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B2 - Ch 11 - Railroads
🕑 Added 2023-09-01 06:55:36 +0000 UTC
Dozens of accusations of theft, espionage, and unethical practices exploded from the crowd, with pockets of hidden designers and their patrons standing up. It was a mess.
I smiled and looked into the box where Maximilian was, cloaked in his gaudy 18th-century French attire. The man just stared at me with a humorless expression.
‘You set this up to seed doubt, didn’t you?’ I silently mused. ‘That way, if I broke my word and displayed French clothing, you could level a serious accusation, and everyone would be primed to believe you?’
My eyes glinted with cold light. ‘Unfortunately for you, I disclosed the real lineup, and I will never forget what you tried tonight.’
I showed Maximilian the line-up for the clothing up for auction. However, he organized these accusations to ensure I wouldn’t disclose French attire and reveal that their founder was Earthian. That way, if they had to deny that their clothing was Earthian, they could send an accusation that I stole Cyrvenan clothing and passed it off as Earthian, and everyone would believe them.
It would go something like this.
Let me present the most pretentious period in European fashion. First up, 18th-century French attire!
Then he’d say, The designers weren’t lying—King Everwood stole clothing designs! Not only did he steal them, but he also committed espionage on Cyrvena!
Something like that.
While Cervena was right to be concerned, the way they handled it was piss-poor—I know because they handled it how I would’ve.
And since they did what I would’ve done, I already prepared for it.
With a resounding clap, I silenced the chaotic room. “Okay, if you’re convinced I stole your work, this is what we’ll do,” I grinned. “I’m going to keep this auction going. Whenever your design makes it onto the stage, point it out to me.”
The accusers stopped yelling and stood frozen for a moment.
“Why are you so shocked? Do you think I let designers who falsely accused me of crimes come to my auction?” I mused. “No, I brought you here on purpose.”
All guests turned to the designers, all sweating under the watchful gaze of their noble patrons—assuming their patron wasn’t sweating with them.
“Beloved guests!” I grinned, gesturing grandly to everyone else. “You are taking part in the inception of a fashion revolution. As such, you deserve to know that your clothing is authentic.”
My predatory gaze turned to the outraged designers. “If no one claims ownership, you know it’s genuine. If multiple people try to take credit, there will be an investigation. If none declare anything is theirs, you’ll know they’re frauds, and I’ll have them arrested.”
After a pause, my lips curved into a smile, “And, of course, if someone starts looking around to see if anyone else will speak, well, that’s damning on its own.”
“This is bullshit!” yelled a designer. “You’re not going to show the stolen designs so you can arrest us!”
I gave the woman a mocking eyebrow raise. “I’ve gone through the liberty of showing all the clothes to every world leader and representative here today. They also agreed to imprison anyone making false allegations unless they publicly repented.”
After glancing at each of them with a smug smile, I bluntly asked, “So, who wants to repent to avoid imprisonment?”
Maximilian’s lips twisted from a merciless thin line into a scowl of betrayal, making me smirk.
“Oh, yes. As the owner of Novena’s largest training port, I naturally brought in representatives from Antiguan countries. So if you’re from one of those countries, you must repent, too,” I cautioned. “Otherwise, it would be a declaration of hostilities between Novena and Antigua, and your leaders will promptly execute you.”
A gasp rang out in the room as rumors spread like wildfire.
I narrowed my eyes on Maximilian, but he turned away sheepishly. I’m sure he wanted to rip my eyes out and feed them to me, but he was surrounded by unknown diplomats and leaders. If he wasn’t careful, his silver tongue was liable to lick a cheese grater.
“Well?” I asked, scanning the designers, shocked, shaking, and silent as they looked around the room, seeking anyone to repent with them. “Okay, then. Let the imprisonments beg—”
“I was paid to do this!” a woman cried hysterically.
“I was blackmailed!” a man followed.
As if a tidal wave broke, over half of the accusers confessed on the spot, leaving only half a dozen under my mocking gaze.
“What? Now that the odds of you declaring the same piece is yours has lowered, do you think you can get away with it?” I scoffed. “We just unraveled a systematic conspiracy to sabotage the Everwood Company. I said I’d give you a chance to declare the piece is yours—not that you wouldn’t get imprisoned for false theft allegations.”
Those left panicked, yelling more allegations until guards entered the room, lining the walls with handcuffs.
