Chapter 652: And what about Blake?

Blake sat on his deliberately ordinary chair in the ‘Common House of the Holy City’ meeting. It was a nice room, really. Some combination of new age plastic and old Roman marble. Jeong had good instincts for architecture when he hadn’t covered it up with nonsense. Mostly, though, Blake practiced patience and tried not to finish the slow-speaking Treasurer’s sentences.

“…in the

unlikely

event of a…tie vote, I move for…a

secondary

vote.

Before

we…request a tie-breaker, that is, from the…Governor General.”

The ‘Governor General’ was Blake. It was a pretty decent title as titles went, if a bit old world and boring. But then the House was almost entirely filled by older men (in their 40s and 50s, generally), who were also quite boring.

Most had been bureaucrats, senior managers in some big company or other, or politicians back on earth. Blake wasn’t sure if this was cream rising to the top, or filth sinking to the bottom. He expected it could be a bit of both.

“I second the Treasurer’s motion,” said the newly minted Secretary—a nondescript but at least more lively Eastern European of some variety.

Heads turned to inspect Blake’s reaction.

He kept a perfectly content, neutral expression, and the inspectors visibly relaxed. Plenty in the room believed Blake was a kind of mild-mannered representative of a more sophisticated tyrant.

They believed Mason intended to impose his will on the civilians of the holy city eventually—by hook or by claw. That he’d sent his non-physically intimidating, thin, handsome young brother to come smiling and nodding in public. And then, privately, he’d come around like the Godfather and tell them their brains or their signatures would be on some kind of communal contracts.

Every time Blake refrained from interfering (or indeed helping) in the creation of their own institutions, they all seemed baffled. And then hardened in their belief that none of it would matter anyway, when the

real

power came crashing down.

He did his best to put them at ease. But the more friendly and accommodating and helpful he was, the more he could tell they assumed he was against them. To try and combat this, he waited until the next reasonable moment to object…

“I disagree. The old currency isn’t necessary. The system provides for all possibilities.”

The debate silenced when he spoke, and the room all stared. They were discussing what to do with the old ‘civilian tokens’—a civilian created system of barter that operated outside the system’s formal economy.

The only reason for such a thing, as far as Blake could tell, was a deliberate attempt at destroying meritocracy. The system had its flaws, but the civilian economy seemed entirely…fair. Based on what you could produce and how much others wanted it, with no currency manipulation or favor.

It was, in other words, the kind of thing talentless, greedy, corrupt, or lazy people hated. Traits embodied in their purest form by the some of the men in the newly created House of Commons. They preferred a system they could corrupt and use. And they were voting to keep it.

“With all due…respect,” said the Treasurer, giving Blake a nervous smile, “this is…a matter for the House to vote on. Which we’ve done. As we told your…King Mason. To abolish the system in its entirety is…completely unfair. To the civilians. Citizens who

used

the system. An interim period of…fair exchange, at the least, seems like a...

reasonable

temporary measure.”

Paint drying. Molasses dripping. Blake did everything he could to let that man finish talking. And there was nothing more permanent than a ‘temporary’ government policy. He cleared his throat and fought for the little people of the holy city. He made his case, attempting to persuade the fine members of the house to vote again. Which they eventually did.

And he made exactly as much impact as he expected. Which was none. Finally he relented with all due frustration.

“I’ve made my case,” he said, shaking his head as he sat back down. “I think renewing that system will create animosity. But in the end, it’s up to you, gentlemen. Maybe the newly minted senators will see things differently.”

The men looked surprised. He could feel the eyeballs crawling over him, wondering how and when the threats would come. There wouldn’t be any. In truth, Blake didn’t really care if and how the civilians of the holy city suffered and schemed. He was there to win back his brother’s trust. To help, if he could.

So by God, helping and trust-winning is what he’d do. But since it didn’t take much brain power, he also finished a new construct design with one of his Mental Partitions.

He was proud of the design and rather pleased with himself, but he made sure to appear suitably troubled and defeated as he put his chin in his hand, and vaguely listened to the rest of the meeting.

**

“Oh they are

painfully

tedious,” Blake told Carl and the others as he sat for his sixth or seventh meeting of the day, this time with the ‘Player Council’. “But one suffers what one must.”

Mason’s key people smiled politely, as they’d asked about his meetings politely. They all did their best, but things were a little strained. Blake didn’t care if he was liked anymore. These men served Mason totally, whether out of respect or fear, which meant Blake had no further reason to worry about them. They were already pawns on his board.

