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WotR Chapter 80: Light Duty Scheming
🕑 Added 2020-01-04 01:56:21 +0000 UTC
Calvin walked up to the ruddy glass mansion, thankful to be back on his own two feet. He craned his neck to look up at the towering spires jutting out above the fanciful mansion, supposedly home to one of his prey.
Why does everyone like spires so much In Uleis?
“Can I help you?” one of the guards asked, a lighter-skinned Uleisan with a hook nose.
“Is this…” Calvin slid a paper out of his vest and double checked it. “Princess June’s residence?”
“Her highness June de’ Sereval Untei.” The guard corrected. “And yes, it is.”
“Is she planning on attending the New Year’s Ball? My Master wishes to coordinate a gift for the occasion.”
“Of course, It’s tradition for the royal family to celebrate new years.” Hook-nose looked at him like he was dumb.
“Excellent,” Calvin said, dropping the paper and delivering a solid punch to the man’s face. He was starting to feel a lot better now that he was out of the damn wheelchair.
That was when Calvin’s breastbone popped loose.
Calvin’s eyes opened with a gasp, the pain of Shadowboxing fading away rapidly. I’m glad I decided to test my limits in Shadowboxing. That would have sucked.
“So, are you ready for light duty?” Kala asked.
“Emphasis on light,” he said, pushing himself out of the wheelchair. His body was a lot weaker than he expected. “If it comes down to fisticuffs, I’m leaving you to your fate.”
“Controlled mutations,” She said, shaking her head. “I always knew there was something different about you, but that’s just…”
“You can keep a secret, right?” Calvin asked, glancing over at his perverted princess crush, a seed of a prank growing.
“Of course. I can see why you kept it to yourself.”
“Right, well, there’s one other mutation I haven’t told you about.” Calvin said with a hint of reluctance, trying to put all of his Skill at Acting to use to really sell it.
“Even weirder than the shapeshifting one?”
“It’s… my junk.”
“What?” She frowned.
“You can’t see any changes outwardly –”
“Other than your eyes,” Kala interrupted, pointing out his lighter colored eyes.
“Other than my eyes,” Calvin agreed. “Unfortunately, other places on my body have been severely effected. My…penis has barbs on it.”
“That’s not true, I –“ Kala went silent.
“You what, didn’t feel them?” Calvin asked, struggling mightily but still ultimately failing to push down his smirk.
“Didn’t see them.” she said, airily, adopting an aloof demeanor.
“I guess it was pretty dark in that tent. I mean, I was blindfolded, but I could tell it was dark, so I could understand why you didn’t see them.”
“I’d like to talk about something else.” She said, crossing her arms and fixing him with a scowl.
“Fair enough.” Calvin said, laughing.
“About the eyes.” she said, glancing quickly up into his eyes, then focusing on his nose. It kind of made it tickle.
“Right. Just try to avoid direct eye contact for now, until I get a handle on it. Elliot gave me a several hour-long sermon about them that amounted to ‘don’t use them on allies, because it turns them into ticking time-bombs’.”
“What’s a time-bomb?” Kala asked. “Does it explode time, or something?”
“I think it just explodes after a certain amount of time.”
“Huh, less exciting than I thought.”
“Captain!” Carl shouted, sprinting into the lobby where Calvin stood beside his wheelchair.
“What is it?”
“Grant’s team is back! They’re pretty roughed up but it looks like they’re all okay! We drew up a bath for them out back.”
“Excellent.” Calvin said as Carl ran off at full speed, “I needed some walking, anyway.” He held out his arm. “Assistance? My undeniable foresight tells me I can’t walk without your arm.”
Kala rolled her eyes, then glanced around, not seeing anyone else. She took the excuse to press against his side as they headed for the rear of the mansion.
Nice.
Don’t you have work to do? Calvin asked. Namely making sure that never happens again?
I am working. I’ve got the System running simulations, but it hasn’t flagged anything else as dangerous to your health.
Including the extra senses and languages I’ve been getting?
What do I look like, an amateur? Elliot asked, sipping on something.
After the incident, I’m inclined to think so.
I’ll have you know that you’d be a freaking lady-eating zombie right now if I were an amateur.
…did my Attributes backslide? I feel weak.
That’s just a side effect of healing so rapidly. As far as I know, attributes aren’t capable of backsliding.
Thank the gods.
Don’t thank the gods. Thank me.
Eeeh.
Ungrateful brat.
Once they reached the end of the hall, Kala pushed away from him and resumed her princess demeanor, fixing her clothes and hair. The see-sawing attitude bothered Calvin a little, but he somewhat understood where she was coming from.
They walked out into the backyard of the mansion, a field of dust and stone with some dead shrubbery that the Tan household hadn’t been able to keep alive as their fortune spiraled down the drain.
There were several dozen glass poles thrust into the ground with white canvas stretched between them, providing shade for the three people washing dirt and blood off of themselves.
“How goes it?” Calvin asked cheerfully as he approached, careful of his healing breastbone as he knelt beside them.
