After making a Clerk-empowered contract with Seraphine—which effectively made it so that she and Eric would not harm each other’s interests—he went to leave the citadel, but his earring buzzed. Eric pushed mana into it and said, “Yes, Spymaster?”
Persim’s voice came through loud and clear. She said, “Are you done with your meetings?”
“I am,” Eric replied as he waved at a passing servant. “What is it you need?”
“Back to the small council chamber.”
Eric made his way there immediately and once the doors were open saw that some of the members had left. The Queen, Persim, and Bortis were the only people present. Eric smoothly walked to his seat and said, “What is it?”
The doors were shut by guards and the Queen said, “I am concerned about the lower-city and its woes. Bortis?” She looked sideways at the Chancellor and de-facto mayor of the poorest region of the capital.
Bortis looked at Eric, face set in a polite smile, but there was tension beneath the surface. “Her highness has given me permission to put out bounties on targets. You and the other Summoned are welcome to pursue them—in disguise, preferably—and the reward is higher for those who are brought in alive.”
“I doubt I will be of much use,” Eric replied. He held his palm up and willed Blackflame to pool, and it sat there, crackling in his palm. “I can’t really hide this.” He then let it go, grabbed his grimoire, and repeated the feat—but willed the flames to a mix of red and blue. Thanks to the upgraded Gear, the black and white hissed, spat, then shifted colors. “And honestly, a pyromancer killing targets, regardless of color of flame, will raise attention.” He closed the grimoire and the flames went out with a hiss.
“Netherdark Hunter Shannon Valagonia has offered her services,” the Queen replied, “at least if what Bortis said is accurate. The same goes for Truesteel Templar Peter Ghulara. They both could go in disguise.”
Bortis nodded sagely. “Indeed. Tell me—when do you plan to go into the Twilight Depths again?”
“The seventy-third,” Eric replied. “We are aiming for three days out after each floor is cleared. Two for our spouses and general relaxation, and one for business. I am guessing you want something more immediate?”
Persim leaned forward. “I ask you to delay until the eightieth. I want to take Shannon and Peter with me into the lower-city to deal with some of these organization leaders.”
Eric clasped both hands in front of himself. “Won’t more just take their place?”
The Queen’s face tightened into a grimace. “That is where we come to a more delicate issue—what to do about criminal Classes, and those who refuse to join the retraining programs.”
Ah, Eric thought, we’re already getting to this point. I mean, what options are there, really? It’s either a culling, or forced relocation. I’d prefer the latter.
He had thought of the different scenarios, and gone over them with Naomi. The best move would be a full clear-out of the lower-city, with massive social relief programs to help bring the quality-of-life up to snuff. The biggest issues plaguing that part of the capital were the criminal-focused Classes, and lack of work related to those Classes.
Eric looked at the Queen and asked, “Permission to be more free with my words?”
She nodded. “Go ahead.”
Eric stood up and walked to the other side of the table so that he was facing Persim and Amber, with Bortis on his left. “Naomi and I have been thinking about this, and what can be implemented, using principles from Earth. May I bring her in on this conversation?” He raised his bracer and set it on the table, letting his arm rest.
“You may,” Queen Amber replied.
Eric tapped the button to communicate, turned the volume up, and sent the signal to Naomi. A moment later, her voice came through. “What’s up?” she asked.
Eric cleared his throat. “Share the reform plan for the lower-city.”
Naomi’s voice came through clear and straight-to-the-point. “What exactly is the biggest issue plaguing the lower-city?”
Bortis replied, “It is the criminal Classes.”
“Then the first thing to do is get rid of them,” Eric replied. “There’s a few ways to do it we talked about.”
Amber raised an appraising eyebrow. “Why think about this so much before now?”
“I want this place to be my home for my life,” Eric replied. “It makes sense to make the capital as safe as possible. I don’t like the idea of living in a place with Rogue-lined streets.”
