CHAPTER 292: WHICH CAME FIRST, THE KINGDOM OR THE KING?

“Given the emergence of something as dangerous as the Hierophant,” said the count, “Litta is adjusting her approach to the Forest. We intend to enter in greater force, with the goal of preventing another assault like the one we just experienced. We would like Fortune’s Folly, and Closetland as a whole, to support us during our upcoming pacification efforts in the Forest.”

“Pacification efforts?” I said. “That sounds quite different from our current agreement to assist in exploration. What would our ‘support’ look like in this scenario?”

“Ideally, it would begin by assisting some of our elite Delvers with acquiring similar advantages to the ones your own party has.” He gestured to Nokomi. “Starting with the lieutenant here.”

I glanced over at the bat-like Chovali. The count’s request didn’t surprise me, but it sure as hell looked like it surprised her.

I stroked my beard. “Our goals in the Forest don’t include providing Littan Delvers with such significant advantages over other nations.”

“Your group has strongly advocated for the free exchange of information.”

I held up a hand. “Information concerning the avatar threat,” I said, heftily raising an eyebrow. “We’ve never advocated for sharing all information. My skin care routine is ‘information’, but I’ll die before anyone gets a hold of that.”

The count spent a few seconds considering the depths to which I would go to guard my secrets for healthy skin, pointless as they were, given my superhuman physiology.

“This information is directly related to the avatar threat,” he said. “Sharing the methods you used to allow a party of Level 16s to face down a Grade 34 is in line with your philosophy. Your party has also acquired levels at an unprecedented rate. If more Delvers could follow in your footsteps, the world would be much better for it.”

“With what you’re asking, the primary beneficiary would be the Littan Empire, not the world.”

“No one is telling you to keep your methods secret from anyone else,” said the count, then the man heaved a breath. “While the rest of the world operates under the philosophy of hoarding their knowledge, imperial philosophy is to distribute our discovered methods to appropriate individuals throughout the entire empire. With our recent treaty with Eschendur, this practice has even begun expanding beyond our borders. Given your party’s position on cooperation, I’m hopeful that you won’t fall into the same traps as Hiward or Ayama.”

“Then you’d agree on information neutrality?” I asked. “If we tell you, then we tell everyone else at the same time.”

“We have no opposition to that.”

I considered the matter for a long moment, trying to decide what advantages my party had that other parties didn’t. Then, I had to figure out which methods among all of those were things that could even be replicated. That overlap resulted in a pretty short list.

The world generally knew about revelations, although our group was an extreme outlier for how many we possessed as a group. Varrin’s spirit clones dealt with his Ravvenblaq heritage and were presumably unique from what we knew. Nuralie’s emerging super Alchemy might work out for other geniuses in the field, but many of her processes were dependent on her Abandoned Grimoire. That was another unique factor, and something we weren’t about to give up or lend out to the public. We each also had notable backgrounds and world-class training, although there were some people out there with a similar edge.

In the end, the two most significant trump cards we held that were unheard of and potentially replicable were our training stats and the Dumping achievement. Once I’d narrowed things down, I asked Grotto for his thoughts.

[The process of imbuing a Delver with training stats is extraordinarily complex and expensive. I doubt anyone has the technology or the expertise to achieve what we have. If revealed, the impact on the balance of world power would likely be minimal until a group discovers how to make use of it and decides not to share.

]

“I figured you’d be more concerned about giving away that secret, since our group would become less dominant in comparison to other Delvers.”

[I expect the party to continue leading the pack as far as novel discoveries are concerned. Beyond that, I have come to appreciate that remaining insular is unlikely to result in an adequate response to the avatars. They are, after all, active much earlier than expected, and the world’s Delvers are pathetic in comparison to prior generations at the time they were forced to deal with them.]

“Fair enough. I think we have ways to mitigate the problem if one group tries to monopolize it, anyway. What about Dumping?”

[The Dumping achievement has similar pitfalls. Until the world begins conquering Labyrinths, there is little chance of a Delver party completing two Platinum Delves within twenty-four hours to get the sixteen attribute points that they must place into a single stat.]

“I got the achievement by dropping all my points into Fortitude during Creation. Exposing that might lead to a radical shift in how people approach Creation Delves. That’s way easier than farming sixteen points before they start to decay. However, I can’t imagine that a party where everyone has Fortitude and nothing else would be successful.”

