Chapter 112: Baths and Munchkins (1/2)
What a wonderful looking place.
Vainqueur glanced at the enormous, steamy bath in front of him, bordered by natural stone walls and wooden pipes. The pagoda-like inn that oversaw the area overshadowed it from a hill above, blocking out half of the sun.
”You could fit an army inside!” His chief of staff observed, wearing only a toga fitting his wings and tail as he walked on the stone pathway. ”It's as large as a lake!”
“Minion, what do they call it again?” the dragon asked, touching the water with his claw and finding it to be just the right temperature. The locals had wisely left the place, offering it for dragon use alone.
“Onsen, Your Majesty.”
“Could they not call it a bath?” Vainqueur said as he slipped inside the hot, steamy waters, letting out a moan of pleasure. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but it felt like lava. His mighty body caused the water level to rise up, swallowing stones and bonsai. “Perfect.”
You have entered the [Onsen] Field.
Your status ailments will be cured, and you will recover HP and SP at an accelerated pace.
After saving the world from hunger with his new Tarasque feeding plan, Vainqueur had decided to take a short break on his trip across Outremonde. Since they had around forty days left before Samhain, he thought he could afford some pleasure time.
“Minion, what are you waiting for?” Vainqueur asked, as his Manling didn’t join him in the bath. “It is not lava by any means, but it should do.”
“Later, Your Majesty,” the minion said, ever dutiful. “I still have stuff to do before I can relax; reforge my Perks, extract information from Mag Mell’s soul, check up on Kia…”
“What has that poor excuse of a [Paladin] done this time?”
“She’s having withdrawal symptoms. Allison had to lock her in her bedroom to avoid a scene.”
Vainqueur sighed. After having opened a new portal between Murmurin and this country's capital, his chief of staff had summoned key minions to handle administrative matters. “That was inevitable. Spending weeks in my naked presence has made her addicted to me. It happens to my minions all the time.”
His chief of staff said nothing; he alone had the strength of will to resist his Vainqueur addiction, and even then never for long. “Your Majesty, I still think we should use this break to train a little. With Mag Mell’s soul on hands, I have been able to locate the fomors’ exp farm, and in all likelihood, we will face heavy opposition there.”
“Minion, I am considering why we should even make a stop there.”
“But that’s the place where they level up!” his minion protested.
“And instead of growing as it should have, my wealth has been slowly depleted!” Vainqueur said, vowing to remind Indebted Allison of how much she cost him. The money they received from conquering the country had barely returned his hoard to its pre-Akhenapep size. “Hunting fairies is good, but it makes us lose sight of this trip’s true goal: gathering enough money to shame Icefang on Samhain! The few time we fought fomors, they did not drop any gold at all!”
“I’m sure the locals will pay a heavy price to get rid of them—”
“If they do, yes, I shall deign to burn that farm to the ground,” Vainqueur interrupted. “But I want you to focus on money-making quests first. Like my dodo trade plan.”
“I admit selling homegrown male dodos to exp-starved nations while maintaining a monopoly on the females should prove lucrative,” Manling Victor said as if it wasn’t obvious. “But it will take months to breed a sufficient population; same as with opening our portal network to foreign trade and global tourism. Samhain will pass by in either case.”
“Friend Victor, you do not see that we can leverage one of the most powerful forces in the world,” Vainqueur said. “Dwarf addiction.”
His chief of staff raised an eyebrow. “Dwarf addiction?”
“We have access to a Whiskey Sea, which from what I understand your species use as a substitute to dwarf consumption,” Vainqueur said. “I will have minions pump it dry, then sell bottles to your kindred. The Agarthans will be so glad that we spared them from dwarf addicts depredations, that they will pay me a greater tribute.”
“That’s… that’s actually very smart,” Manling Victor said, considering the matter. “We could quickly pump the whiskey sea and sell cheap drinks to Gardemagne and Barin.”
“I order you not to overdwarf on our own product though. One time was one too many. ”
“That’s still going to take time to set up,” his Vizier said, always a pessimist. “And I doubt we can sell enough bottles to grow Your Majesty’s hoard in forty days.”
“What about conquering a new country?” Vainqueur suggested. “It worked wonders for me so far.”
