Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-Nine. Buckle up.

Chapter Two Hundred and Seventy-Nine. Buckle up.

"Jason," Bob nodded.

In keeping with his resolution to face his problems head-on, he'd decided to go back to eating breakfast at the Adventurers Guild in Holmstead every morning. If nothing else, it would force him to address any waiting messages. He had a few ideas for trans-dimensional cellular service, but at the moment, when he was in his inventory or his Arcane Depths, he was unreachable.

Jason sat down across from Bob with a heavy thump. He practically oozed exhaustion, in direct opposition to the man who stood lightly behind him and to the right. He had the stance and attentiveness that Bob had come to associate with the Old Guard.

"Bob," Jason began, "on behalf of her Majesty, I've been tasked to introduce Major Reginald Smith of the Twenty-Second."

Major Smith frowned toward Jason for a moment, then with a quick shake of his head, he stepped forward, offering his hand to Bob. "As the lad said, I'm Major Smith, serving Her Majesty in the Special Air Service. Her Majesty has offered my services to shore up your personal security, although," he glanced behind Bob, "it appears Mr. Harris is already working with you."

"He is," Bob acknowledged, "and his very first piece of advice was that I shouldn't shake hands with people."

Smith broke into a grin and withdrew his hand. "Right he is," he chuckled, "There is a bit of debate over where that particular tradition began, but the colonials have been using it for nearly as long as we have."

"Longer," Harris grunted, although Bob could hear the smile in the man's voice.

"Regardless, assuming Mr. Harris has no objection, Her Majesty would like me to shadow you for a few days and offer whatever aid I may," Major Smith said.Updated from novelb(i)n.c(o)m

Bob turned to look at Harris, who nodded. "Smith and I have worked together before. They aren't quite as good as the Service," at this, Smith looked affronted, "but the Sport and Social boys know their trade well enough."

"Fantastic," Jason mumbled, chin resting on his chest. "Someone wake me when breakfast arrives."

"May I?" Smith asked, gesturing to the chair to Bob's left.

Bob nodded, and Smith sat.

"You'll have to excuse young Jason," Smith said quietly, "He's a good lad, but he's a bit soft. I think he would have made a fine addition to Her Majesty's Royal Marines, but he chose an easier path. Between attending to Her Majesty and working to complete the project he proposed, he's a bit worn down."

"The scenario based Dungeon?" Bob asked.

"I can still hear you, and yes," Jason muttered, lifting his head and glaring at them both. "I finished it yesterday. The reason I came looking for you this morning was to catch up, as we haven't seen each other for a bit, and to ask you to take a look at it before I turn it on. The Major tagged along when I informed her Majesty of my plans."

"I'm due for another break next weekend," Bob replied after a moment's thought. "I'm a little behind schedule at the moment, and as you've found out, you can only substitute caffeine for sleep for so long before it all comes crashing down."

Jason snorted. "Quite," he agreed. "I'm not sure why the Queen is keeping me around, there are members of her detail with actual healing paths who are the same level as I am, but when her Majesty calls, what Englishman would fail to answer?"

"And that, lad, is why Her Majesty has placed Her trust in you," Smith smiled fondly at Jason.

Bob wasn't sure, but Jason may have blushed at that comment.

"So you want me to look over the flows?" Bob asked.

"I do," Jason stifled a yawn, sitting upright and rubbing his eyes. "I've set each floor to redirect its mana flow to the next floor down until the floor boss is killed, at which point the circuit is interrupted. I think I've built in a delay of about five minutes before the floor starts to repopulate, but we'll need to test it to confirm. Also, I've set the entire Dungeon to recycle the mana up and out from the bottom floor." Jason's expression, which had been bright, if exhausted, darkened. "Something I'm not sure you or Thidwell have considered, is the danger of a Dungeon break. Although gated floors effectively seal the monsters in, the fact of the matter is that if enough mana floods the bottom floor, I believe that there is a non-negligible chance that monsters other than what was intended could coalesce. It's possible that they might very well be capable of digging themselves out of their hole. Thus far, the issue hasn't arisen, as there have only been two Dungeons built with that system, Holmstead and Harbordeep, where Thidwell and the King keep the lowest floor cleared during wave and Tide." He shook his head. "I'm basing my assumption on the damage done to the Dungeons in Glacier Valley during the Tide, but I'm fairly certain that is what happened. If you could get the information from the U.S. Government, you could confirm it."

