Battleforged
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Chapter 391 - Battle For Freetown: Part 13
🕑 Added 2024-01-29 03:59:01 +0000 UTCEric quietly followed in Caliban’s wake, spotting a small handful of desperate looking refugees who had decided that now, when he was away from his underlings and looking for privacy, was the perfect time to come over and complain to the obvious head honcho… before flinching under the weight of Eric’s cool, measuring gaze. Most of them turned back around with apologetic grimaces or looks of actual fear in their eyes.
Only one haughty-looking woman who could have been anywhere from late thirties to early forties stepped forward, her pinched lips leaving frown-lines that years of fading bowtox treatments could no longer handle, radiating outraged discontent. She had the air of someone used to being in charge. Her flat gaze flicked around the arena as if recording a dozen issues and slights, disapproval written clear upon her features for the state of affairs in the entire arena.
Eric calmly turned to face her, making sure that his friend had the time and privacy he needed to peruse both their banking charter and that of the goblins. Yet for all that Eric had thought and hoped that his friend would be ecstatic with their coup… he could sense the man’s dismay with painful clarity.
Eric clenched his jaw. Because there was a problem. Of course there was.
He sighed. Why couldn’t things ever be easy?
“Move aside, boy. I would speak to your supervisor at once!”
Eric frowned, just a tiny bit surprised that the woman hadn’t gotten the message. Maybe it was the threadbare designer suit she wore, or the understated jewelry that Eric could tell was worth a literal fortune that Eric thought her a fool to wear so casually, speaking to a life of wealth and privilege that had been enjoyed in her past, and clearly in the post apocalypse as well. Which made her allegiance and alliances painfully clear to Eric.
His gaze flattened as he slowly shook his head.
Shockingly, the woman still didn’t take the hint. Instead, she glared as if she had every right to be there. Or as if she held the power of unemployment and destitution over him, for all that her smeared makeup and tawdry curls blowing in the breeze made her no better than any other survivor or refugee seeking shelter here and now in the ruins of Freetown.
She crossed her arms and sneered. “I will have words with your supervisor. The fool who actually thinks he knows what he’s doing, attempting to organize a city’s worth of citizens in this dilapitated excuse for a convention center? Pathetic.”
Eric blinked. “Are you fucking serious right now?”
She actually had the gall to glare in his face. “I happen to be very close friends with Lord Chelton and the entire North East Council! I also have worked personally with the Snivelpuce Consortium and and have helped facilitate any number of mutually amicable accords. You will find, foolish boy, that if you but scratch the surface, you will find my signature on every accord that has led to this city’s growth and advancement even as the rest of the world falls into absolute chaos! Freetown might have fallen due to tragic misunderstandings, but make no mistake, we will rise again, greater than ever! And for that we need competent people. Capable leaders and administrators! Your associate needs someone of my caliber at his back and for the good of the city, I will speak to him!” She positively puffed up like a peacock before his disbelieving gaze. “And if you think the council will let any slights to its favored members go unpunished than you truly are a—”
Perception Check made!
That’s when he spotted it, what she was trying to hide underneath the cuff of her power suit.
Her words cut off with a startled cry, when his hand moved in a flash.
Her cashmere sleeve shredded as a burst of parchment was torn free.
She stumbled back. Holding her naked arm, free of both sleeve, the papers it held and revealing so many ugly secrets in the form of scars up and down her withered arm as on her uncoordinated classless rump, gazing up at Eric in utter dismay.
“So, what, you were going to throw these papers in Caliban’s face and seek to cripple his effectiveness with one final bit of petty lawfare, because you’re just a whore for the goblin consortium?”
Her eyes widened in desperate outrage. “You will return my property to me, and you will do so at once! No, even better, you’re his lackey! Ha! By the powers invested in me, I legally bind you to—”
Her words cut off when the documents burst in transcendent flame.
Necromancer Skill check: Critical success! You now understand the nature of Goblinoid Lawfare far better than you ever wanted to!
His jaw clenched when he so clearly heard the wails of lost souls that had somehow been trapped in that document, making the iron-clad binding nature that could seemingly bind almost anyone of any class, despite it being a mere Profession, horrifically obvious.
They were using the power of trapped souls. No doubt harvested from other victims of their vile contracts.
Her arrogant tirade regressed to a terrified whimper as Eric slowly lowered himself to look her right in her tragic excuse of a face.
