Chapter 39: Taxes
"Taxes?"
Like a cat whose tail had just been stomped on, Lena shot up from her seat.
"That’s right. Taxes." Alistair leaned back, one arm crossed over his chest, the other stroking his chin. His eyes were brimming with theatrical amusement. "You are the mayor of Silversky Town. Silversky Town is a territory of Frostfell. It is perfectly reasonable for me to collect taxes from it. Not even the Goddess of Order would find fault with that."
"But..." Lena bit her lip, her pretty face flushing crimson with anger. "But ownership of Silversky Town is mine now!" she argued.
Alistair shrugged and spread his hands. "In my name as the Lord of Frostfell, you have indeed obtained the authority that Mayor Merriweather once held over this town. I am the witness and guarantor of that process." He smiled. "But the authority you gained was Merriweather’s, not mine."
"I do hope I’m making myself clear."
"You... you!" Lena’s head was spinning. She had grown up in a temple, her studies focused on serving the goddess and spreading the faith. After her nation was destroyed, she had wandered from place to place. How could she possibly understand such convoluted legal traps?
The players were equally dumbfounded. They didn’t understand the laws of the Continent of Destiny or the Pyrian Empire. It had never occurred to them that an NPC in a game would set a trap for them, let alone deliver such a complete and utter intellectual humiliation.
"Fuck! We got played!"
"So, what he’s saying is, we still have to pay taxes to the Lord of Frostfell? Like tribute?"
"I think that’s the gist of it."
"We got scammed? By an NPC? Is this really a game and not the real world?! What a joke! I came here to play a game, not to get played by the game!"
"Lord of Frostfell, a true gentleman would never stoop to such levels! Your actions lack any semblance of benevolence or honor, to say nothing of the vision and magnanimity expected of a true lord!"
"You are nothing but a despicable and shameless villain!"
Riven pushed his way out from the crowd of players. He stood tall, his chest puffed out, his eyes gleaming with a righteous light as he spoke with unwavering conviction.
Alistair looked at this grandstanding fool who had appeared from nowhere and scoffed internally. I’m a premier villain. Why in the world would I entertain a lecture on morality and vision from you?
While he could maintain a pleasant smile for the cute and lovely fox-eared girl, he had no such patience for Riven. His expression turned to ice.
"What dead cur is this," he sneered, "snarling at my feet?"
The insult hit Riven like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of him. His handsome face turned a visible shade of livid green. He, a golden child of his generation, had grown up surrounded by praise. When had anyone ever dared to call him a dead cur?
"Don’t you get arrogant, Lord of Frostfell. Do you dare to face me in a duel, without any outside help? If you lose, you will hand over Silversky Town to Lena, completely and without reservation. You will relinquish all claim to it, and it will become fully independent."
"Oh, certainly," Alistair chuckled. "And you won’t use that little skill of yours that makes your power skyrocket, I presume?"
"I see you don’t dare." Riven took a step forward, his cold, arrogant gaze boring into Alistair. "To think that the great Lord of Frostfell is nothing but a coward, hiding behind his subordinates."
Alistair couldn’t be bothered to reply. He was just about to deliver a sharp slap to jog the boy’s memory when a system notification chimed in his mind.
Daily quests have been updated:
Villain Quest 1: Defeat Riven in a one-on-one duel.
Villain Quest 2: Make the Beastkin Saintess cry.
Villain Quest 3: Forcibly kiss the Beastkin Saintess.
Upon completion of these tasks, in addition to the daily reward, a new system function will be unlocked. Please continue your efforts, Host, to one day become The Ultimate Villain.
Good heavens, this shameless system really has it out for the Saintess, doesn’t it?
Though he complained internally, Alistair made a mental note to the system. Please provide more of these perverted tasks in the future. Do not hold back just because I am a handsome and dashing lord.
Since the shameless system had issued a quest, Alistair had no choice but to accept Riven’s challenge. He glanced at his own information panel. After the recent life-or-death battles, he had reached level 48. This body’s natural talent was absurdly gifted; otherwise, he never would have been taken as an apprentice by a legendary Sword Saint.
He recalled Riven’s buffed level being 47, and he knew he hadn’t used his full strength in their first encounter. This duel should be a walk in the park.
But Alistair wasn’t just going to win; he was going to turn a profit. Anything less would be a betrayal of his villainous style.
He deliberately put on a show of indecision, pondering for a moment before speaking with feigned reluctance.
"Fine. I accept your duel. However, what do I get if I win? It can’t be that I must fulfill your demands if I lose, but I get nothing if I win, can it?"
Riven saw Alistair’s hesitation and couldn’t help but smile with confidence. He took it as a sign of apprehension, of fear. He had been able to overpower Alistair before. In the few days since then, he highly doubted Alistair could have broken through to the realm of a Sky Knight.
Riven didn’t even consider the possibility of losing. "Name your price," he said magnanimously. "As long as it isn’t excessive, I can agree to it."
Alistair glanced at the dirt-poor Riven. You couldn’t give me anything I want, he thought. If I asked for your life, would you go kill yourself?
His gaze then shifted to the lovely fox-eared girl, and a predatory smile spread across his lips.
Lena flinched under his gaze, a wary look instantly appearing in her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest and took two nervous steps back.
Her anxious posture only served to amuse Alistair more. He pointed a finger at the fox-eared girl and turned back to Riven.
"If I win, I want her."
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"
Riven and Lena shouted in unison. One’s face was contorted with fury; the other’s was crimson with shame and anger.
"That demand is unacceptable. Choose something else," Riven said, his voice hard and unyielding.
Alistair’s brow furrowed. Give this guy an inch and he takes a mile, doesn’t he?
But thinking of the system quest, he suppressed his irritation. A barely perceptible, cunning glint appeared in his sapphire eyes. He smiled. "Then how about this. If I win, I get to be alone with the Saintess. For five minutes."
Riven gritted his teeth, about to refuse again, but Lena gently tugged on his sleeve and shook her head.
Her soft eyes were fixed on Riven, filled with trust. "Agree to his terms," she said. "I believe in you."
Riven looked at the girl who had placed her complete faith in him, then at the smugly smiling Lord of Frostfell. He pursed his lips and gave a sharp nod.
"Fine. I accept the wager!"