Chapter 611: The round table

A piece of Mason was glad his brother wanted to help with the Nexus. He’d be a major asset, without question. He was very likely the second most powerful player left alive, not to mention all his…utility.

How many times had Mason been in some ridiculous dungeon and wondered how much easier it would have been with Blake there?

Another piece of him wanted to take that soft little hand resting on his shoulder, and crush it until the arrogant prick was on the ground whimpering in front of everyone.

“You’re right,” he said, “team talk is premature. First I’ll want a list of all possible players, rank tiers and an idea of their abilities. We’ll decide what we do from there, because the Nexus isn’t the only problem.”

He looked at his brother’s hand, than met his eyes and waited. Blake blinked and slowly took it away, doing his best to keep that smile plastered on his face as he backed away and took a chair.

“I thought you’d be back in your tower by now,” Mason said to him more quietly. “Did you find that person you were looking for?”

“The orc, yes. The other thing, no.”

Mason stared, but he never had been able to tell when his brother was telling the truth. He tried to remind himself that Seul-ki ranked low on his current set of problems. But he’d have been lying if he didn’t admit he wanted to at least…frighten her.

“As for the tower,” Blake whispered. “I think they’ll be alright without me. I thought you might need my help more.”

Mason damn near shivered in frustrated anger. Now that he’d beaten Jeong—now that, for the first time, he had literally hundreds of players at his disposal—now Blake decided he needed ‘help’. Probably because there were rewards involved.

Calming breaths, Haley said in his ear through their short-range connection. Now isn’t the time. Send him out, maybe. Talk to him later.

No, he thought back without saying. It was a new day and he was turning over a new leaf. It involved practicing patience, yes. And not letting Blake get under his skin. If he could manage those two things in a day he’d consider it a great victory.

“If I need your help, I’ll ask for it,” he said more loudly and without tone.

Blake looked surprised. Good. Mason looked away, meeting the gaze of anyone brave enough, including his own people.

“Now is a good moment to be direct: I’m only asking for suggestions. In the end, I’ll be making all player decisions. That means teams, guards, who does what and who gets promoted to what. The system calls me a king. You players are all knights. I hope that makes things clear.”

“And the civilians?” Rahman said after enough pause to be respectful, also with no tone. Mason met his eyes and nodded with the same respect. It was an important question and so was the distinction.

And despite his busy night, a few things had been rolling around in his head. He realized he didn’t need or want trials or witnesses to deal with the ‘civilian killer’ problem. As with most things, the system had provided.

“Civilians will now be treated as the ‘game’ intends,” he said. “As soon as martial law ends, all civilians will be free and apart from the player hierarchy. They can go wherever they like, do whatever they like within the rules. If they want to come to Nassau, they can, but they’ll have to play by the rules of the civilian leaders already there. That’s it. They aren’t to be interfered with by players.”

He saw eastern civilians perking up now, exchanging glances as if they could hardly believe it. He decided it wise to say the rest.

“And I’ve made my decision on civilian killers,” he said, referring to the people in Jeong’s prisons and likely scattered around the city. “There won’t be any. From here on, any civilian who seriously hurts someone under my care, who breaks the system rules badly enough they become an eligible target—dies on sight. I won’t ask questions.”

No one looked surprised or spoke, and he wasn’t shocked. Jeong’s use of civilian murderers to terrorize other civilians was likely the most hated thing he’d done. The system made it crystal clear it was a crime worthy of death.

“The rule-breakers in the prisons and wherever else—they can die, they can go into exile, or they can go into the Crucible.”

Some of his people looked confused because they’d never heard of the ‘crucible’. Rahman and most of the easterners just nodded as if this were a perfectly logical and reasonable thing. He was doing it either way, but it was nice not to seem like a madman.

‘The Crucible’ was a repeatable dungeon that could apparently turn civilians into players. Rahman had given him the emperor’s notes, which described it as a constantly changing thing, individualized and therefore unpredictable. It also killed at least half of the civilians who attempted it. But a fifty per cent chance was better than a death sentence.

