ours."

"Let us see how the old Baron is really faring under the care of the Lord he voucher for."

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