Battleforged
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Chapter 121 & 122 - You Can Put Your Trust In Blue!
🕑 Added 2022-07-02 08:25:59 +0000 UTCEric winced at the whispers that followed the goblin’s pitch, almost as painful as the strained pause.
“Did you hear that, Vincent? No more interest payments!” Herb hissed excitedly to his former adventuring partner, earning a tired sigh from the much larger man. “And that’s on top of a 40% cut of whatever action any territory we claim brings the goblins! And if there’s anyone that can squeeze blood from a stone...”
“I know, Herb,” said Vincent with a frustrated shake of his head. “Damn it, I know.”
Herb pinned the other man with his hawklike gaze. “Don’t pretend you’re not tempted. How many of your more impulsive guildies, or those who just had a string of bad luck and close calls, aren’t working harder to pay off their late fees than they are at building up any kind of nest egg for themselves?”
The larger man scowled, lowering his gaze away from a momentarily disappointed-looking Annika, who quickly schooled her features. “Too fucking many.”
“Exactly,” Herb said with a sympathetic pat on the man’s powerfully-built shoulder. “There’s no shame, friend. Idealism is well and good. But survival… our own, our families, our guilds, has to come first. And my offer still stands. Our guilds raid together. All we have to do is agree on who we sell the prize to.”
Vincent seemed to deflate. “I know. But how the fuck do I tell Crysobella we sold out to the goblins, if we actually manage to claim a surface territory without getting ourselves all killed?”
“Easy. You tell her with the big fat secured pouch of gold you share with her every month, without having to risk your life in the deeps.”
Eric did his best to tune out the depressing conversation he had no business hearing anyway as a second strikingly beautiful elf and her partner took the stage, both of them with glossy dark hair and handsome bronze features, giving a near identical pitch to Annika’s own. Save for a bit of self-deprecating humor, and an enticement that showed they were at least somewhat aware that however noble and virtuous their cause might be, the goblins offer was hard to top.
“But honestly, my champions, whether you seek to win the heart of a bronze beauty like myself, or an ivory princess like my beloved second cousin Annika, so long as you side with our clans, you will all be part of a cherished, nurtured family,” said the girl named Svetlana, graceful features immediately hardening to a hard glare for the smirking goblins.
“Because what the former...speakers failed to mention was that the vaunted 40% is worth absolutely nothing to you, the minute a stronger force reclaims it for themselves. And one thing I can assure you all is that with multiple Elven Houses in play, Houses that have sworn never to attack one another, even to come to one another’s need when Sylvan Alliance territory is in peril of being lost, lands feted to our cause will be defended with every last fiber of our being. The wealth and glory you would accrue from your accomplishments under the banners of the Sylvan Alliance will last for generations under our loving patronage.”
She then gave a sad shake of her head, Vincent flushing and lowering his gaze when she seemed to peer right into his heart, no matter that she was halfway across the conference room. “Far longer, I reckon, than a short handful of seasons that any resource will last after a goblinoid consortium takes over, wherein all the beautiful forests and fields and farms that might last for countless generations under loving caretakers will instead be reduced to ash, slag, and bitter tears. Even your farmlands will be stripped to the bedrock, your topsoil sold off-world for a quick lump sum.”
Svetlana’s delicate lips curled into an ugly sneer for the smirking green humanoids. “In other words, if history is any judge, after a single generation, your goblinoid investments won’t mean shit.”
Eric blinked at the unexpected vernacular, before the girl flashed another brilliant grin. “Whereas as a champion of the elven Houses, both your earned rank and title, and your status as warrior nobility, will be a heritage and honor that you and your descendants will enjoy for eternity. No matter the whims of fortune and war here on Earth.”
Her strikingly handsome male partner with the lithe physique of an Olympic figure skater nodded. “And let us assure you all that in addition to free eternal upkeep of what will be your own manor and surrounding gardens, hardly a ‘hovel,’ I assure you, you will receive a permanent 10% annual tithe of all the bounty your seized territory earns… in addition to life-long servants dedicated to the care and maintenance of your home.” He then flashed a brilliant smile. “So for those who find honor, glory, stable lifetime income, and the love of strikingly beautiful men and women far more important than a single season’s profit, you will find few better paths to glory than aligning yourself with House Green of the Sylvan Alliance, or House Silver.”
