[Void POV] Year 2, Day 165

  Void sat in his office—a real office now, not a partitioned section of temporary housing—surrounded by papers.

  Construction plans. Budget reports. Staff schedules. Supply manifests. Guild correspondence. Loan documentation. Everything required to run an operation this size.

  Kira sat across from him. Professional. Competent. Her maid uniform perfect. Black and white matching the seamstress's exacting standards.

  She'd finished training six months ago. Completed the hundred universal points. Then specialized training. Then additional certifications. Now she managed most of the operation's administrative functions.

  And sat on the City Merchant Council. A servant. On the council.

  The scandal had been significant. But unavoidable. Their operation was now the largest single buyer in Borderwatch. Supplies. Materials. Services. The money flowing through their accounts exceeded most established merchant houses.

  Kira ran all of it. The finances. The contracts. The negotiations.

  So Void had created legal proxy documentation. Rare but not unheard of. Allowing a trusted servant to act with master's authority in business matters.

  The Council had accepted it. Grudgingly. Because they needed her expertise. Her connections. Her ability to coordinate the complex web of suppliers and contractors that kept everything functioning.

  "The timeline is completely destroyed," Kira said. Reading from the latest construction reports. "Two years was the original estimate. We're at two years now and Tornin is projecting another... he won't commit to a specific number. Just says 'significant additional time required for proper completion.'"

  Void rubbed his temples. "How much additional time?"

  "Based on current progress and his latest modification requests? Several more years. Minimum."

  "Of course." Void's voice was tired. "What changed this time?"

  "The bathhouse wing. Again. He's redesigning the water circulation system. Third time. Says the previous versions weren't elegant enough. Not worthy of the overall structure's quality."

  "At least the maid quarters worked out."

  "Yes. Eight months now and no issues. Individual apartments. Full amenities. That part actually came together properly."

  Void looked at the budget summary. The numbers that kept growing. "Any hope for more funding?"

  "No," Kira said. Clinical. "Ealdred is covering construction costs directly now. Has been for the past four months. His investment. But everything else—operations, supplies, staff expenses—that's on us."

  "How are we managing?"

  Kira's expression shifted. Became harder. More merchant than maid. "Multiple sources. I've been... aggressive with business opportunities."

  She pulled out another set of documents. "Trade contracts. We're providing bulk purchasing coordination for smaller merchants. Taking commission. Using our buying power to negotiate better rates, passing some savings to clients, keeping the difference."

  "Guild arbitrage. Legal loopholes in the Development Initiative terms. Import/export facilitation using our Syndicate connections."

  "I'm on the Council now. That provides access. Information. Advance notice of opportunities. I've been using it."

  Void listened. Understanding that Kira had been doing things he probably wouldn't approve of if he examined them too closely. Hard business tactics. Aggressive negotiation. Exploiting every advantage.

  But it was working. They were surviving financially. Barely. But surviving.

  "The other sources?" he asked.

  "Null and the twins bring back loot from their... activities." Kira's tone was carefully neutral. "Items. Valuables. Things taken from their targets."

  "It's all karma-tainted. Blood on it, metaphorically and literally. We can't use it directly—too traceable, too obviously stolen. But I have contacts who specialize in cleaning such items. Laundering. Making them presentable for legitimate sale."

  "Takes time. Costs money—they take cuts. But we recover maybe sixty percent of value. It helps."

  Void knew about the "games." The hunting trips. Null and the twins disappearing for days. Returning... satisfied. Content. Fed.

  He didn't ask for details. Didn't want to know the body counts.

  "Some of the trained maids have been asking about adventuring again," Kira continued. "They're stronger now. Post-seed enhancement. They could hunt. Earn. Bring in legitimate income."

  "No," Void said immediately. Firm. "Too risky. Too visible. We can't have seed-enhanced maids drawing attention in the Guild. Questions would come. Questions we can't answer."

  "I explained that. They accepted it. But the option exists if we get desperate enough."