“This is a humiliating political display,” I frowned. “I don’t think any of you will survive with your noble status intact if you don’t confess.”
The room fell silent before one cracked, and the rest followed suit.
I turned to the crowd when the guards ushered them out of the room. “When dozens of designers try to take credit for a clothing line….” I paused for dramatic effect. “That’s how you know it’s good.”
A thin ripple of chuckles spread through the room, creating an uncertain clatter. Then those light laughs spread like a fuse until—
“Now, who’s ready to make history?!” I roared, triggering the curtains. As they opened, mannequins lined the wall, each with a light for a spotlight.
—the crowd exploded with excitement, setting the tone for the night.
‘Perfect,’ I thought, glancing into Maximilian’s box. ‘Please, Mr. Resian. Watch me fill my war chest. Oh, and see how many business partners I make tonight.’
I glanced at the skyboxes holding diplomats from Juntao, Forge, Rabensang, and, most importantly, Desiderata, the country I’d be conquering in due time.
“First up, the suit,” I said, grabbing my lapels. “As I noted, this is the clothing of power on Earth. Whether someone is a leader of a nation or a syndicate that ran territories through violence and territorial behavior, they all wore suits.”
As I spoke, employees unveiled massive paintings of people of every skin color and ethnicity wearing suits. Far from skin color, I included images of yakuza, triads, and la cosa nostra members wearing suits—including tattoos.
It was very inclusive.
“The suit is made from wool as smooth and even as silk. It comes in many forms and different styles. Single-breasted, double-breasted, tuxedo, three-piece, lounge, morning suit, business suit, and designer. Only one person worldwide will obtain the first of each style, introducing it to the world,” I announced. “The first item is a double-breasted suit. Bidding starts at 100,000 gold pieces—you may begin!”
“200,000!” yelled a Valerian duke. It amused me that the prick who once tried to block me from the suitor’s tournament was now begging to buy my things. However, that didn’t amuse me nearly as much as knowing he was out of his league.
“1,000,000!” screamed a woman from the Aurelian Empire.
The actual auctioneer worked overtime, collecting the bids of dozens of people simultaneously, trying to keep up with the highest.
“1,100,000!”
“1,250,000!”
A bidding war started between nobles in the Aurelian Empire and, surprisingly, Sunset Shore. Even more bewildering, the person from Sunset Shore was losing their cool at the “measly” price increase of 100,000 gold.
Unfortunately, or rather, fortunately (it was hard to tell), the heavy guns stepped in.
“1,500,000?” the auctioneer muttered with wide eyes, looking to the box in the upper left. “Err, yes. 1,500,000! Anyone want to—T-Two?!”
The characteristically calm brunette, clad in a formal blouse, a pencil skirt, and heels, lost her cool and started stammering. After all, she was making a 2% commission on each of these items—and she was already 40,000 gold richer.
“Ahem!” I chuckled. “2,500,000.”
My cough brought her back into focus, and she set back to work, auctioning as the Antiguan countries began battling each other.
‘I suppose it makes sense,’ I thought. ‘These people were ruled by humans with legendary powers on a continent vastly larger than Novena. It’s surprising that Edikus kept these people at bay. There’s more to the story than I know about.’
“3,725,000! Do we have another bidder?” asked the auctioneer, scanning the area. “The first modern Earthian double-breasted suit in Solstice goes to Ling Fendou of Kenrai!”
A hushed whisper spread through the crowd, and blood drained from Maximilian’s face. I smiled at him smugly, as if to communicate, “Seriously? I have Novena’s largest trading company, and you thought I couldn’t form trading partnerships because I’m a young king?” or something else super derisive.
I still have to get my ego in check.
Though, I’d much rather just get strong enough that it didn’t matter.
We’ll see which happens first, but it’d likely be a close race.
Kenrai is the second-largest trading port and home to an Earthian leader. I know that for a fact because I had Riley print and send invitations in 50 Earthian languages.
I got an immediate response from many, proving that the country, dominated by the strong, was heavily influenced by Earthian culture and technology.
The only person that I left out of the invitation was Cyrvena, as they accused me of espionage just for knowing their leader’s ethnicity. Writing in French would send them into a panic.
Whatever, it worked for me. Everyone knows who I am and is here to give me immense quantities of gold. It’s a win.
“2,800,000!” declared the announcer, snapping me back to focus. There were still a lot of items to go, and I had a job to do.
