Lucien inhaled deeply for a long moment, savoring the rich scent of the sacred drink. The weariness of a late night began to dissipate the longer he waited.
Then, for the finale...
He took a slow sip, the bitterness sliding down his throat smoothly. His eyes slid shut as he waited for the taste to fade completely before setting his cup down, taking extra care not to spill a single drop.
After yesterday's battle and subsequent celebration, he finally had a chance to relax and wind down from work.
Lucien wished he could have joined Sera and Alicia in escaping yesterday's celebration, but such was the burden of a lord.
Though he supposed the two of them had their hands full as well, looking after Cora and the elf.
A knock sounded from the study door, causing him to exhale faintly before calling out.
"Enter."
Elias stepped into the room, looking none the worse for wear despite handling the majority of the logistical work in the aftermath of yesterday's battle.
"Ah, Elias, you're right on time." Lucien began before stopping halfway as he looked past the steward's shoulder. "Have you seen Dorian? I called him as well to go over the aftermath of yesterday's battle."
The steward shook his head slowly, surprise flickering briefly in his eyes before he quickly concealed it. "No, My Lord. I had thought he would be here before me."
"Perhaps he woke up late after the celebration," Lucien muttered, rubbing his chin. Even saying the words felt strange, considering what he knew of the captain.
Before Lucien could suggest they begin without him, another knock came from the door. He shared a look with the elderly steward before calling for the person to enter.
Lucien and Elias both stared when the captain walked in, looking more disheveled than either of them had ever seen him before. There were bags beneath his eyes, and patches of stubble had begun forming along his usually clean-shaven face.
The only thing proper and clean was the armor he wore.
Dorian seemed to sense their befuddlement when he cleared his throat, a light flush on his cheek.
"Apologies, My Lord."
His voice came out rough and scratchy, as though the man had barely slept a wink.
Ignoring their stares, the captain walked slowly to stand beside Elias, who had composed himself by now. Though Lucien could imagine the steward's faint disapproval even if he didn't show it.
'Ah...Garrick did mention they were drinking yesterday.'
It was good that his captain at least had something resembling friends in the village.
Lucien shook his head. "Pay it no mind, Dorian. We haven't begun yet, so you are just on time."
He leaned forward, steepling his hands. "Let's start with the most immediate problems. The corpses have been cleared from the river, yes?"
Dorian straightened, or at least made the attempt to do so. "Yes, My Lord. Including the ones killed in the forest, there were sixty-four corpses after yesterday's battle."
"They have been gathered and burned to prevent the spread of disease."
Slowly, Lucien inclined his head. "Good. Sera wrote that she will be processing the variant's corpse today."
Even if variant corpses didn't rot, it was still prudent to take care of such tasks as soon as possible whenever they had the time.
Elias nodded approvingly. "She is well suited to it, My Lord. I suspect she should be finished by the end of today, even taking into account the larger size of the specimen."
"There is no rush even if she can't. We still don't know if Lord Rathenfell has managed to ask a mage to come over to Ashridge yet anyway," Lucien replied, his eyes drifting to the window.
A light cough from Elias drew his attention back. At Lucien's questioning look, the steward folded his hands behind his back before he spoke.
"The skin from the orc variant would fetch a high price in Helvarn's market, My Lord. It would help bolster our treasury by a significant amount."
The steward's words reminded him that there was still the matter of their shrinking reserves. There were still a few weeks left until the proposals from the villagers were chosen and even then, he could not expect to see a profit from them soon.
Lucien exhaled through his nose. "I would prefer not to sell something that could potentially be useful, but just for clarity's sake, how much would the orc variant's skin fetch in the market, Elias?"
"Slightly above a thousand Arde, My Lord."
At those words, Lucien couldn't help but stare at the steward. He glanced at the captain, who didn't seem surprised at all by the figure.
Dorian inclined his head. "The Broken Tusk has a value beyond just its skin, My Lord. It is not just a normal orc variant. People will pay a high price for such a thing."
Leaning back in his chair, Lucien let out a faint breath. "I see. Then at least we have something to fall back on, should the proposals from the villagers not alleviate our problem with coin fast enough."
After considering the matter for a brief moment, Lucien met the captain's eyes. "Dorian. Do you know any military applications we could use the skin for? I heard it would make for durable armor back when I was in Helvarn."
Dorian shook his head. "Other than making armor, I do not know what other uses there would be, My Lord. Mages have been known to compete with craftsmen for it, so I suspect there should be more."
"...We will hold off until Lord Rathenfell's letter arrives then. The last I heard from him, he mentioned asking someone he knew who might be interested in traveling to Ashridge," Lucien muttered before shaking his head.