And with a final bow that showed off sleek muscles and sensual curves, the pair of bronze-skinned elves stepped back.
Eric heard Annie’s soft snort. “Upping the profit and showing off speakers with impressive assets. Looks like they came prepared for those goblins.”
The thin-framed adventurer standing next to the mercenary captain, radiating brilliantly to Eric’s Arcane Perception, gave a bemused snort. “Even showing off all the different flavors of elves you can ‘fall in love with.’ As if all that human adventurers think with is their clits and cocks.”
Annie flashed a bemused smile in the man’s direction. “I’d say that’s pretty accurate, wouldn’t you?”
The mage shrugged and chuckled. “Alright. Maybe it would be nice to be honored as an elven noble. And who knows what texts on magic and arcane lore they could make available to their ‘champions’, whatever their origins.” The man sighed, giving a frustrated shake of his head. “There has to be some way to get past these damn ‘new world’ restrictions!”
The mercenary captain sympathetically patted the mage’s shoulder, no one else seeming to hear, or at least polite enough to pay no attention to their softly whispered words save Eric, who was making the most of his attributes.
Next to come up were the orcs, who almost pugnaciously faced the crowd. Eric was curious, despite himself, as to what they would say. To their twisted credit, they made no apologies nor even attempt to deny earlier implications and accusations laid at their feet by Eric.
Instead, they reveled in it.
“That’s right, humans! If you wish to revel in power and glory, to give in to your deepest, darkest desires and embrace the demons within, then join the orcs! Allow us to feast upon all the fresh prey within any territory you claim! You will gain the titles Warlord and Friend of the Orcs, and have allies just as savage as you, fellow soldiers in a quest for triumph and glory that will be oathbound never to stab you in the back! And the rogues among you know just how rare a treat it is to find fellow killers eager for the hunt, who you never need fear hunting you! And that, friends, is worth any sized pot of gold! But don’t for a minute think economic opportunities are lacking within our glorious faction. Hell no! Because both the Crimson Trader and Dark Smuggler Professions allow you to trade freely in slaves, drugs, poisons, and other contraband anywhere in the local galactic cluster, without ever having to worry about getting summarily executed! Only confiscation of your goods and a slap on your wrist by local law enforcement, even if you’re stupid enough to get caught! Things lesser racial professions are forbidden from trucking in altogether!”
The shorter orc dipped his head. “Do you want power? We can grant that as well. For the Accords forbid naught of our teaching the worthy among you shamanistic magics to ward your friends and curse your foes!” He flashed a toothy smile. “For ours is the magic of spirit and blood. Nothing to do with System Arcanistry, and thus free of all System taboos! For the worthy, they could go far under our teachings, as Shaman and Warlord both!” He gave a curt nod before banging his staff upon the ground, half the audience squinting as he was suddenly surrounded by swirling black flame… and then is was gone, replaced by a shimmering shield of force Eric knew he’d need to fire his bow with the essences of Dominion, Fire, and Wrath all in play to break through.
Then his eyes widened in sudden understanding as he peered carefully at the patterns of power. The subtle oscillations within the warding that allowed the shaman to cast such a powerful enchantment had a significant downside. It weakened significantly every five seconds, like a muscle gone limp to recharge itself between reps, before pulsing back to full.
Like the ebb and flow of life itself. And whether it was the boon granted by his status as an Orc Slayer, or his own growing affinity with Human bloodmagics… his Find Weakness and Magesight let him sense just when to strike, should he value the shaman’s head above the fortune he stood to make as a friend of the Blue.
But since he did not… he took a deep breath and said nothing as the shaman snorted with satisfaction at the sight of at least a few pairs of hungry, glittering eyes in some of the harder-looking men gazing the orcs’ way, no doubt fantasizing about reveling in blood, slaughter, and countless slaves, as if all decency could be set aside for a quick-save kill-all game.
The only problem was that there was no reset, and every innocent lost to momentary pique and darkest revels was a life forever extinguished.