“The thing is, I’ll bet you have absolutely no idea of just how vile a summons you were holding. You’re just a pathetic little lackey, desperate to be anything other than the worthless hack that you are. So here’s how it’s going to be. You can either shut your fucking trap and wait patiently along with everyone else while we try to save this city once you give your oath to me that you will never act against the best interest of Blue Corp or the Sylvan Alliance, and you will never again use your Profession to entrap or bind any elf or human against their will or best interest… or without my or Lord Caliban’s say-so, ever again. You can do that or you can leave.”
“But it’s a death sentence out there! Zombies, slavers, and worse!” She screeched in his face.
Eric nodded. “That about sums it up,” he said, bleak smile not touching his cold blue eyes. “So, Karen, are you in or out?”
“I demand transportation to New York!”
“How about you go fuck yourself instead?”
“How dare you!”
The air cracked from the simple shockwave generated from Eric smacking his inert fist against his palm, free of any powers or enhancements, and that alone was enough to end the conversation.
She trembled before his furious glare. “Give the oath, or get the fuck out and good luck surviving the next hour on your own.”
“Alright!” She swore. “I swear never to act against the best interest of Blue Corp or the Sylvan Alliance!” She stumbled back when Eric’s gaze flattened. “And I’ll never contractually bind anyone without your or Lord Caliban’s say so. Are you satisfied?”
Eric could sense her racing heart. His Nose For A Bad Deal and What The Other Party Wants perks making it clear that she thought he was a fool and that she had already had gotten the best of him.
Yet he forced his features to ease into a gentle, oddly forgiving smile as his fingertips gently brushed her brow.
“Yes, Karen, I am.”
Her eyes bolted wide, the air filling with a desperate shriek as a crimson sigil seared into her flesh, leaving a red welt Eric knew from experience would fade from even the frailest Professional with a single good night’s sleep.
“You marked me… you marked my soul!”
Eric solemnly shook his did. “No. That’s what YOU did. Your oath to me is inviolate. Should you break it, your soul is mine to use as I see fit upon death. To torment, give salvation, or free to whatever lies beyond the realms of purgatory and life. There is no save. If, however, you keep your oath and never cross me during either of our lives, then I shall let you slip free of my domain. On that you have my oath in turn, Karen.”
“You. It’s YOU! You’re the one Bloodtear Syndicate put the huge bounty on… and my name isn’t Karen!”
Eric winked. “It is now.”
Her eye widened in horror. “Heaven’s mercy, it IS! You made me a Karen, you little shit! I don’t even have a last name! And now… oh no. Oh no! I don’t even remember what my either of my names used to be!”
Eric gave he a pitying smile. “Don’t worry. By the time this night is through, that’s what your name will have always been. That’s what every document you had ever signed will show. Your estranged daughter and ex husband will be calling you that as well. Bye bye, Karen. You can go now.”
Caliban sighed as the panicked woman fled for all she was worth before tripping over a broken heel, then stumbled back to her feet, leaking blood from her ears and tears down her cheeks as she limped away with a panicked whimper.
“Feel better?”
Eric cracked his neck and grinned. “Actually, yes. I do. Were it anyone less pathetic, I would have obliterated her the moment she tried Lawfare with a soul-trapped document. So, how about you tell me just how bad things really are?”
His friend’s thousand yard stare immediately made Eric’s gut clench with an awful sense of anxious dread.
“Shit, Caliban. You’re worse than a calculus test when I was taking trig! Just spill it out already.”
His friend’s pained gaze met his own. “Eric…”
“Okay, that was a lie. I never took a day of calculus or trigonometry in my life. Who gives a fuck? Just spill the beans already! How deeply and utterly are we screwed? Because your look says we are unbelievably fucked, even now that we have not just one but BOTH bank charters. So why the hell aren’t we winning the entire game?”
“Eric!”
“Yes, what?”
Caliban just sighed and shook his head, before handing Eric their bank charter. “Read it. Say nothing aloud.”
Eric frowned, eyes quickly skimming the parts that Caliban noted with a trembling finger. And for a supernaturally gifted Bronze-tier elf to be trembling at all was a bad, bad sign.
Eric froze. Eyes widening in horror at what he read. “No. There’s no way this can be legal. Even if they had squirreled away the contract, we got it before they could change fate completely with the Silver Phoenix in play. There’s no way!”
Caliban sighed. “Regrettably, since I was incarcerated at the time, I was unable to close certain channels that needed to be sealed to prevent access from a certain third party…”
“Third party my ass!” Eric roared. “That fucking Arlen Ort drained us dry and took out another billion loan from the fucking goblins! And that’s on top of the debt that fucker piled on us. We’re almost two billion in the hole! FUCKING HELL! I WILL KILL THAT LITTLE FUCKING WORM!”
