London, Knockturn Alley — Werewolf Headquarters.
In a heavily guarded chamber, several werewolf wizards stood before Midgard, reporting their progress.
"Chief," said a werewolf wizard with the polished tone of a businessman, "we've successfully acquired sixty percent of the shops in Knockturn Alley. Most are already in operation, providing employment for over half of our werewolf wizards."
Midgard's expression remained calm as she turned to glance at Marcus beside her. Under her gaze, Marcus gave a small nod of confirmation, and the nervous werewolf visibly relaxed.
"Good," Midgard said in a low, measured voice. At the sound of it, every werewolf present straightened, afraid to miss a single word.
"How's the acquisition plan for Diagon Alley coming along?" she asked.
The werewolf merchant wiped the sweat from his brow. "Apologies, Chief. Progress has been… difficult. Most of the shops in Diagon Alley have been family-owned for generations. Even those willing to sell are asking outrageous prices, and their locations aren't ideal…"
"Also," another werewolf witch added, "once they found out we were werewolves, several owners flatly refused to sell."
This speaker was a striking female werewolf—far more alluring in appearance and graceful in posture than Midgard.
"Then use intermediaries," Midgard ordered coolly. "Have them buy the shops under their own names. Money is not an issue. Now, about the raw materials for the Wolfsbane Potion…"
"The estate preparations are complete," said another werewolf—an honest-looking man with the air of an ordinary human. "Twenty-three of our comrades have agreed to take up residence there. Production of all essential ingredients, including aconite, is expected to begin next year."
"Excellent. You've all worked hard," Midgard said. "It pleases me to see everyone striving for the future of our kin."
Her sharp gaze swept across the room. Every werewolf bowed their head, none daring to meet her eyes.
"As for your rewards for this period of work…" Midgard gestured lightly toward Marcus.
Marcus stepped forward and placed three small bottles of golden-red potion on the table before them.
"This is our latest auxiliary potion," Midgard explained. "It allows you to drink the Wolfsbane Potion during a full moon and retain your sanity without falling into complete weakness."
"You all know how debilitating Wolfsbane can be," she continued. "Even if you take it early, this new formula will ease the exhaustion it causes."
At her words, the werewolves' eyes brightened with excitement.
In the past, their only wish had been to keep their minds intact during the full moon. Now, a new worry plagued them—the vulnerability that came with Wolfsbane's weakening effect.
While they were safe within the settlement, those who worked outside often couldn't return before the full moon rose. In such cases, they had to transform in unfamiliar places. Wolfsbane might keep them sane, but it also left them frail and defenseless, easy prey if danger struck.
This modified potion, however, could reduce that risk—making it harder for enemies to exploit their weakness.
Its value was beyond question.
Midgard, however, ignored their barely contained joy. These golden-red potions were nothing more than diluted versions of the enhanced Wolfsbane formula.
All they did was slightly reduce the potion's side effects; on their own, they couldn't even guarantee a werewolf's sanity under the full moon.
"Thank you, Chief!" Several senior werewolves eagerly collected their bottles, their faces bright with gratitude.
"No need for thanks," Midgard replied. "Everything we do is for our people."
"Yes! For our people!" the werewolves shouted in unison, their voices filled with fervor.
When the meeting ended, they left with renewed determination. Once the room emptied, Midgard let out a long sigh and slumped into her chair.
"This leadership thing is exhausting," she muttered, yawning. "I thought being Chief just meant being the strongest. Didn't expect to handle all this nonsense."
She squinted as she unfolded a letter filled with dense, precise handwriting—enough to make her temples throb just looking at it.
It was from Leonard.
Every month, along with a shipment of aconite fruit, Leonard sent her letters filled with development strategies and organizational advice: how to delegate minor tasks, maintain loyalty, earn respect, and manage subordinates efficiently.
Midgard had no patience for such things, yet she couldn't ignore them. Even skimming through his notes had helped her expand her power. Now, werewolf wizards controlled most of Knockturn Alley.
The idea of using diluted Wolfsbane to win loyalty was something she'd never have considered. To her, it felt absurdly stingy.
Still, she followed Leonard's instructions. His reasoning was always thorough—though she hadn't bothered to read the whole letter, she trusted his judgment. If Leonard said it would work, then it would.
In truth, Leonard's point was simple: reward in moderation. Keep the best resources as rare incentives, not as routine gifts.
You can't hand out all the good stuff at once. That only makes people take it for granted, and before long, they start thinking the team's support is something they're entitled to. Worse, uneven distribution could easily breed resentment.
Take the enhanced Wolfsbane Potion, for example. The limited supply of materials already makes it scarce. If it were distributed equally, there would still be those left out—and they'd be unhappy about it.
It's better to treat it as a rare item and issue it occasionally as a reward.
"Oh, right—Marcus, how's that Lupin fellow doing lately?" Midgard asked casually, flipping through Leonard's letter with the air of someone thoroughly enjoying an excuse to slack off.
Marcus pulled out a small notebook and handed it over.
Since he couldn't speak, this was the only way he could report.
Thankfully, Midgard could at least read and write well enough; otherwise, the two of them would have had serious communication problems.
"He's been investigating some werewolf wizards' activities? Most of them former followers of Fenrir," Midgard muttered, frowning. "And he secretly sent a letter?"
Marcus nodded.
"Has something happened that I don't know about?" Midgard asked.
Marcus nodded again and flipped back a few pages in the notebook.
Midgard's eyes widened as she read, her voice filled with disbelief. "The Dark Lord... has been resurrected?"
...
If you'd like to support my work and unlock advanced chapters, you can follow me on P@treon.
[Upto 50 chapters ahead for now]
[email protected]/BlurryDream