  Kira moved to the next document. "We're also considering suspending salaries. Currently we pay minimal amounts to trained maids. Nothing to trainees. But even minimal adds up with this many people."

  She paused. "I'm not recommending it yet. But it's an option if cash flow doesn't improve."

  Void felt the weight settling. The operation they'd built. The scale. The costs. The complexity.

  And underneath: the other cost. The one measured in lives rather than gold.

  "The body count," he said quietly. "How bad is it?"

  Kira's expression didn't change. "You don't want specific numbers."

  "I know. But... estimates. Ballpark."

  "Four digits. Easily. Maybe more. I don't track Null and the twins' activities comprehensively. They don't report. I don't ask."

  Four digits. Thousands. Maybe tens of thousands.

  "The failed seedings," Void said quietly. Voice strained. "The training failures. How many?"

  Kira's expression didn't change. "Null and I handle those, Master. Immediately. You don't need to worry yourself about the details."

  "I know you do. That's the problem."

  "It's necessary. The alternatives are worse." Her tone was firm. Clinical. "Let them run? They know secrets. They've seen things. They're liabilities that can't be allowed."

  "I know it's necessary. I just—" Void stopped. Tried again. "I wish it wasn't."

  Kira's voice softened slightly. "The training failures are different. Those who receive seeds but fail to progress—fail to complete the hundred points within reasonable time—Null reclaims the seeds."

  "Reclaims."

  "Extracts them. The recipients turn to dust. She describes it as 'payback for loans they couldn't repay.' Doesn't feel bad about it. Just... practical resource management."

  Void closed his eyes. "How many?"

  "Survival rate from seeding to training completion is approximately one in three. We've seeded..." she consulted notes, "approximately one hundred twenty candidates total over two years. Forty completed training. The rest..."

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  "Dust."

  "Yes."

  "And the original three?"

  "The hobgoblin survived. Completed training. She's excellent actually—works in the kitchens now. Strong. Reliable. The human and dog beastkin failed, Null reclaimed their seeds."

  Void sat with that. He'd known the answers before asking. Had to ask anyway. Needed to hear it said aloud. Needed to confront what they were doing.

  Eighty people. Eighty people who'd taken seeds, been transformed, been given centuries of life. Then failed. Then died.

  Turned to dust because they couldn't meet standards.

  "This is what I built," he said. Not quite a question. Just... acknowledgment.

  "This is what we're building," Kira corrected. "And it's working. We have trained staff. We have infrastructure. We have backing. We're close to opening."

  "At the cost of hundreds of lives."

  "Yes." Kira didn't flinch. "That's the price. You knew it would be high. We all did."

  "I didn't know it would be this high."

  "Would you have done anything differently?"

  Void considered. Honestly considered. "...no. Probably not. We needed this many attempts to find those who could actually succeed. The mortality was... necessary."

  "Then stop carrying guilt for necessary choices."

  "I'm not sure I can."

  "Try anyway. For all of us. We're building something significant. Don't let the cost paralyze you now. Not when we're this close."

  Void looked at the papers. The evidence of two years. The scale. The complexity. The lives.

  And underneath it all: Null. The twins. The hunting trips nobody talked about.

  "They don't report their activities," he said. "Null and the twins. The targeting. The kills."

  "No. But some of the maids help. Maybe Ealdred too—I'm not certain. They provide information. Point out targets that won't cause issues when removed. Criminals. Slavers. People nobody will miss or investigate."

  "So it's organized. Systematic."

  "Yes. They're careful. Professional. No evidence. No patterns authorities could track. Just... people disappearing occasionally. In a border city full of monsters and violence, that's normal."

  "How do the seed recipients feed?" Void asked. "They need Life Essence too, don't they?"

  "They can get it themselves when killing. But it's inefficient. Messy. Leaves evidence." Kira pulled out another document. Notes she'd compiled. "Null shares it with them instead. Uses the seed network. Pulls and pushes energy like batteries."

  "She actually benefits from having more seeds active. Some kind of amplification effect. Each additional seed recipient increases her overall capacity somehow."

