Chapter Two Hundred and Fifty. This is why we hide.
"Good morning!" Bob said cheerfully as he walked into the D&D players' tavern.
"Good morning, Bob," Amanda greeted him with a smile, "you should really pop your head out of whatever Dungeon you're hiding in more often."
Bob blinked, instantly wary. "What happened?" He asked carefully.
"The King of Greenwold basically kidnapped the United Nations and told them how he was going to be saving all of their people," Dave replied, appearing from the kitchen with a platter loaded with food.
"That's... good, though?" Bob wasn't entirely sure, but he'd been afraid of just how many people were going to die because governments and leaders wouldn't accept the truth of what was coming.
"In the final balance, I'd say it's good," Dave agreed, "but in the short term, he pissed off quite a few people."
"No one is looking to place the blame for the King's actions on me, right?" That was one of his primary concerns.
"Nope," Amanda assured him as Dave deftly delivered plates around the table. "Although the Secretary of Defense is looking for you."
"Were his inquiries urgent or casual?" Bob asked, taking a seat and pulling Monroe out of his inventory, depositing him on the floor along with a bowl of diced meat.
"It's the Secretary of Defense," Dave replied wryly as he took his seat next to Amanda, "I think the man uses urgency when he brushes his teeth in the morning."
Bob sighed and pulled out his cell, thumbing the power button, then addressed the plate full of scrambled eggs and sausage while the phone booted up.
"So, how many D&D players are we looking at tonight?" Bob asked before taking his first bite.
"We had a few last-minute changes, so we're estimating around six thousand," Amanda replied. "Fortunately, we've learned to account for the extra's, so we should be pretty close on the number, which is important because we only have housing built for another seven thousand."
"That's impressive," Bob said after swallowing his food. He'd noticed that there were now three buildings on the far side of Gamer Valley. He hadn't been close enough to count the stories, but he was ballparking it at around thirty.
"Our people are pretty dedicated," Dave agreed, "although were are suffering from some burnout. We have over a hundred people who pushed to the cap and aren't interested in farming anymore as they've got what they need to tier up if they want to. They're holding out for us to build the Dungeon deeper."
"It's the ones who are calling it around level ten or so," Amanda shook her head. "They're pretty much just spending a couple of hours a week delving and then goofing off the rest of the time."
"Do you have open slots in your Dungeons?" Bob asked in surprise.
"We would if Mike hadn't loaned us some of the Old Guard to keep them full," Dave replied.
"I guess that isn't too surprising," Bob mused thoughtfully. "From what I understand, even in Holmstead, which had a gated Dungeon with no fees to enter, only a small percentage of the residents delved more than a few hours a month."
"We've got about a thousand people who really liked the idea of being adventurers and flinging magic around but found the reality of fighting monsters to be more than they bargained for," Dave offered as he piled scrambled eggs on his toast.
"If the ratio holds, we'll probably end up with another thousand out of the six we're bringing over who feel the same way," Amanda agreed.
"Are they just sitting at level zero then?" Bob asked.
"No, there are a few who are idling, but those guys are the crazy min-maxer type, and they're waiting for more information to roll in so they can put together the 'best' build possible. Most of our non-combatants had friends who tossed them the crystals they needed to hit level five and take a path," Amanda finished.
"They're making themselves useful, for the most part," Dave added. "Knowing that they can reincarnate later, a bunch of them have taken pure elemental paths, Air, Fire, Earth, or Water, and they've been instrumental in building and enchanting the apartments."
Bob winced. "They can't possibly be rocking enough power for that to be efficient," he muttered.
"You aren't entirely wrong," Dave replied, "but at the same time, we have a team in Harbordeep grinding out the Elemental Affinity Crystals, so instead of casting at level five, their control spells are level fifteen."
Bob nodded. He should have seen how that would work, as he'd plotted Druid builds with Plant Growth utilizing Affinity Crystals to the same effect.
"How are the Dungeons going?" Bob asked.
"Just finished the fourth one, all of them twenty-six floors deep," Amanda said proudly.
Bob nodded. They were following the model he'd established at Glacier Valley.
"I did tell you about seeding the twenty-sixth floor with Affinity Crystals, didn't I?" Bob frowned, searching his memory.