“Eric, get control of yourself! If you dare to manifest here…” Caliban’s exhausted gaze met his own. “You’ll kill everyone you were so eager to save.”
Eric froze, cheeks flushing with as much shame as fury, wondering just how close he had come to… no. Best not to even think of it. His mouth tasted like soot and ashes, and how dearly he’d love to take to the skies and tear through space and time to DEVOUR THE FUCKING HEART OF THE— but no. That would be the end. The end of everything he had fought so damned hard to save.
He took a shuddering breath, centering himself, pretending he wasn’t seeing naked fear in his friend’s eyes.
“Alright, Caliban. What can we do to fix this?”
Caliban flashed a bitter smile. “Very little, I’m afraid. The stashes I had as a contingency measure against even the most devastating fiscal setbacks were pilfered with calculated efficiency upon each and every safehouse we I had established on the very hour our faction was near obliterated with such fanatic savagery.”
Eric’s eyes widened with horror and fury as it all suddenly clicked. Knowing who must be at fault. “All of it. Knowing just when and where to strike, sussing out all our hiding spots, and come on… poisoning your entire guard of elites? Using seductresses and their handlers that infiltrated us from the CFA of all places? It’s that fucking squid brain Lythid bastard! It’s the only thing that makes sense!”
Eric’s discordant laughter rang through the entire arena. “I’ll bet Malice paid a fucking fortune in bribes and penalty fees to sneak in an actual Bronze-tier Mind Lord here, making a complete mockery of whatever codicile, accord, or pretext of fairness the galactic consortiums supposedly grant newly ascending worlds. And sure as fuck, it paid off! In every conceivable way, it paid off for these assholes! And since you’re an elf and my mind’s just as fragile as your own…”
Caliban flashed a bleak smile. “What you and your mother did to the goblins prized fleets of destroyers and dreadnoughts that actually made them a power to be feared through the entire sector... That was our bittersweet vengeance, Eric. Because yes. Greed and his ancestor played us beautifully and utterly. They have won our banking consortium and this city and there is nothing we can do about it, save risk our brains being melted to oblivion before the one enemy we are utterly unequipped to counter.”
The words washed over Eric as he trembled with a bitter hot rage so potent that it was all he could do to give his partner both banking charters before they erupted into flame.
At that moment Caliban’s eyes widened with surprise. He then gave a short, sharp chuckle, shaking his head bitterly.
Eric knew better than to ask what the latest development was, somehow already knowing.
“Eric...”
“Tell me.”
“Malice had just made contact, and was offering to buy our debt, and all rights to our charter. He will do so for a single credit. No more.”
Eyes wild with fire and hate jerked up to meet Caliban’s own. “I’m going to clear our debt, Caliban.”
His friend sighed, his features filling with genuine concern. “Eric, there’s only one way to do that.”
Eric flashed a bleak smile. “I know. Which is why you and I are going to head to Grim’s place. I have an idea. A single idea that might just work. And also… we need a slight modification of our charter. One we sign in our mixed blood. Because somehow, I’m pretty damn certain that Terran blood magics initiated by a Contender who already ascended will trump whatever retroactive fuckery might void our contract… or, for all we know, make it so it will have always been that way, but I’m not taking any chances.”
His friend frowned. “Eric, there’s no way I would…”
“Come first light, Caliban… all memory of my saving your life, you family, this city, or jumping through a monitor to wage galactic fucking war against an entire fleet of starships will vanish from your mind like a waking dream.” Eric gave his friend a sad smile. “And somehow I don’t think the you of tomorrow who sees us as business partners first and foremost, not the battle brothers we now are in all but name, is going to agree with what you’re damn well going to accept right now.”
Caliban’s almost fatherly gaze stiffened, now gazing at Eric as the professional that he truly was.
“And what terms would those be, Eric?”
Eric flashed a bleak smile, arms spreading wide to include all of Freetown. “I’m going to give you this city, Caliban. More grand and wondrous than you can believe, even if it’s a smoking wreck right now. And I’m going to break open the goblins fucking bank, fry my some fucking calamari, and keep our bank fully liquidated and ready to spread our investments to revolutionize the entire world. Or that’s the plan, anyway.”
