The floor of the great hall came up under Harold's boots, and the auction disappeared.
The long table, the fireplace, the reliquary sunk into the far wall with its four knights around it. Woodsmoke and stone and home surrounded and comforted him.
Then Josh dropped the empty coin bag on the table and said, "Okay, I'm going to be sick," and the room started talking.
They were all there. Beth had a hand on Josh's back. Margaret was already looking at something only she could see, her lips moving. Caldwell steered Cora to the nearest bench and put her down on it before he did anything else, one hand under her elbow, and Cora smiled graciously at him. Finn. Carter, grinning, with Ren and Corwin coming to greet him. Garrick had already found a shadowed wall to lean on and glower at Josh. Jack Churchill appeared right behind Harold as he appeared.
And the lords. All of them but one. Caswell was laughing at something Fitch had said before either of them fully arrived. Lady Maren stood still with her eyes half-shut, as if the transition scared her. Renna, Brennig, Arjun, Aiko. Henri at Harold's elbow, close, watching Harold's face instead of the room.
They'd all be here a few days. The Landing had planned a celebration for the solstice. The games, the fires, the tournament for the final mana token. Harold counted heads out of reflex and got one short.
"Dalen went home," he said, to no one in particular.
"To the Blackjaws," Margaret confirmed, coming back from wherever her boards had taken her. "You know he had no choice. No doubt he would rather be here. He’s roughing it out there." A thin smile. "He will be standing in the snow wondering where we all went."
"Near Sarah, at least." Harold set the cold cup down on the table.
The first crate hit the ground outside before he got any further than that.
He heard it, a flat heavy thud through the wall, then another, then a run of them, crate after crate, fast. Josh's head came up. Beth was already moving for the doors, and half the room went with her. Harold let them go and followed at the back of it, he'd known this was coming, but he still wanted to see it.
The open ground below the keep was filling up.
It came down out of nothing in the space Beth had cleared before exactly for this, right next to the stele, and it came down fast. Everything they had bought within the auction. The slaves they had bought included.
It kept going. It went across every tier the auction had hosted. Caldwell’s people had bought lots within the other tiers of the auction. He'd bought across all of it, low tier to high. And the lords had spent their own coin on top, so scattered through the mountain of Landing supply were the odd bright personal things: a rack of imbued spears standing upright with no one holding them. Caswell's new heavy blade landing point-down in the dirt and standing there quivering.
"Beth," Harold said. "Please tell me you planned for this."
"I planned for half of this." Beth had a slate out and was already writing. "You bought the other half after I stopped asking." She waved her hand dismissively, “it’s not an issue though. The system won’t let anyone but the owner be the first person to touch it.”
"Fair."
"Josh, I need your crews."
"Why did we buy so many eggs?"
"Josh," Beth said, frustrated.
"I'm coming!"
---
The panel came up while Harold was still watching a horse try to kick Fitch.
The whole yard went quiet at once, every face tipping up to the same distance, and out past the growing walls, out across the whole of Gravesend, he knew without being told that it was hanging in front of every human being alive.
To mark the solstice, the System is making adjustments. You have survived nearly a full year on the crucible world. Your adjustment period is hereby over. The following changes take effect now.
Lords may no longer trade using the forum and the steles.
Mana density and purity are increased by twenty percent.
The Reputation system is now active. Earn renown for your actions and Merits for your accomplishments.
Merits may be spent at the System Store, accessible from special locations at special times.
All races now earn additional reputation for eliminating special individuals of competing races. Reputation is still earned for eliminating members of other races on the crucible world.
The Leaderboard is now active.
Congratulations on surviving to the solstice.
Harold read it twice. He was halfway through his second read. Thankfully, it was all the same as he remembered.
Then pressure came from everywhere all at once. The ambient mana in the yard went up hard, and everyone felt it hit. Harold felt his own body drink it before he decided to. The horses felt it. Maren went rigid beside him, Finn laughed out loud, one sharp bark, and somewhere behind him a soldier said oh.
Then the yard erupted.
Everyone talked at once. Lords, guards, crafters, all of it going up together, a hundred people asking a hundred questions of the people next to them and nobody answering. Caswell was shouting something about the trade ban. Fitch had abandoned the horses.