[I believe we should consider most of your personal interactions with the System to be anomalous. We have no evidence showing that your own method is replicable, so there is no reason to disclose it. However, we have replicated the achievement with the rest of the party at a higher level. While a more difficult approach, it is certainly safer, assuming the party is intent on pursuing Platinum.]

“I suppose.”

[Either way, try to get more concessions before giving anything up.]

The count had patiently waited while I went back and forth with Grotto. The exchange had only taken a second or two, but it was still nice that the man didn’t try to fill the air.

“Many of the asylum seekers in Closetland have friends and family that are still enslaved within the empire,” I said. “Before we agree to make our methods public, we’d like to have all those who are willing transferred to us.”

[That is not what I meant when I said you should get more concessions.]

“That represents a significant cost,” said the count, “and it would require the involvement of other nobles.” He tilted his head in thought. “If you provide me with a list, I can make your request known to the appropriate powers, but I alone cannot guarantee that it will come to pass.”

“I’ll have my people put that together,” I said.

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[We should consult with the party over additional matters. I am curious how Major Tavio is converting the Gold Delves in his record to Platinum, but our demands should likely be presented in bulk. If they wish to negotiate, we will have items we can sacrifice to acquire the things we truly desire.]

“We may have some other requests once I confer with my council.”

The count nodded. “I look forward to further discussion on the matter.”

“Was there anything else that our support might entail?” I asked.

“We’d like it if you continued working with Major Tavio and Team Pio, but their mission will pivot toward spearheading deeper dives into the Forest. The goal will no longer be to discover and exploit Dungeons, but to identify and, when necessary, remove threats.”

I rubbed at my beard and thought that one over. It sounded like an extermination campaign, which was problematic. Still, I didn’t want to make any assumptions, so I equivocated. “I’d need more specifics,” I said. “And I’d also need to speak with my party.”

“Of course,” said Count Starion. “For now, all I need to know is that you’re considering it.”

“Very well,” I said. “We’re considering it.”

“Good!” The count looked pleased for the first time since the meeting started. “I’ll have Tress deliver some briefings for you to look over. I expect there will be a whole lot more of these meetings to come. Do you mind if we adjourn for now?”

“Not at all.” I stood, and the count and I each offered the other a shallow, neutral bow, one that was common in Littan diplomacy.

“I’m glad you get to the point and speak your mind, King Xor’Drel. This may have been the only meeting I’ve ever attended that has left time open in my schedule, rather than running late. Now, I’ve heard that Closetland has some exceptional hot springs.” He flashed me a smile. “Is this true, or have my aides gotten my hopes up for no reason?”

“That we do,” I said, returning the man’s smile. “Allow me to show you the way.”

Your Diplomacy skill has increased to Level 25!

*****

I showed Count Starion to the more public hot spring that we’d established, and I politely declined his invitation to join him for a bath. The count took my rejection in stride, as he and Tavio had separate matters to discuss, which could take place under a ward of silence while the count relaxed in the tub. Thus, the Major joined the count for his second hot springs session of the day.

After that, I went to check in on everyone busy with the ongoing relief operations in Krimsim. I primarily wanted to let the interested parties know how my meeting had gone, but my mind turned over several more items on Closetland’s agenda, which had been formally named The Other, Other List. While doing so, I realized that a new item needed to be added. Since the city was more or less being abandoned by the imperials, we’d need to come up with a new name for it. I mused on the topic as Grotto teleported me to the vast chamber in which the city sat.

Arloville?

Arlandia?

The City of Arlo?

Those were all terrible. I went ahead and nixed the idea of using my own name. I’d probably pass branding the city off onto the people who’d actually be living there.

Wait, would I be living there? Old Krimsim looked like it would become the closest thing we had to a capital city in Closetland. If I were the king, then I’d need a proper castle somewhere in the capital, right?

Arlo Palace!

Still shit. I could put it up for a vote and reserve veto power in case people chose something dumb, like Dogshit Keep or Castle McCastleface.

Then again, Castle McCastleface had a certain ring to it.

I dismissed the chain of thought and took a good look around. The city was in an organized post-destruction state. Collapsed buildings and other rubble had been cleared away, critical streets and walkways had been made traversable, and the tens of thousands of bird corpses had been carted off. The latter had been the first to disappear, and I reckoned our resident pair of Delve Cores had been responsible.

