My Blood Mage System

Vittorio's mood worsened with each page Antonio turned. Because each was taking him an incredibly long time. Time that Vittorio didn't have.

He could distract himself by watching over his father's military expenses and reading and re-reading his notes and documents, but those things were all finite. And Father prepared well for his leave—

there wasn't that much to do except to accompany Antonio and listen to his quips.

This was when dangerous thoughts appeared in Vittorio's head. Thoughts like, 'I bet a bucket of cold water over his head would wash that smug expression off his face,' or, 'I can make his stay here insufferable. The prick deserves it, because he's so fucking insufferable to me and Father's work!'

Vittorio had to remind himself who this man was—a mage of high rank and a nobleman in a prominent position. Even if he had no land titles—not everyone was a firstborn—he still has education and certainly plenty of property to his name.

Angering this person would do him more harm than good. But he wanted to do it, anyway. 𝚋𝚎ｄｎｏｖ𝚎𝚕．𝚌ｏｍ

That night, he couldn't put himself to bed and sleep. The same thoughts whirled in his head, mixing with others. 'If Father comes, and Antonio is here, he would be angry that I didn't tell about his arrival as soon as he came,' and, 'I'm the best son. The best heir! I can't just lose this fight. Or… A confrontation. Whatever. I just can't lose—the end.'

Vittorio paced in his room until the sky grew bright with stars, until giving up. He needed to relax somehow. A stiff drink or a more pleasant alternative—a soft embrace.

It was good to finally be an adult enough for both. But especially for the latter.

He dressed in a hurry and left the tower without alerting a soul. His purse rattled with coins, but a Mage's Mark he wore warded off any pickpockets.

"Tall Towers" was a weird name for a brothel, in Vittorio's opinion. He KNEW it was an innuendo, but just couldn't put it together with the rest of the establishment. Not that he truly cared. It was a good place, clean and well-kept, without illness and with rules that protected its workers. The prices weren't for anyone, yes—but Vittorio wasn't just anyone.

He came there at least every week, ever since his eighteenth birthday. For the smells of alcohol, incense and musk; for the bright smiles of beautiful women who worked there; for their unhidden adoration of him.

It didn't matter to Vittorio if it was real or fake. For a night, he could pretend to be a king.

***

Two hours later, Vittorio was lying on a bed, his head resting on two soft pillows of Nici's thighs. The woman's fingers stroked Vittorio's hair, making his bliss complete.

Both of them were completely naked except for a sheen of sweat from their previous activities.

But despite all this, the thoughts couldn't leave him alone. Now they wished to become words, and Vittorio couldn't stop them if he wanted to.

"I just don't get it, Nici," he said. "It's like he hated me at first sight. Or hated my entire family before we even met. But we didn't! He just came there, insisting that he's doing his duty as an official… Ugh. Damn taxes, taxes are the worst, and everything related to them is the worst, too."

Nici gave Vittorio an encouraging hum.

"He insists we might be hiding something. Can't he just leave and spare me another minute of his presence? Really, it's like he was born with a second butthole instead of a mouth. Ugh."

"Maybe it's not you he's after, Milordo," Nici spoke. She had such a sexy, hoarse voice—Vittorio felt himself stirring to life once again. But the meaning of her words was much more stirring.

"What else? What else could he want, Nici?" Vittorio waved his hand. "Maybe someone sent him. Maybe it's a targeted attack… No, that's stupid. Only the king can send a Royal Inspector, and the king can just order us stuff, anyway."

Nici shrugged. The movement made her lush breasts jiggle most delightfully over Vittorio's head. For a moment he was so enraptured with the peaks of her nipples that Nici's words almost missed his brain.

"When a constable picks on you for no reason, he either wants a bribe or a promotion."

Vittorio blinked. Some blood actually returned to his brain. A bribe… No, Antonio didn't look like a money-hungry person. Besides, the Oliveira family wasn't that rich, even with their orichalcum mines.

But a promotion… Yeah, Vittorio imagined that a tax inspector that finds no fault in taxes is a bad tax inspector. Honest people would be an inspector's biggest offenders. That meant… Vittorio just had to point him at someone less honest!

He jumped up, grinning.

"Nici, thank you!" Vittorio grabbed the young woman's cheeks and planted a short, but vigorous, kiss on her lips. "I will pay you double for today. No, triple!"

"Thank you so much, Milordo." The woman smiled and shot him a lustful look from under her eyelashes. Her hand landed on his shoulder to slide towards his groin. "What about one more go before you leave, Milordo? Or two, if you are up to it?.."

Vittorio caught her ploy. The girls in the "Tall Towers" were paid by an hour, counted by their madam. Nici would keep him here all night if he let her.

And right now… "Wait, Nici. Tell me… My brother went to you before, too, right?"

The woman frowned. "We can't talk about our other clients, Milordo… You must understand."

This wasn't a no, as far as Vittorio was concerned. "Well, next time Cael gets there, you will tell him just how many times I could go during a single night. I let you—no, I command you!—to share this with him."

Nici giggled in her fist. "So… Two, for now?"

Vittorio grabbed her, pressed her flush to his body, and went to change this count to something much more impressive.