  "So more maids means she's stronger."

  "Correct. Which means keeping them fed is both practical and strategic. She has incentive to maintain them."

  Kira paused. Her expression shifted slightly. "I've... experienced it myself. The feeding. Null shared Life Essence with me once when I was depleted during training. It was..." She searched for words. "Pleasant. Very pleasant. Warm. Energizing. Like drinking the best wine while soaking in a perfect bath. But more. Deeper."

  Void stared at her. "You need feeding too?"

  "Just once in two years. When I pushed too hard during advanced training. Used too much enhanced strength." She looked at him. Curious. "You don't?"

  "No. Never. I've never felt depleted. Never needed... feeding."

  Kira considered this. "Perhaps... larger capacity? Like a bigger battery." She paused, choosing words carefully. "Or maybe you just haven't depleted it yet. Master, you haven't been training much. Using enhanced abilities. I push myself daily—combat, strength, speed. You've been mostly... administrative. Perhaps you simply haven't needed refilling yet."

  Void felt the weight of that observation. Administrative. Passive. While Kira trained daily. While Null hunted. He'd been... sitting in offices. Managing papers. Comfortable.

  And nobody had told him. Not Null. Not Kira. Not anyone.

  Because they were protecting him. Keeping him away from the darker operational details. The feeding schedules. The Life Essence distribution. The mechanics of how the system actually functioned.

  He felt a pang of... something. Not quite sadness. Not quite frustration. Just... distance. He was the master in name. But increasingly isolated from how things actually worked. They managed everything around him. Protected him from uncomfortable truths.

  Until he asked directly. Then they answered. Clinically. Completely. But never volunteered.

  "Let's confirm the current numbers," he said. "How many trained maids do we have now?"

  "Thirty-eight trained maids. Plus Null and the twins—they completed the hundred points months ago. Now they're just doing endless additional training. Specializations. Advanced techniques. Whatever Ealdred assigns."

  "And in training currently?"

  "Approximately one hundred fifty. Various stages. Most will fail. Die or quit or get filtered out before seeding. Maybe fifty will survive to receive seeds. Of those, perhaps fifteen will complete training."

  "We're running a meat grinder."

  "We're running a professional operation with high standards," Kira corrected. "The mortality is unfortunate but necessary. Quality requires filtration."

  She said it so calmly. So matter-of-factly. Like discussing inventory management instead of mass death.

  The loyalty had done that. Made her comfortable with atrocity as long as it served Void's interests.

  He wondered if he should be more disturbed by that. But mostly he just felt tired.

  "The concubine contract," he said, changing subjects. "Tell me about that."

  Kira's expression shifted. Pride showing through. "Five professionals. Top-tier courtesans from the capital. They'll stay several years. Train our maids in client service. Entertainment. Guest relations. The specialized skills we need for high-end clientele."

  "You negotiated this?"

  "Yes. Large effort. Substantial cost. But Ealdred reviewed the contract. Said the price was fair for what we're getting. These women are top professionals. They'll share knowledge. Teach techniques. Make our maids competitive with established houses."

  "When do they arrive?"

  "Soon. Within the month. I'm preparing accommodations. Making sure everything is ready."

  Void looked at the contract. The terms. The costs that made him want to weep.

  But Ealdred had approved it. Said it was fair. That meant something.

  "Alright. Proceed."

  Kira made a note. Professional. Efficient. "Anything else we need to review?"

  "No. That's... that's enough crisis management for today."

  She stood. Bowed slightly. "Then I'll return to work. The Guild has questions about our supply contracts. I need to address them before they escalate."

  She left. Moving with the grace of someone who'd internalized two years of training. Who'd become exactly what she'd chosen to become.

  Void sat alone. Surrounded by evidence of what they'd built.

  A monument to ambition. To excess. To mortality accepted as business expense.

  And they were close. So close to opening. To making it real.

  If the money held. If the construction finished. If nothing catastrophic happened.

  If. If. If.

  He returned to the papers. To the endless work of managing controlled chaos.