He coughed, and Ed started, looking up and blinking rapidly.
"Bob," he said with a note of relief in his voice, "I'm glad to see you."
"You left me quite a few messages, but you didn't actually tell me what you needed," Bob began watching as the man ran a hand over his face and flipped the file folder closed.
"Yeah, I wanted a chance to try and convince you in person rather than via text," Ed replied with a grunt as he stood up and rolled his neck. "Walk with me for a few minutes."
Bob followed the SecDef out of the building, where Ed took a deep breath of the fresh spring air and let it out with a sigh.
"Have you been read in on the King's actions a few weeks ago?" Ed asked.
"Not exactly," Bob said slowly. "I heard he kidnapped the United Nations and told them they had to play nicely with an evacuation plan he'd come up with."
"That's accurate, although it doesn't hit the particular detail that I need your help with," SecDef shook his head. "Apparently, the King does not trust some of the nations of Earth to play nicely with each other, so the first people to go into stasis are active-duty military personnel, and yes, that includes the troops we have here on Thayland."
Bob frowned. "That's going to put a bit of a crimp on gathering mana crystals," he muttered.
"That's not all," Ed ran a hand over his head. "The King decreed that after the military is placed in stasis, what he termed as the least productive members of society were to be brought over, and given the choice of stasis or being tasked with delving for crystals."
"That makes sense," Bob replied, "you don't want to pull the people who actually keep society spinning along to suddenly disappear."
"He's pulling the entire IRS over," Ed stated dryly.
"Still making sense to me," Bob shrugged, "taxes aren't going to matter given that the currency is going to completely collapse."
SecDef snorted. "That might have had some influence on the King's decision-making process, but apparently, he feels very strongly that tax exemptions are very nearly a sin and should only be granted by the King, and only in extraordinary circumstances."
Bob grinned, "And even then, probably with an ulterior motive, like the exemption he gave the Old Guard until they are all regenerated."
Ed shook his head, "I don't want to talk about the Old Guard," he grumbled, "we've pretty much lost them to Thayland, and it's just depressing."
"So I'm guessing you're going to have a few IRS employees delving then?" Bob asked.
"More than a few," SecDef growled, "The IRS employees about a hundred thousand people, and I'm getting thirty-five thousand of them."
Bob blinked. "They do know they're signing up to fight monsters, right?"
"Apparently, there is a lot of crossover between accountants and fans of fantasy novels," Ed replied sourly.
Bob gave that statement a bit of thought. He'd enjoyed escaping the occasional dullness of his work, and physics was a lot more exciting than accounting.
"Ok, what does this have to do with me?" Bob asked.
"I need to borrow you for two or three days to teach a hundred of them how to delve the Dungeon safely," Ed replied. "The military was a natural fit, but I'm afraid the IRS doesn't have the same experience with live-fire exercises."
"Why not have some of the military train them up before they go into stasis?" Bob asked.
"The timing is awful," SecDef growled. "We broke ground on another fifty Dungeons five weeks ago, and inertia being what it is, no one thought to pause the project until we'd burned through all the mana crystals we had in reserve. We're in a position where in order to keep up with the crystal requirements of our existing facilities, we can't slow down. Also," he sighed, "I don't think they'd be as effective. You turned D&D geeks into safe, successful Adventurers. Our military personnel relied on their training, and we suffered a small number of casualties. Fighting monsters in a Dungeon is not the same thing as fighting enemy soldiers, a lesson we ought to have learned sooner."
Bob frowned. "I thought the U.S. government was done asking me for things like this."
"Technically, they are," Ed replied, "but they dumped this mess in my lap, and honestly, I feel like you're the best person I know for the job. It's not them asking, it's me."
"Fuck," Bob grumbled. SecDef had grown on him over months of exposure, and if he wasn't exactly a friend, he was at least a friendly acquaintance.
"I won't be available until not this Monday, but the following one," Bob sighed. "I can give you three days."
"That will be fine," Ed replied with a sigh of relief and held out his hand, "I really appreciate it. You teaching them is something I think will save lives."
Bob shook his hand. "That's what it's all about, right?"