The hearts of men

Oblivia was not having a good time. In fact, she died.

She got better though. Having been heavily involved in testing the rules of their involuntary immortality, she died many times and was less dazed and confused by the respawn process as many of the other Players.

She was floating on the surface of a very shallow but vast fountain at the feet of a massive obelisk, her eyelids fluttering as if she had just woken from sleep and was blinded by the light. It was not far from the truth, except she had not been dreaming. The memories were clear. She had come across a strangely well-preserved gateway in a ruined ancient city. The slab of metal that blocked the entrance was easily four times as tall as she was, embedded in the side of a black pyramid structure of what looked like obsidian. What she had thought was merely an imposing statue erected to “protect” the way inside turned out to be an animated stone construct with a humanoid body and an avian feathered head, that came to life the moment she approached the cold, brass metal of the closed gate. The guardian’s blunt halberd slammed with such force that Oblivia was thrown into a nearby wall and went right through it, and even though she was lightning-fast to get back on her feet and start running, the shafted weapon of the enemy combined with its arm reach had such range that all hopes of survival were crushed.

Really unlucky, she thought. As a Naturalist I can pass very close to all kinds of animal-type enemies and not be attacked, but that was an elemental or some other non-fleshy thing.

Her consciousness, now back in her body, dispelled the floating effect on her. She sat up ignoring the water she sat in, concentrating on preserving the memory of that brief fight, the ancient city, and the perhaps significant fact that the gate seemed to have no lock or keyhole.

—

‘The implication is clear. Lord Regent has interest in what’s happening over here, and someone may even carry information directly from here to him,’ T1c concluded.

‘Duh, obviously.’ Seelastraxx propped her head on her hand. She looked as if she was napping. ‘If a thousand demigods suddenly camped in my backyard, I would be concerned too. I would want to know what they want and what they’re doing.’

‘Should we do anything about this?’ asked Oneiron.

‘No,’ replied Seelastraxx before anyone else could. ‘A thousand Players, and thousands of locals live in and around Rockbase. Also, we don’t really have anything to hide.’

‘I agree, but I will try to figure out how he gets information anyway. Knowing doesn’t hurt,’ declared T1c. ‘And in the meantime, I suppose I should go find Cob and then go visit Tepper. Again,’ he sighed.

‘We will have secrets eventually. We should think about some protocols,’ said Oneiron. ‘I’ll go meet Krush outside and look at the new Town Hall designs again.’

‘Mhm. You boys do that,’ mumbled the Priestess. ‘I’ll be here.’ She said, getting more comfortable for a tabletop nap.

T1c stopped in the doorway and turned back. ‘You know,’ he said to Seelastraxx. ‘You should step outside for a while. You know, for morale.’

‘Yeah… I know. We need to go see the raid team off too later today… sigh.’

—

Once outside, T1c went by a dozen men working the ground with hand tools. He knew all of their names, and greeted a few near him with fist-bumps. ‘How goes work, Kez?’ he asked.

‘We just started, but this entire marked area will be flat by sunset, as agreed,’ declared Kez. “Kez” was short for his real name which T1c could not pronounce.

‘Good. Krush will be over later to check on you. Don’t sweat it too much though. The actual construction begins on Ninth, there’s plenty of time.’

‘Then why are we starting today? Today is Third, no?’

‘I had issues getting a foreman from the capital. Team B will start delivering timber, mortar, and bricks tomorrow. Anyway, I gotta go,’ said T1c and headed north, towards the huge Blue Willow. It was somewhere in the meadow underneath the venerable tree that Cob liked to spend time, practicing his Monk moves or just resting.

But it was Cobbalt who found T1c first. Tapping the Naturalist’s shoulder, he said:

‘Looking for me?’

‘Yeah. We’re going to see the Regent. He asked for you,’ T1c showed Cobbalt the letter sent from the royal office earlier that morning. He gestured towards the western direction, and they started walking at a leisurely pace.

‘Huh? For me? Why?’

‘We don’t know either, but we’re going nevertheless,’ T1c shrugged. ‘Are you ready now?’

‘Yeah. Unless I should get a change of clothes or something, but I don’t have anything else other than this,’ the Monk patted his chest.

‘That depends. Would you rather impress the Regent, or the court girls?’

‘Haha, I don’t think I care about either. I’ll probably never see this place again after I leave,’ he said, but then added: ‘But then again, technically I’m representing the entire Upperland. I gotta be diplomatic and official-like.’

‘This is good,’ assessed T1c. ‘You look like a guy nobody should mess with, but we need to get your hair sorted. I know a girl with scissors, we’ll drop by on the way.’