Grant was slumped in the copper tub, a washcloth over his eyes and a pipe in his mouth. When he heard Calvin speak, he lifted the washcloth before clearing what sounded like a rabid kevil out of his throat, spitting into the dirt.
“Captain,” he said, nodding.
“Ack,” Maya said, folding the washcloth over herself and giving him an accusing glare.
Ella simply gave them a wave before she returned to scrubbing dried blood out of her hair, rubbing her scalp with soap vigorously.
Her generous breasts hopped in and out of the water like mud-skippers, and Calvin found himself momentarily hypnotized.
I wonder if there’s a mutation for hypnotic boobs. Calvin wondered idly, tearing his eyes away before he got caught staring.
“I’m here for your debrief. How did it go?”
“Primary objective worked like a charm. We waylaid the major shipments for the month. They’ll be able to send smaller relief caravans in a week or so.”
“Excellent. How about the other one?”
“That’s an interesting story, captain.” Grant said, reaching over the side of his tub to bring a flask of booze up to his lips. “We rode in there expecting scattered villages of Cobalts doing business with the Storm-Stretch group, but it wasn’t anything like that.”
Calvin listened with increasing interest as Grant described the oppression of the Cobalts.
If there’s anything I’ve learned in my time, it’s that horrible events and terrible suffering always present an opportunity to profit. Not so much with good things.
Calvin glanced over his shoulder to ask Kala a question, and he found her staring at Ella, her jaw hanging open as the Genosian girl dunked water over her head.
He cleared his throat, startling Kala out of her daze.
“I think I need to go…work on my plan to get a spot in the palace.” She glanced over at Grant. “Good work.”
Grant gave a casual thumbs-up as she left.
Do Cobalts have access to the System? Calvin asked.
If they’re sapient, then yes.
That gave Calvin an idea.
“One other thing,” Grant said, tapping his pipe off the side of the tub. “The three of us got spotted. A Legend named Ussein Kabva got an eyeful of all three of us and lived to tell the tale. I know the guy from the wars to the east, when the Kolest were swooping south into Boles and they hired us to alleviate the problem.”
“He’s a cheery fuck, but not nearly as stupid as he looks. He recognized me and sooner or later word of my current job is going to reach his ears, and then you’re going to have problems.”
“Hmm,” Calvin said, resting his chin on his palm as he thought. I think it’s about time we got some backup plans in place, because this house of cards is starting to get pretty elaborate.
Calvin glanced at his mansion, and chewed his lip for a moment. I want an escape route, but I don’t want anyone to know about it. That includes Nadia, Kala, and the rest of the company.
People couldn’t spill what they didn’t know about.
Calvinian summoning.
Atom Ant
10/15 Bent remaining.
Twenty identical Knick-knacks manifested out of green smoke, each with the strength, nimbleness and toughness of five of them.
Go into the west sitting room, lock the door behind you, and dig a secret tunnel to the outside of the city. Avoid connecting to the sewers, and hide the evidence of the work. Understood?
The knick-knacks nodded and ran off.
“What was that about?” Grant asked.
“Sending Jinsei some more help.” Calvin lied. “In your professional opinion, what would it take to claim the Storm-Stretch fort long enough to say… lure the Uleisans into sending a huge army to take it back?”
“Eehhh,” Grant rubbed the back of his neck. “Depends on your time-table. A week ago, I could have done it with you, me, Baroke, Ella, and maybe a dozen others. A week from now, that place is going to be a tough nut to crack. Ussein is going to raise security on that place tenfold. We’re talking regular patrols, makeshift watchtowers, and a significant increase in personelle. We could take everyone we have and it still might not be enough.”
“Well, I’ve heard enough scheming, I just want a clean bed.” Maya climbed out of the tub, modestly wrapped in a towel.
“Your room is at the top of the stairs, first one on the left,” Calvin said, giving her instructions to Baroke’s room. He glanced over at Ella, but the Genosian was still wiping red out of her ears with a sodden crimson cloth. Her bathwater was practically blood.
How much blood did she get covered with?
A lot?
“How about mercenaries?” Calvin asked. “I hesitate to send everyone I have because it’s easy to identify us as a company, but you, me, and Ella could fade into the background of some Uleisan mercs.”
“Mercenaries don’t attack whoever you want for a specific amount of money,” Grant said.
“I thought that was like, the definition of a mercenary,” Calvin said.
“Mercenaries, at least the ones worth their salt, very much enjoy living through their commissions. They are rightly suspicious of their employers treating them like disposable pawns, and are therefore hard to convince to take jobs that reek of futility. Ones that are easy to convince are generally unreliable, prone to sneaking away in the middle of the night.”
“There goes my plan to hire some mercenaries as disposable pawns.” Calvin said.
Grant chuckled.
“Hypothetically, let’s say I could hire them, how much would a force big enough to take the fort cost me?”
“for let’s say, two weeks of work? Fifty glimmers, give or take a little haggling.”