***
“Next up, an Earthian party dress to show off your or your partner’s lovely form!” the auctioneer yelled. “It’s known as a wrap dress!”
Gasps rang out when multiple women walked out in satin cocktail dresses. They were certainly… radical for noble women. Having so much of a woman’s chest exposed with the X wrapping was borderline scandalous.
However! Blood-drunk on fashion, mania, and a desire to make history, the nobles were buying anything, no matter how strange or scandalous. Slitted dresses, short-sleeve t-shirts, and blouses with deeply plunging décolletage (or showing more cleavage, as non-pretentious people put it). No matter what we threw out, they snatched it up.
So when we threw out the satin cocktail dress, women started slapping their partners—some to quash their husbands’ lewd thoughts, others to force them to bid—and somehow, we sold it for 1,850,000 gold.
“Now, onto an item that will revolutionize the world!” I yelled, capturing their attention. “Briefs!”
Briefs: the name of male and female undergarments. That is honest to God, what full-coverage female panties are called. Since it conveniently aligned with male undergarments, I used that name for both, eliminating any scandalous assumption that the two served different purposes.
They didn’t—these ones, anyway.
Still, it was awkward, so I stood stoically as the auctioneer explained the sanitary benefits of briefs. It was strange that she had to explain them at all. However, at times like this, you don’t really consider that modern underwear only exists because of the rubber elastic that keeps it in place—otherwise, they would fall without a belt. Therefore, they genuinely were revolutionary.
Thankfully, the benefits were irrelevant to the bidders, and men and women went into another feeding frenzy just to make history. As per usual.
This went on for three hours.
Sweaters, blazers, shorts, skirts, blouses, shirts, and an arsenal of boots, flats, heels, and dress shoes.
“With that, this concludes the first night of the Earthian auction!” I roared, gaining a three-minute standing ovation from nobles, dignitaries, and leaders from around the world.
Once it was over, I walked into the back room, looking at the shaky auctioneer. “Is everything alright, Mary?” I smirked.
“U-Uh… yes. I mean, yes! Yes….” Mary mumbled.
“Then what’s wrong?” I mused. “You’re never this flustered.”
Mary snapped her eyes at me as if preparing to strike. “What do you mean?” she asked, suppressing her tone. “The Ellington Auction House just grossed well over two and a half million gold, and you’re wondering why I’m panicked? Is that… even allowed…?”
Her eyes vacated when she realized that she was talking to her king!
“Is that allowed?” I chuckled. “20% of what you made is mine. That’s how taxes work.”
Mary furrowed her brows, shaken up and not appreciating my mockery.
“Besides, you’ll be opening a Goldenspire branch of the Ellington soon, so you’ll need the money,” I shrugged. “Naturally, all national or international auctions will be held in Sundell, but we’ll need your people on site in Bringla, since it’s the only place to hold auctions for Antiguan goods.”
Due to the secretive nature of Antiguan-Novenan relationships, trade is made verbally onsite or in auctions within the major port cities of Bringla, Syrvene, Kenrai, Yurei, Rabensang, Celestium, Rythorin, and Quorlith. Only formal meetings held by leaders could break this rule, as I was doing tonight.
With Mary in Goldenspire, she could push a hundred times as many goods as she was in Sundell simply because it was the largest trading port.
Mary nearly had a stroke.
Then she started bowing.
And groveling.
Then crying.
Then god knows what else. I promptly left. I still had shit to do.
Most importantly, I had to meet with the representatives in the reception hall.
While I expected it to be hectic, with every country trying to feel me out, figure out how I wrote in their language, and what I wanted, it turned out to be mild. These diplomats were professionals, so they didn’t show the slightest suspicious behavior, instead capitalizing on the situation to appear on friendly terms with me.
Since they weren’t hounding me, they were delighted for the A-class soul meat, something that was extremely rare in Antigua due to overhunting, which left only beasts in notoriously deadly areas like mountain ranges, hidden parts of forests, deep lakes, deserts, and the ocean.
Thus, they existed as they did in Novena, but there wasn't a place like the Nightshade Forest, crawling with deadly creatures.
That said, it was likely false information since the diplomats told me that. That, or they were really drunk, but that wasn't likely, considering they were all soul-mana-rich politicians.
As the night progressed, I walked to the back of the room with Thea, watching Rema work magic with all the representatives.
"It's nice to have someone that does all my work," I smiled, wiping Thea's frown away. "I'm glad you've never changed."