“Done?” Naomi asked. “Good. Now then, you have to create something like the Civic Works Office, and their entire job needs to start with making heavy incentives to convince more people to swap their Class to something that can fit into the existing schema of the kingdom’s populace. Those who do not want to swap need to be trained and licensed.”
“Licensing?” Bortis asked. “That . . . I hadn’t considered it.”
Eric said, “Here is what we came up with as a short-term starting point. Make a declaration: give a monetary award to those who sign up to re-Class into the military or civil service through the kingdom’s existing retraining programs, and add more programs for more Classes. Then, those who do not want to re-Class, give them an ultimatum—they pack their bags and leave the capital to try their luck elsewhere, or, they work in a new profession that utilizes their Class as-is.”
Bortis rubbed his temples. “I still don’t see why we must go about reforming.”
Queen Amber glared at him. Her voice became sharp and bitter as she said, “You have no idea the horrors of the lower-city.” She stood up and continued. “There are horrible things that happen every day.” She then looked at Eric’s bracer. “Naomi, give me your plan.”
“Actually, Eric came up with it,” Naomi replied. “I just helped iron out the details. The main difference between Trok’s society and Earth’s late-medieval era is the whole Class situation.”
Eric added, “Our first step towards reform should be as I said—declaration with monetary incentive, removal from the capital, or using an existing Class in the framework of another profession. Since that is the biggest issue, once it is fixed, the rest is easy.”
“Our second step,” Eric continued, “is to then legitimize businesses and provide oversight. For example,” he looked at Amber, “the Midnight Reverie that held you captive—how would you describe it for the average worker?”
Amber sat down and her voice softened. “For most it was good, but there wasn’t an option for them to reject services. Jorgen, the bastard, was heavy-handed like that.”
Eric looked to Bortis. “Then what would need to be done is giving the power to the workers. For example, take the Courtesans and Prostitutes of that business, give them a building to operate out of, and then let them be independent contractors with protection. Just make sure to have a network of people they can report to if someone tries to strong-arm them and control them. Expand the guard. I am sure that some of the re-Class individuals would jump at the chance to make a living, using their Skills—heck, even someone with a Class like Thug or Brigand would jump at the chance to build their community while helping it.”
Bortis had grabbed a notebook from his belt pouch and began scribbling in it. “I understand what you’re saying.” He looked at Eric’s bracer. “Naomi, would you be willing to speak to the Marshall family about restoring houses?”
“Actually,” Naomi answered, “that comes with the plan. The idea would be that after step one, we move people to temporary housing, while the Marshall family steps in along with other construction personnel to overhaul the lower-city. It is the oldest part of the capital, which means it is missing amenities, and the buildings are quite old. That’s where my Earth knowledge comes into play.”
Eric said, “Very tall buildings, with multiple floors. We cannot build too high—as we don’t want something to be able to be targeted past the defensive walls—but uniform and multi-purpose. Make the lower-city into something that will stand the test of time, and ensure all needs are met.”
Naomi added, “I have designed some templates with my husband. Each floor of each five-story residential building will be able to accommodate three rooms, and specific city blocks can be set up with wider, same-height buildings dedicated to shops and profession spaces. Lastly, we also have infrastructure and the grid design to think about: plus the Ghulara family will help with their Botanists to create some public park spaces.”
Eric knew one of the reasons for this infrastructure overhaul of the lower-city was to ensure that the incoming rail lines could be placed. By retrofitting the lower-city and shuffling people around as fixes and improvements were made, it gave her the opportunity to have the rail lines set down. Three main lines, going to the east, north, and south, with a central hub underground using empty shop spaces and more hollowed-out rock in the Twilight Concourse, which is where the generators would be, since if one dug deep enough they could reach a Ley Line offshoot.
Persim stood up and pushed her chair in, then leaned over the back of it. “And after?”
Naomi replied, “That’s it. Just fleshing out the lower-city further with public works projects and bringing some of the amenities of the middle-city to it: but that is natural, as Trok is a capitalistic economic setup. Businesses will want to expand, and thus the infrastructure will come with that push.”