Bob blinked. He hadn't paid a great deal of attention to Glacier Valley recently, and he hadn't heard about anything happening during the Tide. He couldn't argue with Jason's hypothesis, though. "I'll ask," he agreed. "I know that with the more traditional Dungeon designs, waves and tides can cause monsters to flood out of the Dungeon, which is why the entrance is traditionally set up as a defensive choke point." It was his turn to frown. "Obviously, with a Gated Dungeon, that wouldn't accomplish anything, as the monsters would be coming straight up, for the most part, placing them well outside the Gate room."

Yorrick shook his head. "I'll defer to your judgement of Huron," he continued, "but the lack of clergy remains, as does the cost of casting that ritual every hour. The Empire can and will bear that cost to ensure your safety."

Bob nodded reluctantly. He didn't know how many clergy the Church of the Light had, but his Divine Blessing wasn't going off, so Yorrick was telling the truth, or at least what he believed was the truth.

"We are also offering you sanctuary," Yorrick said. "While you have your home here in Greenwold, we are also offering you dual, or triple, I suppose, citizenship. We'll build you a home in any of the seven cities, or even outside them if you're feeling particularly ambitious."

"I'm not sure I want to be a citizen of the Empire," Bob replied.

Yorrick feigned a hurt expression, clasping his hand over his heart. "You wound me," he gasped.

"I'm sure," Bob said dryly. "What did you mean when you said you wanted my endorsement?"

"I'm sure you saw my advertisement video," Yorrick smiled, "it was successful, but as I said, there are many hurtful stereotypes. I think I managed to snag every edgelord and rebellious young adult on Earth, but believe it or not, the numbers just weren't as good as they could have been. I'm working on another campaign, and while I was hoping to snag some big name celebrities, your friend Jack has done an extraordinary job of snapping them up. That's when I realized I already had a friend with quite the following, as well as international recognition."

"Ah," Bob said as realization dawned over him. "You want me to shill for the Empire?"

"I wouldn't use the word 'shill,' but yes," Yorrick nodded. "We'd like to take a few days, record some footage of you exploring the various aspects of the Empire, and then put together a video showcasing the many ways that joining the Empire could help someone from Earth."

"Why?" Bob asked, then raised his hand. "From what I understand, people in the Karcerian Empire live in huge walled cities. You can't possibly have room for that many immigrants."

"We don't," Yorrick agreed, "but we will. Now, just after the Tide, is the perfect time to expand our cities, building out more walled sections. We're prepared to build out for an additional four million citizens." He paused for effect. "Double our current population, which will ultimately be necessary to maintain any sort of equilibrium with Greenwolds expanded population."

Bob nodded slowly. He was aware of the tension between Greenwold and Karcerian.

"I picked up over six million people with my broadcast," Yorrick said proudly, "and we're running through the list pretty quickly, but our turnover for permanent citizens is less than a tenth of a percent." He shook his head and sighed. "We offer reincarnation, as well as the opportunity to obtain an Affinity Crystal, but the stigma of being 'Dark' is keeping the people we want away."

"So celebrity endorsements," Bob grunted.

"The research shows it works," Yorrick replied.

"Here's the thing," Bob began slowly. "I like you," he admitted, "you, as a person. You're pretty awesome."

"I'm blushing over here," Yorrick pantomoined fanning himself.

"So while I'm inclined to trust Yorrick, I have some trepidations about trusting the Head of the Warlocks Guild of the Dark Empire," Bob stressed. "Our cultural differences are good for a laugh, when we're just playing D&D or shooting the breeze. I've learned that for almost everyone, you aren't the job you do. It's not a sign of mental health if you are your job."

That particular lesson was one he'd had to learn himself. It had taken almost two years for him to admit to himself that he'd stayed at Fermilab because the only thing he had besides the job was Monroe.

"I'm not saying no," he continued, "but I am saying that if I do this, I need to the Empire, all of it," he stressed. "Not the candy coated bits you've been showing off, but the bad parts as well. The people under indenture, the drugs, the prostitution, the orphans, all the parts of society that we try to hide from."

Yorrick nodded. "While I don't think you'll particularly like everything you see, I don't think it'll be nearly as bad as you imagine. I've been angling to get you over for a tour anyway," he finished with a grin, then stood up, much to Monroe's displeasure, who had been enjoying the extended petting session.

"Hoist your feline overlord to his proper position of reverence, and we'll go," Yorrick said, thrusting a hand into his pocket.

"Now?" Bob asked, startled.

"No time like the present, and the Empire doesn't have a lot of time to waste," Yorrick admitted. "The clock is counting down, and every day more and more of your citizens are entering stasis, which puts them out of reach for recruitment."