Eric could only hope that the gamer in all of them held those truths close to heart. Yet he sensed at least a few intended very dark paths indeed.
And one of them was actually bold enough to speak allowed.
A hard-looking men dressed in black leathers radiating low-key protective enchantments flashed Eric a cold smile. “So, shaman, are there any other ways to earn the Dark Smuggler Profession without claiming fresh territories? Perhaps… missions of convenience?”
Agent Caliban stiffened. The goblins snickered, and the elves present glared at the men.
The man’s cold smile grew, so arrogant in his power as to boldly smirk at Eric, with a dozen guildmasters and mercenary captains watching on. “Perhaps certain insignificant classless nothings need to be… put in their place?”
Social Perception Check successful!
“What the hell is Joshua doing?” Herb hissed to his friend.
Vincent glowered and shook his head.
Eric frowned, unclenching his tightened jaw as he glared at the man.
Because one thing he did not sense from this Joshua was a hunger for coin.
His goal was something else. Eric was sure of it.
The pair of orcs glared at Eric for long moments, before chuckling coldly. “Did this little worm not attend this meeting, a man could earn a generous prize indeed, pulling this thorn from our paw.”
“But he does attend this meeting,” none other than Caliban noted. “Which means he is a Contender, and the codes are exquisitely clear on that point.”
“Neither diplomats nor champions may threaten or deliberately inflict harm, directly or indirectly, upon any Contender, or diplomat, or their family. And this includes forcing economic hardship or deliberately revealing information to said champion’s enemies. If this policy is not followed in good faith… the guilty parties will suffer stiff sanctions that will very likely cost then any chance of earning Earth’s throne,” said none other than Annika Drevyn, eyes crackling with arcane fire as she glared at the orc Shaman.
The Shaman laughed. “The fey bitch is right, human. You want to earn Warlord rank? Go take your men and clear out an elf, gnome, or human enclave or commune. Any sized territory will do, and rank, prestige, forbidden knowledge, and slaves will all be yours. But if any of you fools are stupid enough to attack one of us, you’ll be pariah. And if we’re stupid enough to do the same…”
The orc shook his head, before his maw twisted in a fanged smile, now looking right at Eric.
“You got lucky in Gilton, Roundear. I dare you to try that in any other orc territory. They’ll gladly tear you limb from limb, before sending me your head as a gift!” The monster turned his glare to everyone else. “And that’s how it should be done. Let the fool dig his own grave, then laugh in his shrieking face when he manages to fall right in!”
The pair of orcs then stomped to the back of the assembled diplomats, exquisitely careful not to even jostle the elves, despite their glares and bluster. Then it was a human and elf pair dressed in matching blue-grey uniforms presenting themselves with bows. Eric furrowed his brow, feeling a shiver as his interface both recognized the man as human… but somehow alien as well.
Oddly enough, the man actually caught Eric’s gaze and gave him the tiniest tilt of his head before turning to the woman beside him.
“Wife?”
The otaku dream of an elven girl with flawless features, platinum blond curls, and a lush sensual figure somehow both striking and classy, thanks to the cut of her Blue Corp business suit, flashed a mischievous grin to her husband, so at odds with the exquisitely bland expressions most Blue agents seemed to favor, before turning to the assembled crowd.
“Greetings, one and all. I am Merlina Brooks, wife of Johnathen Brooks, and North American representative of the Blue Faction here on Earth. We are fully incorporated, licensed, and bonded, with a multi-century track record of mutually beneficial business dealings on multiple System worlds, both here in the local cluster and hundreds more, just a single Isekai novel’s distance away!”
Eric blinked at the girl’s dimpled smile, feeling a sudden chill race down his spine.
Was she saying what he thought she was? Isekai a code for alternate mirrored worlds they were all left completely ignorant of, the truth only slipped through via the medium of cultural reference? And if the stormy look Caliban was sending her was any indication, she was treading on dangerous ground indeed.
Merlina flashed Agent Caliban, who seemed to Eric more and more like a VIP troubleshooter than anything else, a dimpled smile before continuing.