“Martial law ends as soon as I’ve seen the city and decided it’s safe.” Mason gestured at his people, then introduced them one by one.

He explained that almost everything would eventually go through them—that he himself had no intention of ‘running’ anything once it was made safe. He saw some concern when he said it, and was kind of glad. It meant the easterners were already starting to trust him, at least a little. In time they’d trust his key people, too.

He introduced Sylvie and Peni as his civilian leaders, and finally Haley as his wife. He explained it would be up to the civilians—under House and System rules—to figure out how to handle their problems. But he met his people’s eyes when he’d finished.

“Food prices will be reasonable on everything we’ve stockpiled. I don’t want starving people gouged. And we’ll be growing a lot more in a hurry. We’re not gonna run out. The diet just might get…boring, for a bit. Alright?”

Sylvie wasn’t just Carl’s wife, and trusted by his civilians, she was also sharp and endlessly energetic. As long as she was…pointed the right direction, and being useful, Mason knew she was a huge asset.

“I understand,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “I’ll make sure everyone else does, too.”

He relaxed because he believed her, glad she was on board. And he was suddenly very glad he hadn’t made Carl take an elven bride and turned her into an enemy.

“Well.” He stood. “Unless there’s questions specifically for me, I’d like to continue that tour, Rahman. You or someone you trust. Civilian leaders should stay and sort out details with Sylvie and Carl. Phuong—” he turned to his War Minister—“take Chinua and whoever else you want and get me those player lists. Go gather and meet with as many in the city as you can. Track their officers down. Some probably bolted.”

Phuong nodded in salute and agreement, gesturing to Chinua as he stood. Mason took a breath, feeling like he was probably missing a million things. He could trust his people to start handling things, though. Except maybe the one thing no one could really handle…

He turned to Blake.

“Go with Erik. Tell him…I don’t know. Everything. Learn what they know. I’ll be sending elves to share, too. But I want to start pooling our knowledge.”

“That is wise, and would be very helpful,” Erik said, actually looking pleased. “We are happy to share everything we can.”

Blake looked somewhat less pleased. He also seemed to be struggling with himself, as if wanting to say something but also realizing Mason wasn’t in the mood. He eventually just smiled and nodded.

Mason gestured for Rahman, then turned away, hoping to escape before his brother figured out some other scheme. But he stopped and glanced at the sullen looking Becky and raised an eyebrow.

“Join me?”

She looked back and forth to make sure he meant her. Then she took her foot off the edge of the table and jumped up, just about running to meet him at the door. He hid his grin and walked out, stopping to stare at the orc and goblins waiting outside.

He couldn’t really tell the creatures apart. But the non-undead orc stared so long and hard at him he remembered its eyes.

It was the only survivor from a group that had wanted him and Blake dead in some ambush in the towers. This particular orc hadn’t wanted it, and maybe even tried to stop the violence. But he’d failed. And Mason had slaughtered the creature’s whole family in the resulting fight.

“I remember you,” he said, meeting the creature’s stare. “You remember me?”

The big orc nodded, a hand creeping towards the mace on his hip. The eastern civilians all noticed the tension and scattered. Streak was nearby still guarding Haley, and the wolf growled low from his throat. But he could sense the general threat of things, and didn’t bother getting up.

“Good,” Mason said. “Then you know what’ll happen if you draw that weapon. Hurt another human, orc. Any of you, even a human I don’t like. Even if Blake says so, and I’ll kill you.”

The creature’s hand moved away from the handle. Mason took Becky’s hand when she came out, pleased at the big smile that spread across her face. He gestured for Rahman to lead the way, and stuck out an elbow for Haley.

“The worst bits in the palace, please,” he said. “If there’s undead left wandering around somewhere or something, I’d like to deal with that first.”

His new ‘seneschal’ bowed from his neck like this wasn’t a crazy request, then walked purposefully for some stairs. Mason sighed and followed with his wolf and girls, hoping all his ‘servants’, new and old, got along behind him.