Collide Gamer

John did not want to overburden the briefing room nor did he want to drag along a whole bunch of haremettes who would have had question marks over their heads for most of the meeting. Thus, when he was called to the briefing, he came over with only Scarlett and Lorelei in tow.

Maximillian’s martial council watched John approach with a complicated mixture of emotions dominated by dislike. Their trepidation was understandable. Fundamentally, Maximillian was a figure in the traditionalist wing of the Greater Empire’s politics, which meant the people he surrounded himself with were largely those who Lydia trampled over in her reforms of Rex Germaniae.

John recognized Mario de Medici in the faces of the advisors. He was not quite able to repress the urge to give the formerly threatening swordsman a smug nod. Eyes were narrowed at him. John bit back a snide remark that would have escalated things. ‘You’re an emperor now, definitely not the kind of position where you should be making comments on how weak or strong knights are,’ he told himself.

As a guest in this council, John was relegated to a chair along the wall, a position he shared with other ambassadors and advisors invited to the meeting. It was a position kept in shade, the bright light in the centre of the room focusing everyone’s attention on an enchanted, three-dimensional map of the Habsburg realm.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Maximillian opened the meeting, though he spoke Italian rather than English. Latin was too dead a language even for the Abyss to use it as the Greater Empire’s lingua franca and French, the traditional court language of Europe, was out due to the Illuminati’s secession. That still left German, Italian, Spanish and Portuguese, to name only the European part of the empire. Why Italian had won out was obvious. “I know many of you have your misgivings with John Newman. He is here as my personal guest and has sworn to act as an extension of my will in this. He is not here as emperor of Fusion but as my friend. I want you to treat him as such for the duration of this operation.”

“What was the condition for his help?” one of the martial advisors asked. He was, like most around the table, a knight. The plate armour on him was ornate and heavily enchanted, his soul was steeped in elemental colours that even John, with his basic Aura Sight, could perceive. They were all strong, half-elemental nobles from the corners of the Habsburg realm.

“None,” Maximillian responded. “He is repaying me for my aid in his fight against the otherworld’s tyrant Arkeidos.”

John had the impulse to step forward and make his case himself. That was his ego, urging to make himself the centre of attention. It was misplaced. All he would do was sit there and let other people talk about him, until he was prompted.

The knights and mages whispered among themselves, before one of them voiced their opinion. “If he agreed to be wielded as your sword, my liege, we have no further comment on his presence.”

“Good. Then fill me in on what changes there have been in the past week,” Maximillian demanded with royal authority. “My wife wishes this worrisome matter resolved posthaste. Nervousness does not agree with a pregnant woman and it is your duty, my subjects, to assure the heir of the realm quickens in peace!”

The gathered warriors stomped their feet in unison at that declaration. It was a primal loyalty that echoed in the room, taking on the characteristics of clattering metal, hummed songs, and percussive impacts. This was an aristocratic structure at its most efficient, a room full of powerful individuals guided by the top of the local hierarchy. Guided not by codified law but by obligating honour, they would act with best interest in mind not mere standards to meet.

John, as per usual when he engaged with structures like this, felt a bit of jealousy. This couldn’t be reproduced in a new nation, it required cultural developments and stability for at least two generations. Simultaneously, he knew of the drawbacks. The daggers held in darkness, the complicated web that emerged by birthrights and the stagnancy that could set in.

“The terrorists have been growing more bold in recent days, my liege,” one of the advisors declared. “Many of our patrols have been challenged and sometimes beaten.”

“Any casualties?”

“No, they always strip the armaments of who they have beaten, then leave.”

“Any captives?”

“Some, but we weren’t able to extract any intel from them yet. We have them confined in the royal dungeon.”

Maximillian hummed, fingers thoughtfully drumming on the table. “Do we believe they know anything of worth?”

“The seers have said that the chances are low.”

“Appears that our primary concern remains their decentralization… Simultaneously, the fact that they organize attacks on our patrols suggests they have leadership with intel in our ranks… do we believe they are trying to arm themselves?”

“No, my liege,” another advisor responded. “The armaments they take off the defeated patrols tend to show up on the Abyss Auction under multiple aliases. We suspect they are gathering funds.”

“For what?” Maximillian wondered. A question to which no one around had an answer.

‘For what indeed?’ the Gamer asked himself. It could have been that they were charging up for a great attack on Vienna itself or it could have been as simple as them requiring funds to fuel whatever living standard they were striving for. Definitive answers were absent, so he remained quiet and observing.