Thea's eyes lit up, remembering the first day we met. I had just picked her out of a lineup of more qualified girls for my "life-long" maid, and she was standing awkwardly in the back of the room when I joined her. She had apologized for not being as social, and I told her I hoped she never would be. Now, fifteen years later, I was still grateful that she wasn't a people person.
"Thanks for picking me," Thea whispered, smiling.
"I just loved you for your ears," I shrugged.
She turned to me with an aggressive pout but giggled when she saw me smirking at her.
"Are you two going to do any work?" Rema growled, walking up with a mixed drink. Her cheeks were flushed red. "There's like 50 people in this room right now!"
"Had enough to drink there, Rema?" Thea mused.
The redhead knitted her brows and jabbed her finger accusingly. "That's because someone's gotta entertain the guests and someone I know—" She slashed her damning finger-point at me. "—gave the dignitaries spirits that could tranquilize a thunderstag, AND I have to drink with them!"
Okay, maybe I did get them all drunk. I mean, it was reasonable to assume that soul-mana rich nobles could hold their liquor—even if it lit with blue flames after fire spells. Oops.
"Corpora mea veneno et impuritatibus purifica, o sancta lux," I mumbled.
"What was that?" Rema slurred. "An apology? Hah! Haha. Did you like my joke?"
"Da mihi protectionem salutis et prosperitatis," I finished, rolling my eyes.
Her body radiated with golden light, and her flushed cheeks paled again, giving vitality to her partially-vacant eyes. Within a few seconds, she was stone-cold sober again.
"What…?" Rema muttered, looking up and seeing me staring at her. When she saw me checking to see if she was sane again, her face turned red to the tip of her ears. "Hey! I needed to be tipsy so our guests don't think we're trying to sabotage them, idiot!"
Without a second thought, she smashed the strawberry cordial screwdriver made from vodka and an orange fruit juice equivalent. Since vodka can be made from fermented grains, potatoes, or even grapes, it was easy to bring the concept of the screwdriver to the reception to hide the deathly alcoholic taste of my spirits.
I'm glad it was working.
Rema stomped off again, going for round two of drinks. I thought that I was free and clear with the mingling people mingling with each other, but the fiery redhead sent drunken dignitaries to me like zombies for detoxification.
It was a nightmare.
After the dignitaries detoxified, partially or fully, we ushered them to their rooms and prepared for bed ourselves. Unfortunately, one person wasn't having it.
"No!" Rema slurred. "I need to talk to King Ryker Alexander… Everwood! I think you know who he is, right?"
A pair of overworked maids gave me an apologetic expression as Rema stomped over to Thea and me. Since the redhead had enough soul mana and training to kill most people in Novena, she was dragging the poor women like trailing leeches as she approached me
“Ryker!” Rema snapped. “I—HEY! What are you—PUT ME DOWN!”
"Let's get you back to your room," I frowned, scooping her into a princess carry as she clawed at my face, kicking, screaming, and blushing all the way to her room.
After I unloaded her in front of her door, she put her hands on her hips. "I still need to talk to you!"
Thea turned to her with a threatening growl, but Rema was too drunk to really care.
"Can I use the detox spell on you again?" I frowned.
"No!" Rema cried. "I want to talk to you like this!"
"That's the future regret talking," I responded. "I've never overheard any student say, 'I'm really glad I talked to them when I was drunk!' before. However, I've heard a lot of people say the opposite."
Rema pouted and crossed her arms, letting her back hit the wall beside her door. "Why is it that you break every rule and be irrational around the clock except when it comes to me?" she huffed. "It's a conspiracy."
"Are you making advances on Ryker?" Thea asked, narrowing her eyes.
"Me? Advances?" Rema scoffed. "I'm a Solestian princess! I don't get that option, no matter how much I want it. We're not like Earthian women who do… whatever they want, apparently."
"A bit jealous?" I asked.
"Am I jealous? Of course, I'm jealous!" she snapped. "They get to do whatever they want, be whoever they want, date…. It's ridiculous! And this whole gender equality mentality thing you preach—"
"That's not universal," I interjected.
"It's not? I wish it weren't!" Rema cackled. "Your idea of 'equality' is to pawn off most of a king's responsibilities on me!"
"Equality comes at a price," I deadpanned.
"Jerk. I was just joking, anyways…." Rema said, her voice's volume trailing. "I just wish that I could be like you two. Even if I can't be…. I at least want to do things like you guys do."