His friend gave him a strange look. “Eric, if you could somehow claim this territory, any territory in a single night… our faction would have hope. If you could take over Freetown, and actually secure the goblin’s safehouse, filled with the gold Arlen himself pilfered…”
Eric nodded. “Damn right. But there’s a catch.”
His friend looked him in the eye. “Name it.”
“We’re partners, buddy.”
His friend frowned. “Eric…”
“The bank. We own it fifty fifty. What I’m saying is that from now on, ALL investing that Blue Corp does here on Earth, all investments, loans, capital accrual, all of it, will be done through our bank.”
“Eric we were already planning on reinvesting a significant portion of…”
Eric slowly shook his head. “No, Caliban. You’re warm intentions as of this moment are appreciated, but you and I both know that the calculated profit-oriented version of yourself was planning on having the bank serve the fiscal needs of the people, which yes, will net us billions upon billions over the long run. But actual property development… come on, Caliban. Tell me you weren’t going to use Blue Corp profits to fund ever more projects without using the bank at all. And it wouldn’t even necessarily be out of malice, it would simply be the prudent move to make to maximize profit. Only now, my friend, we are maximizing our profits together. And we’ll sign an addendum right now that makes sure no further Arlen Orts will be tolerated, all withdraws having to be authorized and approved by either you or me or our direct heirs should either of us perish in the interim.”
Caliban nodded. “All that sounds reasonable, Eric. And was pretty much in line with—”
“And we’ll both be pouring all our Blue Corp profits right back into the bank.”
Eric chuckled softly when the other man blanched. “Exactly. We’re funding it together, encouraging its growth together, and profiting together. We won’t just be plopping a sign saying ‘please farm here,’ content with a 20% scuttlebut fee on a few excess herbs sold at market as brave free spirits slowly try to put their lives together, one tiny farming commune at a time.”
Eric’s eyes lit with a certain fervor, excited for the promise of what the future might hold.
“Instead, we’ll be using all that free capital to fund all the infrastructure needed to support a first-world economy. We’ll own or underwrite all or most of the businesses within the territories we own and we’ll pay our future employees absolutely fantastic wages, enough so that one parent can actually stay at home and take care of children that very much need a mother or father there for them after surviving a post apocalyptic hell, and we will be making billions, hell, trillions of credits when we paint the entire North American continent in glorious shades of sapphire blue!”
Caliban gazed at Eric for long moments. “If you would have us both pour all our Blue Corp profits here on Terra from all sources into the bank… Eric, you’re basically making us equal shareholders in this venture.”
Eric winked. “Except for my 20% cut of the Ashland delves. That shit’s mine forever. And I, of course, being a completely Free Agent, am claiming dominion and rights of rulership over absolutely nothing. I’m merely offering a business opportunity that you may accept or reject as you so choose.”
His friend chuckled mirthlessly. “And if I refuse, the bank is lost and Blue Corp can never return to Earth.”
"On the other hand," Eric noted, "If I actually manage to take on a Bronze-tier Cthulian horror that could rupture my brain like a bloodfruit and live to tell the tale? We both might be trillionaires before our first decade here is through.”
Caliban gazed at Eric for long moments. “Forget anything so simple as conquest. Do you have any idea the economic infrastructure we would need in place to assure that kind of income stream?”
Eric nodded. “For a high school dropout, Mother Dearest taught me a lot. I might not know calculus for shit, but I actually have a great head for accounting.”
“Because this was the role she had planned for you all along.”
“Probably. So, are we doing this or what?”
Caliban chuckled softly. “Very well, Eric. Let’s go have a conversation with your friend Grim.”
Chapter 392 - Battle for Freetown: Part 14
Comments
Antony Haynes
I'm tired of the money heist/ banking/ economic development theme, since it doesn't seem really to be going anywhere, and since whatever progress Caliban/Eric make can be undone by the goblins. The best strategy for Eric is to raise an undead horde of high-level monsters and conquer/ occupy territories as a mercenary for blue faction and for sylvan faction. With the undead horde, he has troops, and he only has to hold a total of two territories--one for each faction--since neither of those factions seem able to hold or defend their own territories.
Goldfish2
Also Arlen ort should suffer or force his clan to pay for it and banned from earth and stare jealousy and enviously to make a mistake and be taken out later.
Goldfish2
Calamari!!
M.H. Johnson
Mind horror defeated. Names corrected! Thanks for spotting :)
Lee Caldwell
Alex and morelekai had a great talk. Probably the worst chapter for name swaps I’ve seen
ouroboros
Childhoods end I suppose.
