The above, of course, was a play Al had staged specifically for the envoy.
He needed a legitimate reason to refuse.
My "Support" has no health, no mana, no Flash, and a broken leg; a half-HP Darius is coming at us, and you want me to engage?
I go draw fire, he breaks me, and then he goes through Piña to hit your heart? You want me to block the blade with my whole race's life? Are you kidding?
The envoy left for the North in regret, leaving all twenty crates of treasure.
Ten were intended as military pay, but the envoy had orders to leave them regardless of the outcome.
It was to buy a good reputation; they heard the Beastmen were like Dwarfs—valuing oaths and holding grudges.
They had traveled a thousand miles to save Veling, then nearly turned on the people when they were treated coldly.
With such a race, it's best to rub them the right way and build favor; who knows when they might die for you later?
Secondly, the Piña Forest was in central Estalia, surrounded by Kingdom land.
If the Beastmen wanted to trade or spend money, they had to come to them. Could they trade across planes?
The money given to them would eventually return to Estalian hands if used. If not, it just sat there.
The councilor who proposed this view received a round of applause.
To the Northerners facing imminent war, money wasn't the priority (unless they failed and had to run).
Turning money into a force that could swing the war was the only thing that mattered.
In this, the Estalians were rational—double, triple, quintuple pay; as long as someone was willing to fight Greenskins, they didn't care about the cost.
If ten gold coins could crush one Greenskin, they'd throw them without a second thought.
The South had been paralyzed by the decapitation strike. If Magritta had been prepared, or if the Armada hadn't fallen, the Greenskins couldn't have besieged the city so easily.
Without the North-South standoff, the legions would have been outside Magritta instead of being split and crushed.
Now, there was no turning back.
After the envoy left, the tribe swept away its "mourning" face and returned to its vibrant, joyful routine.
The tribe was in total agreement on refusing to deploy. The Mist protected them; the war hadn't reached its final, desperate stage.
Deploying now would just mean being cannon fodder for the Kingdom's elites.
Al would never do it. The Beastmen followed him blindly.
The refugees, though grateful for the food, still had feelings for their homeland, but the swords were in others' hands.
The Kingdom's actions had embittered them, which was why they converted to the Four Mothers.
In a moment of survival, they might stand up, but now... they weren't even full yet.
With the envoy gone, Al's daily routine returned to waking up in a bed full of fragrant flesh—white arms, long legs, and full breasts.
He'd clock in for work, do a bit of fishing during his lunch break, read some documents, or have a quick session with a member of the harem (these could be done simultaneously).
In the afternoon, he'd handle affairs with his children or do field surveys.
In the evening, he'd either slack off or go incognito into the streets.
His days were fulfilling... and debauched.
Most of the time it was normal, except for rare cases of "Seven-Star Entertainment" where his lust spiked.
Usually, it was just "to the point."
Like being woken up by a "Good Morning Blowjob," with his spear still in a warm mouth or a goat-cunt while he got dressed and cleaned.
Or at noon while reading, with one or two Madams, maids, or Paladins kneeling under the desk.
Above: a quiet, handsome boy focused on poetry.
Below: a fairy cupping the "longevity peach," two rabbits suckling the "brush-tip"—a lewd contrast.
Such things were rare. Very rare.
Al's life was actually quite healthy (not really).
The tribe was in an upward phase with many challenges and opportunities. Al had to be diligent.
Using his brain to work while his "second head" was also working—it was a way to decompress and face challenges in a better state!
You couldn't call it "unlimited debauchery..."
"Hah... like that. Don't move. Let me look at you for a bit."
Al held Marlena's waist with one hand and her head with the other.
He released the Everchosen's semen entirely onto the Madam's face and breasts.
He let out a sigh of relief, looking down at that beautiful, dignified face now defiled by his white nectar, her lewdness and eroticism greatly increased.
He never tired of looking at her.
Yedia, the Black Madam, knelt behind the boy, kissing his hands and back.
One hand circled his thigh while the other gripped his spear, lightly stroking it for him.
"Hah..."
Al watched for a bit, then tilted his head back, lightly patting Yedia's hand. The woman obediently moved away from his body.
The two Madams knelt on the expensive Arabyan carpet, completely naked.
Their full bodies and heavy, perky breasts were a sight to behold.
One of them was covered from head to chest in the boy's traces—saliva and fluids—looking exceptionally lewd.
Al looked back and saw there was still time. He patted Yedia's shoulder, signaling her to come to his front, face-to-face with Marlena.
The two Madams pressed together, their two pairs of irresistible "grand assets" joined tightly.
Al circled them once before choosing to start with Yedia, whose wetness rivaled Marlena's.
He held her buttocks, lifting her up, and mounted the "horse," slowly pushing deep inside.
Yedia was submissive and proactive, leaning forward to stick out her tongue.
She began to lap up the boy's traces left on Marlena, cleaning the battlefield between her lips.
Al lunged back and forth, feeling the pleasure, yet he felt a twinge of annoyance.
The afternoon was packed with government affairs.
So annoying. He just wanted to lie there and be fed, to never work and only have orgies...
In this, Al was good at self-motivation:
"The Greenskins are like mad dogs; the Estalians are like bones in a tomb. I shall catch them all sooner or later!"
"A moment of hardship is worth an eternity of pleasure!"
Once he broke the cities and entered the pass, hmph!
He would emulate Aegir, Baldwin, and Chancellor Cao Cao!