Lord Of Succubi:Transmigrated As A Dual Cultivator In Isekai Of Magic



A male voice- ultra masculine, and super assertive, boomed from the other end of the room;

"Don't suffocate her with questions dear, Lady Russell's only just arrived. . ."

The tall man swaggered into the room like he owned the place.

He was tall- over six foot five. On his head and face were rich tufts of white hair that announced both his wisdom and age. The coat tail of his jacket flapped behind him, as he bounced forward despite, leaning on the long cane in his hands.

Madeline Russell rose to her feet at once;

"Lord Fitch," she curtsied.

"Lady Russell." He inclined his head politely; "How nice to see you after so long. Please seat."

She waited for him to sit before she sank into the soft cushion behind her. The servant girl emerged holding a tray with fiercely expensive sets of china. Fresh steam rose up them, and curling into the air, and disappearing into the atmosphere.

"You look well," he announced.

"Yes, I am well." the blonde answered as she sipped on the hot tea; "My treatments have finally paid off."

The edges of Fitch's eyes twitched nervously at the announcement. But his wife was not so subtle;

"Oh dear, are you completely sure? I heard your illness is a terminal one. . .you know how these things can be. . ."

Lord Fitch rebuffed his wife softly; "Now now, don't be such a pessimist darling. The important thing is she's up on her feet again. We should all be grateful for that."

She smiled softly and sipped on her cup again. Just at that very moment, another shadow suddenly darkened the entrance. A young man, tall and broad shouldered, blasted his way into the entrance of the living room. His gait was full of youth, and there was an energetic hustle to his stride.

"Father you'd never guess the haul toda–"

He stopped short when he noticed the third party. For a brief moment, a fire of lust kindled in his eyes as he regarded her from head to toe- looking her over like she was a piece of meat.

"Come on in son, we have a guest with us toda–" his right hand stretched towards her;

"–meet Madeline, the grand matriarch of the Russell clan."

A black cloud darkened his face the moment he heard the name Russell. The faux admiration and the lust in his eyes immediately vanished- replaced by a stewing, almost reproachful look. Ignoring the fuck out of him, Madeline faced the white haired patriarch;

"Lord Fitch, pardon me for coming on short notice. I should have sent word ahead."

He brushed it off;

"Do not dwell on such mundane etiquettes Lady Russell. You're no stranger, our families have history."

"Thank you. I will not disrespect you by beating around the bush. . ."

She carefully set down the tea cup, fully aware of the half a dozen eyes watching her every move;

". . .when my husband, your friend Lord Russell died, he left behind a rich score of landed property. These lands, which happen to run into hundred of acres, sit on the western bank, stretching from the gulf streams to the foot of the dragon hills to the east. . ."

It was a pretty vivid and clear description. She knew what she was talking about.

". . .it would seem that this vast property has been under your care all this while. And I thank you for that. . ."

It was a polite way of saying he had stolen them.

". . .however, my health has been fully restored. So, I as the current grand matriarch of the clan have come to claim back every single acre of land that has my family gave to you as a loan. . ."

At the last word, a rich sarcastic chuckle burst forth from the son's mouth. It rasped through the air, unsettling an already turbulent atmopshere;

"I gotta hand it to ya, you've got some nerve on you lady! I'll give you that for sure!"

"Son. . ." the father growled; "Step back,"

"I'm sorry father, but I just can't sit back and watch this woman disrespect this family like this!"

"No one's disrespecting anyone,"

"Of course she is!" he cried like a child despite his full beard; "You come in here, without any gifts, without any compensation, without any kind of gratitude at all for the family that has taken care of the inheritance you were unable to manage!"

His face was as black as a storm;

"Did my father ever demand for a compensation? Did he even as much as charge you for a single day? Do you have any idea how much it costs to maintain such a vast property over the course of ten years?"

The mother looked at him with stars twinkling in her eyes- beaming at him with pride.

"Lady," he faced her squarely; "You owe this family money. And you owe us big, don't come in here acting like you were the one who did us a favor- its clearly the other way around!"

The air hung heavy as his powerful accusations ripped through the living room. He stood behind his father, chest heaving and eyes blazing like a young lion.

Madeline felt sick to her stomach. She had never heard such rampant bullshit in her life. It sounded like this bearded child actually believed what he was saying! Really it was a very nice spin of the truth.

The Howard family had taken advantage of Lord Russell's death and stolen his lands for themselves. They kept away from the Russell clan for years- watching them struggle, and silently hoping they would all die and waste away or something. The effrontery was sickening!

Fitch remained seated in his golden armchair.

Clutching his cane between his legs, and his small dark eyes firm and strong, he pretended to be ashamed of his son's out burst;

"Paul," he whispered quietly; "NOT another word from you again. . ."

"But–"

"I said not another word." He didn't raise his voice, but the authority was evident.

Paul held his father's gaze for a brief moment before backing down as the beta male. Fitch returned his gaze to the blond woman;

"I really must apologize for my son's outburst. . .he is young. . ."

Really Fitch could not have been more pleased!

His hot headed son had said everything etiquette could not allow him to say. Of course he had stolen the lands. Of course he had profited greatly from them. The scores and scores of fruit orchards, and grape vines were like gold mines in the form of lands.

The passive income he got on rentals alone accounted for a huge fraction of his annual revenue. He had only just purchased a ship, and was preparing to branch out into commercial exporting. He couldn't stop now!

There was no way he going going to back any single acre.

However, he knew he was in the wrong. As a well respected aristocrat with a reputation, he knew he could not explicitly reject Mrs. Russell's demand for reparation.

So, he did the only thing he could do- stall for time;

"Lady Russell, this is not an issue to be concluded in one discussion. The estate is vast, and the paperwork linked to it is even more tedious.