Chapter 147: The Grand Tally
Soon, the tallied amount of the haul was brought forward. A guild clerk laid the parchnt on the counter with trembling fingers before passing it to the branch manager.
The manager adjusted his spectacles, scanning the figures again and again as though his eyes were deceiving him. His lips parted, but no words ca at first. Finally, he cleared his throat and addressed Ethan.
"Sir Ethan... according to the record, there are a total of one hundred and seven orcs, and... one Orc Warlord." His voice almost cracked on the last words.
Lirael leaned casually on the counter, her sharp eyes watching the man squirm. Ethan only gave a slight nod.
The manager licked his lips nervously and continued, "The subjugation reward is set at twenty-five silver per orc, and five gold for an Orc Warlord. That brings the total to..." He scribbled quickly on the parchnt, his hands twitching. "Two thousand six hundred and seventy-five silver... rounded off, twenty-six gold and seventy-five silver, plus the five gold for the warlord."
Lirael’s eyes glimred with amusent at the man’s rising anxiety. Ethan simply folded his arms and remained silent.
The manager coughed, his tone rising with disbelief. "But... since you’ve also chosen to sell the corpses—and most were intact with magic cores—the price rises. One orc corpse earns fifty silver, aning five thousand three hundred and fifty silver... which is fifty-three gold and fifty silver."
He swallowed hard and pushed on. "As for the Orc Warlord’s corpse... damaged though it is, it still fetches ten gold."
He lowered the parchnt slowly, as though setting down sothing sacred. "The final total cos to ninety-four gold, one hundred and twenty-five silver... rounded, that is ninety-five gold and twenty-five silver."
Damn...Thats more than 5 years of my salary.
Ethan gave a small, satisfied nod. Good enough.
Lirael broke into a radiant grin ntally, her voice playful. Well, that’s a fortune for a single outing, isn’t it? I might just start liking this job.
Sylvie, who had sohow kept her expression calm, was screaming through their telepathic link.
Master! This much?! Do you know what this ans? This is more than what a so noble house earns in a year! A whole city could run on this amount for months! Woooahhh!!
Ethan chuckled inwardly, answering her with a cool, dismissive tone. "Calm down, Sylvie. It’s pocket change."
Her ntal voice sputtered in disbelief. "Pocket—?! Master, you sound like so bigshot noble! Though... I can’t even deny it, you do look like one, hehe."
Suppressing a laugh, Ethan accepted the heavy pouch the manager handed over. The clinking of countless coins inside echoed like music.
Their party’s wealth was now:
SP: 71,060
Balance: 590 Gold, 29 Silver, 29 Bronze, 43 Copper
As they turned and stepped out of the guild, the evening air hit them with a refreshing coolness. Lirael stretched, the last rays of the sun catching her hair, while Sylvie clutched the money pouch that Ethan had given since she asked, as if it were a newborn.
Ethan walked at the front, unbothered, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
And he knew this was only the beginning.
Ethan glanced sideways at Sylvie as they walked down the lamplit street. She was hugging the money pouch against her chest as if it were so sacred relic.
He sighed and said in a dry tone, "Sylvie, stop staring at that pouch like it’s the Holy Grail. Hand it here before soone decides to snatch it."
At the word snatch, Sylvie froze. Her golden eyes sharpened and she spun her head left and right, scanning the street with exaggerated suspicion. Only rchants closing stalls and a few drunkards staggering about could be seen.
"Mm... no one’s suspicious," she muttered reluctantly, still reluctant to let go. Finally, with a tiny pout, she pressed the pouch into Ethan’s hand.
Ethan slipped it into his subspace with a flick of thought. "There. Safe and sound. Now let’s go eat. I’m starving."
---
The Feast
Tonight was going to be a celebration. They found a tavern with polished oak doors, warm light spilling from its windows, and the sll of roasted at wafting through the air. The mont they stepped in, the chatter dimd as patrons glanced their way—curiosity flickering at the sight of Ethan and his two striking companions.
They chose a private table near the corner, and soon the dishes began to arrive: steaming platters of spiced boar, skewered river fish glistening with butter, baskets of fresh bread, and mugs of frothy ale.
Ethan dug in with hearty satisfaction, Lirael following suit with her usual elegance. Sylvie at first nibbled shyly—but once she took her first gulp of ale, her cheeks flushed, and she began matching them bite for bite.
By her third mug, she was slumping against Lirael, her words slurring.
"Big sister... Master is... sooo cool... hehe... and you’re... so niceee...can...can I call you... sister Lirael?" Silvie looked at Lirael with puppy eyes.
She tightened her arms around Lirael’s waist as if holding onto a lifeline.
Lirael chuckled softly, stroking Sylvie’s hair. "Silly girl. You really can’t handle your liquor...alright, you can call sister Lirael" Her voice was unusually tender, cradling Sylvie as though she were the most precious thing in the world.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, watching them with a faint smile tugging at his lips. Warmth welled in his chest. They’re not just comrades anymore... they’re family.
---
The Inn
After the al, Ethan booked a high-end inn—five silver a night. The suite was spacious, with polished floors, a sturdy double bed big enough for all three of them, and even an attached washroom with steaming baths.
Lirael guided a still-slumped Sylvie toward the bath, shooting Ethan a sharp look over her shoulder. "Don’t you dare peek."
Ethan smirked mocking "Tsk."
He busied himself instead—removing armor, cleaning weapons, arranging their spoils neatly into subspace. The rhythmic sound of water splashing and Lirael’s voice scolding a giggling Sylvie drifted faintly through the door.
By the ti they erged, Sylvie was wrapped in a soft robe, cheeks rosy and hair damp. She collapsed straight into bed, curling up like a kitten and falling instantly asleep.
Lirael, now in a flowing nightgown, sat by the mirror, brushing her long silvery hair. Each stroke of the comb sent shimring strands cascading down her shoulders. Even without her maid’s uniform, she radiated elegance and quiet beauty.
Ethan stepped out from his own bath, refreshed, towel draped loosely around his neck. His eyes lingered on the sight before him—Sylvie breathing softly on one side of the bed, and Lirael, graceful and serene, her hair glowing in the lamplight.
He knew what was coming tonight. And this ti, he intended to enjoy to its full extent.
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