Combat Slave Harem-Chapter 47: Sabotage

Seraphine’s smile was thin, sharp. "Bold words from a woman that was selling flowers and ribbons six months ago. Tell me, Slave Egon, or should I say Lord Novos, how long do you think this novelty will last? People tends to get tired of trends. They always return to what is timeless."

Egon met her gaze without flinching. "Timeless is just another word for stagnant. People want new. They want better. And right now, they’re choosing us."

Seraphine stepped closer to a display rack, lifted a rose-pink wrap dress between two fingers as though it might stain her gloves.

"Twenty gold introductory price. Generous. Almost desperate." She dropped the fabric. "I give this little experiment three months before half your customers crawl back to Veyle Silks begging for real quality."

Noella laughed softly. "Careful, Lady Veyle. Pride comes before a fall. And your prices just went up twenty percent last season. People remember."

Seraphine’s eyes narrowed. "Enjoy your moment in the sun. It’s brief."

She turned to leave, assistants falling in behind her like shadows.

At the door she paused, glanced back at Egon.

"One piece of free advice, Egon Novos. Never underestimate how quickly the nobility turns on upstarts who forget their place."

The door closed with a soft chime.

Silence hung for a heartbeat.

Lira exhaled. "She’s not wrong about one thing. Veyle Silks has deep pockets and deeper connections. They’ll try to bury us."

Egon’s jaw tightened. "Then we won’t give them the chance."

He turned to the staff.

"Double the production schedule. Add two more seamstresses by week’s end. Seline, push the serum line. make it impossible to ignore. Corvin, start prototyping armored versions of the trousers for fighters. Maraelle, new limited jewelry collection something only we have."

Vienna stepped beside him, hand brushing his arm. "Relax. She just came here to intimidate us. That means she’s scared."

Noella smirked, "No. She must be terrified, Sister Vienna. She saw the crowd last night. She knows the tide is turning."

Egon looked out the window at the busy street.

"Let her come. She’ll get nothing."

---

The next morning after the successful promotional event, Egon stood in the back office of the Flower Garden, sleeves rolled up, reviewing the overnight sales ledger with Lira and Tobin.

"Four hundred and twelve pieces sold in one night," Lira said, eyes wide. "We’ve never seen numbers like this. The wrap dresses alone cleared out completely."

Tobin flipped a page. "And the creams? Seline is already mixing the next batch. People are asking for them by name now."

Egon nodded, but his jaw stayed tight. "Good. Double the order for silk from the southern weavers. Tell Master Corvin to start the armored trouser prototypes today. We move fast before the rivals catch up."

The bell above the front door chimed sharply. A messenger in Veyle Silks livery stepped inside, face sour, and handed a sealed letter to the nearest sales girl.

Lira opened it, scanned the contents, then looked up with a grim expression. "It’s from Lady Seraphine Veyle. She’s calling an emergency meeting of the Merchants Guild tonight. Topic: ’Unfair competition and deceptive pricing practices.’ She’s naming us directly."

Egon took the letter, read it once, and set it down. "She’s scared. Good. Let her talk while we keep working."

By midday the whispers had spread through the district. Shopkeepers who had bought from Flower Garden the night before suddenly received "courtesy visits" from Veyle representatives offering discounts on their old stock if they canceled new orders.

Egon was in the stockroom when Maraelle rushed in.

"My lord, three of our regular suppliers just pulled out. They said Veyle threatened to blacklist them if they keep selling to us."

Tobin followed, cheeks flushed. "And Lady Seraphine’s people are outside right now, telling customers the new fabrics are ’cheap knockoffs that will fall apart in a week.’"

Egon’s eyes narrowed. "Let them talk. We will focus on the quality. And double the guards around the shop tonight. I fear they will try to do something tonight. Let Krag and Mara rotate shifts."

Night fell quickly.

The Flower Garden was closed, lanterns dimmed, but the combat slaves remained. Krag and Mara stood at the front entrance, swords loose in their scabbards. The other ten were stationed at the back alley and side windows.

Egon sat in the office, reviewing expansion plans, when the first crash came.

Crash!

Glass shattered at the rear window.

"Intruders!" Mara shouted.

Five masked men in dark cloaks burst through the broken window, hands glowing with crackling fire and lightning runes.

"Burn it all!" one yelled. "Veyle sends her regards!"

Krag moved first. He slammed his palm forward, shouting, "Stone Wall!"

A thick barrier of earth erupted from the floor, blocking two attackers. The third hurled a fireball. Krag dodged, then lunged, sword flashing.

"Too slow!" Krag roared, driving his blade through the man’s shoulder. "You think some fire will scare us? We fought in the slave arena!"

Mara spun low, sweeping the legs of a lightning user. As he fell she pressed her hand to his chest.

"Paralyze!"

Blue sparks danced across his body. He convulsed and went still.

The remaining two attackers turned on the slaves.

One raised both hands, summoning a swirling vortex of wind blades.

"Die, you dogs!"

A slave named Garrick stepped forward, eyes glowing green.

"Vine Bind!"

Thick roots exploded from the floorboards, wrapping the attacker’s arms and legs, pinning him helpless.

The last man tried to flee through the broken window.

Mara was faster. She threw a dagger that buried itself in his thigh. He stumbled. Two slaves grabbed him and slammed him face-first into the wall.

"Secure them!" Krag ordered. "No killing. We will hand them to the city guards alive."

Within minutes all five attackers were bound, gagged, and kneeling in the center of the stockroom.

Egon walked in, face calm but eyes cold.

One of the masked men spat blood. "You think this ends here? Lady Veyle will crush your little shop. She owns half the guild."

Egon crouched in front of him.

"Tell your mistress this: the next time she sends thugs, I won’t be so polite. And tell her the Flower Garden is not for sale. Not now. Not ever."

He stood and nodded to Krag.

"Take them to the city enforcement hall. Tell the Magistrate they attempted arson on a licensed business. Mention my name."

Krag grinned. "With pleasure, my lord."

As the slaves dragged the prisoners out, Egon turned to Mara.

"Double the night watch from now on. And send word to our suppliers: anyone who breaks contract with us loses all future business. Permanently."

Mara saluted. "Already done."

Later, alone in the office, Egon unrolled a large city map and began marking locations with red ink.

Vienna and Noella had been watching from the doorway, silent until now.

Vienna spoke first. "You’re planning something."

Egon didn’t look up. "Yes. Veyle Silks has three main warehouses and two exclusive dye contracts. If we cut off their silk supply and buy out their dye merchants, they’ll be crippled within two months."

Noella stepped closer. "You’re going to take them over."

"Not just take them over," Egon said quietly. "I’m going to absorb them. Their customers, their tailors, their reputation. By the end of the year, Veyle Silks will be a footnote in the history of the Flower Garden."

Vienna crossed her arms. "And if they fight dirty again?"

Egon finally looked up, eyes hard.

"Then the combat slaves will remind them why I bought them."

He rolled up the map.

"Tomorrow we start negotiations with the southern silk traders. Offer them double what Veyle pays. And tell the dye masters in the western district that we’ll pay cash on delivery and give them permanent contracts."

Noella smiled, slow and dangerous. "You really are building an empire, my hubby."

Egon nodded and stood. "Yes. I’m building our empire. And no one, not even Lady Seraphine Veyle, is going to stand in the way."