  Outside, construction continued. Inside, training never stopped. And somewhere, Null and the twins stood in corners. Learning. Growing. Becoming more of whatever they actually were.

  The machine ran. Fed on lives and gold. Producing maids and infrastructure and something nobody quite understood yet.

  But it ran.

  That was something.

  [Silvereth POV] Approaching Borderwatch

  The beetle caravan moved with patient grace. Massive insects—each one larger than elephants—carrying platforms loaded with passengers and cargo. Plodding across sand at steady, unhurried pace.

  Silvereth sat on one of the passenger platforms. Watching the desert scroll past. Endless. Beautiful in its emptiness.

  The journey had taken longer than expected. Nearly two years. Ocean crossings delayed by storms. Transfers between caravans. Bureaucratic complications at various ports and borders.

  He'd almost died three times. Illness. Depletion. Simple exhaustion.

  But he'd made it. Crossed the desert. Reached the Republic's border regions.

  The caravan was descending now. Leaving the deep desert. Approaching inhabited areas. Towns. Cities. Civilization returning gradually.

  He felt... nothing about completing the journey. No triumph. No relief. Just calm observation that he'd survived this far.

  The decline had continued. Accelerated. His power was barely a shadow now. Spells that used to reshape continents now struggled to light candles. He was weaker than most trained mages. Approaching the strength of a talented apprentice.

  Soon he'd be powerless. Completely. Just an old elf waiting for the end.

  Weeks, he estimated. Maybe a month if lucky. Not more.

  The caravan master—a weathered human woman who'd been running this route for decades—approached. "We'll reach the Republic city in three days. Borderwatch. Border town. Modest. But it has what you need. Inn. Supplies. Civilization."

  "Thank you," Silvereth said. His voice was weak now. Thin. The power that used to make reality tremble when he spoke was gone completely.

  "You planning to stay there? Or continue onward?"

  "I'm not sure yet. Depends on how I feel when we arrive."

  The caravan master nodded. She'd seen this before. Old people taking final journeys. Last adventures before death. "Well. If you need anything, let me know. We'll get you there safely."

  "I appreciate that."

  The woman left. Returning to her duties.

  Silvereth sat alone on the platform. Feeling the beetle's steady movement beneath him. Watching the desert give way slowly to scrubland. To scattered vegetation. To signs of life returning.

  At the next rest stop, other passengers were talking. Gossiping. Sharing news and rumors from the region ahead.

  "—heard there's some crazy elf building something massive in Borderwatch—"

  Silvereth's attention sharpened. Elf. His kind. Rare in this continent. They weren't native here.

  "—nobody's quite sure what it is. Hotel? Café? Brothel? The construction's been going for years—"

  "—Syndicate backing. Dwarven Union. Huge project. Employs hundreds—"

  "—saw it from a distance last time through. Massive. Like a noble's estate but bigger—"

  An elf. Building something significant. In Borderwatch.

  Curiosity stirred. Faint. But present.

  He'd come here to die peacefully. Alone. In the emptiness of the desert.

  But perhaps... perhaps one final conversation with his own kind. One last exchange before the end. That might be... appropriate. Meaningful.

  Better than dying alone among strangers anyway.

  When the caravan reached Borderwatch, he'd go see. Find this elf. Talk. Maybe share stories of long life. Of power gained and lost. Of endings accepted calmly.

  Then... then he'd find somewhere quiet. Some corner to wait in. Some place to simply stop existing when the time came.

  But first: one final talk. With another of his kind. In a land where elves were rare.

  That seemed fitting. Right.

  A proper ending to twelve hundred years.

  The caravan continued. Patient. Steady. Carrying him toward whatever came next.

  Three days. Then Borderwatch. Then the mysterious elf and their mysterious project.

  Then the end.

  Silvereth closed his eyes. Felt the sun on his face. The breeze carrying desert scents. The beetle's rhythmic movement.

  I made it, he thought with quiet satisfaction. Across the desert. To something new. One last thing before nothing.

  That's enough.