Bortis had kept jotting and making notes, and finally stopped. “Well, the framework seems like the whole scheme can work. But, the actual steps we need to take to put this framework into action are going to take weeks. I shall begin reaching out to people as needed.” He looked up at the Queen. “Pardon me, but I will need to speak to the Castellan and General regarding expanding the retraining programs, and I doubt I will be able to attend to many other duties if this is my focus.”
“It is,” Amber replied. “The restoration and rejuvenation of the lower-city is of utmost importance to me.” She spoke toward Eric’s bracer. “What is your opinion of the middle- and upper-city when it comes to the buildings and infrastructure?”
“Sound,” Naomi replied. “The architecture is far more recent, you have a neat grid layout, amenities are plentiful, people are happy—I don’t see any need for improvement there.”
Amber looked back at Bortis. “Tell me what resources you need, and I will provide them. And, tell the General that he should look at our main walls and consider new fortifications, since the Marshall family will be there already.”
“Is that all you needed me for?” Naomi asked.
“Yes,” Amber replied. “Thank you. Eric, you may turn off the Gear.”
Eric said a quick, “See you,” and then tapped the icon to stop the call. He straightened his posture, and said, “What would you have me do in this time, your maj—”
“Just Amber when we are not around the public or diplomats,” the Queen replied.
“Amber,” Eric resumed, “what would you have me do while Persim takes my allies? Peter and Shannon will be busy doing nonlethal bounty hunting, and Naomi is working on the rail network and manatech generators which will fuel it . . . and I do not want to just sit in luxury with my wife—though I would appreciate the time. Put me to work.”
Amber smiled at that. “You have done much already, but very well. I would ask you to entertain the visiting Summoned for their short duration. Perhaps take them to see the Crystalline Moment this evening, and on a tour of Tenebria. I believe you and your wife are quite the dancers, yes? Take them to one of the more rowdy dance halls in the middle-city.”
“I know just the place,” Eric replied. “After they depart? I shall have quite a bit of time on my hands.”
Amber’s smile tightened. “I think it would behoove you to visit the army training area and practice alongside our military. You may be called to fight, and having you aware of the tactics utilized in Trok’s armies would be beneficial. I doubt we need to do the same for the navy, given that you can set ships ablaze.”
Persim chuckled at that. “Normally ships like the Fist of the North are covered in fire-retardant paint, but your Blackflame ate right through it. No need to train you for naval combat. In fact, you’re probably our most terrifying asset on the high seas.”
“Speaking of that,” Eric replied, “any word on the new Admiral?”
“I have conducted final interviews,” Amber replied. “They will be present at our next small council meeting, which I will call you for.”
Eric bowed. “Then if there is nothing else, I shall take my leave.” No one said anything, Amber gave him a nod and dismissive hand-wave, and Eric turned to the doors. He knocked twice, and the queen’s guards outside opened it for him. He immediately made for the nearest servant and asked them to bring refreshments to the visitors from the Allied Cities, and then made his way there himself. Once he had arrived, he knocked and took a few steps back.
The door opened and he saw one of the armed escorts. “Pardon me,” Eric said. “I have been told to entertain our guests. May I enter and speak with them?”
“Wait a moment,” the woman replied as she shut the door. After a minute, she opened the door again, and let Eric into the suite.
It was one of several such carved-out sections of the mountains in this wing of the citadel. There was an entry hall, which led to a living room-style space, with and adjoining restroom, and then several bedrooms splitting off from the central living room.
The Summoned from the Allied Cities looked quite bored, and perked up once Eric entered. But, it was the Senator who stood up, and Thomas said, “Ah, welcome back.”
Eric bowed the traditional Elyndian way and then straightened. “I have been tasked by my Queen to help entertain the Summoned, and show them a few sights.”
Trixie, the Coordinator, said, “I would love to. What is planned?”
