This is the SFW version of the novel without the smol/l*li stuff (it will nuke this novel). For the NSFW version, please visit my Patreon page: https://www.patreon.com/SmallScribble.
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"That was enough of a demonstration of the rewards you could receive from me. From now on," Lyssandra changed the subject, her voice clear and authoritative, "you all will make the things that I require. Sacks and bags to contain supplies and materials."
She paused for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought.
"And clothing, too," she added, the idea solidifying in her mind.
One of the girls, the same one who had questioned Morgana earlier, spoke up. "You mean like what you are wearing, Mother?"
She pointed a tiny finger at Lyssandra's black, form-fitting bodysuit, which clung to every curve like a second skin.
Lyssandra shook her head. "No, not anything like mine. But you are all free to try," she said with a faint, indulgent smile. "The things I want you to make are normal clothes. Like this."
Flicking her wrist, a shimmering blue panel of light appeared in the air before Lyssandra. She navigated it and a series of pictures materialized in the space between her and her children.
They were images from a completely alien world: a man in a t-shirt and jeans, a woman in a simple sundress, someone wearing a hoodie and sweatpants.
Morgana gasped, leaning forward, her eyes wide with fascination. The fabrics and styles were utterly foreign to her, nothing like the silks, wools, and leathers of this world.
"This is interesting," she breathed, reaching out a finger to touch a picture of a simple cotton dress. "Not like anything I have ever seen before, even from the adventurers usually dive in the dungeon."
Her gaze shifted to Lyssandra. "How many should we make, Mistress?" she asked, her voice filled with an eager energy that was echoed in the expressions of her children. They were all staring at the images, a quiet, excited chattering spreading through their ranks.
"As many as you can," Lyssandra answered simply. "You can do some other designs, too. Things that people in this world will need."
She swiped the interface again, and a new set of pictures appeared. This time, they were even more scandalous: a woman in a brightly colored bikini, another in a lacy bra and panties set.
The room went silent for a beat, the children tilting their heads in confusion. But Morgana let out a sharp, delighted laugh.
"Oh! That is a wonderful idea," she declared, clapping her hands together. "Practical, but with such potential for… 'decoration.'"
Her children, seeing their mother's enthusiasm, quickly caught on, their confusion turning into intrigue as they studied the strange, skimpy garments.
Lyssandra's gaze lingered on the pictures, a faint smile playing on her lips. Her mind drifted back to the simple, comfortable things she had taken for granted.
'Ever since I've been in this world,' she mused to herself, 'the only things resembling proper underwear I've seen are loincloths. They look so uncomfortable. That's when I decided I needed something new, something better for everyone.'
She had no doubt she could buy such items from her system shop. But where was the fun in that? Why waste precious LP when she had a ready-made workforce of nimble-fingered artisans right here?
The tailor role for her burgeoning dungeon civilization would fall to Morgana and her children.
The images of her women in bikinis, one-piece swimsuits, and skimpy thongs running along a sun-drenched beach filled her mind, a vivid and alluring fantasy.
'That would be a paradise,' she concluded, a soft, almost inaudible sigh of pleasure escaping her lips.
The project was not just about practicality but aesthetic, about importing a piece of her own world, a piece of her own identity, into this new, wild land.
Suddenly, a swift goblin burst into view, riding a lightning wolf, its paws crackling with energy.
"Great One," he gasped, "a large group of human enemies is heading this way."
Lyssandra's eyes narrowed. "Describe them."
"Worn leather vests and pants. Filthy. Red bandanas tied around their foreheads," the goblin replied, still catching his breath.
A smile spread across Lyssandra's face.
"Right on time."