Invincible Blood Sorceror

Chapter 251: A night with Six wives -1

Citrangada studied him carefully, her tail swishing with contemplation.

“You’re offering me a great deal of things in exchange for financial backing. That’s interesting. Most clan heads wouldn’t admit to needing help, let alone offer genuine compensation rather than expecting charity.”

“I don’t have the luxury of pride,” Jorghan replied.

“I have hundreds of clan members and six hundred refugees depending on me to build something sustainable. If that requires admitting I need help and negotiating fair terms for receiving it, that’s preferable to failing through stubbornness.”

Citrangada was quiet for a long moment, clearly calculating costs, benefits, and risks.

Finally, she made her decision.

“I’ll help. Not just because of potential compensation, though that’s valuable. But because I respect what you’re attempting to build here. Most powerful warriors would have accepted partnerships with the strong and ignored the weak. You’ve done the opposite—absorbed failing clans, rescued a dying species, and committed to building something that serves need rather than just accumulating power.”

Her expression became more businesslike.

“My clan will provide building materials at cost, coordinate with other clans to establish supply lines, and send specialists to accelerate construction. In exchange, Jorghan Sol’vur will grant me a wish of my choice and grant favorable trade terms for fifty years.”

“Agreed,” Jorghan said immediately, recognizing a fair deal when he heard one.

“When can you begin deliveries?”

“Already started,” Citrangada replied with a grin.

“I anticipated you might need help, so I brought supply caravans with me. They’re about a day behind; they should arrive tomorrow with the first wave of materials and specialists. I took the liberty of assuming you’d accept reasonable terms rather than reject help out of pride.”

He stared at her for a full minute and wondered what she was thinking. She came with supplies even before asking and made a deal with him.

Jorghan found himself smiling despite the stress of everything else.

“You’re efficient. I appreciate that.”

“I’m practical,” Citrangada corrected.

“And now that we’re in business together, I should probably mention, my proposal isn’t withdrawn, just postponed. Once you’ve built this settlement and established sustainable clan operations, ask me again. I’m patient enough to wait for appropriate timing.”

“Noted,” Jorghan replied, amused by her persistence despite the current rejection.

*

True to Citrangada’s word, supply caravans arrived the next day. Wagons loaded with cut stone, lumber, metal components, and mana-infused materials for critical structures. Specialists from the Rudanavs clan who understood construction, water system engineering, agricultural development, and defensive fortification design.

The faeries contributed unexpected assistance.

They brought dryads.

The plant-based beings emerged from the forests surrounding the ruins, drawn by the faeries’ connection to nature magic and their request for help. Dryads were rare and typically isolationist, but the faeries had ancient bonds with them that predated the kingdoms.

The dryads’ abilities were extraordinary for construction purposes. They could accelerate wood growth, shaping living trees into structural components without requiring cutting or processing. They could manipulate plant fibers into materials stronger than normal wood, create walls and roofs, and establish gardens that produced food with minimal cultivation.

Within days, the construction site transformed from the planning phase to active building.

And Jorghan contributed his own innovation, golems.

He worked with Sigora, combining their expertise in magic, creating constructs that could perform heavy lifting without tiring.

The golems weren’t as sophisticated as his combat versions, just simple frameworks of stone and metal animated through mana infusion, programmed with basic instructions for moving materials and executing repetitive tasks.

Twenty golems working continuously could accomplish what two hundred normal workers could do in the same time, and they never needed rest or food or supervision beyond initial programming.

The construction site became a marvel of coordination. Rudanavs specialists are directing work crews. Dryads shaping living materials. Golems are handling the heaviest lifting.

Sol’vur clan members providing labor and learning new skills. Faery refugees contributing where they could, using their magic to enhance materials and accelerate processes.

Buildings began rising from the ruins.

Not just temporary shelters, but proper structures designed to last centuries. Residential complexes for clan members. Communal spaces for gatherings and festivals. Workshops for craftspeople. Training yards for warriors. Administrative buildings for managing clan operations.

The next few days blurred together in constant activity.

