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The air in the manor is thick with the scent of old wood, dust, and the musk of many women living in close quarters. Despite the scarcity of resources, the atmosphere is one of intense, focused devotion. To these women, you are not merely a leader; you are the center of their universe, a divine figure around whom their entire existence revolves. While they find solace and passion in each other their bodies intertwining in the shadows of the manor to ease the tension of survival their hearts and their ultimate loyalty belong solely to you.

Grisel watches you closely, her grey eyes unblinking. She sees the way the other women glance at you, their eyes filled with a mixture of reverence and primal hunger. She knows that while they may find pleasure in one another, they will all bleed, kill, and die to ensure your dominance and your belly is full.

"The women are restless, Max," Grisel adds, her voice dropping to a more intimate, yet still commanding, tone. She steps closer, the cleavage of her black dress shifting as she leans over the table, her presence commanding. "They sense your hunger, and they hunger to serve you. Katerina is already preparing herself, hoping for a moment of your favor, and Palmira is practically vibrating with the need to prove her worth through conquest."

She gestures toward the window, where the sun is beginning to dip, casting long shadows over the overgrown land. You can see Colette in the distance, her pink dress a bright spot against the greenery, as she meticulously organizes the meager food stores. Even in this state of decay, the women work with a frantic energy, driven by the need to please their 'god'.

"Tell us where to strike," Grisel urges, her gaze locking onto yours. "Give us a target, and we will bring you the spoils of war. Whether it be grain to fill our bellies, or new women to expand our ranks and serve your whims, we are ready to execute your will."