Otherwise, no proper repairs had been made. The Littans apparently had no interest in doing so, and I’d only just been told that we would be keeping the place. Old Krimsim was mostly abandoned, falling apart, and barely habitable. The whole place felt post-apocalyptic, with the exception of the city center where we’d established our relief efforts.

It was here that I appeared, a short distance from the capitol building, which had been repurposed into a massive shelter to accommodate a portion of the largely homeless population. Most had vacated, leaving the current residents with fairly roomy living arrangements, although the amenities were shit. Around the city square were a series of structures, some of which were original buildings that had been restored to serve various needs, while others were clearly temporary.

Despite Old Krimsim having only two percent of its original population, the square was bustling with activity as the remaining citizens concentrated on the only area rich in critical services. The cafeteria was packed for the lunchtime meal, short queues were present in front of distribution centers for clothing and basic necessities, and a few people moved in and out of the medical clinic for various illnesses, both minor and major.

All of this happened under the midday brilliance of the thousands of glowstones in the ceiling overhead. Two hundred feet above the highest building, Grotto had outdone himself with the city’s lighting. There was a central mass of stones that glowed more brightly than the rest, offering a simulation of the sun, which moved throughout the day to mimic the planet’s rotation. At night, the sky was alight with the twinkling glow of false stars, along with the gentle luminescence of a soft blue moon.

The illumination even varied from day to day to mimic weather patterns and cloud cover. The Delve Core hadn’t gone so far as to introduce actual wind and rainfall, but now that we were keeping the place, I didn’t expect those details to be too far off. The whole thing was so well done that it was easy to forget you were in a giant box adrift in a dimensional hypercube that was separate from–but still adjacent to–physical reality. For a time, at least.

I decided to make my first stop the Count’s former office, where a Littan woman named Lena had established herself as the de facto representative of the remaining population. That population was around 95% former Littan slaves, to which Lena herself belonged.

There was a whole story with Lena that I won’t go deeply into. In short, it involved a brewing underground slave rebellion made possible by the culture of lax control exercised by Krimsim’s wealthier citizens. The near-destruction and relocation of the city had presented a unique opportunity that she’d taken advantage of, using the chaos to further organize what slaves had survived the debacle into a semi-unified whole. Given the lack of oversight and their sympathetic hosts, this brewed up a perfect concoction that brought us to our current situation, which involved me knocking on the open door to the office of a woman who’d gone from being a slave three months beforehand to now occupying the former seat of authority for the most powerful man in the capital city of Nohrrin.

Lena looked up from the stack of papers she was combing through and went through a range of expressions from annoyance at the interruption to surprise at me being the one knocking to terror at the fact that it was me knocking to a steely resolve that overtook and masked all the rest.

She stood and gave me a bow low enough that her head nearly touched the desk itself. “Your majesty,” she said, maintaining her prostrated position.

“Please rise, Lena,” I said. “If you prefer to bow, then I’d prefer that you feel free to get back up at your leisure.”

“By your will,” she said, standing back up and into a confident posture. Spine straight, shoulders back, hard eye contact; I could tell it was something she wasn’t used to doing.

The entire thing made me feel uncomfortable, not just because it was weird for anyone to bow to me, but mainly because of the woman’s past history of forced subservience. Still, I’d learned enough about Arzian culture to know that resisting it did more damage than good. Bowing was expressive, a part of the language in most places. By insisting that people not bow, it was like telling them to shut up, or be silent as to their respect and humility. Not very cool of me to do, in other words.

Beyond that, it undermined a person’s confidence when they didn’t know what to do when greeting me. Trying to introduce something new was ultimately pointless, since there wasn’t a stigma associated with bowing. Trying to change it to a handshake or something would be laborious and confusing, with no clear benefit other than my personal comfort. It was a whole thing, but it was one that I rolled with after Grotto, Varrin, and Nuralie had all argued me into the ground about it.

“The count has agreed to release all further claims to you and your people,” I said, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

Lena opened her mouth, but no words followed. Her posture became brittle, and after a few seconds where she fought her emotions, she gave in and collapsed back into her seat. She covered her face to hide her tears, but the full-body sobs that followed thwarted the attempt. I let her process what I’d said, giving her as much time as she needed, and was surprised when the sobs evolved into a low chuckle, eventually escalating into full-on laughter.

Lena dropped her hand and looked at me with watery eyes. She wore a wide smile that eventually faded away into a more serious expression. “Well, your majesty,” she said, “what happens now?”

That was a very good question that I had no good answer to.