"You make it sound like we're just having a party," Thea frowned. "Do you think that Ryker just does whatever he wants?"
"Obviously," Rema admitted.
"She's not exactly wrong," I sighed, ruffling Thea's hair. Once I left the Redfield Castle at twelve, I traveled the world, trained, invented things, started businesses, and anything else I wanted. By contrast, Rema never left her castle. She just continued an endless cycle of tea, parties, and proceedings, stuck on repeat like a broken record.
Still, it wasn't easy to take her away. There was her father to worry about, and we rarely left except for Thea's birthday, and I wouldn't take Thea's "rival" to her birthday celebration.
That said….
"In the highly improbable chance," I prefaced sternly, "that you convince father dearest to let you murder your Uncle with us, then you can come with us. That's the type of 'fun' thing that Thea, Zenith, and I do. It’ll be at least a year long journey. We’re pushing for next summer."
Rema's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Can I really? Wait….” Her surreal excitement turned to sadness. “I can’t leave. I'm practically the ruler of Inspira…."
"No, you're the liaison that ensures that Valeria’s alliance with the Everwood Empire—solidified by silly things like killing brothers and uncles—is upheld," I corrected. "My father runs Inspira. Now, make him act like it."
A single tear streaked across the redhead's cheek, and she turned to me with trembling eyes. However, I immediately turned away—I didn’t want to see that look on her.
"Goodnight, Rema," I said, waving as we walked away.
***
The morning after the first auction, I had breakfast with all the foreign representatives, meeting with each for an hour as tour guides took them around Sundell, showing them our water tower, street lights, booming economic districts, and steelworks.
It was amusing seeing them snort at some of the "groundbreaking" inventions like water filtration, only for their eyes to pop out when they realized that every house and building had running water.
Then, it would slowly eat at them when they learned that the entire city, plumbing, electricity, businesses, and all, was only a few years old!
Notre-Dame Cathedral, Paris—built over 182 years from 1163 to 1345.
St. Peter's Basilica, Vatican City—120 years from 1506 to 1624.
Cologne Cathedral, Germany—632 fucking years.
To hear that a city popped up out of nowhere in three years, being built by cookie-cutter blueprints, power saws, concrete, cement, mortar, cranes, plumbing, and other tools was absurd.
That said, it was impossible to deny. The entire Novenan continent would vouch for it—and did the night before. Therefore, they were literally standing on something far more insane than a beautiful cathedral. They were standing on top of an infeasible, unachievable, insurmountable, hopeless, unworkable, impracticable impossibility slathered with a conspiracy so deep that it might be continent-wide mind control.
It was priceless.
Naturally, I treated it like it was completely natural, then sent them off with chocolates, lotions, soaps, lubricants, 151-proof rum, crates of glassware, and exclusive clothing items.
They all left twisted, knowing that I tried to bribe the shit out of them—and I succeeded.
After everything they experienced in one day in Sundell, they were charmed by our defenses, technology, clothing, food, and the multitude of princesses running around to greet them.
It was a stunning victory.
After that, I oversaw the second auction and walked into the castle with Thea to have another night of dinners and bribery. At the night's end, a very sober yet equally fiery redhead met me as I left.
"One hundred and eighty-seven million, four hundred and forty-four thousand," Rema sighed dramatically. "That's how much you sold during the auctions."
“That’s a large number,” I deadpanned.
“It is.” Rema pouted and turned away. "I'm sorry for doubting you couldn't put together fifty million.”
My eyes widened slightly, remembering her financial worries.
I suppose I should think more about these things.
"Um, yeah. Thanks for worrying about that," I replied, scratching the back of my head. "Anyway, put that money to good use, okay?"
Rema's moment of happiness that I actually thanked her was immediately quashed by my abrupt order, and she huffed, mumbling something about how I was unbelievable and then demanding that I spend more time in the council room or something like that.
I shrugged and looked at Thea. "Well, let's call it a night. We have a lot to do tomorrow, so we need to rest up."
Thea shrugged and hugged me. "Okay."
***
We returned to Inspira with Rema and Zenith, and the two princesses returned to their formal duties. The former assumed the role of king, and the latter assumed the role of Cleopatra minus the opium pipe and, well, Roman company. By that, I mean that she enjoyed massages, people fed her, she learned how to do her makeup, she broke through walls, and somehow remained loved by people.