They walked on cobbled streets and alleys, with rudimentary but private houses the Players build for themselves or had someone do it for them. Some were brick-and-mortar, some were made of wood, and some under construction or reconstruction; some were partially used as storefronts and workshops for Player business. They displayed their goods up front, or had a sign painted and hung under the porch’s roof. On the way to the Eastend bridge they passed near the current Town Hall and saw Seelastraxx outside, chatting with the workers. She wore her resplendent Priest gown that was recently enriched by tailor’s hand to show additional cleavage and leg. Her straight blond hair flowed on the wind, and her gloved hands greeted everyone who approached. A tiny gathering of men and women was starting to form around her. This reminded T1c of a story he could share with Cobbalt.

‘Hey Cob. Want to hear a story? Look around you. You know how none of this existed when we came here, right? This was basically a meadow. Our boots beat it into mud on a rainy night. No houses, no streets, no drainage channels, no shops, no bars, nothing.’

‘Yeah, you mentioned.’

‘Fast forward to when we already have a base, houses, services and stuff. But our streets were still dirt, sometimes mud, because nobody felt responsible. So we decided to fix that. We found a supply of stone, gravel, sand. We brought people with the know-how from Sorostade. But we had no volunteers to start building.’

‘Sounds very life-like,’ commented Cob.

‘Seelastraxx figured it out in no time. First she went out and grabbed three of the prettiest girls she could find. Our girls, Players,’ T1c told the story, and saw it on Cob’s face that he already saw where this was going. ‘Then she whispered something in their ear, and they started laying sand, gravel, and cobbles together, and doing a poor job at it. Within moments, two dozen guys felt awkward and started to help, showing them how it’s done. Now those guys plus dozens more do this full-time around the town. They can’t stop building things. Roads, houses, you name it.’

‘Hahahah!’ Cobbalt was visibly amused. ‘Damn,’ he said. ‘That woman knows the hearts of men.’

‘You have no idea,’ told him T1c.

—

The march to where Lord Regent Tepper expected them took less than an hour. It would be less than that, was it not for some kind of celebration on the streets of Sorostade that T1c had not known about. But it is my job to know and I didn’t, he chastised himself. The Royal Household was essentially a small (by aristocratic standards) manor for doing official business. The actual king, if there was one on the throne, lived outside the capital city. A strange arrangement, by T1c’s measure, and a glaring security weakness. Not my problem though, he thought.

T1c and Cobbalt went over the Eastend Bridge, then the full length of Eastend street, more than one kilometer, and navigated a maze of narrow streets uphill. Before long they went through the first guarded gate where T1c flashed the letter’s seal as his right of passage. The guards did not obstruct them needlessly; they were well familiar with T1c as the Rockbase’s primary diplomat and envoy.

Their procession came to a stop before the final door to Lord Regent Tepper’s domain. A richly-dressed Majordomo (or pompously-dressed, T1c always thought) informed them that the Lord Regent will invite them shortly. So they waited. And waited.

‘He’s doing it on purpose,’ whispered T1c to Cobbalt.

‘What?’ Cobbalt’s eyes were closed, and he seemed perfectly at peace, if a little absent. He’s more calm than I am. Is that some kind of Monk role-playing? thought T1c.

‘He’s making us wait to let us know we’re not that important to him.’

‘Ah. It’s fine. I got time.’

‘Me too, so let’s not show any impatience when we go in. By the way, make sure to title him Regent or Lord Regent, not Your Highness or anything like. Technically, he’s not the king. The actual king of the Sorostade Kingdom is a teenager.’

‘Noted. By the way, I see you’re quite experienced in diplomacy at this point.’

‘In real life, I work in sales. I’ve seen all kinds of assholes and self-important pricks.’

‘How very diplomatic, Administrator T1c.’

‘Why thank you, Emissary Cobbalt.’

‘So the Regent is a prick? I thought he was quite cooperative with the likes of us.’

‘Both can be true.’

Eventually, the door opened and the Majordomo invited them inside.

‘Ah, welcome my friends. I hope you did not have to wait long?’ said the man in a garish military uniform with gold-threaded epaulets, medals, and a sash across his chest. This was either a military man who had proven himself to the kingdom. The Lord Regent Tepper was a tall and lanky man, aged about fifty, with an impressive mustache and no beard. His sharp gaze betrayed intelligence, and despite his military attire, his scar-free face contradicted his presumed military background. A rapier sword was sheathed by his hip, a ceremonial piece more than an actual weapon.

You know exactly how long we waited, thought T1c while making a good face.

‘We did not wait long at all,’ he lied. Then he could not help himself but add: ‘As people who are technically immortal, we have time.’

This reminder of the power dynamics between the Players and the native populace of this world seemed to temper the Regent a little. Hopefully he will quit those theatrics with us at some point, T1c said to himself.

‘May I introduce to you Emissary Cobbalt from the lands of… Upperland. This is what they call it.’

