Chapter 197: Go home then

Chapter 197: Go home then

Mason waited in a chair like all the others as the players filed in and took their seats around their circular table.

My motley crew of knights, Mason thought, knowing the old Arthurian legends were always horseshit. It was supposed to indicate 'equality'. But soldiers and kings weren't equal, no matter how round you chopped the wood.

When it came to men and violence, someone had to be in charge. And if that person was too weak or too lenient it meant people got hurt, and killed, both soldiers and civilians.

Mason sat in silence until the mood got right. He'd brought Streak and had the increasingly giant wolf sit behind him, gnawing on a few bones with teeth so sharp now the bones usually just snapped.

People were laughing and joking as they came in. Pretty soon they found Mason's eyes and stiffness and the sound of Streak chewing and the smiles withered away, the conversation died.

When they were all seated and quiet he finally looked up, meeting the eyes of the players one by one. Even Rebecca.

"You all having a good time?" He kept his voice subdued. A few players exchanged looks. A few fought nervous smiles. Mason nodded and shrugged.

"Let me tell you how I spent my week. I crossed about three hundred miles. I tried to save an old druid from a giant the size of this hall. But it caught me, beat me near to death. Then it chained me and dragged me across the forest, which I guess it planned to do for a thousand years."

He tried not to see the horror and concern in Rebecca's eyes.

"It's dead now." Everyone jumped as Mason clattered the green gem on the table. "This is going to upgrade the settlement again." He closed his eyes and activated it. The two options flashed before his eyes, just as Rosa said.

The first was a power just for him—the ability to summon some elementals like the giant had. The cooldown was huge, and the elementals didn't last long. He'd suspected it'd do something similar and knew he wouldn't really need it.

In the long run, they wouldn't matter much. Already he'd been able to destroy them or avoid them. He suspected his power would only grow until he could rip such things apart in seconds. They'd be a distraction, but little more.

Option two was something like a mine. Mason saw elementals moving in and out of the earth carrying ore and dirt, stacking it in piles. He wasn't sure exactly how they'd operate, but the possibilities were obviously incredible, and it meant they didn't have to build it themselves, or risk the dangers of the mountain. He clicked accept, and the system blared across the settlement, warning of imminent changes in an hour.

Mason let the silence linger, then looked at the others.

"This isn't actually a game. This isn't a summer camp or a work trip or a weekend get-away." He stared long and hard at Garet and Tommaso. "The behavior of the people around this table is going to be the difference between life and death. For you. For the civilians. For all of us. We need each other at our best. Not drunk. Not idle. Not fighting over fucking girlfriends."

Garet clearly wanted to say something, but he met Mason's widening eyes and clamped his mouth shut. After another little silence, Mason sighed.

"We're making official guard duties. You'll get rotating schedules and when you're on duty there's no alcohol, there's no fraternizing. Even when you're off duty I suggest you keep the drinking to a minimum except for special occasions. Don't worry, I'll be talking to Billy, so you won't have to manage yourselves. It just won't be available."

A lot of eyes were finding floorboards now. Eventually Tommaso cleared his throat and spoke up.

"No offense, eh boss? But Blake always gave us a say. Are you patron permanently now? Some of us can handle our drink better than others, and no reason to lose our cool over a girl..."

"New?" called Mateo. "We thought we were here to provide you with feedback. To voice our complaints about the players, the settlement, the 'rules', such as they are. We have many legitimate complaints about housing, food distribution, and patron points, which haven't been used at all, or indeed..."

"All that can wait," Mason interrupted, trying not to let his anger show. There was more than enough bloody housing, and now food. They had clean water and plumbing and even entertainment. They were in the safest, most beautiful place he'd seen in the damn apocalypse, surrounded by other people. And all they wanted to do was complain?

"It has been waiting, patron," said Mateo. "It has been waiting and waiting and pretty soon it will feel like I'm back dealing with the Spanish central government."

A few of the Europeans laughed at that, and Mason's patience reached its very limited end.

"Then by all means, leave," he said, without the hint of a joke. "Take your friends, and go. You'll all be given food and water and clothes. I recommend South. Winter is coming, and it's going to get cold. Avoid the mountains, also, they're filled with goblins. There's a few smaller settlements. I can draw you a detailed map."

Finally the room was quiet.

"But not a single player is going with you," Mason said with finality. "Different rules, you see. Players are soldiers. And as far as I'm concerned, a player leaving Nassau after everything we've been through is desertion. Deserters will be hunted down, and killed." He sat and took a breath. "Oaths have been made. Words have been said."

He had their attention now, he could see. And that was good. They needed to hear him. Really hear him.

"Civilians are different. But it's fair to say if you leave these people, this place, which has clothed and fed and housed and protected you, I won't be impressed. In fact I won't raise a single finger to help you. Ever again."

The strangled silence gave way to whispers before Mateo had the gall to keep at it.

"I don't much like threats, Mason. You’re a very young man, and we don't appreciate the kind of..."

"It's not a threat, Mateo. It's a guarantee. The players here are going to be risking their lives for you. Over and over. Some of us already have. We aren't your countrymen. We aren't your family or your friends. If you don't sign on the dotted line with us. If you aren't willing to sacrifice and suffer beside us in whatever way is required. Why the fuck should I care what happens to you? I'm not Blake. I don't give a shit about patron points or power. I care about loyalty."

That finally did the trick.

So Mason explained the new player rules. He explained that civilians could pick each other, too, and be off limits, but they had to make it clear, make it like a marriage. The more traditionally minded cultural types accepted it as only logical, and probably wise. The European types rolled their eyes and called it medieval and ridiculous and why should live by all the old sorts of norms when...

"It's note a debate," he said yet again, a fist on the table and his tone getting deadly. "These are the rules. Live by them, or leave Nassau. Clear enough?"

Mateo was still, incredibly, defiant.

"We're pretty tired of kings where I'm from, Mason. And we don't like tyrants."

Most everyone else looked understanding, or at least cowed, and Mason was out of words. He stood and walked towards the door, missing his brother terribly and sort of wishing he could lift Mateo and crush the life out of him right there. He stopped and looked at the man, and all the rest of them.

"Go home, then."

Then he walked out into the sun.