Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty-Seven. Family.

Chapter Two Hundred and Thirty-Seven. Family.

Monroe licked his paw and applied it to his whiskers. His human-servant had brought them back to where they'd lived before, where the air was always slightly stale and smelled just a little bit foul. He'd forgiven him when he was given a shoulder ride in the warm sunlight, and now he'd just finished being served a decently sized fish.

A small human-servant had devoted herself to applying a slicker brush to his fun, and his primary human-servant was scratching his ruff. The world was as it should be.

"I can't believe he ate that entire bowl of tuna," Rachel shook her head.

Bob smiled down at the feline of mass consumption. "He's a big boy, and it takes a lot to keep him going. Also, due to the time difference, his breakfast was a few hours later than normal, which makes him certain that he'll never be fed again."

"I can't believe that heckin' chonker used to be a regular size cat," Bryan added as he pushed his plate away and tossed his napkin on top of it.

"He was always a big kitty," Bob replied, "about twenty-four pounds, so on the upper end for a Maine-coon."

"Kind of makes me want to take the familiar skill," Rachel said wistfully.

"Some of the guys did," Bryan agreed, "although they are having their familiars fight alongside them, leveling them up as they go."

"They'll hit a wall at level sixteen," Bob said, "At that point, they'll probably have to retire them from direct combat, or they'll have to tier them up, but that could backfire."

Bob had discussed the topic of familiars rather extensively with Trebor. While you technically could apotheosis your familiar to match your own tier, your familiar would be given the option to dissolve the bond. Historical data showed that the leading factor in a familiars decision to remain a familiar was the time they'd spent as one and how they'd been treated. A familiar who had only been with their companion for a few months, all of which were spent in brutal, painful combat, was much less likely to sign up for more of it.

That was without adding in the rather tricky proposition of the familiar becoming sapient, which was entirely possible, depending on the apotheosis the companion selected.

"If they have familiars that they acquired specifically for the purpose of fighting alongside them, the familiar might not want to remain a familiar. Treating them well helps, of course, but when they choose an apotheosis, they also have to be certain that the species either is or is not sapient, depending on their desires." Bob sighed, "Which, of course, brings along with it a moral minefield. Is it right to force sapience on a sentient being?"

"Those are some heavy thoughts for an early lunch," Bryan shook his head.

Bob shrugged, "They are, but if you've some friends who are considering going down that path, it's better to let them know what the road looks like."

"What route are you going to go with Monroe?" Rachel asked.

"I can feel his emotions through the familiar bond," Bob replied, "which he chose to maintain when I pushed into tier six. He's happy and loves his life. If he ever starts to indicate he wants to become sapient, I'll think about that path, but for now, when I move him to tier five, he'll remain sentient."

"If he's this big at tier four, how big will he get at tier five?" Bryan asked as he watched Amy apply herself to brushing out Monroe's long coat with diligent industry.

"I think he'll end up around eight feet long, nose to butt, and probably close to five feet at the shoulders," Bob shook his head. "One of the reasons I've been putting it off is convenience. I can get away with a bobcat-sized Monroe, but a smilodon-sized Monroe might cause a bit of panic."

"I can see the cause for concern," Bryan agreed slowly, clearly mentally picturing just how magnificent Monroe would be at that size.

Not that he wasn't already the pinnacle of feline perfection, but Bob was certain that if Monroe were tier five, they'd be mobbed by supplicants where ever they went, all of them eager to touch if only for a moment, their Divine Feline Overlord.

"So, you've lived over there for two years now, right?" Rachel asked.

"Yes," Bob agreed.

"What would you say we should take with us, as far as necessities?" Rachel had pulled a notepad and a pencil out of her purse.

"Hydroelectric generator and a barrel, as I doubt you'll want to give up your electronics," Bob explained. "LED lights and such. I'd make sure to bring only sturdy clothing, as you'll be spending most of your time in the great outdoors." He paused for a moment to consider the question again before asking his own. "Bryan, I haven't really been involved. Are you going to be able to keep some of your crystals?" Bob asked.

Bryan looked surprised for a moment, "Of course," he replied, "I have to give up ten percent to the King, ten percent to the Dungeon Fund, ten percent to the Medical Fund, and ten percent to the Mess Fund, but I can keep sixty percent of them Not that I do," Bryan hastened to assure him "I've saved up the crystals I need to hit level five, along with enough of them for both Rachel and Amy, and I'm just dumping the rest of them into the Medical Fund."

"I'm so sorry," she said quietly, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I can make all the excuses in the world, but the truth is I didn't take care of you. I was a terrible mother."