‘Ah yes, my pleasure,’ he nodded, ushering them through a glassed door into a porch where a set of cushioned chairs waited for them, along with a tray of sweets and alcoholic drinks on a low table. There was no armed protection anywhere in sight. Not that it would help him if we wanted to kill him. Unwilling to continue the exchange of pleasantries, T1c was glad when the Regent went right down to business.

‘I usually don’t work during my lunch time, but I really did not want to be a bad host and postpone the meeting at such a short notice, so we may as well have it together,’ said Tepper.

‘We appreciate it,’ T1c said diplomatically but actually meant what he said. Once they sat, a butler served them pastry with immaculate manners. T1c never said ‘no’ to good food, and he could see that neither did Cobbalt.

‘Now,’ said Tepper. ‘It has come to my attention that your Administration made it forbidden for your people to work in my city. May I ask why is that?’

‘We did not,’ T1c said, slightly surprised at this choice of conversation topic when he specifically had requested that the visitor from faraway land be introduced. Nevertheless, he just went with the current. ‘I don’t know what you were told, but we only banned our people from being employed by your people.’

‘Again, why? I don’t believe there were any incidents…’

‘For long-term stability, we decided we must not compete for jobs with your people, because we can outcompete anyone, if you forgive my bluntness. We work faster, we sleep less, and we don’t get sick. Furthermore, this decision is not limited to the Sorostade area, but to anyone who recognizes our authority… which I’m sure you understand is our ongoing problem.’

‘I see, I see,’ Tepper nodded sagely. ‘When all else fails, we can impose the Crown’s authority by force, but you can’t do even that.’

‘Yes. However,’ T1c added. ‘We still allow your subjects to work with us. In fact, we need them. Similarly, we have a rule against overpaying your people for goods and services, but that’s been in place for weeks now.’

‘Ah yes, I’m aware of that, of course,’ Tepper said, and finally glanced towards Cobbalt who had been only listening to that conversation until now. ‘Shall we now discuss our main topic? I heard from a source that you came from the east by a boat? It must have been very difficult to cross the sea, I imagine. We heard legends of a continent somewhere to the east, but nothing confirmed.’

From that point, the conversation was mostly between the Regent and the Emissary, and T1c limited himself to listening, although he paid special attention to the questions the Regent had; Esther, Krush, and the others would want to know that.

They talked about the laws of that land. The weather. The population. The resources. The trade. The current events, other than the sudden arrival of demigods in their midst. On some of the subjects Cobbalt could only talk very little about, being only a visitor himself. He is gauging the strength of that nation against his own, realized T1c. Out of desire for caution, or something less… stable? I’ll tell them we need to look into the history of contacts between those two nations. We don’t want to be dragged into anything.

How did Cobbalt keep track of his position? He didn’t. He just wagered there must be land to the west, and he would sail until he landed on it.

Were there any islands between here and there? Yes, many, but rather small.

What would people in Upperland be interested to buy? Textiles, art, alcohol, fruit.

None of this is new to me, thought T1c. All of this was already recorded in Rockbase’s books by the diligent bee that was Esther. Wait, doesn’t he…? T1c had a strange feeling for a while now, as if something in the puzzle did not fit. This is strategic information, and there are no court officials present in this meeting. Only Tepper himself, and he is not even making notes. T1c did not know what to make of it, and would make sure to discuss it with the others.

They had been talking for about an hour when T1c started to get impatient and silently wanted to leave. He hoped that this time no nobles would try approaching him for idle chat obscuring thinly veiled marriage proposals with their daughters. Not that T1c or others like him were not flattered by the offer, but what made them reject them was the idea they still believed in.

We’re not staying here this long.

But… this will start to erode over time if we don’t get out soon, he thought. Even among his closest peers, there was Krush who was like a child in a playground. Not unexpected for an engineer in a world with no engineering. Everywhere he looks, he sees something to do, and he has no family in the real world to come back to. How many others are like him?

His attention snapped back to the present situation when Tepper rose from his seat, signaling the end of the audience. ‘Erwin will escort you out,’ he said, referring to his butler. The three of them were already at the door when Tepper stopped them again.

‘Ah, one more thing. About the information that your charming Lady Seelastraxx so nicely asked us to find. There is no record of anything called a Waygate ever existing in this city or this kingdom. I hope learning this is worth the effort. I had to call in a favor from Pontifex Vivario to look into this as his monks have the best records, and as you know, Vivario is not an… ally for your people.’ This much was known to the Players. ‘That being said, next time you will have to go directly to him. Have a good afternoon, gentlemen.’

Outside in the corridor T1c cursed that development. This sucks double. Not only are we unable to use Regent as proxy for dealing with the Temple, but we also owe him a favor now. I’m bringing home quite a batch of bad news today.