“I see,” the gravity king responded to the silence. “Our enemies must be skilled to obscure their intentions this well.”

“If I may, my liege?” another advisor, a woman that relied heavily on an ornate staff to stand, requested to speak. A simple nod gave her that right. “It could also be that the reason we cannot gather any of their true intentions is because they do not have any true intentions.”

“The thought has crossed my mind as well,” Maximillian responded with skilful confidence. “These Awakened may merely be opposing us for the thrill of it.”

“Indeed, my liege,” the elderly woman agreed.

“There are many such cases around the globe at the moment. To those mundanes that suddenly awaken to magic, power is a liquor of the finest order. Upset fills their minds with dreams that they have no need to engage with the current order of the Abyss, that they can smash it and impose their own instead.” Leaning forward, Maximillian let his hard gaze drift over the gathered people. “They are wrong, of course. Our order, inherited by the ancestors, bestowed to us by Romulus’ wisdom, is here not merely because we are the swords of his will. Our order stands because it is just, because my subjects find themselves prospering and safe within the walls of the garden we guard.”

‘He was always good at this,’ John thought, smiling in the background.

“Ladies and gentlemen, if that is all the briefing you can offer at this time, we must move to actions. The royal patrols are being harassed. Even if their lives are spared, it is an insult that cannot stand. What are your suggestions?”

“Activity shows them to be most active along the Danube and the surrounding countryside.” Along the words of the advisor came a visualization.

Though this intel was worth something, it wasn’t actually worth that much. The Danube was one of the longest rivers in all of Europe and most of that prestigious length wound through the territory of Austria-Hungary. Highlighting the river and its surrounding areas lit up the northern third of Austria itself, starting at the Bavarian border, and the entire heartland of Hungary, alongside border areas of the duchies of Slovakia and the Habsburg controlled parts of Croatia. It left the guild territory in the south-east, continuing on into Romania. In the aftermath of the Five Day War, that was also territory of the Greater Empire, but that made it Romulus’ problem, not Maximillian’s.

Well, as a loyal vassal, Romulus’ problems were that of the gravity king, but John was here to sort out any immediate threats to his friend. After that, the Greater Empire would have to look after its own affairs.

The point was that they had reduced their search area from massive to huge – and not even that well. The increased activity around the river wasn’t quite dense enough to be called so out of the ordinary that the simplest of explanations couldn’t have worked. What they were looking at might as well have been a map of population density.

“My suggestion, my liege, is simple: we pepper the local patrols with elite fighters and bank on the battle hunger of these rebellious elements,” the advisor said. “At worst, we continue to thin their numbers. At best, we pick someone up who knows more.”

“A valuable pursuit,” Maximillian agreed. “Provided they do not have seers, that is. Then again…” He turned his head. “With Lady Varnik on our side, enemy attempts to scry will be quite difficult.”

“If I may?” Lorelei raised her voice.

“You may.”

“Though the scrying acuity that the Lady has granted me is indeed grand, I must caution that interference is not my speciality. I may find myself unable to obscure particularly impressive seers.” She paused for a moment. “Though, I will also state that I will notice their attempts to scry swiftly on my own.”

“Is there anything you can report to us at this time?” Maximillian responded.

“I only see that the one will crush the many,” the seer responded. “The heart stills to be willed to beat once more. Greater context eludes me.”

“Undead?” Maximillian asked.

“No, the visions are vibrant with the colours of spilled ichor and the paint of war.” Lorelei calmly shook her head when the gathered advisors mumbled among themselves. “Be at ease. Though I see a crushing, I see neither victory nor loss. The Lady grants me a warning that I do not yet understand.”

“The prophecy could be in regards to our king,” an advisor stated. “The one that will crush the many. He willed his heart to beat once more in the Iron Domain, in a sense.”

“A forced albeit flattering way to look at it,” Maximillian responded in an amused tone. “We will follow the plan Lord Perlbach-Tyrol proposed until we find further actionable ways to operate. It will be left to him to organize the distribution of the patrols. Be ready for his summons. Dismissed.”

“”Yes, your majesty,”” the room responded in a chorus of voices, then began to stream towards the door.

John was part of that stream. They had already agreed on a different way to meet, as staying when every other advisor left simply sent the wrong signals. Three doors down from the meeting room, Maximillian had told him, there was an unassuming chamber that most thought was used only for wine storage.

Conveniently, that also meant the half-hidden pathway between it and that meeting chamber was assumed to be for wine-delivering servants only.