“Apologies.” Erik arrived last with a blustered flurry of robes and lackeys. The Swede stereotypically despised being late. “Please, we can get started.”

They discussed their various findings since exploring the Nexus and its beacons. It was generally agreed that Mason wouldn’t be required, that the Nexus events ‘scaled’ as he’d thought. Who the team would be was not decided, and still a source of contention. They’d agreed to put it off until Mason arrived.

Next they discussed the miraculous efforts of the nymphs, which had not only grown and harvested a few of the city’s crops, but planted several new ones.

The city wasn’t exactly flush with diverse cuisine. But between the gifts from Nassau, the efforts of the nymphs, and a large chunk of points spent by Haley, they weren’t

starving

anymore. In fact they even had a few, (slowly) self-replenishing grain silos that would last the winter. If the winter was ‘normal’ and not like Game of Thrones. And with a bit of rationing.

They discussed the border settlements and ‘rebels’, which were now being investigated by a good hundred players. It would take a few days to see the results.

“At this point, I think we should discuss player training,” Phuong eventually interrupted. “There’s no reason to wait for Mason. His intention is clear. We are to do everything in our power to improve all players. I suggest a list of players ready to go out into the world, and a list for in-house training. Then we’ll make teams.”

“Who’s we?” The new captain of the ‘Player Guard’ glanced around the table—some young eastern man who’d done well in the undead attack. “Most of us have our own teams formed already. And who decides who’s ready to go out and who isn’t. I think it should be up to the individual players.”

Blake agreed, but let the men argue. Personally he didn’t believe the weaker players would make much difference, even if they gained a little power. In some grand battle with half gods and divine players, the domesticated city warriors would end up smears on someone’s shoe.

Still, cannon fodder had its value. And he saw no reason to interfere and annoy anyone. After a lengthy argument and an agreement to take a walk in the palace courtyard, the ‘player council’ wandered the beautiful grounds. Blake kept to himself, pacing around with his hands behind his back.

Mostly he was thinking about getting to his orc priestess lover. And his pregnant Korean girlfriend (who was safely back in the orc tower). If that’s what she still was. It was probably time for all three of them to have a good long…chat. Preferably naked. By a fireplace.

After

, they’d discuss weddings and Blake’s House formation and the end of the world. It would be a lot more pleasant than never-ending meetings with players and civilians about things that didn’t matter.

He blinked as people started screaming.

Then players were drawing weapons and rushing around like idiots. Defensive powers were springing up. Blake’s were always ready, and he did nothing except wait, and watch, as a huge, winged shadow rose over the courtyard.

He immediately knew who it was, and he smiled as he watched Mason land in the middle of everything, scattering the peasants like flies.

The magnificent bastard had

wings

. With feathers and everything. And horns. And were those

talons

on his feet? He looked like a god of the ancient world. Like Horus arriving to scatter the sheep. Maybe that’s what he was.

When the others figured out who it was, they all moved up to him like he hadn’t just scared them shitless. There was a flurry of questions, like he’d arrived just to answer all their collective problems over the last several days.

Blake smiled as Mason held up a hand for patience, but seemed to actually try and answer them. The brother he’d known just a few months ago would have run away. Or told them all to fuck off. But there he was, a leader doing his best.

And what about me? Where are my annoying followers?

It was a strange contrast. In the old world, Blake had always thought of himself as ending up some corporate executive, or maybe even politician. Someone important looked to by the little people. He was beginning to wonder if ‘leaders’ were the people who ended up in charge in the old world at all.

It was more like…managers. Skilled merchants moving things in a system they didn’t build. Middle-men in a rich game with rigid rules, enjoying unearned decadence.

But the great game was a reset. And now it was strength and tolerance of risk that ran things. It was the good, competent king that clawed his way up in a world torn by violence. A man with the wisdom to judge reality as it was. And the will to choose the least worst outcomes.

Unfortunately, after awhile, what the world usually got were the men in the meetings Blake had just left. Men who wanted authority more than anything, even if they weren’t suited.

Men like me?

It was a bit too much truth after his long day. Blake sighed and waited for his brother, hoping he hadn’t ruined their relationship with his many failures.

With the time Mason believed they all had left in the ‘great game’, he intended to correct…at least

some

of those failures. All while working on his own, longer ambitions, of course.

A man could only adapt so much.