Chapter Two Hundred and Sixty-Two. Come on over to the Dark Side. We have cookies!

Chapter Two Hundred and Sixty-Two. Come on over to the Dark Side. We have cookies!

"Hello, my name is Yorrick Wrathsbane," Yorrick smiled. "I know that's not going to be a common name or one that's familiar to you, but you'll have to blame my parents for that." Yorrick shrugged self-deprecatingly. "I'm one of the people in charge of the Karcerian Empire. We are the folks who inhabit the other two continents on Thayland. Our friend, the King of Greenwold, has stepped up to help make sure that none of you get stuck on Earth when mana awakens in your universe. The King and his people have stepped up in a big way, and all the credit for saving everyone belongs to him." Yorrick chuckled, "Well, him and this guy." A picture of Bob, clearly taken without his knowledge, appeared. Bob was wearing his khaki shorts and loud Hawaiian shirt, struggling to restrain Monroe from going after a plank with a steamed tuna fish. "Robert Whitman, a scientist at Fermilab, was the victim of an accidental explosion involving a particle accelerator. It didn't, as everyone believed, kill him but instead shoved him into another dimension."

The still of Bob changed, showing now a cut section of Bob's first way, showing his heroic efforts and ultimate victory as he saved the family. "This was Bob six weeks after being dumped, unceremoniously, into our world," Yorrick continued. "He landed in Greenwold, so the Karcerian Empire had no idea about any of this until just a few weeks ago, but since then, I've had the chance to meet and get to know Bob." Yorrick leaned in, and his tone became serious. "Make no mistake, this man is the real hero of the story. He risked his life to save others and worked tirelessly to improve the lives of the citizens of Greenwold."

Yorrick leaned back, his grin returning. "So, why am I telling you this?" He asked rhetorically. "Because the Empire is a meritocracy, and we hold sacred the principle of recognizing excellence. Which leads rather nicely into one of my many ulterior motives." Yorrick's smile was shameless, his eyes bright. "As I said, the King of Greenwold has sacrificed everything they could to help Earth. Personally, I stand humbled by their efforts. That said, the Kingdom of Greenwold is comprised of one rather small continent, which is half covered by glaciers. I believe they have a population of around two hundred thousand. The Empire, occupying the two equatorial continents, comprises nearly two million people."

Yorrick's expression grew predatory. "We are a little late to the game," he acknowledged, "but we have a lot to offer."

A breathtaking video of a fantastical cityscape began to play. The city rested against, or possibly even into, a mountain. A palace that seemed to be made of crystal caught the morning light and returned it in a dazzling array of colors. Graceful spires soared into the sky, and as the camera moved in, it became apparent they were connected by delicate walkways. Dropping down, the camera showed a street filled with people going about their mornings. A bakery window filled with loaves, a grocer filling a bin with fresh carrots, and a man was writing out the daily specials of a restaurant in the air next to the shop's entrance, his finger leaving letters made of fire.

The viewpoint changed, and a young woman carried her daughter up the black stone steps of a gothic cathedral, where she was met by an older man in black robes, who smiled gently and healed the child's broken arm.

"Your governments, working alongside the tireless King of Greenwold, are bringing people over as quickly as they can," Yorrick continued. "But there's only so much they can do. Luckily, the Empire has greater resources to bring to bear."

"The current plan is to place you all in stasis to wait out the devastation on Earth. You'll be perfectly safe," he assured them, "and they'll wake you up when it is time to go home. It's a brilliant plan and one we have Robert Whitman to thank for." Yorrick grinned again, flashing his perfect smile. "The thing is, that plan was made before the Empire had an opportunity to contribute." He sighed theatrically and held up his hands in surrender. "Full disclosure. The Kingdom of Greenwold and the Karcerian Empire are separated by more than just an ocean or two. As you've likely heard, Gods are very real in our universe, although I understand from talking to Bob that it's probably best to use a lowercase 'g' when referring to them. The Karcerian Empire was founded by a group of refugees who were forced to flee their home planet due to religious persecution. They landed on Thayland and founded the Empire. The Kingdom of Greenwold was founded by people who not only didn't follow the tenants of our religion but committed acts of terrorism in an effort to end our worship. Rather than threatening their lives and their families, as was done to us, we simply sent them to another continent where they could do whatever they would like, without endangering our citizens."

Yorrick shook his head. "This was thousands of years ago, but the divide remains. This isn't to say that we don't have diplomatic relations, but it does mean that communication isn't a constant flow of information. We have a live and let live arrangement. I'm certain you're going to hear that we are 'Dark' or 'Evil' because of the gods we worship."

The Black Cathedral appeared, constructed of black granite and gold-flecked black marble. "They aren't wrong," Yorrick said as the camera panned over the imposing structure. The view moved through the open doors, where an antechamber lay containing a single statue. Done in the same black marble, it showed a woman in a voluminous cloak that was open at the front. The cloak's cowl hid her features while black wings swept forward to surround her. Huddled against and beneath her robes were children clinging to her as her wings and arms enveloped them protectively. "Mor'Noctum, the Goddess of Darkness, Queen of the Eternal Void," Yorrick's voice held a tone of respect, if not direct reverence. "She spreads her blackened wings to shelter us from the Darkness, blessing us with the strength to walk in the shadows."