“There is a southern landmass which has yet to be settled at all, and which should be rich in natural resources, in particular gold…” Vainqueur’s head raised above the waters with interest, making the minion cough. “But it’s Hell on Earth in my homeworld. I cannot imagine how bad it must be in Outremonde.”
“I shall conquer Prydain in due time,” Vainqueur said, unafraid. “I welcome the practice run. For the greater hoard, no sacrifice is too low.”
“Alternatively, we could go to Nagastan or the Jade Empire,” Manling Victor said. “They’re the richest countries in the world, and Nagastan, in particular, pays well for quests. As a Claimed of Shesha, I could get us deals there.”
“Yes, yes, I trust you to map out our destinations,” Vainqueur replied dismissively. “But I will accept no less than a million coins per task. I am a star, minion, and you know it. We must increase our wealth standards.”
Manling Victor excused himself to prepare the trip, leaving Vainqueur alone. The dragon quickly rested against the stones like a crocodile on a riverbank; the experience couldn’t match resting on his hoard, but it helped ease the pain from his wounds. The Tarasque’s minion conversion had left bruises.
The dragon closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth, his mind slipping into thoughts about the future. While he had sacrificed short-term wealth to revive his minions, such was the duty of an Emperor to reward those who died for him.
The dragon suddenly wondered what would happen to his empire once he reached godhood. While the place only served to fuel his hoard first and foremost, he had grown to enjoy ruling it. Could he keep doing so after passing the Valhalla trials?
He was three-quarters of the way through after all.
“It burns.”
Vainqueur’s eyes snapped open, as he recognized the voice.
A dragon’s voice.
“I warned you, you should have leveled up in [Paladin] of Mithras instead of [Pyromancer],” someone else commented. “You would have gotten a [Fire] immunity Perk by now, instead of a mere Resistance.”
“And Skill is one of your dump stats,” a third, female creature said. “[Paladin] would have boosted your Strength and Charisma.”
Vainqueur immediately pinpointed the source of the noise as behind the nearest stone wall. He immediately looked above and at the large bath beyond it.
Three smaller dragons occupied a steamy lake there, one black, one green, and the last one...
“ICEFANG!” Vainqueur roared, bringing the three dragons’ attention upon him.
“VAINQUEUR!” his white-scaled rival roared back, extending his wings in defiance and throwing water all around.
“Oh, Vainqueur!” the green dragon waved a hand at the Emperor. Vainqueur identified him as Magnifique, one of the guests at his latest Bragging Day and an adventurer he met while hunting the Blue Rose Legion. “Great to see you.”
“What are you doing here?” Vainqueur glared at Icefang. “You have come to sabotage me again?”
“I am a [Ninja]!” Icefang hissed in response. “I train in this city!”
“Suboptimally,” said the third member of the dragon trio, a black wyrm with two long horns. Suffisante, Vainqueur remembered, her name is Suffisante. “Why he chose a puny class with such a high Skill threshold I will never understand.”
“This ‘puny class’ allowed me to dominate Vainqueur in our last spare!” Icefang lied through his teeth.
“That is not how I remember it!” Vainqueur replied angrily, now mostly out of the water with his two hands on the wall. To think that his rival would ruin his vacation by showing up unannounced! “My minion had to beg me to spare your life!”
“You will be the one begging on Samhain when my hoard humiliates yours whole in its shininess!” Icefang showed his fangs. “How is yours, by the way? Smaller than a hill I imagine!”
“Bigger than a mountain!” Vainqueur lied, refusing to lose face.
“Boys, can you tone it down?” Suffisante asked, as the noise caused birds to fly away. “You’re making the minions flee!”
“What are you doing with this silver-lover?” Vainqueur glared at her and Magnifique.
“We joined his guild a while ago,” Magnifique said. “The Silver Dragon Adventurer Company.”
“We cooperate for quests and share the loot.” Suffisante nodded. “Money without risks!”
“And no minion kickbacks!”
“I thought you had better tastes,” Vainqueur grumbled. How could any dragon worth their weight in gold join this second-rate Frost Dragon?
“Speak for yourself, you lost the Goldslayer,” Icefang taunted his rival. “How much gold did he pay you for it? Or maybe… or maybe did he pay you in lead?”
The Emperor’s eyes saw red. “You take that back!”