"For now, our reserves can still manage until the end of this year."
Lucien gestured to Elias. "On to other matters...the orcs' captives. How are they, Elias?"
At his words, the steward cleared his throat before speaking carefully. "They are as well as can be, given their experience, My Lord."
His hand went into his pocket, drawing out a rolled parchment. "I have noted down their names and where they came from. Most are from the eastern villages, and some were even returned to their families yesterday."
"As for their condition, most had not been...harmed in that manner, My Lord. It appears they were indeed being kept in reserve in the event that the orcs could not find another settlement to raid."
Lucien's eyes sharpened. "Most?"
"Yes, My Lord. The Broken Tusk did not seem inclined to follow the rules of its own band. The women who tended to the captives reported that two of them had drawn the variant's attention."
Before Lucien could respond, the creak of leather drew his gaze.
Dorian had gone completely still, his gloved hand clenched at his side. His jaw was set hard enough that Lucien wondered if the captain might crack his own teeth.
For a time, the room remained silent.
Then a sharp breath left the captain as he shook his head slowly.
"Do not mind me. Please continue, My Lord. Elias."
Elias paused for a brief moment before inclining his head. "We returned five of them to their families and have sent word to Helvarn to see if the families of the others might be there, though the chances are slim, My Lord."
Lucien's fingers tapped his desk lightly. "We will take care of them until their families can be found then."
He doubted this world had anything like therapy for those who had survived a traumatic event, and he himself was not a trained practitioner who could provide counseling to the victims.
The closest experience he had was interacting with Sera.
His brow creased before he turned to Dorian. "What is usually done to help the women who return after being captured by orcs?"
When Dorian fell silent, Lucien wondered whether he had asked the wrong question until the captain slowly spoke.
"There isn't anything, My Lord. A band rarely keeps captives alive for long, and the ones that do, like the Broken Tusk...they are not wiped out like this often."
The captain's gaze moved to the window. "There might be some cases, but they are few and far between."
Lucien remembered how the captives usually did not survive the birthing process, so it made sense why there wasn't any established way to help the victims.
He would just have to make one from scratch then.
"Elias. Look through the labor rolls that we have collected among the refugees, then find women who might have some skill in caring for the captives. All of them, not just the ones who do not have families."
At his words, the steward straightened. "There are a few who were considered for the nursery but were rejected due to the overwhelming number of applicants among the women, My Lord. We can choose the appropriate people from among them."
Lucien gave a slow nod. "Tell them they will be paid the same amount as the people working at the nursery, and let the scribes document their process as well."
He exhaled through his nose. "With the housing construction still ongoing, it will be difficult to build a place for their work, so they will have to make do with one of the temporary shelters for now."
Elias, having taken a piece of blank parchment from his desk, was already writing down his instructions when Dorian's voice cut in, causing the steward's quill to halt.
"They will have to be watched closely, My Lord. In their state, some may try to harm themselves if left alone."
At those words, Lucien glanced at the captain. "They will be, Dorian."
Once Elias had finished noting it down on the parchment, his quill lingered for a moment before he looked up.
"My Lord, about the elf...should she also be..."
He resisted the urge to sigh at the reminder of another complication. "Alicia told me this morning that the elf still hasn't woken up yet. Would the villagers we hire even be comfortable speaking to an elf?"
The silence from both Dorian and Elias was answer enough.
Lucien turned to the steward. "Did the captives mention anything about her?"
Elias inclined his head. "The woman who had been kept the longest said the elf was already captured before her, My Lord. So we know she has been held by the orcs at least since autumn last year, perhaps longer, though we cannot be certain."
Lucien kept his expression neutral as he chose his next words carefully. "With the elf skirmishes on Arcencia's eastern border, would there be concerns from His Majesty if he were to find out about the elf?"
To his mild surprise, it was Dorian who answered instead of the steward. "We haven't been at war with them for years, My Lord. I do not believe His Majesty would care if you had a single elf in your household."
Elias stiffened before shooting a disapproving look at the captain, while Lucien's eyes narrowed at the phrasing.
"My household? Like I told you yesterday, it was Sera who brought her back to the manor." He looked to Elias, whose expression had smoothed over. "She hasn't even woken up yet, so saying she's under my household is..."
His words trailed off when the steward showed no indication that he agreed.
Lucien stared at the two of them before slumping slightly. "...Is there anything else to discuss?"
Both men shook their heads, and he waved them in dismissal.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Lucien's hand went to his sacred drink. He took another sip, wincing at how cold it had gotten.
For a brief moment, he regarded the cup in silence before downing it in one go. Setting it back down, he rose from his chair.
There was a long overdue conversation to be had with a certain maid.