In short, they were both living their dreams.
Since I’d be bored to death doing either, Thea and I walked into Carter's Steelworks, which reeked of sweat and overtime labor, to continue our modernization project.
"What the hell are you two wearin'?" Carter gruffed over the sound of metal stamping and assembly lines. Everyone nearby was equally stunned.
I stood around in a dress shirt, medium gray slacks, and dress shoes, far from the monarch I was wearing recently or the aristocratic attire I wore long before that.
As for Thea, she was wearing a light green button-up blouse that fit loosely around her chest but hugged her waist. On her lower half had a wool skirt that went halfway down her shin and a side slit that moved two inches above her knee. Paired with the heels, she walked gracefully in (albeit quietly, as she had to use intense focus to stay balanced), she was a modern-day professional with… you know, fluffy cat ears.
"You don't like it?" Thea pouted, subtly gaining balance.
Carter's eyes widened. "Of course I like it. It's just weird as hell."
I smirked. "Not nearly as weird as this."
"I don't like the word weird comin' from you," he frowned.
"Smart man," I replied, pulling out a few sheets of paper.
"A direct confession and three sheets of paper…." Carter frowned. "What is… this? No, seriously, what the hell is this?" he asked, looking at a picture.
"It's railroad railing," I explained. "You're going to build something that goes on that. However, for now, I'm going to need you to make that to exact specification."
"It doesn't look like you could build anything on it," Carter remarked. "That's only a meter."
"Ah, yes," I chuckled. "I need one million of those."
"Okay, I'll just, WAIT, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU… just say?" Carter asked, sounding like he was going through puberty and the five stages of grief simultaneously.
"One million," I confirmed. "Hire as many people as you need, build as many machines as you need, do whatever the hell you need to do—just make sure that they're done in six months."
"Six months? What comes in six months?" he asked.
I pulled out a massive stack of drawings and handed it to him. "You're going to build this."
Carter stared at the drawings with a vacant gaze as I walked away, not looking up by the time we closed the door.
"Okay, let's get the railroad ties," I sighed, moving to Timothy's Woodworks.
Even after seven years, I still barely understood the guy's language, but I could understand one thing clearly.
"Ye wanna million normal blocks of wood," Timothy said.
"Mmhm," I nodded.
"All of them 8 feet 6 inches by 9 inches by 7 inches," he said.
"Yes," I nodded.
"Do ye know how much of this here forest we'll have to chop down to get that type of wood?!" Timothy exclaimed, feeling Carter's pain for the first time.
"Enough that we need to plant a tree for every one cut down," I smiled. "Somewhere that isn't near here. We want to expand our capital, anyway. So it's perfect."
"How much are ye payin'?" he sighed.
"One silver per tie to you, 25 copper for your competitors," I smirked.
"Ye should've just said that!" Timothy said, his face widening into a grin. “I’ll chop th’ whole damn forest down for that money.”
“I’m sure you would.” I chuckled. "You don't want to know what fer?"
"For a block of a wood?" he frowned. "I don't need the what fer when I can just saw it. Right?"
My lips twisted into a grin, and I slapped him on the shoulder. "Even better."
With that in motion, I turned my attention to the Inspira economic district and plastered up massive posters.
—
Wanted: Companies Who Can Assemble Reliable Railroad Rail
Work Requirements: Back-breaking labor. Common sense.
Contract amount: 5,000 gold.
—
I grinned when I looked at the first poster. "That should do it."
While pretentious nobles spent millions to show signs of power, wealth, and prestige, normal folk couldn't even fathom 5,000 gold. That was fifty million copper pieces. That meant that, come tomorrow, everyone would line up, and I'd be teaching people how to create a railroad.
Once I got this into motion, I could spend all my time circumventing every treaty imaginable to break into Antigua to murder King Redfield's brother and steal Desiderata's oil. I wasn't sure how, but I would pull it off—preferably with the least killing and time necessary.
It was critical. After acquiring oil, there wouldn't be anything standing between us and the full modernization of Solstice. Within twenty years, this place would look like it was entering the 18th century, and that's exactly what we needed to survive the impending apocalypse.
—
[A/N: Thank you for your patience. It's of critical importance I get a job, so I need to prioritize that. That said, I'm still clacking away. I'll keep you posted about schedule changes if any.
Also, the full map was posted with zoomable format earlier with up-close shots of the various Antiguan countries. So you can look there. ^_^]