"I just had lunch with an acquaintance, along with his wife and daughter," Bob began, his voice flat. "I'm almost thirty years old, and I still feel an ache when I see a real family interacting with each other. It wasn't until a year ago that I had someone I was willing to call a friend." Bob shook his head. "I'm broken. Do you understand that?" He demanded but didn't wait for an answer. "I'll never have anything like that family. I wasn't that child, and I could never be that father."

He took a deep breath, reeling Monroe in and picking up, cradling the big cat in his arms, taking solace in his weight and warmth. "The damage is done, and the die has been cast," he said quietly. "This world and the people in it did their level best to destroy me, but I'm still here. I might be broken, but broken bones heal and become stronger at the point of the break. I'm strong, and while I may never have a family, I have friends, and they know my worth."

Bob started to move past her, then paused and turned. Her expression was crestfallen, and her tears were making a mess of the light makeup she wore. "I told you the truth earlier, that I don't need you. Consider yourself forgiven because it costs me nothing to do so," Bob said quietly before continuing toward the Admissions Office, leaving his mother standing alone on the sidewalk.

"Jack," Mike acknowledged the handsome Italian. He was attending to the bane of all organizations; paperwork The file open on his desk at the moment detailed a request to increase the number of rituals cast each day by the druids, citing a dozen cases of malnutrition.

Mike rubbed the bridge of his nose. It wasn't that they didn't have enough food, it was that left to their own devices, there were a lot of Marines who would subsist solely on a diet of BBQ, beef jerky, and crayons.

"You should have a staff if you have that much paperwork," Jack gestured to the waiting stack of files."

"Not that many combat-wounded paper pushers," Mike muttered, scribbling his approval on the increase, as well as making a note in the margins suggesting stews, chilis, and meat pies as a solution for making sure the men at their veggies "What can I do for you?" Mike asked.

"The city is coming along nicely, thanks for asking," Jack grinned, taking a seat at Mike's gesture. "The walls are going up, and the Dungeons are going down, but I made a slight miscalculation when it came to how quickly the Dungeons would be finished."

Mike chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. "You used Bob as a benchmark, right?"

"I did," Jack admitted, "it turns out I hadn't realized just how exceptional our friend really is."

"We did the same thing," Mike nodded, "had to adjust our expectations. Sorry for being so curt, I'm just a bit overworked," he gestured to the paperwork waiting for his attention.

"You could use a bit of stress relief," Jack suggested with a grin, causing Mike to groan and shake his head.

"I've got enough troubles," he muttered.

"I was talking about D&D," Jack winked, "you were the one whose mind went straight into the gutter. You should stop by the D&D Guildhouse, they have games going every night, and you really do look like you could use a break."

"I'll think about it," Mike responded as he rolled his neck, wincing at the tension.

"What I really came here for was to see if I could hire some of you to provide security for my builders," Jack explained, leaning forward. "They can handle themselves well enough, and the highest level monsters we've seen are level six or so, but they have to stop working every time they one shows up, and it's dragging things out. If the Dungeons were complete, there wouldn't have been any monsters," he grumbled.

Mike nodded. They had a sentry line that handled the occasional monster that wandered toward the encampment, but the single-floor Dungeons they'd built kept monsters from appearing in the camp itself. "How many builders in how many groups?" He asked.

"Ten builders in each of the twenty groups," Jack replied.

"Single monsters showing up?" Mike pulled out his tablet and pulled up a spreadsheet.

"Sometimes groups of two or three, but no more than that," Jack assured him. "The highest frequency of attacks was once every ten minutes."

Mike nodded and considered the spreadsheet for a moment. The tab he had opened listed Marines he'd labeled as 'Restless.' "You understand that the personnel I have available for this sort of task are currently level one. Obviously, we can provide the crystals to level them up to five, but the Dungeons we built out up here are level one. If they jump ahead level-wise, I don't know when they'll be able to earn crystals again."

Jack shrugged. "I'm building over two dozen Dungeons," he said, "so we'll agree that the Marines I'm hiring can delve my Dungeons daily, although we'll have to work out an agreement as to which Dungeons, and what levels."

Mike nodded. "That sounds fair, let's plan for a five man team to provide overwatch for each group, so one hundred Marines You'll be responsible for feeding them," he sighed, "and making sure they eat their vegetables As far as pay goes, I'll talk to the men, but I'm pretty sure I can find a hundred of them willing to do a bit of security work for ten crystals a day if only to get a break from the glacial shelf."

"I'll likely need them for three months," Jack said, "and the pay sounds fair." He stood up and then paused. "Vegetables?" Jack asked with a grin.

"If only they could figure out how to make crayons out of spinach," Mike lamented.