“I’m here to tell you that if you’re looking for stability, safety, and the chance to earn an incredible return with the absolute best chance of keeping your profit stream not only for the next year… but for centuries, if not millennia after the final battle has played out and Earth has crowned a new king or queen, then you’re in good hands with Blue Corp!”
These words brought the murmuring adventurers to a silent stop, all of their focus now on Merlina’s brilliant smile.
“Because we have an edge that no other group can claim.”
“Yeah, you fools have never won a single world!” The largest orc snorted. “Who would want to sign up with you?”
The girl’s smile grew. “I’m so glad you asked, Redtooth! It does, in point of fact, have everything to do with us deferring all noble titles or any pretensions of direct rulership upon any world in contest, taking on purely administrative roles instead.”
She turned to the crowd. “And we can say with pride that for the last thirty seven conquered worlds it has been our privilege to help administrate and maintain, we have never once fired a strategic spell, Mind Blast, or bullet in pursuit of conquest. Because as over 2630 galactic treaties will attest, our goal isn’t conquest… it’s profit! Sustainable profit that’s both extremely ethical, following the galactic ideals regarding both wages and economic exploitation, and with an eye to sustainability and growth. Not just for the next quarter, but for centuries and millennia to come!”
“That’s right,” said her husband. “It’s only thanks to brave adventurers, noble mercenary bands, and savvy war leaders like yourselves that we gain any foothold in any disputed world whatsoever! For this reason, our offer has to be enticing. And it is! Because we provide a unique opportunity that no other faction can match!”
The eyes of an accountant peered intently into their own. “It’s all about the numbers, my friends. There are multiple leagues and dozens of factions now struggling for supremacy. What are the odds, do you think, that any one faction will win out over all the others? What are the odds that the one you would risk your very life to back, in the desperate hope of future payoffs, will even be around to deliver?”
The man then turned to gaze almost sadly at the goblins. “A 40% profit share sounds incredibly sweet. And I’ll be the first to say that there’s nothing wrong with locking in interest free loans, regardless of whatever else happens. But that doesn’t change the fact that, all other things being equal.. the goblins have less than a 1 in 10 chance of coming out on top.”
“That’s a bald-faced lie!” Screamed the Goblin known as Glrrtch, glaring daggers at the Blue Corp diplomat.
Johnathen Brooks flashed a regretful smile. “I am sorry, friend Glrrtch, but numbers don’t lie. All other things being equal, having claimed less… and let’s be honest, far far less than 10% of the opening positions on this board, your odds of coming out on top are 10% at absolute best. And as any mathematician will tell you, 40% profit share is worth very little indeed, if you only have a one chance in ten of ever collecting.”
His wife nodded, her gracefully pointed ears seeming to quiver with sympathy for poor Glrrtch, as she spoke soothing words and gently gathered the little goblin up in her arms, looking for all the world like a beautiful young maiden seeking to give comfort to her ugly little gremlin teddy bear.
Eric blinked, quickly looking around, seeing that he wasn’t the only one struck by the odd tableau. One that didn’t make the goblins seem like any fearsome threat to be loathed and despised at all… merely sad little munchkins in way over their heads who were to be pitied, perhaps. But certainly not creatures to entrust with something as precious and hard-fought as the territories that would forge a new world order.
Eric couldn’t help it, he grinned at the girl who had somehow managed to get a sniffling Glrrtch to accept a hug as she stroked his sobbing back, whispering the soothing words of a mother comforting her child all the while.
Yet the way Glrrtch’s partner was glaring with red-eyed hate at his compatriot and the way Merlina’s eyes twinkled, made it perfectly clear that this perception had been exquisitely calculated.
And Eric couldn’t help cracking a smile as even Glrrtch’s sniffles were more desperate inhales, his ugly green nose right between her breasts as she patted his back and stroked his head.
It seemed like everyone was a part of this amusing act, save perhaps for Glrrtch’s furious-looking partner. And when Merlina eventually stepped back and gave Glrrtch an almost motherly smile as he slinked away, Eric couldn’t even say the little green goober hadn’t come out ahead by the calculated flash in the goblin’s own sparkling eyes. The adventurers in deepest debt to his faction were still his, he was unlikely to win any others, and he had just gotten to spend time being mothered between the breasts of a strikingly beautiful and savvy elf.