The Senator cleared his throat and politely replied, “Any ventures will be accompanied by escort.” His voice took on a more sinister edge as he looked at Eric and added, “If you do not return with your escorts, then it is war with Trok for stealing our Summoned.”
“I will ensure their safe return,” Eric said. “We have queen’s guards ready to accompany us as well.” He looked at the other Summoned. “A few events this evening. First off, have you ever visited the illusory theater?”
***
Eric took the other Summoned to various attractions around the upper-city, starting with the illusory theater. None of them had witnessed something like it, as even in their home version of Earth they didn’t have movie theaters.
But, during a climactic fight where the volume increased substantially, Cipher scooted closer to Eric. The Barrier Mage whispered, “Can we speak?”
Eric nodded but didn’t speak.
“I wanted to thank you, is all, for everything. It’ll take us until the spring, but we’re going to try and take our chances to get away.”
Eric glanced around to make sure no one was listening in or could hear them—thankfully the noise of the battle scene overhead ensured that. Still, he took out his notebook, then opened his Storage Dimension and grabbed a pen. He wrote back a response. ‘Wise decision. Trok would welcome you—I guarantee it. But, it should be noted that you will have to take on a new identity to prevent escalating tensions.’
She read over his arm and whispered, “That’s fine by me.”
Eric wrote back, ‘Then just stick to your plan. Enjoy your visit here while you can. I’ll see about slipping you more scrip throughout the next few hours.’
She patted him on the knee in acknowledgement then scooted back toward her allies.
Eric pocketed his book and put the pen back into storage, then leaned back to enjoy the show.
***
After a fancy dinner paid for by the crown at an upper-city restaurant, which resulted in the Allied Cities’ Summoned all but gorging themselves on the fine cuisine, as it was quite different from the Mediterranean-esque diet they had been eating up in that region—Eric led them to witness the Crystalline Moment.
He grinned with satisfaction as the visitors, wrapped up in heavy cloaks for the weather, gasped at the sight.
I am surprised they had yet to see it, Eric thought. The Allied Cities have all of the necessary height and water in the distant background to see this.
[It appears from your interactions, and knowledge of the other timeline, that they are still kept on tight leash.]
Seems that way. It’s a shame, really. But, at least they aren’t forcing their Summoned into war like the Empire of Pwish. Still, being treated as a trophy isn’t pleasant. They’re up on a pedestal, and considered prized possessions. Not quite slaves, but not free. I don’t know what the word would be.
[A bonded laborer, perhaps.]
Maybe.
Eric let out a sigh of satisfaction as the glimpse into the countless multitude of realities ended, and he overheard the other Summoned talking to one another about the possibility of returning home. Rex, the skinny, lanky Slinger, wanted to go back, while the others were adamant about remaining on Elyndor.
Eric walked over to them and said, “You can’t go home.”
Rex looked up at him. Voice shaky, he said, “Why not?”
“Mana is part of you,” Eric replied. “You’re a native Elyndian now, effectively, just like me and every other person. You can’t survive without mana, and so unless you had an artificial means to generate it that you took back with you, you’d survive for maybe two hours before you died.”
At that, Rex paled, and Eric saw the sorrow that crossed his face. It was the face of a man who had all his hopes crushed. “B-but my mom. She was sick. She’ll d-die without me.”
Eric squatted down to be on his seated level, and felt the drift of snow brush against his calves. “My ally has theorized a means to open doorways to our home reality to bring people through. An artificial Summoning Stone, of sorts.” He put a hand on Rex’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “If she figures it out, I’ll make sure we send you a letter. If we can reconnect you with your loved one, well, I mean, we’ll be doing it for our own loved ones. What’s the harm in grabbing a few more people?”
Rex nodded and curled his fur cloak tighter around himself. “Thanks for that,” he mumbled.
Eric stood up and caught Thomas looking at him with curiosity, so he went over to the man. “Yes?” Eric asked.
The diplomat and Senator’s face was inscrutable. His words were filled with fake warmth. “Awful nice offer there.”
