“He was just angry for a moment—surely he didn’t forget the contract?” Aelina’s clanking cart halted. She glanced at the wooden sign. “Maybe he didn’t put it up.”
Aelina eyed the two burly men beneath the sign. Leather armor, leather hats, long swords at their waists—not Golden Apes.
“Phew. Just a coincidence.”
She pulled the cart forward a few steps, then stopped. Below the black cross on the sign, elegant Elven script read: “Aelina, I’m waiting for you.”
Definitely him.
“He actually survived out there? What a shame.” Though she knew a brainless, muscle-bound ape like the Golden Ape rarely died outside, Aelina still felt a trace of frustration. “His attitude’s all wrong—he didn’t kneel under the sign holding ‘Aelina, please forgive me.’ But as a civilized citizen from a highly advanced human society, I’ll be magnanimous. I’ll overlook this Golden Ape’s rudeness.”
She tugged her hood and strode toward the sign.
Seven o’clock sharp. The shabby camp stirred awake. Refugees leaning on wooden sticks shuffled past. A rag-wrapped child trailed a woman, wailing from hunger. Aelina lifted her head slightly. The boy saw her face, stopped crying, and stared, finger in mouth.
Her face-covering cloth had slipped. Aelina pulled the brown fabric up to her nose, revealing only starry eyes. In some ancient twenty-first-century regions, this outfit would spark panic.
Ten meters from the yawning thug under the sign, Aelina froze. She spotted Fro.
Fro emerged from the camp’s finest tent beside a beautiful white-robed priestess. Two guards flanking the entrance—shields emblazoned with a flaming fist—bowed to the priestess. She was a graceful blonde, silver headpiece gleaming on her smooth brow. Her lake-blue eyes sparkled; a pert little nose tilted playfully. She clung to Fro’s arm armor, gazing up adoringly at his black-helmeted face.
Hey! I crafted that arm armor myself.
“My hero,” she smiled, beauty banishing morning grogginess. “Tell me secretly—which is more beautiful: the girl you seek, or me?”
Aelina’s beast ears perked, lifting her hood. She strained to catch voices twenty meters away.
The Golden Ape’s helmet hid his expression. “Aelina’s the most beautiful woman I’ve seen. Her beauty feels… not of this world.”
Hmph! Hmph! My taste needs no explanation! Conquering you uncultured apes is effortless.
“Really?” The priestess pouted.
“So I suspect she used magic,” Fro said. “My childhood friend warned me—some noble mage girls cast permanent beauty spells. Their faces stun onlookers with false allure. She’s from a magical dynasty. Might be a thousand-year-old hag.”
“Is that so?” The priestess’s lips curled happily. “Church texts say old, ugly witches magically smooth their skin—baby-soft, whiter than salt. But touch it? Feels like tree bark.”
Ignorant ape! Aelina gripped the cart rope tight. This body—I sniffed one thousand eighty-seven pairs of worn socks to customize the highest-grade, most beautiful synthetic form! You insult me and human tech!
Their chatter drifted on.
“Secretly… am I beautiful?” The priestess blushed, voice hushed.
Aelina pinched her hood’s edge, memorizing the priestess’s every curve and feature. Then she turned, back to the sign, heading for the market. No way she’d face Fro looking ragged, pulling an empty cart.
Aelina seethed. A superior human shouldn’t rage at a Golden Ape—but jealousy made her chest heave, breath catching.
“Why? Why can this low-IQ, pretty-boy ape snag a beauty so easily?”
Pretty-boy? My looks crush his by ten thousand miles!
Strength? Knowledge is power. My brain’s data could drown this planet in books.
Luck? Must be luck. Every woman I met was plain. What choice did I have?
She resolved not to acknowledge Fro. He’d broken their contract first, abandoned her, found a beauty—and worst, didn’t kneel under the sign holding “Aelina, I was wrong.” Hah! Does high-tech armor make him less ape? I’ll prove I can reclaim my due alone. Infiltrate Elf society. Launch my grand harem plan!