"All right," Harold called. "All right — quiet, let's—"
Nobody quieted.
"HEY." Josh's voice cut across the whole yard, and Josh could make himself heard over a forge in full cry when he wanted to, and the noise dropped like an anvil. Josh pointed at Harold. Then Josh pointed towards his own system panel.
"Harold! Look at the leaderboard."
Harold rubbed a hand down his face. He knew what it was going to say, he'd already confirmed his reputation system was active for him before everyone else.
He pulled it up anyway, though.
---
*The Leaderboard*
1. Count Harold Calder of the Landing — 5,000 Reputation
2. Reyes Jubilee of the Concord — 0 Reputation
3. Overlord Yesui Khatan of the Steppe Compact — 0 Reputation
4. Lord Amadou Sissoko of the Sahel League — 0 Reputation
5. Lady Ingrid Halvorsen of the Fjordholm Pact — 0 Reputation......The yard had gone very quiet again as they read it too. The top thousand humans were on the top of the leaderboard. Earning reputation was a strange thing. Ephemeral sometimes, the system put an arbitrary number on how often your name was mentioned.
"Huh," Caswell said, into the silence. "That's a strong start, that."
"Math ain't mathing," Brennig muttered. “How am I not on here?”
Henri had come up close on his other side, leaned in, and dropped his voice so only Harold could hear.
"You're already at the top of the board," Henri said. "Before anyone has done anything. The system only just turned it on." He kept his eyes on the panel, like it might change if he stared. "How?”
Harold looked at him. He sighed, and he waggled his eyebrows once.
"Don't worry about it," he said. "It's not important right now."
"Harold, it says five thousand—"
"Later." Harold turned back to the yard and raised his voice to carry. "Right — this doesn't change what today is. We've got a yard full of goods and until nightfall to sort it. Let's inventory what we've got and clear it out before dark. Everyone's got a busy day tomorrow, and I'd like us all to enjoy it hungover instead of dead on our feet." He clapped his hands once. "Caldwell, you and Beth own the manifest. Fitch, the horses are yours since you love them so much. Somebody find out what's in the cage before it breaks out."
The yard broke into motion, and it was almost a relief.
Henri didn’t move. He was still looking at him.
Harold reached over and patted him twice on the shoulder. "Go help Finn with the eggs. If they hatch, we can talk about it later."
He'd made it four steps toward the crates when Margaret fell in beside him, ledger against her chest, moving at speed with him.
"You have to look at the forum," she said.
Harold kept walking. "Do I have to?"
"Yes. Harold, you do. You can’t just ignore everyone."
"Margaret, the forum can—"
"You have to look at the forum," Margaret said, and there was the smallest smile on her, prim and pleased. She nodded at him.
Harold stopped walking. He blew out a breath through his nose, and he opened it.
The top thread already had a number of replies on it that surprised him, and climbing while he watched.
Lord Aldemar — Hallow's Reach
I need everyone to stop for one minute and actually look at what just happened. The Count of the Basin told us months ago, on this forum, for free, that the trade function would shut down at the solstice. Everyone laughed. It shut down at the solstice. He told us the auction was coming. It came. He has been right about every single thing he has posted on these boards, and it is not a coincidence. Now read the new system message. Read it slowly. Additional reputation for eliminating special individuals of competing races. The System is not asking us to fight the other races on Gravesend. It is paying us to. It is putting us at WAR, and it just told us so in plain writing. How much longer are we going to argue about whose river is whose while that sits there? Go back and re-read his old threads — all of them, the Velthari, the auction warning, the monster beastiary. We are going to need that information to live through what's coming. Stop the infighting. Stop the raiding, the murder, the slaving — you all saw what got sold at that auction. We come together now, or we get eaten one region at a time. I hope every lord on the Blackjaw Peninsula answers the summit Count Harold is calling in the spring to drive the Velthari back. And for those of you who don't care about any of that and only care about the new rewards — fine. It's also the single best way on this world to earn them. Go.