And a quick look at the crowd, half the guildheads looking horrified or disgusted, others looking amused, made it clear to Eric that at least some of the other members present got it too.
“Little shithead was just copping a free feel,” said a hot-eyed Annie.
The skinny arcanist by her side shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. How many guilds are on the hook with the goblins? And who else is going to join their faction, with the odds stacked that badly against seeing any return? Can’t say I’d do it any differently myself,” he said with a dreamy smile, before wincing at the look the captain gave him.
“What? I’m just agreeing with you’re earlier comment. With elves that hot… well, even an old otaku like me can dream, can’t he?”
Eric grinned, deciding that besides keeping him alive against countless threats, a focus on Perception was a damn fine thing for catching juicy bits of gossip no one ever expected him to hear.
Johnathen, completely unfazed by the scene that had just played itself out with his wife, flashed the crowd another 1000 megawatt smile. “Of course you're probably all asking yourselves, what makes Blue Corp different? What’s that priceless edge that we have to offer that makes us the clear choice over what will soon be dozens of competing factions?”
“It all has to do with treaties and contractual obligations,” his wife explained. “As a result of Blue Federation’s unique designation as a non aggressive faction, our peerless track record of fair treatment of employees, subcontractors, and business partners, and of course, the fact that we help administrate large swaths of territory on countless worlds in almost all empires of significance, it has been conceded that our territories may make use of everything up to Basic Bronze Tier defenses, to be used in a defensive capacity only, against any potential aggressor. Even on newly assimilated worlds such as the one we all now call home!”
Johnathen nodded. “To put it in perspective, a magical sword blessed with lesser enchantments, or an orcish flintlock, or even their 24-pounder cannons, are all weapons to be respected and feared on any White Tier battlefield. Weaponry I have no doubt that most of you who dare the path of conquest will face, or use, to your own advantage. But should any opponent dare to bring such weaponry against a Blue Tier territory, should they ignore the polite request to withdraw, they will face complete obliteration at the hands of an elite tier wizard Corpse on the cusp of Bronze ascension as well as arcane taser shockwave denial systems and, for the truly stubborn and stupid, batteries of rail guns.”
The man flashed a brilliant smile. “Of course, iron-hard treaties are enforced. These defensive weapons are part of stationary fortifications, and may not be deliberately aimed at targets outside of Blue territory. But that being said, I am happy to report that in the last 175 years, on only 3 worlds have multiple opponents successfully taken over any territory we held in trust.”
“Because it is all about trust,” Merlina said. “Trust that we will treat our employees and Earth's future ruler fairly. Trust that we will continue to follow centuries of tradition. It is that centuries-long trust in us in our competence, capability, and most especially our integrity, that has led to Blue Territories being honored with neutral status on all newly ascended worlds. Because we truly are neutral in all other respects. We take no part in politics or factions beyond that which facilitates the profitability of our territories.”
“But how the hell does that even work?” A frowning Lady Grey asked. “I mean, if you have rights to advance tech and crews of talented mages, if almost no one successfully grabs territories you have flying your banner, how the hell is it that you’re not ruling half the galaxy?”
The pair exchanged beaming smiles.
“An excellent question!” Johnathen said. “It’s because whoever claims the most territory outside of Blue territory becomes the nominal head of all Blue Faction territory. In short, they win the board.”
Annie frowned. “Wait, so you just roll over and surrender?”
Merlina shook her head. “Not at all. Because the understanding we have struck with all major powers is that in return for our support, the new ruler agrees to allow Blue Corp to continue doing what it does so well. Managing our territories for maximum profit! In return, we get a 20% cut of all profits earned, the new emperor or empress gets to enjoy a 20% cut of pure unadulterated profit without having to deal with taxes, shortfalls, insurrections, or any administrative headaches at all! 40% of all profits go to the hardworking employees and entrepreneurs who gain access to top tier efficiency and tools to maximize their own profitability, and last but not least, dear adventurers, the final 20% goes to you and your designated heirs, in perpetuity!”