Jorghan was everywhere, coordinating work crews, solving problems, using his abilities to accelerate critical tasks, and ensuring that progress continued despite inevitable complications.

He fell into bed each night exhausted, barely aware of his surroundings, sleeping just enough to recover before the next day’s demands began.

*

After a few days of relentless construction work, Jorghan finally reached a point where he could delegate effectively. The various teams knew their responsibilities, the golems were functioning well, and the specialists had established routines that didn’t require his constant presence.

He stumbled back to his quarters as the sun set, intending to collapse into unconsciousness for at least ten hours before resuming the next phase of construction.

But when he entered his rooms, expanded recently to accommodate his complicated living situation, he found six of his seven wives waiting for him.

Sashru sat near the window, reading something by lamplight, her silver hair catching the glow in ways that made it seem luminescent. She looked up as he entered, her violet eyes showing amusement at his disheveled state.

Nami occupied a chair near the fireplace, reviewing documents that probably related to supply chain management or population logistics. She set them aside when she saw him, her golden eyes warm with affection that had deepened considerably over the past weeks.

Sarhita stood near the door, her eight-foot frame making the room feel smaller, her expression showing none of the anger that had characterized their earlier interactions.

She watched him with something that might have been concern mixed with respect.

Ilysa Rekkah of the Housha clan sat at a small table, working on what appeared to be detailed architectural drawings. She was the most pragmatic of his wives, the one who’d been explicitly transactional about their arrangement, but her presence suggested she’d chosen to be here rather than being obligated.

Ariandal of the Bjornnaga clan, still carrying idealism that the others had lost through harder experience. She sat on cushions near the fireplace, her expression showing genuine happiness at seeing him despite his obvious exhaustion.

And Jakina of the Nue’roka clan, who’d known him longest but married him most recently, occupied a chair positioned where she could see everyone else. Her expression was complicated—she’d married him out of clan obligation initially, but something had shifted in how she looked at him.

“Welcome home,” Sashru said with dry humor.

“You look terrible. When’s the last time you actually slept more than four hours?”

“I don’t remember,” Jorghan admitted, moving further into the room and collapsing onto cushions near the fireplace.

“The construction is going well, though. We’re ahead of schedule, thanks to the Citra’s clan’s assistance and the dryads the faeries brought. Another two weeks and we’ll have functional housing for everyone.”

“You’re going to work yourself to death before we finish building,” Nami observed.

“That would be counterproductive. The clan needs you alive and functional, not burned out from refusing to delegate.”

“I am delegating,” Jorghan protested.

“I just spent five days establishing systems so I don’t have to micromanage everything.”

“And now you’re going to rest properly,” Sash said firmly.

“We didn’t all gather here just to watch you collapse from exhaustion. We need to talk. About several things that you’ve been too busy to address.”

*

Jorghan sighed, recognizing that tone.

“What needs addressing?”

Sarhita spoke first, moving to sit where he could see her without craning his neck.

“Us. You and me specifically. We need to actually talk about what happened, about how we got here, about whether this marriage is going to be genuine or just political convenience we both resent.”

Her expression was serious but lacked the anger she’d shown before.

“I was furious when you announced the partnership plans. Felt dismissed, treated as disposable, like our previous relationship meant nothing. I married you because my father demanded it, because refusing would damage clan integration. But I was still angry, still resentful that you’d made decisions without considering how they’d affect people who’d been intimate with you.”

Jorghan met her gaze steadily.

“You were right to be angry. I handled that poorly. I was so focused on strategic necessity that I didn’t consider the personal cost of my decisions. I should have talked to you privately before making public announcements. Should have acknowledged that what we’d shared, even if casual, still mattered.”

Sarhita blinked, clearly not expecting such a direct admission.

“You’re… agreeing with me. Not defending yourself or explaining why you had to make those choices.”

“I can explain strategic reasoning all day,” Jorghan replied.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I hurt you through thoughtlessness. I’m sorry for that. And I understand if you need time before this marriage becomes more than just formal recognition.”

Sarhita was quiet for a moment, processing the apology.