The Girl He Dumped Becomes a Billionaire.

Chapter 11

"Mother Superior doesn't care about Obstar's relationship with the Pope, just as she doesn't care if we will follow her decisions." Marianne's words snapped Lucius out of his reminiscences, and then he was a little puzzled, "Would King Obstar really support me as the head of the Templars in the South? After all, I've never been a father and son to him."

"It doesn't matter if you've been father-son with him, the point is that he thinks you're father-son with him." Marianne recalled her exchange with the female Grand Duke of the Grand Duchy of Norsca and gave Lucius a shot of sedation, "Most men, even if they've never minded a child, think it's necessary for that child to return the favor. Their mentality and sense of self-importance is especially common among the nobility."

At the end, Marianne added, "Besides, if he wasn't willing to support you, would you have been able to enter the Knights of Matar as a teenager given your background? Don't kid yourself, even if mother-sama is willing to open the way for you, she won't be as attached as she is to Henry and I."

It was important to realize that among the Matar Knights' retainers in the same batch as Lucius, there was no shortage of heirs of great nobles and royal collateral branches. And this female Grand Duke of the Grand Duchy of Norsca was just as rich as she was, and wouldn't be of much use when put in front of those bishops who had been raised with the redemption rolls to grease the skids.

"Your path to promotion wouldn't have been so fast without King Obstar pressuring the Temple in the south." Marianne looked at Lucius' unmistakably twisted expression and really couldn't figure out what he was struggling with, "Don't you want King Obstar's support?"

After saying that, Marianne also pulled down Lucius' sleeve, signaling to look into her eyes, and then knocked on Lucius' forehead, "Don't be a fool, don't take advantage of a freebie, do you have a pit in your brain?"

"But ......" Lucius, whose eyebrows were furrowed to the point of being able to pinch a fly, tried to struggle a little, but was interrupted very roughly by Marianne.

"But what? Are you going to bend yourself over backwards for that pathetic bit of pride?" Marianne raised her eyebrows and gave a look of hatred, "O my stupid brother! Can self-respect be a meal? Or have ...... you also gotten a whiff of the pedantry of the Sanctuary?"

Marianne let go of Lucius' sleeve and cursed very hard, "What a pretense."

"......" Lucius, who had inexplicably been scolded by Marianne, looked away, neither wanting to admit that he was in the wrong frame of mind, nor thinking that Marianne was wrong.

The brother-sister duo just stood there in a stalemate until the slaver who finished the formalities delivered the goods to Marianne's compartment.

"It's a total of six slaves, three males and three females, and the total price is two million seven hundred and forty thousand tarantulas." The slaver who received the payment for the goods changed the sad face he had when he was showing the goods to the people, and his eyebrows fluttered to the point where it seemed that even the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes had been smoothed out quite a bit, "The seals on their bodies and the death contract have been changed to trigger the conditions, so as long as you recite another incantation, you will be able to take charge of their lives and deaths precisely."

After the slaver finished speaking, he handed a folded piece of letter paper to Marianne. As the incantation slowly recited from Marianne's lips, the hidden mark on the slave's body changed slightly, and after a brief moment of luminescence, it was hidden again beneath the musculature.

"By the way, where are the things I brought?" Marianne suddenly thought of something and shouted in the direction of the gate, "How long are you going to stand at the gate? Don't you want your paycheck this month?"

Lucius then realized that the witch who had been following Marianne around had briefly disappeared for a moment.

And after a soft tsk so subtle as to be inaudible, Abigail, who had pushed her way in, spread the case in her hands out on the box's coffee table, and then pulled collar after collar out of it and magically placed them around the slaves' necks.

"What is this?" Lucius had never seen such a collar before, but the intuition belonging to a paladin told him that that thing wasn't something good, and it might even be a dark product that was expressly banned by the Temple.

"My bad taste." Marianne blurted out, "Do you even care what I do with my slaves?"

Choking on this Lucius locked eyes with Marianne before quickly moving his own, "Do as you like, but don't overdo it."

"Don't worry, I'm much kinder than that Henry guy." Marianne walked straight towards the cage holding the half-blood slave, noticing that his gaze was much more docile than before.

"Is this guy still going to bite me?" Marianne wasn't a fan of taming pets, not even treating the two little white dogs of the female Grand Duke of the Grand Duchy of Norsca.

"Don't you worry. This one has a good 'nose' and can tell who is his master." The slaver assured Marianne, "Even if you ask him to kill me now, he will carry it out without hesitation."

"Is that so?" Marianne boldly put her hand into the cage, only to find the pure white slave rubbing his head against Marianne's palm with great attachment, as if he were the little white dog owned by this female Grand Duke of the Grand Duchy of Norsca, pampering himself in his master's palm.

Marianne asked directly to the slaver, not bothering to rummage through the contract she had tossed aside.

"The half-blooded Senn elf is called Fingosil, the Drow is called Ost, and the remaining female elves are Lucian, Belle, and Eloi."

The slaver deliberately bit down hard on the last name, causing the youngest Moroi Elf slave girl to tremble slightly.

"What about him?" Marianne pulled her hand from the cage, not hearing the name of the pure white half-blood slave.

"I just named him Snow." The slaver had been "feeding" the pure white half-blood slave to and fro until Marianne bought the poorly-intelligent cargo.

After all, compared to those rowdy, needy slaves, Snow was as well-behaved as a toy dog, not even possessing the anger of a pet dog, and fully reflecting the serpentine half-orc blood in him.

"Snowy?" Marianne almost added the word "princess" to the end.

"If you don't like the name, you can change it right now." The slaver's light tone made the rest of the slaves in the room turn pale, "They are your property, and it's up to you to decide what to do with them."

Speaking of this, the slave trader also deliberately looked at the mixed-blooded Mori Elf whose expression fluctuated the most, and pointedly said, "It's just that some of the unruly slaves have little mouths that make people angry. Even if I whip them to pieces with an iron fan, I can't stop the succession of vicious words."

"I will keep your reminder in mind." Marianne followed the slaver's line of sight to the mixed-blooded Mori Elf who revealed a stifled expression before uttering an incomparably cruel sentence, "It's just attached goods, it's no shame to die."

"After all, I'm not a slaver who counts gains and losses, so there's no need to carefully control the force of the punishment."