Her husband nodded. “We’re a source of headache-free income for any ruler who finds that the glory of conquest inevitably becomes the daily grind of troubleshooting any number of problems, issues, shortfalls, and demands that soon eat away at the majority of time that one would rather spend working towards one's own ascension and class evolution. In fact, it’s not at all uncommon for fledgling rulers to cede all the headaches of territory management upon our capable shoulders, a duty which we gladly take on, for an agreed-upon percentage of all profits!”
The powerfully built Vincent furrowed his brow. “So what, the emperor’s just a figurehead? You’re ruling behind the scenes?”
This earned an adamant shake of Merlina’s adorable head. “Not at all! We merely give him or her the choice of profiting mightily and headache free by granting Blue Federation administratorship and free charter to any city or territory that a given ruler wishes to increase the profitability of. They will always be revered as the rulers of their lands, and may act as they wish. The areas we directly administer, however, do best if the day-to-day tasks are left in our humble hands, and very few rulers have a problem with this precedent.”
Redtooth snorted. “Blue totally pacifies whatever world it touches. Before you know it, the emperor’s acting like a goddamned boardroom executive! They’re allowing Blue Corp to set terms. Not even allowed to take more than 40% of the spoils!”
Johnathen sighed, shaking his head with his smile still firmly in place, like a brilliant teacher patiently trying to instruct a particularly thick-headed student.
“Please understand, dear Redtooth, this is no random, arbitrary number. We have centuries of experience indicating that reserving 40% of the profits for the workers and entrepreneurs themselves leads to maximum profitability and stability for all.”
The giant orc crossed his arms. “I think you snakes just want to get your fangs in every piece of pie you can! I know for a fact that you only put Bronze tier embankments in place upon your most valued pieces of territory, and my friends have made it clear that you fools are stretched very thin here on this Earth!”
Redtooth looked around in wide-eyed mockery. “This so-called ‘Blue Palace’ in your tiny little corner of Freetown demonstrates the extent of your reach on this entire continent! Where are your contingents of armored elite shock troops? Your arcane cannons? Your rail guns?”
The orc snorted. “You fools don’t even have a chartered bank here on Earth! You’re standing on hopes and dreams and offer no rank, no privilege, no glory! Just imaginary profits based on tiny slivers of land that only idiots would cede to you! Slivers of land that will be relying on your reputation a hell of a lot more than any actual high-tech defensive batteries to keep them from falling into the hands of a dozen factions! And not all of us have ties to the Blue, girl!”
Both husband and wife had paled at these words, and Eric couldn’t help but wince in sympathy at the hawklike stares of the entire crowd.
It seemed like Blue Corp was hardly the perfect safe bet the pair had implied. Especially when one took into account that the Blue had no offensive charters at all. Any growth at their end would be entirely thanks to adventurers actually daring to claim territory on their behalf. And if Redtooth was right… Blue Corp was stretched so thin here, that opposing factions might just be able to grab it right back.
To her credit, the elven girl smiled through her discomfort, with one final jab to deliver. “My, Redtooth. You speak almost as if your Bloodchiefs and Warleaders have no truck with Blue Corporation at all.”
The orc blanched and glared. “Watch your words, girl! If you dare to insult our tribe in front of outsiders...”
Merlina quickly flowed into a bow. “I would do no such thing, honored and revered Redtooth.”
The orc snorted and looked away.
And Eric immediately understood. They were diplomats, recruiters… their job was to better their position here on Earth. Sure as shit, they wouldn’t dare risk that by insulting a party whose worlds they were clearly already invested in. And Eric had no doubt that any number of prickly psychopathic orcs would love any opportunity to break free of whatever constraints of decency Blue Corp had slowly incorporated into their worlds.
Far better to be embarrassed in front of a few dozen strangers who might not claim a single territory between them, than to risk their secured standing on multiple worlds ruled by touchy psychopaths, Eric thought.
But still… even after Merlina bared her metaphoric throat, it was clear that Blue Corp was a major power, even on worlds ruled by Eric’s most hated foes. Even if their power on Earth was minimal indeed.
For now.