Eric shrugged. “I’m not the one who would be designing it. I said an ally of mine.”
“May I meet her?”
“I doubt it,” Eric replied. “She is recently wed, and her husband is quite the man, if you catch my drift.”
“Ah, well, good for her.”
Eric took note of the deepening night and said to the other Summoned, “Well, who is ready to go and dance?”
***
Eric met up with Misty at their estate, and after introducing her to the other Summoned, the duo went to the dance hall they had visited in the middle-city on their first date. The dance hall’s atmosphere was dampened ever-so-slightly at the presence of so many queen’s guards and the escorts from the Allied Cities, but after Eric dipped into his coin purse and pulled out five gold to buy drinks for everyone, the mood livened up.
He lost himself in the dance, with the presence of his life-partner, and the joy of the evening. There was no magical influence on his feet, as the Shimmersand Caravan and its performers had departed, and whoever the musicians were, though skilled, did not have the same compulsion effect with their notes.
The other Summoned were a bit awkward, at first, but once Eric took a pause with Misty to show them a few basic dance moves to match the upbeat music and filled the role of dance teacher for a few minutes, they began to enjoy themselves.
He took note of Xeraphine d’Orveil, who was at one side of the bar, dressed in clothes appropriate for the environment which did not betray her higher station. After briefly excusing himself, he went over to her and took a seat next to her. “How are you?” Eric asked.
She tapped her mug of some drink she had yet to actually take a sip of. “I am managing,” she said calmly. “Thank you for doing what you are doing. My sister advised me. I just hope I find some level of chemistry.”
Eric grinned. “I’m sure you will. Want me to introduce you?”
Xera smiled softly at that. “Yes, please, the larger gentleman. Flint Grix, I believe.”
Eric stood up, took her hand, and escorted her over to Flint. “Flint, this is Xera. She was eying you from the bar, and would love a dance.”
Xera put on an act that impressed Eric, as she almost-instantly became nervous and the type of person who was a wall-flower, and needed to be pushed toward having fun. “Oh, urm, hi there. I like your muscles.”
Flint grinned. “Well, hi there. I am not a good dancer, but if you want to try, I’m game.”
Xera took his hand, gave Eric a quick glance and appreciative nod, and then slipped into a rhythm along with the music as she joined Flint in their revelry.
Cipher walked over and whispered right into Eric’s ear, just loud enough to cover the music. “A moment at the bar.” Eric followed her over and as drinks were poured she said, “Thank you for this.”
Eric accepted a stein of cider and took a sip, then asked, “Why did you four get to travel? The offer to have you four replace us while we are on trial seems like a silly way to go about things.”
Cipher took a sip of her cider and winced as she swallowed it down. “I used leverage. One of the Senators owed me for saving his life from an assassination attempt. I was hoping we could escape somewhere along the journey or once we got here—but there’s little chance of that.”
Eric glanced around to make sure they weren’t being listened to. Then, he leaned in closer, confident the noise of the dance hall would cover up his words, and whispered, “Just bide your time. You have the means now.” He stood up, drained the rest of his cider in several gulps, then slammed it down. “I need to go back to my wife. Appearances and all that.”
Cipher seemed to get the message about them sitting too long causing suspicion, and stood up, drink in hand, as she headed to a booth and sat down right next to the Senator who was their handler.
Eric went back to Misty, who had been taking a breather on the edge of the room. They resumed their dance, and he lost track of the time, but one of the queen’s guards interrupted him after a few hours, and the group departed. Xera planted a kiss on Flint’s cheek, and whispered something to him that Eric didn’t get.
Well, I did my part, Eric thought. I’m getting Xeraphine hooked up with another Summoned. Mission accomplished. Now it's on her.
On their walk back to the estate—as Eric would take his leave there since it was on the way back to the citadel—Flint, the Phalanx, walked up next to him and Misty. “Gotta say, that was a lot of fun. Back home we never got to do stuff like that. We were always just stuck scraping through the sharp-heaps.”