John, Lorelei and Scarlett spent some time by one of the windows, killing time by pretending they were chatting about the view over Vienna. Pretension soon became a genuine interest. Lorelei liked listening to John describe the colours as they appeared to his regular sight. Scarlett had much to say about the infrastructure, though little of it was entirely positive. “An extraordinarily expensive way to solve the simple problem of getting from A to B,” was her opinion on the monorails. “Technically impressive, though.”

Once the corridor was cleared of onlookers, the three of them entered the room.

Maximillian was already seated there, helping himself to one of the expensive bottles of wine around. “Don’t tell Irielz,” he requested as he poured himself a drink.

“Does she disapprove of you drinking now?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“Something like that.” Maximillian stopped when his glass was less than a third full. It was barely more than a single sip of expensive red. He put it on the table, where Scarlett swiftly appropriated it then bestowed upon her own glass a generous helping of the beverage. Lorelei and John took only a regularly sized portion.

They were seated at a small, round table. It was luxurious, like all things in the palace were, but also old and worn down, the edges marked by thousands of times it had been used as a standing aid or bumped into by a clumsy maid in training. The rest of the room was similarly unimpressively splendid. The splendour of the noble chambers had to have some contrast to the servants’ rooms, after all.

John oddly preferred the stool to the heavily cushioned seat he had just been in. It forced him to sit straight consciously, which his spine was thankful for.

“What does ‘something like that’ mean?” he asked, intrigued.

“An apparently regular occurrence in which my wife being forbidden to drink liquor extends to me.” Maximillian turned the glass between his hands. “I understand fully and Iriel isn’t tyrannical about it. She made the request I do not drink in front of her, especially not the expensive wines. She does quite like those.”

“Reasonable,” John remarked. Women went through pregnancies with all of the pains, cravings and abstinences that included. Men could make sacrifices for their comfort, emotional and physical.

“Indeed… Now, to establish the basis of your aid,” Maximillian went into the important topic. “To integrate you into my structures would be both cumbersome and inappropriate.”

To that, John agreed with a nod. “Your supporters would ask questions if I am not learning too much about the inner workings of the empire.”

“Indeed. For the same reason, I cannot make you stand at the same level as my advisors.” Maximillian smelled the drink in front of him, but did not taste it. “I will put your fighters in service of Lord Perlsbach-Tyrol as well, for him to send on missions as he decides and I approve. Agreed?”

“Can he be trusted to make wise decisions?” John asked. “I actually do not know him.”

“He’s a fine strategist, a recent graduate of the military academy. You would not know him because he is merely the son of a baron.” The glass met the tabletop again, its limited contents remaining undrained. Scarlett was already halfway through her glass. “I chose him because his lands are not affected by this and he has proven himself the useful kind of glory hound – the one that wants to be known for being reliable, rather than excessively impressive.”

“Perfect,” John said. “Then I can agree to that plan.”

“And us non-combatants?” Scarlett asked.

“Arguable if you are still a non-combatant,” Maximillian joked, gesturing at Scarlett’s doll-like hand.

“We can argue or we can get to the point,” the redhead shot back.

Laughing, the king made a tossing gesture and answered her question, “You will operate as free agents. You will report intel to me and I will grant you royal permissions to act as necessary. No blank checks, for appearance reasons.”

“Makes enough sense,” John agreed.

“I humbly request that I be granted access to the prison,” Lorelei requested, “and that the blessed Warden accompany me. We shall soothe the wayward souls and draw the truth from the wicked.”

“I will have the wardens know of your arrival,” Maximillian agreed. “Though I ask that you do not proselytize.”

“As you wish,” Lorelei agreed.

“For my part, I will serve as the connective link between my combatants and non-combatants,” John said. “I brought the Creator Puppet, so that body of mine will go into the field. I will stay here.”

“Good,” Maximillian agreed with a nod. “Any bright ideas to start with?”

“Honestly? No.” John looked to Scarlett, who similarly shrugged. “The organized groups of Awakened we found were sloppy and scattered. The size of the continent worked in my favour. Looks like your Awakened networked up pretty quickly and in a way that makes them work like terrorist cells.”

“Indeed… which does make me wonder how they did it.” Maximillian rubbed his chin. “Outside help, perhaps?”

“Or our leading Latebloomer, if there is one, could simply have a past in organization,” John remarked. “Hopefully, we will find out soon. For now…” he looked to Lorelei, “…we’ll hope you turn up something.”