Harold read the whole thing standing in the middle of his own yard with a warhorse screaming somewhere behind him, and then he started in on the replies.
*Adventurer — GraveDigger_Prime*
called it. called all of it. i have a wall in my hold where i write down what the potion lord says and cross it off when it happens and i am RUNNING OUT OF WALL
*Crafter — Blackfen*
This is the first sensible thing posted on this board in a month. Re-reading the Velthari thread now. Everyone in the northern coordination should do the same tonight.
*Crafter — Toller*
so let me get this straight. the system is now literally paying reputation to kill the other races. and this one lord predicted the exact day trade would die. and he's already sitting at five thousand on a board that turned on ten minutes ago while the rest of us are at zero. and we're all supposed to listen to him now. Dudes a hacker.
*Adventurer — CrossbowMike*
@Toller nobody is ignoring that. More important things right now
*Lady Ferran — Ashholt*
And how, exactly, does he KNOW all of this? Does anyone ever ask that? One man, always right, always months ahead, and you all just fall in line behind him like it's obvious. I am not saying he is wrong. I am saying I would like to know how a single lord out of all of humanity happens to know the future before it happens.
*Lord Kessler — Northmarch*
@Lady Ferran I don't care how he knows. He's been right every time and my people are still alive. When the man who's always right tells you a war is coming, you don't run a background check. You dig in.
*Adventurer — Sparrowbane*
@Lady Ferran i asked once. got no answer. still followed his instructions. still alive. draw your own conclusions
*Crafter — Wenna of Silverpine*
I will marry him. I am serious and I am not ashamed. I am a master weaver, I am told I am pleasant company. Count Harold if you are reading this my terms are extremely reasonable.
*Lady Osei — Rushmarket*
@Wenna of Silverpine He is clearly going to need more than one wife to run a war that size. I'll take second. Or third. I am not proud; I am practical, and I would rather be a small part of something that survives. These other lords are barely useful.
*Crafter — Wenna of Silverpine*
@Lady Osei. get in line!
*Lord Greyjoy — Tidecut*
Peninsula lords — since Aldemar danced around it. The Blackjaw Peninsula should unite under Count Harold. All of us under one banner. Swear to the man and let's stop dying separately.
*Lord Osric — Greywater*
@Lord Greyjoy no. First off just based on your name fu** no. I respect the Count. I'll come to his summit, I'll fight his Velthari, I'll drink his beer. I will not hand him my ground. I have my own shot on this peninsula, and I am not folding it into another lord's board so his number gets bigger. Alliance, yes. Bending the knee, no.
*Lord Vandry — Silverpine*
@Lord Osric Nobody asked you to bend the knee. They asked you to answer a summit and stop pretending the Velthari will politely eat Osric last. Come in the spring. Argue about banners after we're all still breathing.
*Adventurer — Hopeful*
going to the summit. going to re-read the threads. going to write "he was right AGAIN" on my own wall next to GraveDigger's. see you all in the spring
Harold just sighed and rubbed his face while he read it. It was all just the same stuff. He looked at Margaret. “What did you want me to see on this?” She looked at him calmly. "Humanity is exploding right now. There are too many changes happening too quickly, and you are the face of it all." She looked around lost for a moment. Something you don't normally see on such a stoic woman but it was there. “Harold, even for me you are changing too fast. I can't even imagine what the rest of humanity is going through.” He followed her gaze towards where Fitch was trying to drag a large warhorse off towards a stable. “I don't know what to tell you, Margaret. This is only the beginning. The monsters in the dungeons will get harder. Monsters will ascend from the deep dark. Monsters will descend from the mountains peak. Everything is going to change.”Margaret nodded firmly. “Then that needs to be announced so no one will be surprised. I’ll draft the message for you to release.”Harold grabbed the beer that was handed to him by one of his dwarven guards. They had a comforting habit of handing him a beer when he seemed frustrated. Taking a sip of the refreshing cold snack, he nodded his thanks. “Just put it on my desk, Margaret. I need to settle this relic before it escapes.”Margaret looked at him hesitantly, not sure if he was joking or not. He definitely wasn't. He could feel the nail pulling away from him. Time to face the relic.