“That doesn’t sound pleasant,” Misty said. “What’s a sharp-heap?”
Flint replied, “Metal and old tech from the ancient times. Lots of valuable stuff in there, but you can poke yourself and get really sick because of it.”
“Tetanus,” Misty said. “That’s what you’re describing. Not a pleasant way to go.” She squeezed Eric’s arm. “So, Flint, what was your favorite part about the dance hall?”
The man chuckled. “Honestly? That black-haired girl I was dancing with. I haven’t been able to keep company with a woman in a long time.”
“Not for lack of trying,” Cipher added as she sidled up next to the duo.
Eric glanced between the two. “Ah, are you an item, then?”
Flint shook his head. “No offense to Cipher, but she’s too mousey for me. Too short.”
Cipher frowned at that, and her tipsiness came through as she replied, “Oh yeah? Well, you . . . you’re stupid!”
“And at least I’m okay with it,” Flint replied.
Depths below, Eric thought, they do not have the group cohesion that Naomi, Peter, Shannon and I have.
[I’m sure part of you telling of your future-timeline contributes.]
True.
Cipher sighed. “I can’t change my height.”
“Actually, you can,” Misty interrupted. “Body Enhancements for it exist.” She looked back at Thomas. “If you like, as a courtesy to the Allied Cities, the Baxter family is willing to donate a Body Enhancement to each of your Summoned.”
The Senator shook his head. “I appreciate the offer, but it sounds rather risky. And, I mean no offense, but you serve a foreign nation. For all I know, you could implant some type of Gear into one of them to allow you to surveil them. Apologies, but no.”
“I didn’t say operate,” Misty replied with a smile. “Just the Body Enhancement. Shelf-stable, you can take them back to the Allied Cities, test them to ensure no tampering, then have your own implant them.”
“Really?” Cipher asked. “I could be taller?”
Misty nodded and pulled Eric’s sleeves up, showing his quite defined biceps. “My husband here has several Body Enhancements, Mana Muscles being one of them.”
Flint whistled. “Damn, I could use me some of those.” He looked back at Thomas. “What about it?”
The Senator nodded curtly. “Donations, sure. But no operations until we are back home.”
***
They reached the Summoned estate, and Eric stood in front of the gates with Misty, snow falling down on and around them. He gave each of the Summoned from the Allied Cities a fond farewell, and Trixie, who seemed to be their watered-down version of Naomi, gave him a hug. When she hugged him, she whispered, “Expect to see us here next year. Hopefully, you can help us integrate.”
“Will do,” Eric replied. Then he separated, and after the group had left to venture back to the citadel, he went inside the estate with Misty and retired to their chambers. While getting ready for bed, he activated his Silence Node and used his earring to speak to the Queen. “Pardon me, Amber.”
She sounded tired as she replied. “What is it?”
“Apologies for waking you . . .” Eric gave her a full run-down of the evening’s events, minus the note about Naomi’s cross-reality theorizing. After he concluded, there was silence for a minute. “Amber?”
“I was thinking,” she replied. “Good. I think we are on the right track. We’ll begin making preparations for a covert strike force to assail our foes from those two city-states who seek revenge should they try anything hostile towards us. But, in the meantime, we have done all we can. Report to the military training grounds on the morrow.”
“Yes, your highness.” Eric disconnected from the call and got into the bath that Misty had just drawn up, and joined his wife in the warm water as he held her in his arms. “Enjoy yourself tonight?” he asked.
“They’re an interesting bunch,” Misty replied. “And I saw you setting Xera up with the larger one. Flint, I believe. Why?”
“Part of a deal to keep the peace between us and the d’Orveil family,” Eric replied. He shared the content of his conversation and contract he had made with Seraphine, and finished with, “It’s the least I could do, given the rug-pull.”
Misty sank back into his arms and let out a sigh. “You’re a good man. I’m glad you chose me.”
Eric kissed her right behind the ear and then gave that a little nibble, sending shivers down her spine. “Happy to choose you.”