Sigh. I’ll go directly to Esther so she writes it all down before I forget anything.

—

‘Oh my, if it isn’t Master T1c and, I assume, a guest from a faraway land? Good heavens, those are some big muscles.’

T1c, hearing the voice coming from behind him and knowing the voice, stopped in his tracks and with a tap on the shoulder stopped Cobbalt too. He was avoiding nobles approaching him for idle chatter, but he could make time for this man. He turned to see the luckiest merchant in all of Sorostade. Well-kept, middle-aged but increasingly gray on the head, clean-shaven, wearing a buttoned forest-green vest over a white shirt, and a steinkirk cravat on his neck.

‘Mister Torvis. How can we help you today?’ he asked.

‘Ah, today it is me who can help you!’

‘Is that so?’

‘Quite so. If we can just step inside this store here but for a moment. I happen to own this one.’

‘Of course you do. You own most buildings on this street,’ T1c said shrugging and followed the merchant.

‘No no, this one is actually mine, not my family’s,’ Torvis corrected. ‘Marie, my dear, how about you go for a little break now? I’ll watch the store,’ he said to a young girl who was busy trimming unwanted growths from a plant that neither of the Players had ever seen before. She complied, giving the Players a curt but perhaps a nervous bow. Torvis shut the door behind her and they were left alone. They were inside a florist atelier. A good change in terms of smell, compared to where we talked last time - a tannery, with all the ‘liquids’ traditionally used in that craft. Really humid in here though.

‘I never took you for a florist, Mister Torvis,’ said T1c.

‘I’m not. I bought it from a late friend to prevent its closure, using the money I owe to a dramatic increase in my properties’ value, I might add. That girl is the friend’s daughter, a timid bird but honest and hardworking. I think one of my sons fancies her. Hmm… did you know this room housed a florist for thirty-three years straight?’ Seeing his guests were not keen to answer, he continued. ‘I thought not. Anyway, to get to business. I bring you a warning. I’m sorry, shall I continue with our, uh, with all due respect, guest from the outside? I mean no offence.’

‘None taken,’ assured Cobbalt. He looked really out of place surrounded by bouquets and flowerpots given his imposing physique, but strangely interested in them. T1c focused on Torvis and gestured to continue.

‘I will speak plainly then, as is commoner’s right. Lord Regent is not an ally you may think he is. He’s a sly codger. Do you know how he manages to stay in the role for such a long time? After all, the heir is already a young adult, well past the age many monarchs took the throne before him.’ Seeing that both of his guests shrugged, he went on. ‘Tepper cleverly sets everyone’s interests against each other to ensure that he always comes out on top. He never did anyone a favor out of the goodness of his heart. Never.’

‘This is exactly what we learned to expect from everyone in politics, even if now I’m one of them myself,’ T1c said not without a shred of humor. ‘Besides, there’s not much he can do to hurt us.’

‘No, there is one thing. He can get in your way until he gets something he wants out of you. A favor. A job.’

‘What sort of job?’

‘Gee, I wonder. You are a strange folk. So clever in so many ways, and yet I had to teach you something as basic as shaving with a straight razor. And now this commoner has to point out that as far as we know, you are immortal demigods whom no mortal force can stop once you’re about to… remove something.’

‘Ah,’ T1c understood now. The old man is right. ‘Of course. We should hold our cards close to your chest.’

‘I don’t know what those ‘cards’ you speak of are, but I think you get it. Now, perhaps you would like to buy some flowers?’

‘Always the trader, eh? No, I think I have no use for flowers,’ said T1c, moving towards the door.

‘But I do,’ suddenly said Cobbalt.

—

They walked down the Eastend road, moving past houses and stores, many of which were owned by the Travis family. Once among the least valuable properties in town, now they lay on a gold vein: a direct route between the obsidian monolith and its fountain in Sorostade that mysteriously brought Players back to life, and the bridge to Rockbase. Naturally, this is where many resourceful, if not wealthy, customers were often dropping in to buy things. Overnight, the Travis family’s prospects grew exponentially - and being quick thinkers, they immediately expanded to buy more places along the same road. Eastend was an end no more. It was a center.

Cobbalt carried a bouquet of flowers that Torvis said were called Prasteria. Either of the two men could hardly smell its scent, but they were assured a woman would. Torvis never failed them, so he was trusted. Just ask my wife, he said too.

‘Uh, listen, I really appreciate the advice. Had you not stopped me, I would choose something pragmatic and low maintenance, like a potted plant, not a bouquet. But I assume you know Esther better,’ said the sailor-Monk-Emissary.

‘Enough to know she’s not that pragmatic in private. But that's all I’m going to tell you. Figure out the rest yourself.’

‘This is good enough.’