The video cut and Yorrick reappeared, smiling. "As you may know, Greenwold's religion is the Church of the Light. Vi'Radia, the God of Light, aside, the Church of the Light is comprised of seven Gods that align rather closely with the seven cardinal virtues in your world. The seven Gods of Darkness are nearly perfectly represented by the seven deadly sins."

He raised his hands again. "I know, I know, 'The Seven Deadly Sins! Evil!'" He wailed theatrically, then stopped and shook his head wryly. "The most significant difference between the Church of the Light and the Church of Darkness isn't actually our Gods," he said flatly. "It is the manner in which we worship. Everyone has dark urges. Everyone has light instincts. The Church of Mor'Noctum teaches us to identify our urges and control them. Embrace your faults, and turn them towards productive ends. Channel your wrath, your pride, your envy, your greed, your gluttony. There are few urges that can't be used productively. Don't deny that you have them. Take responsibility for yourself and your actions."

Yorrick chuckled and shook his head. "Sorry, I know I got up on my soapbox there. The gods of light teach you to deny your dark urges and focus on your graces. Which would be fine," he hastened to add, "except they also teach that you must abdicate responsibility for your urges and actions, ascribing them to some taint of darkness rather than accepting that they are simply part of our nature."

A short list appeared in the top right corner.

"The reason for this little history and religious lesson is that while we have a place for anyone who wants to take responsibility for their own future and be active towards your own agency. But," he wagged a finger, "the Empire has learned through harsh experience that zealotry and the gods of light go hand in hand. So if you want to take advantage of the opportunity we are offering, you won't be worshipping the gods of light. This list," he pointed towards the top right corner, "contains the Neutral gods. Personally, I revere Logos, the God of Magic and Knowledge. Your first divine blessing? You can read any written language. His precepts? Teach others, share knowledge, and never stop learning. There are other options, Gaia, if you are in attunement with the natural world and its ecosystems. Maelstrom, if the song of battle stirs your blood. Oren, if the thrill of the hunt is what drives you. Or any one of the four elemental princes if you feel a particular kinship. We aren't asking you to worship our gods, just not to worship the gods that historically have been the targets of veneration for terrorists who have murdered children. We don't think it's that big of an ask," he finished sternly.

"Now, on to the offer. I know various world leaders have explained things to greater and lesser degrees, so some of this you might already know," Yorrick began. "This is a mana crystal," Yorrick held one up. "You find these by killing monsters."

"He also wasn't wrong," Amanda said firmly. "You're a hero, even if you didn't set out to be. You're someone that people can look at, square their shoulders, and say to themselves, 'If he can do it, I can too, I just need to put in the work.'"

Bob coughed. Amanda was openly manipulative and always had been. The thing of it was, she did it to make you feel better or to help you find a solution that you just couldn't seem to reach. It was part of the reason she and Dave worked so well together.

"That's a little on the nose," he complained.

"Honestly, there have been more people interested in Monroe," Dave smiled and then pulled the laptop in front of himself. He typed for a moment and then turned it back to Bob.

It was a Facebook page, seemingly dedicated to Monroe. He scrolled down, surprised at the number of pictures posted. It appeared that he hadn't noticed how many people had snapped a covert shot of Monroe when he was on vacation on Earth.

One of the top photos was Monroe, sitting majestically at the head of a surfboard as a wave curled over him.

Bob narrowed his eyes. "Didn't you take this?" He asked Amanda.

"I did," she replied proudly, "I've been battling it out with Dave's picture of Monroe trying to get at that tuna for the number one spot," she finished gleefully."

"I thought that you'd rather have people obsessing over Monroe than you," Dave protested.

"How many people have taken Yorrick up on his offer?" Bob asked. There was no point in dwelling, what was done, was done.

"Millions," Dave replied. "The first batch came back for the weekend and shared stories and videos of the Empire, all of which made it look pretty damn good. The Empire is charging them forty percent, twenty for the Empire, and another twenty which is going to the stasis project."

"As far as anyone can tell, it's all on the up and up," Amanda added with a shrug. "The culture over there is a little odd, with an outlet for every vice. Priests and Priestess of lust have brothels, and there is an all-you-can-eat buffet in the temple of gluttony," she shook her head.

"Everyone who has gone over has been treated fairly, although quite a few people have admitted to spending a chunk of their crystals on better accommodations and food," Dave grinned. "Barracks-style housing doesn't suit everyone, it seems."

"We've definitely lost a few people who would have otherwise ended up with us," Amanda groused. "I mean, come on, lightsabres? Hard to compete with that."

"So that's all the news we had for you," Dave closed the laptop. "Bailli sent a message saying she'd be here in ten minutes with the rest of the crew with her."

"Now it's time to tell us all your secrets," Amanda grinned wickedly.