Calvin’s heart dropped into his stomach.
Damn all of creation, that’s a lot of money!
We’re working on a different scale now, remember? You actually do have that much in your wagons.
A lot of it was bound up in industrial glass gradually being stacked in the storage yard of Calvin’s mansion.
Reminds me of a Civilization game, watching people pile up raw materials like that.
Calvin looked over at the expanding mound of raw materials. Prices were starting to rise to reflect the drain Calvin himself was posing on supply. He hadn’t considered that aspect, and it cut slightly into his profit margin.
Still should make a mint.
Calvin glanced over at his wagon full of spices and drugs, difficult to resell while the merchant’s guild was still watching for them.
He looked at Grant, noting the streak of grey in his messy hair, the week-old beard, and his general sourness.
“You think the mercenaries would take commodities other than gold?”
He followed Calvin’s gaze. “Yah, it might work. But you’d have to be damn careful. Wanna hook them before they tattle on you. And no offense, but you’re awfully…young to be hiring an army.”
“You look the part, though,” Calvin said, pointing at Grant with a grin, “We’ve still got quite a lot of spare silk, too. After you get done with your bath, you’re getting a couple of the best tailored suits you’ve ever experienced. You’re going to become Mr. Grant, Titan of industry.”
“Ooh,” Ella said, splashing in her tub as she raised a hand excitedly. “Can I have a purple and black dress, with gold and Nem earrings? I wanna surprise Kala.”
Calvin blinked. Purple dye was the most expensive in existence, and Nem was slightly more valuable than gold, But, to be fair, they did have a fair amount of all of those things just gathering dust on the wagon.
“Ah, what the Abyss,” Calvin said with a smile. “Fresh clothes all around!”
“Eiawha!” Ella shouted, pumping a fist. It translated roughly to ‘sweet!’
***Orson***
“Describe these attackers. Spare no detail.”
“Well, one was a little girl, real short. Was wearing camouflage, didn’t really say anything, so I couldn’t I.D. her. One of them, I know, an Ilethan general named Grant Kennedy, Big, tall, black hair with a streak of grey, uses floating swords.” Ussein said, listing off the defining features of the attackers.
“The third might have been Genosian,”
“A what?”
“Mountain people near Gadvera. Not entirely human. Shark teeth.” He bared his teeth, pointing at them. “She was at least six feet tall and built like a Kushar. Stacked too.”
“Focus.” Orson chided.
“This is part of the physical description,” Ussein said innocently. “And she had this tattoo right above her – “
“I hardly see how this is relevant.” Orson interrupted.
“You said spare no detail, but it’s your dust, sir,” Ussein said with a sloppy salute. “She had skin the color and texture of sand, which was most likely an Ability, which is why I can’t be sure she’s Genosian. They have skin that ranged from grey to purple, between their men and women, respectively.”
“Enough about the woman. Tell me more about this general.” Orson said, dismissing the lengthy description of the woman’s body.
“Grant?” Ussein asked. “Last I heard he’d landed himself a nice cushy job as a general in Iletha, but I’ve been out of the loop the last couple years, what with guarding the golden goose.”
“I’ll have people look into him, you can go.” Orson said, returning to his paperwork as the Legend sauntered out the door. The three shipments from the mine were overdue, which was no accident. Someone was attempting to undermine him, but who of the twelve members of the Hand would stand to benefit?
Orson could think of three off the top of his head, plus the Malkenrovian captain buying up all the tempered glass in the city.
When the spines were reported lost, the price would spike, and the captain would be able to make a hell of a profit if he kept his men in tents.
Cut my losses.
He’d lost a lot of money, and keeping Kala under his wing was hemorrhaging money. Keeping a princess fed and clothed and entertained was fucking ridiculous.
Still, while losing those shipments was a blow, he had enough fingers in enough pies that he could easily host the demanding princess for a couple years. Long enough to figure out what to do with her.
Orson made some notes to restrict the flow of raw materials and new projects to insulate himself as much as possible from the coming snap in glass prices. It was a little too late to profit off of it, seeing as the captain had already taken most of what was available.
Hmmm…
Orson remembered seeing an older fellow with Ilethan skin and greying hair in Calvin’s entourage. Dimly.
Seems like I should pay the boy’s new castle a visit.
Comments
Kiwilord
The first one that popped out at me was Calvin not being able to move his wealth around if he had to run. If things hit the fan, unless he has prep time, he will not have time to move so much physical capital. - This could totally be part of the story, but if not, might be annoying to go back and fix later
ZaA
Dyes aren't really formulas. You find something of a color and either cook the color out or dry it, crush it up and put it in boiling water. But it's generally rare to find a true purple, which is the reason it's the color royalty used
Macronomicon
am i forgetting anything, plot-wise? chime in if there's some dangling plot threads I need to take care of. (Outsourcing my notekeeping!)
Chris
Purple dye is expensive but a little voice in his head should know some formulas.
